THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
MIRIAM, THE AVENGER;
OB,
THE MISSING BRIDE.
BY
MRS, EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWOKTH,
AUTHOR OP " A BEAUTIFUL FIEND," " FAIR PLAT," " HOW HE WON HER," " RETRIBUTION,"
" THE CHANGED BRIDES," " THE BRIDE'S FATE," " WIDOW'S SON," " A NOBLE LORD,"
"IHJB ARTIST'S LOVE," "CRUEL AS THE GRAVE," "TRIED FOR HER LIFE,"
"ALL WORTH ABBEY," "LOST HEIRESS," "FORTUNE SEEKER," "VIVIA,"
"THE LADY OF THE ISLE," "FAMILT DOOM," "HAUNTED HOMESTEAD,"
" CURSE OF CLIFTON," " VICTOR'S TRIUMPH," " GIPSY'S PROPHECY,"
" FALLEN PRIDE," " TWO SISTERS," " THREE BEAUTIES "
"BRIDAL EVE," "WIFE'S VICTORY," "MAIDEN WIDOW,"
"FATAL MARRIAGE," "PRINCE OF DARKNESS,"
" DESERTED WIFE," " LOVE'S LABOR WON,"
"THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER," "INDIA,"
"THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW,"
" CHRISTMAS QUEST," ETC., ETC.
*Se ccfimed her fears, and she was calm,
And breathed her vows with virgin pride;
And so fie won his Miriam,
His bright and beauteous bridef
1 Now is it not a pity such a merry girl as 1,
Should be. sent to a nunnery to pine, away and die?"
PHILADELPHIA:
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS;
306 CHESTNUT STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. 0.
MRS. EMMA D. E. K SOUTHWORTH'S WORKS
Each Work is complete in one large Duodecimo Volume.
MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; or, THE MISSING BRIDE.
VICTOR'S TRIUMPH. A Sequel to "A Beautiful Fiend."
A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE.
FAIR PLAY; OR, THE TEST OF THE LONE ISLE.
HOW HE WON HER. A Sequel to "Fair Play."
THE FATAL MARRIAGE.
THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW.
THE ARTISTS LOVE.
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE.
THE CHANGED BRIDES.
TEE BRIDE 1 S FATE. A Sequel to "The Changed Brides."
TRIED FOR HER LIFE. A Sequel to "Cruel as the Grave."
TlfE BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN.
THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY.
THE FORTUNE SEEKER.
THE LOST HEIRESS.
THE CHRISTMAS GUEST.
THE THREE BEAUTIES.
THE WIDOW'S SON.
THE BRIDAL EVE.
A NOBLE LORD. Sequel to "The Lost Heir of -Linlithgow."
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS.
THE MA ID EN W1D W. Sequel to ' ' The Family Doom. ' '
THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD.
LOVE'S LABOR WON.
LADY OF THE ISLE.
THE WIFE'S VICTORY.
THE DESERTED WIFE.
ALL WORTH ABBEY.
FALLEN PRIDE; OR, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL'S LOVE.
INDIA ; OR, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER.
VIVIA; OR, THE SECRET OF POWER.
THE CURSE OF CLIFTON.
THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER.
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW.
THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS.
THE TWO SISTERS.
RETRIBUTION.
Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth ; or $1.50 in Paper Cover.
Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any one
or all of the above books, will be sent to any one, to any place,
postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers,
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
PS
2m 01
CONTENTS. yv* / rj / 21
CHAPTER FAGB
xxxiv. SANS Souci ? s LAST FUN, 462
\ND STORM, 477
CONTENTS.
'PART FIKST.
CHAPTEB PAGE
I. LUCKENOTJGH, 23
ii. THE FLIGHT, 29
in. THE ATTACK, 47
iv. YOUNG AMERICA IN 1814, 61
v. EDITH'S LOVE, 70
vi. EDITH'S TROUBLES, 83
PART SECOND.
VH. SANS Souci, 92
vin. THE BLIGHTED HEART, 113
ix. MARIAN, 124
x. HOUSEKEEPING AT OLD FIELD COTTAGE, 136
xi. THE MAY BLOSSOM, 144
xii. OUR FAY, 152
xm. SANS Souci's FIRST GRIEF, 166
(19)
1592781
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
r-AGB
MRS. EMMA D, E. N. SOUTHWORT TJ? * ^
Each Work is complete in one lar-e n 177
xv ."THE FOREST FAIRY, 195
xvi. THE MOCK-TOURNAMENT, 211
xvn. THE SPRITE IN THE CONVENT, 220
xviii. APPARITION IN THE DORMITORY, 231
xix. DOCTOR GRIMSHAW, 242
xx. CLIPPING A BIRD'S WINGS, 255
xxi. A GRIM WEDDING, 280
PART FOURTH.
xxii. DELL-DELIGHT, 291
xxin. MARIAN, THE INSPIRER, 297
xxiv. LOVE, 310
xxv. FOREST WALKS, 323
xxvi. CLOUDY, 341
xxvn. THE FAIRY BRIDE, 346
xxviii. THE BRIDE OF AN HOUR, 359
xxix. GOLDEN OPINIONS, 382
xxx. SPRING AND LOVE, 400
xxxi. THAT NIGHT, 416
xxxii. THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS THE INTER-
CEPTED LETTER, 434
xxxin. ONE OF SANS Souci's TRICKS, 450
PS
CONTENTS. M / 7/ 2
! CHAPTEB PAGE
xxxiv. SANS Souci's LAST FUN, 462
xxxv. NIGHT AND STORM, 477
xxxvi. THE BODY ON THE BEACH, 487
xxxvn. MARIAN, 505
xxxvm. NEW LIFE, 517
PART FIFTH.
xxxix. THURSTON, 524
XL. MIRIAM, 535
XLI. DREAMS AND VISIONS, 543
XLH. DISCOVERIES, 553
XLIII. INDICTMENT, 571
XLIV. MARIAN, 599
XLV. THE TRIAL, 614
XL vi. REUNION, . . .629
MIRIAM, THE AVENGER;
OR,
THE MISSING BRIDE.
PART FIRST.
CHAPTER I.
LUCKENOUGH.
DEEP, in the primeval forest of St. Mary's, lying between
the Patuxent and the "Wicomico rivers, stands the sncienO
manor house of Luckenongh.
The traditions of the neighborhood assert the origin of the
manor, and its quaint, happy, and not unmusical name to have
been briefly this
That the founder of Luckenough was Alexander Kalouga,
a Polish soldier of fortune,] some time in the service of Cecilius
Oalvert, Baron of Baltimore, first Lord Proprietary of Mary-
land. This man had, previous to his final emigration to the
Now World, passed through a life of the most wonderful vicis-
situdes wonderful even for those days of romance and adven-
ture. It was said that he was born in one quarter of the globe,
educated in another, initiated into warfare in the third, and
buried in the fourth. In his boyhood he was the friend and
pupil of Guy Fawkes, he engaged in the gunpowder plot, and
after witnessing the terrible fate of his master, he escaped to
Spanish America, where he led, for years, a sort of buccaneer
(23)
24 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
life. He afterwards returned to Europe, and then followed
years of military service wherever bis hireling sword was needed.
But the soldier of fortune was ill-paid by his mistress. His
misfortunes were as proverbial as his bravery, or as his en-
ergetic complaints of "ill luck" could make them. He had
drawn his sword in almost every quarrel of his time, on every
battle field in Europe, to find himself, at the end of his military
career, no richer than he was at its beginning save in wounds
and scars, honor and glory, and a wife and son. It was at this
point of his life that he met with Leonard Calvert, and em-
barked with him for Maryland, where he afterwards received
from the Lord Proprietary the grant of the manor "aforesaid."
It is stated that when the old soldier went with some com-
panions to take a look at his new possessions, he was so pleased
with the beauty, grandeur, richness and promise of the place,
that a glad smile broke over his dark, storin-beaten, battle-
scarred face, and he remained still "smiling as in delighted
visions," until one of his friends spoke, and said,
" Well, comrade 1 Is this luck enough ?"
"Yaw, mine frient !" answered the new lord of the manor, in
his broken English, cordially grasping the hand of his com-
panion, "dish ish lake enough /"
Different constructions have been put upon this simple answer
' first, that Lukkinnuf was the original Indian name of the
tract ; secondly, that Alexander Kalouga christened his manor
in honor of Loekenoff, the native village of his wife, the heroic
Marie Zelenski, the companion of all his campaigns and
>-oyages, and the first lady of his manor; thirdly, that the
grateful and happy soldier had only meant to express his per-
fee. satisfaction with his fortune, and to say,
" Yes, this is luck enough 1 luck enough to repay me for all
the past !"
Be it as it may, from time immemorial the place has been
"Luckenough."
The manor comprises several hundred acres of cleared land,
and a considerable portion of the surrounding forest.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 25
Of the magnificence of that old forest, of the gigantic growth
of its timber, the fabulous size of some of its trees, the hoary
grandeur of its rocks, the lovely beauty of its rivulets, the
mystic depth of its caverns, the impenetrable labyrinths of ita
thickets, (where never a human foot fell,] of the luxuriant ex-
cbcrance of happy animal life, flourishing, increasing, and en-
joying existence undisturbed by man of all these bewildering
glories of nature in the old forest, it is pleasanter to dream
than to tell No poet or artist ever trod those solitudes,
or he would have- been bewildered with the richness of the
subject.
Deep soiled, heavily wooded, and well watered, the manor
of Luckenough is one of the richest in old Maryland. Shut in
by the encompassing forest, and approachable only by the
worst of roads, it is completely isolated from the neighboring
plantations.
As you enter upon the manor by one of these roads after
passing here and there several broad fields of wheat, tobacco
and corn, situated in the occasional clearings you finallj
emerge from the forest and find yourself in a comparatively
open space, and before a collection of massive buildings of dark,
red color, irregular in form and size, and thickly interspersed
and overshadowed with titanic oak and elm trees. The place
looks like a woodland village charmed into repose it is the
group of the manor-house, offices, barns, granaries, stables, and
negro quarters of Luckenough. In the background, and all
around, you see the encompassing forest again. There are
orchards and gardens and broad fields of grain behind, such as
you passed in coming, but they are so hidden by the many in-
tervening trees, that you can only catch an occasional glimpse
of them to assure you that it is not in Arcadia, or before a
castle cf Indolence, but upon a Maryland plantation, that you
stand. There is no conservatory and no flower garden near
the house. The shade is too thick there for anything but grass
to thrive.
You enter the lawn by a massive but decayed gate on tha
26 MIBIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
right, and go around a shaded semi-circular avenue that leads
you up in front of the mansion.
A charmed air of stillness and silence pervades the place, for
the negroes are all absent in the fields, the master is asleep over
last month's newspaper, and the mistress is with her maids in
the back spinning-room. The house fronts north ; it is built
of the darkest red bricks, and is three stories high, with a very
steep roof, broken into three gables front and back, and one at
each end an old fashioned, fantastical style of architecture
highly favorable to leakages, as the attic and the upper cham-
bers of Luckenough can testify. The three front gables are
perforated by three dormer windows, under which come, in a
perpendicular line, the windows of the lower stories. The cen-
tral gable is the smallest, though its row of windows is the
largest, for they light the spacious passages, that on every floor
run through the house from front to back, dividing the east
from the west chambers. The principal entrance occupies the
centre of the front of the house. Above it is a stone scroll,
built into the wall, and bearing in old English characters, half
effaced, this inscription "A. K. 1644. Will is Fate." By
which you may know that at this time the old house has stood
the storms of two hundred winters. The portico is more
modern and ruder than any part of the building, in fact it is
quite unworthy the old mansion, being nothing more than a
rough oak porch put up by a country carpenter, to replace the
old one, and shade the front door. You ascend by a few rough
Bteps, and stand upon the threshold. And there you m&y woll
pause, for the door is wide open, and there is no sen ant in
attendance.
It is a wide passage that you see before you, with a door
open at the farther end, through which you notice the back
lawn, with linen bleaching on the grass, and trees, and a part
of the garden fence. The hall is flanked each side by dooru
leading into various apartments, and the left of the centre is
occupied by the staircase. Placed against the wall, in a line
with the foot of the staircase, is a painted wooden settee, and
THE MISSING BRIDE. 27
there, sound asleep, this summer day, is the master ; the old
rellow newspaper he has just been reading, laid over his head-
The powerful draught of air drawn by the opposite open doors
flutters the paper upon his face, but he does not wake. A lazj
black and white mastiff lying at full length under the settee.
crawls out and s*uffs at you, and having satisfied himself by
the smell that you are an honest stranger, if not an acquaint-
ance, he goes and lies down again, and the stillness remains
unbroken. Yet, if you like, you need not fear to break the
spell of silence by waking the thunders of that old brass griffin
that forms the knocker of the open door, for were you a travel-
ing wooden nutmeg vender, lecturer, pedlar, or any other sort
of peripatetic nuisance, you would still be a welcome and an
honored guest at Luckenough, for everything is welcome that
breaks the dull monotony of still life I had nearly said
stagnant life there.
So isolated, indeed, was the manor, that for generations the
owners seemed to consider it the very centre of things created
Q the capital of civilization, and to sneer at all beyond the
forest as mere "outside barbarians. "J I will not say but that
they might admit the neighboring little port of B , and
the city of Baltimore, to be useful appendages to Luckenough
created for the convenience of the masters of Luckenough,
seeing that they were necessary to the shipping and sale of to-
bacco, wheat and corn, the staple productions of Luckenough.
Now if you ask whether the men of the family never were
forced into the world of business, or if the youths never were
sent to college, and so learned to modify the exaggerated
exotism of their 'race, I answer no. The head of the family
usually effected his sales and made his purchases through hia
B agent, a shrewd, long-headed trader, who did business
with several important mercantile houses in Baltimore, ai.d was
little likely to cross the self-conceit of his most pron'table pa-
tron. And as for the young men of the house they never went
farther into the world for their education than the neighboring
academy of C , ai Did and well established classical and
28 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
mathematical school, founded by the planters for the benefit ol
their sons but not well calculated to prune the pride of th
proudest among them for even there the boys of Luckenough
assumed to be lords paramount of their schoolmaster. And if
any member of the family, by a rare chance, went upon his tra
vels, he was sure to pass through the world the same self-centred,
self-satisfied, isolated creature, iand to return as he went, un-
improved. The community around Luckenough certainly con-
spired to foster the haughtiness of that family. For in almost
every country there is one great estate so pre-eminent in size,
value and importance, as to be an enduring object of interest
and speculation to the community, and to clothe its owner with
rather an undue authority in all agricultural, commercial, po-
litical, and other questions of the neighborhood. And Luck-
enough and its proprietors had enjoyed this evil distinction
since the days of its foundation.
A host of dependants needy relations also, contributed to
cultivate this spirit of self-importance in the head of the house.
And never was Irish tribe more prolific, or Scotch clan more
united, as a family. It had been the custom of the masters of
Luckenough, from the time of its ambitious founder, to be-
queath the undivided landed estate to the eldest son or failing
gons to the eldest daughter and to portion off the other
children with moderate legacies of money or personal property,
sufficient, had they been of an industrious, frugal, and enterpris-
ing race to start them fairly in life ; but being what they were
proud, indolent and hopeless, it was not always enough to keep
them in decent poverty/; Hence the purse of the proprietor of
Luckenough was often called into requisition, and never in
rain ; for any expense would have been readily met by the head
of the family, rather than the mortification of seeing one of its
members in the poor house or the prison.
So generation after generation vegetated the dull family of
Luckeiiough every son more hopelessly thick-headed and self-
sat'sfied than his father before him, and living on because they
had net life enough to die or in other worda, lasting because
THE MISSING BRIDE. 29
Ihe calm, depressed tone of their constitutions and conditions
never at any time made draft enough upon the vital powers, to
weaken or exhaust them. Thus year after year vegetated 01
the dull family of Luckenough, until in the fullness of time, in
the year of grace 1814, the stagnant pool of their existence was
Stirred by " something different from the wing of a descending
angel," and the dull monotony of its history was developed into
a startling romance the first chapter of which is the chapter
next succeeding.
CHAPTER II.
THE FLIGHT.
"Ah! then and there was hnrrying to and fro,
And mounting in hot haste!" Byrvn.
THE owner of Luckenough at this time was Commodore
Nickolas Waugh, who inherited the property in right of his
mother, the only child and heiress of Peter Kalouga.
This man had the constitution and character, not of his mo-
ther's, but of his father's family a hardy, rigorous, energetic
Montgomery race, full of fire, spirit and enterpriser At the
age of twelve, Nickolas lost his father.
At fifteen, he began to weary of the tedium of Luckenough,
varied only by the restraint of the academy during term.
And at sixteen he rebelled against the rule of his indolent lym-
phatic mamma, broke through the reins of domestic govern*
mint, escaped to Baltimore, and shipped as cabin boy in a
merchantman.
I said that he inherited the constitution of his father's fa-
in ily ; yet one might fancy by his career from the time of his
taking to the sea, that the spirit of old Alexander Kalouga bad
revisited the ear*h in the form of a descendant.
30 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Nickolas Waugh went through many adventures, served on
board merchantmen, privateers, and haply pirates too, sailed to
every part of the known world, and led a wild, reckless and
sinful life, until the breaking out of the revolutionary War.
when he took service with Paul Jones, the American Sea King,
and turned the brighter part of his character up to the light.
lie performed miracles of valor achieved for himself a name
and a post-captain's rank in the infant navy, and finally was
permitted to retire with a bullet lodged under his shoulder
blade, a piece of silver trepanned in the top of his skull, a deep
sword-cut across his face from the right temple over his nose
to the left cheek and with the honorary title of Commodore.
He was a perfect beauty about this time, no doubt, but that
did not prevent hiir from receiving the hand of his cousin,
Henrietta Kalouga, who had waited for him many a weary year.
No children blessed his late marriage, and as year after year
passed, until himself and his wife were well stricken in years,
people, who never lost interest in the great estate, began to
wonder to which among his tribe of impoverished relations,
Nickolas Waugh would bequeath the manor of Luckenough.
His choice fell at length upon his orphan grand-niece, tno
beautiful Edith Lance, whom he took from the Catholic Orphan
Asylum, where she had found refuge since the death of her
parents, and placed in one of the best Convent schools in the
south.
At the age of seventeen, Edith was brought home from
school, and established, at Luckenough, as the adopted daugh-
ter and acknowledged heiress of her uncle.
Delicate, dreamy and retiring, and tinged with a certain pen-
siveness, the effect of too much early sorrow and seclusion upon
\ a very sensitive temperament, Edith better loved the solitude
of the grand old forest of St. Mary's, or the loneliness of her
own shaded rooms at Luckenough, than any society the hum-
drum neighborhood could offer her. And when at tbc call of
social duty she did go into company, she exercised"* refining
and subduing influence, involuntary as it was potent, j
THE MISSING BEIDE. 31
There was one social amusement, however, that Edith really
did like to favor. That was the annual ball at the C aca-
temy, given by the students at the commencement, and patron-
ized by their sisters, cousins, and young friends, male and female I
These were rather juvenile parties, though parents, guardians
*nd the professors attended, to give the sanction of their pre^
sence.
Edith was the star of these assemblies, and the queen of
every mother's darling there. All the students worshipped her
with that pure, passionate enthusiasm that only school boys or
poets know and feel. And Edith I know not what harsh
usage during her orphanage had given her a shy heart towards
her elders and equal in age, but Edith preferred the society of
those younger than herself, and she liked the frank, warm-
hearted college lads, as if they had been her brothers. And
if there were " bad boys" among them, she did not find it out,
for such never came within her sphere, or if by chance any did,
they became ameliorated.
Edith's nature and the style of her beauty was very refined.
Her form was of medium size and perfect symmetery. Her
beautiful head sat upon her falling shoulders. Her complex-
ion was of the purest semi-transparent fairness seen in the
white sea-shell. Her forehead was shaded by fine, silky, black
ringlets, so light as to be lifted by every breeze, and throw
wavering soft shadows upon her pearly cheeks. Her eyes were
long-shaped, dark, veiled and drooping her countenance the
most dreamy and spiritual you ever saw. Her beautiful bust
was daintily curved, and her graceful limbs delicately rounded
and tapering. Her hands and feet were perfect. She affected
the beholder with the idea of extreme delicacy, sensitiveness
aiid refinement./
Yet in that lovely, fragile form, in that /dreaming, poetical
soul, lay, undeveloped, a latent power of heroism, soon to be
aroused into action/] " Darling of all hearts and eyes," Edith
bad been at home a year when the- war of 1812 broke out.
Maryland, as usual, contributed her large proportion of vo.
32 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
luntecrs to the defence of the country. All men capable of
bearing arms, rapidly mustered into companies, and hastened
to put themselves at the disposal of the government.
The lower counties of Maryland were left comparatively un-
protected. Old men, women, children and negroes were all
that remained in charge of the farms and plantations. Yet
remote from the scenes of conflict, and hitherto undisturbed by
the convulsions of the great world, they reposed in fancied
safety, and never thought of such unprecedented misfortune as
the evils of the war penetrating to their quiet homes.
But their rest of security was broken by a tremendous shock.
The British fleet, under Admiral Sir A. Cochrane, suddenly
entered the Chesapeake And the quiet, lonely shores of the
bay became the scene of a warfare scarcely paralleled in atro-
city in ancient or modern times. Its defenceless villages wid
namlets were suddenly run down upon, sacked, burned to the
ground, and the unresisting inhabitants put to the sword.
Farms and plantations shared the same fate. Dwelling houses,
barns and granaries were set on fire, and burned to ashes, and
the owners and their families massacred in cold blood, and the
negroes driven off at the point of the bayonet to the ships of
the marauders, there to be drilled in military exercises and
afterwards armed against their own masters. Everywhere the
enemy tried to excite the slaves to revolt, and threatened to add
the ghastly horrors of a servile insurrection to the accumulated
evils of war. The most horrible crimes that ever blackened
the souls of the most atrocious pirates, could not exceed in
enormity the deeds done by these licensed buccaneers, under
the guise of civilized warfare. It seemed as if in their case
human nature had, with headlong recklessness, abandoned itself
to the most violent and fiendish passions of cruelty, rapacity
and sensuality
If among this marauding band of licensed pirates and assas-
lins there was one name more dreaded, more loathed and ac-
tursed than the rest, it was that of the brutal and ferocious
Thorg the "-equent leader of foraging parties, the unsparing
THE MISSING I? R I D E. 33
destroyer of womanhood, infancy and age, the jackal and pur-
veyor of Admiral Cockburn. If anywhere there was a beau-
tiful woman unprotected, or a rich plantation house ill-defended,
this jackal was sure to scent out " the game" for his master,
the lion. And many were the comely maidens and youthfu)
wires seized and carried off by this monster.
The Patuxent and the Wicomico, with the coast between
them, offered no strong temptation to a rapacious foe and the
inhabitants reposed in the fancied security of their isolation
and unimportance. The business of life went on, faintly and
Eorrowfully, to be sure, but still went on. The village shops at
B and C were kept open, though tended chiefly by
women and boys. The academicians, at the little college, pur-
sued their studies, or played at forming juvenile military com-
panies. The farms and plantations were cultivated chiefly
under the direction of ladies, whose husbands, sons and bro-
thers were absent with the army. No one thought of danger
to St. Mary's.
Most terrible was the awakening from this dream of safety,
when, on the morning of the 17th of August, the division
under the command of Admiral Cockburn the most dreaded
and abhorred of all was seen to enter the mouth of the Pa-
tuxent in full sail for Benedict. Nearly all the able-bodied men
were, as I said, absent with the army at the time when the com-
bined military and naval forces, under Admiral Cockburn and
General Ross, landed at that place. None remained to guard
the homes, but aged men, women, infants and negroes. A
universal panic seized the neighborhood, and nothing oc-
curred to the defenceless people but instant flight. Females
and children were hastily put into carriages, the most valuable
items of 'plate or money hastily packed up, negroes mastered,
and the whole caravan put upon a hurried march for Prince
George's, Montgomery, or other upper counties of the state.
With very few exceptions, the farms and plantations were eva-
cuated, and left to the mercy of the .nvaders.
At sunrise, all was noise bt.stle and confusion at Luck-
enough. 2
34 MIRIAM, T*H E AVENGER; OR,
The lawn was filled with baggage wagons, horses, mules,
cows, oxen, sheep, swine, baskets of poultry, barrels of provi-
sions, boxes of property, and men and maid servants hurrying
wildly about among them, carrying trunks and parcels, loading
carts, tackling harness, marshaling cattle, and making other
preparations for a rapid retreat towards Commodore Waugh'g
patrimonial estate in Montgomery county.
In the hall at Luckenough, the master strode up and down
among corded trunks, and yelping dogs, and hurrying servants.
He was a man of powerful size and weight, and formidable
presence. He forcibly reminded one of a huge bull-dog, or
rather, of the animal after which it is named. His great griz-
zled head and beard, his enormous chest, huge, rounded shoul-
ders, heavy limbs and measured tread, and a habit he had when
vexed, of thrusting forward his head and bellowing forth a
prolonged "Oh-h-h-h !" assuredly suggested the likeness. And
as he strode up and down among his men, the old hall shook
as at the tread of an elephant. Fierce shame had lent unusual
energy to the old man's manner, and the transverse scar across
his face glowed like a bar of red hot iron. Ill could the vete-
ran of twenty battles brook this rapid retreat without even a
meeting with the enemy. But well did the invalided soldier
know that it would be sheer madness to remain and encounter
the advancing army of the invaders. And so he strode up and
down the hall, giving vent to his impatience by swearing at the
terrified servants, and kicking the howling dogs.
In the midst of this the back parlor door opened, and the
mistress of the house came out into the hall. She was a hand-
some woman for her age really fifty seeming forty with a
fair, fat person, brown hair and brown eyes, fine teeth, much
displayed in her frequent smiles, and white, plump neck and
arms, often half uncovered for coolness. Now, however, she
wore a close-fitted Nankeen pelisse. A Leghorn bonnet and
veil completed her dress for travelling. She had strong health,
calm nerves, a phlegmatic constitution, and an even, contented,
cheerful temper It was these things that gave her such infiu-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 35
cnce over her more excitable and impulsive companion. She,
with her serene temperament and easy disposition, received thfl
occasional onslaughts of the old soldier's violence very much as
our troops at New Orleans, with their bales of cotton and wool,
received the British cannonading, and with very much the same
good effect. And now as she came out into the hall, her pre-
sence acted like oil upon the waves it calmed the commotion.
The old man turned towards her, and his countenance and
his voice softened as he said
" All ready so soon, Old Hen ! But where is Edith ?"
"I don't know. I thought she was here," said Mistress
Henrietta.
"Here! no! and the sun half an hour high!" and the old
man's voice began to rise with his temper, as he vociferated, loud
enough to be heard at the remotest extremity of the house
"Edith ! Edith ! where are you, you hussy ?"
" Here I am, uncle," said a calm, musical voice, and Edith
came out from an adjoining room.
Her white, flowing wrapper, the slight, silky, black curls
playing carelessly around the pearly forehead, the veiled and
dreamy eyes, the abstracted look, and more than all, the little,
red-bound volume she held in her hand, seemed so unready, so
impractical, that it put the old soldier past all his patience.
"Now will you look at that girl ! I say I want you all to
look at her !" he exclaimed, turning around. " If upon this
morning, also, she isn't poring over a book, when we are ready
to start ! What is it you have got there, minx ?"
"Marmion, sir."
"Marmion! What in the fiend's name is that? Hand it
here."
Edith obeyed, and without looking at the book, he took it,
and hurled it out into the lawn, exclaiming
"There 1 Now did you ever know me to break my wora,
Lussy ?"
"No, sir."
' Very well, then ! go and get ready, and be sure if you an
36 MIRIAM, THE. AVENGER; OR,
not here in ten minutes, we will set forward without you."
And so saying, the old man set himself down upon the wooden
settee, at the foot of the stairs, and took his watch out to note
the time.
Edith disappeared into her chamber.
"I never saw such a wrong-headed, romantic fool! What
Will ever become of her ? She'll come to a bad end, I'm afraid,
With poring over the fetched books."
" Oh, poor thing ! what can you expect F She's got no com-
panions of her own age. She must amuse herself some way,"
said good Henrietta.
" Oh-h-h ! companions of her own age !" roared the Com-
modore, " what does she want with companions of her own
age and why can't she amuse herself knitting stockings for
the niggers, like you do ? I'll take and marry her to Professor
Grimm, that's what I'll do ! And there'll be two book-worms
to keep each other's company. I'll Oh, here she comes !"
In half the specified time Edith returned, equipped for her
journey, in her riding-dress and hat.
" I am ready, uncle," she said, as she stood drawing on her
gloves.
" Well, then we'll set forward. I want to get as far as
Horsehead this day, if possible. A d d mean, miserable
dog I am, to be sneaking away from the enemy," growled the
veteran, to himself.
The doors opening into the hall were then locked.
Edith was placed upon her pony, and attended by her old
maid Jenny, and her old groom Oliver.
Commodore and Mrs. Waugh entered the family carriage,
which they pretty well filled up. Mrs. Waugh's woman sat
upon the box behind, and the Commodore's man drove the
coach.
And the whole family party set forward on their journey.
They went in advance of the caravan, so as not to be hindered
and inconvenienced by its slow and cumbrous movements.
A ride of three miles through the old forest, brought them to
THE MISSING BRIDE. 37
the open, hilly country. Here the road forked. And here the
family were to separate.
It had been arranged that, as Edith was too deHcate to bear
the forced march of days' and nights' continuance before the)
could reach Montgomery, she should proceed to Hay Hill, a
plantation near the line of Charles county, owned by Colonel
Fan lie, whose young daughter, Fanny, recently made a bride,
had been the schoolmate of Edith.
Here, at the fork, the party halted to take leave.
Commodore Waugh called his niece to ride up to the car-
riage window, and gave her many messages for Colonel Fairlie,
for Fanny, and for Fanny's young bridegroom, and many
charges to be careful and prudent, and not to ride out unat-
tended, &c.
And then he called up the two old negroes, and charged
them to see their young mistress safely at Hay Hill, and thec
to return to Luckenough, and take care of the house and such
things as were left behind, in case the British should not visit
it, and to shut up the house after them in case they should
come and rob it and leave it standing. Two wretched old
negroes would be in little personal danger from the soldiers.
So argued Commodore Waugh, as he took leave of them,
and gave orders for the carriage to move on up the main
branch of the road leading north, towards Prince George's and
Montgomery.
But so argued not the poor old negroes, as they followed
Edith up the west branch of the road that led to Charles
county.
This pleasant road ran along the side of a purling brook,
Tinder the shadow of the great trees that skirted the forest, and
Edah ambled leisurely along, low humming to herself some
pretty song, or listening to the merry carols of tue birds, or
noticing the speckled fish that gamboled through the dark,
glimmering stream, or reverting to the subject of her last
reading.
But beneath all this childish play of fancy, one grave, sor<
38 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
rowful thought lay heavy upon Edith's tender heart. It was
the thought of poor old Luckenough, " deserted at its utmost
need," to the ravages of the foe. Edith might have been as
wrong-headed and romantic as her uncle accused her of being j
for now the old mansion, that her heart clung to so fondly,
seemed to take a personal character, and in the dumb eloquence
of its loneliness and desertion, to reproach her. She thought,
too, of her own particular nook at Luckenough, of her cherished
books and pictures and musical instruments, and little statuettea
of saints and angels and heroes and heroines, of her vases and
boxes and baskets, and pretty toys of all sorts, not one of which
dreaming Edith had removed in her hasty departure. And she
thought of all the dear old spots and places about the building
that she loved so well they seemed to her like members and
features of some faithful friend, and she could not bear the
thought of their destruction. Then came the question if it
were not possible, in case of the house being attacked, to save
it even for her to save it. Edith's visionary head was full of
stories of heroic women, who had wrought miracles in the way
of saving or destroying castles and fortified towns, or in pre-
serving the lives of fathers, brothers, husbands, and children.
And she remembered no single instance in which a woman had
lost life, limb or honor in such an attempt. Whatever other
women or men either might suffer at the hands of the enemy,
these heroic women always came through triumphantly so
Edith's reading showed, and she had no counter evidence.
While these things were brewing in Edith's mind, she rode
slowly and more slowly, until at length her pony stopped.
Then she noticed, for the first time, the heavy, downcast looks
of her attendants.
" What is the matter ?" she asked.
" Oh 1 Miss Edith, don't ask me, honey don't ! Ain't wo-
iem got to go back to de house and stay dar by our two selves
arter we see you safe ?" said Jenny, crying.
" No 1 what ? you two alone I" exclaimed Edith, looking
from one to the other
THE MISSING BRIDE. 39
"Yes, Miss Edith, 'deed we has, chile but you needn't
look so 'stonish and 'mazed. You can't help of it, chile. An'
if de British do come dar, and burn de house, and heave we-
dem into de fire jes' out of wanton, it'll ony be two poor, ole,
nnvaluable niggers burned up. Ole marse know dat well
enough dat's de reason he resks we."
"But for what purpose have you to return?" asked Edith,
wondering.
" Oh I to feed de cattle and de poultry, and take care o' de
things dat's lef behine," sobbed Jenny, no\v completely broken
down by her terrors. "I know I jis does how dem white;
niggers o' Co'bu'ns 'ill set de house o' fire, an' heave we-dem
two poor old innocen's into de flames out'n pure debblish wan-
ton 1"
Edith passed her slender fingers through her curls, stringing
them out as was her way when absent in thought. She was
turning the whole matter over in her mind. She might possibly
save the mansion, though these two old people were not likely
to be able to do so on the contrary, their ludicrous terrors
would tend to stimulate the wanton cruelty of the marauders to
destroy them with the house. Edith suddenly took her resolu-
tion, and turned her horse's head, directing her attendants to
follow.
" But where are you going to go, Miss Edith ?" asked her
groom, Oliver, now speaking for the first time.
"Back to Luckenough."
" What for, Miss Edith, for goodness sake ?"
"Back to Luckenough to guard the dear old house, and take
care of you two."
"But oh ; Miss Edy! Miss Edy! for Marster in Heaven's
rake what'll 'come o' you ?"
" What the Master in Heaven wills I"
" Lord, Lord, Miss Edy ! ole marse 'ill kill we-dem. What
all ole marso say ? What 'ill everybody say to a young gall
a-doin' of anything like dat dar ? Oh, dear 1 dear I what will
everybody say '"
40 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"They will say," said Edith ; "if I meet the enemy and sa?
the house they will say that Edith Lance is a heroine, and her
name will be probably preserved in the memory of the neighbor-
hood. But if I fail and lose my life, they will say that Editl
was a cracked brained girl who deserved her fate, and that the)
had always predicted she would come to a bad end."
" Better go on to Hay Hill, Miss Edy ! 'Deed, 'fore marster,
better go to Hay Hill."
"No," said the young girl, "my resolution is taken we will
return to Luckenough."
The arguments of the old negroes waxed fainter and fewer.
They felt a vague but potent confidence in Edith and her abilities,
and a sense of protection in her presence, from which they were
loth to part.
The sun was high when they entered the forest shades again.
" See," said Edith to her companions, " everything is so fresh
and beautiful and joyous here ! I cannot even imagine danger."
They reached Luckenough before noontide, and the two old
people, with their hearts very much lightened and cheered, and
encouraged by the presence of their young mistress, busied
themselves with opening the house and making her comfortable,
Oliver put away the horses, and went to the spring for cold water,
and to the mound for ice. And Jenny opened the shutters in
the young lady's room, helped her off with her riding-dress, put
it away, and went and prepared dinner. Edith went out to
look for her lost volume of Marmion, found it in the grass,
brought it in, and threw herself upon the sofa to finish the poem.
The summer day was so calm and cool, the forest home so silent
and peaceful, Edith's own sensations so serene and sweety that
(she did not realize the idea of danger. The day passed calmly
und pleasantly.
But when the evening shadows begun to fall darkly around
the old house, Edith's heart grew faint and oppressed witk pro-
ptetic terrors.
Edith had acted suddenly, impulsively, from the warmth and
generosity of aer own heart ; but had she done well and wisely ?
THE MISSING BRIDE. 41
This was the question she asked herself. Many an enthusiast,
before our girl, has acted iu haste to repent at leisure. Yet, a3
Edith looked upon the beloved old homestead that she was theie
to try to save from destruction, and upon the faithful old servants
that seemed so confident of safety in her presence, and who were
doing everything in their power to prove their gratitude and
sense of her goodness, she could not repent at all. If the act
were to do over again, she would do it.
After tea was over, Edith came out and sat upon the porch,
to enjoy the coolness and quiet of the summer evening.
The old people, their day's work finished, came and sat upon
the steps near her they seemed to hover about her with a sense
of security, as if she had been their guardian angel, or some
superior being, capable of protecting them.
The sun had set. The last lingering light had faded from th<s
west. There was no moon and the night would have been very
dark but for the stars.
Still, everything was so beautiful, so peaceful, so fresh and
pleasant ! There was music in the ripple of the little forest
stream, as it ran along singing to itself music in the shiver of the
dewy forest leaves, as they leaned, whispering sweet, solemn
mysteries together gladness in the merry chirp of insects wak-
ing to enjoy with them the coolness of the summer night com-
fort and trust in the confidential twitter of little birds, murmur-
ing to each other as they settled in their nests. All nature
reposed or enjoyed itself, under the protection of the Great
Father. And should not they ? All things had faith why should
they doubt alone ? And as the night advanced, the stars came
out brighter and brighter. Before them, in the south, shone the
creat planet Jupiter, so strong as almost to cast a shadow. He
stood looking down like the warden of the sky. And now,
fr ra the forest, came a cheerful sound above all other sounds.
It was the hearty call of the whip-poor-will the solitary bird
that sat upon a branch of the old elm in the thicket near.
"I like the voice of the whip-poor-will, don't you ?" asked
Edith.
42 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Yes, indeed, Miss T5dy, I likes everything that sounds
pleasant to-night," replied Jenny.
"It seems so cordial and confident."
" So it do, Miss Edy 1 Whip-poor-will ! whip-poor-will 1 do
Boun' 'cisely like 'Keep-up-heart!' 'Keep-up-heart!'"
"Who ever would have thought you so fanciful, Jenny?''
" Me I Lor', Miss Edy, don't say dat, chile, please. I never
waf 'cuse o' bein' unsoun' in my brain-pan afore in all my clays !
But jes' look a dar, Miss Edy, at dat big star ! Don't it seem like
it *ver' keepin' watch over we-dem ? But, Lor' ! Fm not afraid
o' nothin'I 'Deed, me! Oh! Lord Marster 'Deemer! what
dat !" she broke off, in a sudden panic, as a crackling, crashing
sound, and a rapid rush, came from the thicket.
"Why, it is nothing in the world but Lion, poor fellow!
Here he comes !" said Edith, as a great black Newfoundland
dog rushed towards them.
"I thought it wur a British. I wonder whar dem funnelly
white niggers is now, an' what debiltry der up to !"
"Never mind them, Jenny. They are far enough from here,
probably. I do not think it possible that they will ever pene-
trate through the forest to this secluded spot, or ever hear that
such a place exists. Besides, look around you. How sweet and
calm everything is here ! The little birds in their nests fear no
coming storm or stooping hawk the tiny insects are singing
their vesper hymns of thanksgiving in perfect sense of safety
And why should we dread our foe ? Are we not much more than
they ? Is not their Father ours ? I cannot bring my reason to
acknowledge that any scene of violence could, by possibility, be
perpetrated here. Here is a holiness and peacefulness that
leems to me would disarm even Cockburn's ruthless marauders I"
" Dat what you 'pend upon, Miss Edy ? I lib in de hope**
tat 'sperriment 'ill nebber be tried ! But / ain't afraid 1
T)eed me /"
Thus the mistress and maid sat and talked, to keep each
other's courage up the one asserting that there was no
danger, the other protesting that she was not afraid not she I
THE MISSING BRIDE. 43
yet starting and turning gray at every sound. Old Oliver said
little, but sat upon the lowest step caressing the dog. They
sat out there a long time, for there was a sense of comparative
freedom and safety felt by all out there in the open air, under
the kindly stars, and among the other children of nature and
there was, among the three, an unspoken, unacknowledged dread
of going in to shut themselves up in the great, dark, empty house.
But at length Edith thought it right and proper, and she
arose to dismiss her attendants.
" Oh I Miss Edy ! if you would please if you would please
to let we-dem sleep close by your room dis ebenin' !" pleaded
Jenny.
"Certainly, if that will make your sleep the quieter," smiled
Edith. "You may bring your mattrass, and lay it down by
the side of my bed, and your brother Oliver may bring his, and
lay it in the hall, just outside of my door, and I will only shut
the door, not fasten it, if he is if he would feel like he was
forsaken locked out."
" Hadn't we better call the dogs, and lock them inside the
ball, Miss Edy ?"
" Certainly not they will be better guardians sleeping on the
front porch."
These arrangements were finally concluded, and the front
door was locked and barred, and the little family retired.
Poor Edith 1 No sooner did she find herself shut within the
four walls of her chamber, than the hope, the trust, the con-
fidence, the sense of safety, she had felt in the open air, began
to abandon her nor was she reassured by the words of Jenny,
who said
" Seems to me, Miss Edy, we-dem was better off out doers.
Seems ef it ar de Lord's will we is to be killed better be
shot running like a hare, dan be murdered, up here in dis close
room, like a mouse in a trap 1"
" Say your prayers, Jenny, and commit yourself to the care
of Providence. Come here, and kneel down by me, and we'll
pray together I wish I had thought of it before Oliver bade
us good-night, but he is fast asleep now, I believe."
44 M I E I A M , THE AVENGEE; OE,
" 'Deed he ! Snoring and snorting there like a grampus
Little 'fence he ! ef de house was attack, de soldiers stumble
right ober him, an' bust open your door, 'out eber wakin' ol
him !
" There is ' an eye that never slumbers nor sleeps.' "We will
put ourselves under God's protection."
Edith kneeled down by the side of her bed Jenny en her
right hand and never before had she committed herself and
hers to heaven, with so much earnestness. Then she arose, and
gave herself into the hands of Jenny, who began to undress her
and prepare her for bed.
"You are so pale, Miss Edy ! Won't you take something ?"
"No thank you, Jenny."
" But 'deed you trembles like a leaf, chile 1 Better let me
get you some sperrits o' lavender confound."
" No, Jenny, no I am a little nervous, but it will go off.
Reason and religion both convince me that there is no danger.
Happen what will, we must pass through it safe. We have put
ourselves under the care of that Power ' whose loving kindness
and tender mercies are over all His works.' We must remn-
ber, and trust in the protecting guardianship of Providence,
Jenny."
" So I does, honey 'deed does I. I'm not afraid, nuther !
'deed me! Lord ! Marster in heaven, what's dat 1"
"A branch of the old elm, blown against the window, Jenny,
that's all."
" I made sure it wur de British ! But, honey, liacin't we
better wake up brother Oliver, and make him keep watch all
night ?"
" No surely, the poor old man could not keep awake."
" Jes as you say, Miss Edy. Lord Gemini ! did you hear dat ?"
" Yes it is nothing but the rats in the wall surely, you
know that sound."
"So I does, cn'y I'm allus lettin' of my 'stracted thoughts
run on to dem rip orates."
" There ! say your prayers over again to yourself, Jenny, and
go t^ sleep, and let me do the same."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 45
" Sleep ! You isn't a-gwine for to sleep, Miss Edy ?"
"Yes, I hope so. Good-night," said Edith, getting into
bed.
"But You'll let the light burn, Miss Edy?"
" Yes ! if it will do you any good. There good-night P
said Edith, addressing herself to sleep.
It was some time before she was lost in slumber.
And then she was suddenly aroused by the voice of Jenny,
calling
" Miss Edith ! Miss Edith ! Oh ! for de Lord's sake, wake
up!"
" What's the matter I" exclaimed the young girl, starting up
" Jes listen ! Jes you listen 1 Listen at dat der noise on
t'other side o' de house !"
Edith listened.
" It is only the wind, Jenny, shaking the old shutters," said
Edith, as she turned over, and tried to calm her somewhat ex-
cited nerves to rest. It was more difficult this time. But at
length she fell into a disturbed sleep, from which she was again
quickly startled by the sound of Jenny's voice, crying
" Oh, Miss Edy! Miss Edy! for your life! for your pre-
cious life, jump up 1"
Again the poor girl sprang up bathed in a cold perspira
tion, and quaking with terror.
" What is it, Jenny ? Oh ! Jenny, what is it ?"
" The marowdies ! the marowdies, Miss Edy ! Oh ! don't
you hear them tramping all around the house ?"
Edith sprang out of bed and went to a window, and listened
breathlessly. The snort and tramping of a horse somewhat
reassured her. She came back, saying,
" It is only some of our cattle, Jenny our own familiar cows
Bad horses, that have strayed into the yard."
' I would o' swore h was the British army 1" said the eld
woman.
"Jenny, you really must govern your fears and quiet your-
self! You have sc harras^d aurl unnerved me, that if anything
46 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
should really happen, I am unprepared for the exigency un-
able to protect either you or myself!"
Old Jenny laid down and sobbed compunctiously " I can't
help of it 1 I hopes neber to see sich anoder night while cbei
I lib."
Edith returned to bed, and addressed herself once more to
sleep. It was in vain her nerves were fearfully excited. In
vain she tried to combat her terrors they completely over-
mastered her. ~; In vain she recalled her own resolutions of for.
titude and courage in vain she summoned to her mind the
examples of all the heroic women of history ; her heart seemed
fainting in her bosom with dread. This was partly to be at-
tributed to Edith's delicate constitution." A heroic spirit re-
quires a strong physical organization or, in default of that, a
powerful mental excitement to corroborate it. Edith had
neither. And now that vivid imagination which had been in
safety her greatest delight, now in peril became her most terri-
ble scourge. It conjured up to her the scenes of violence of
which her chamber might become the bloody stage. At length
she was driven again to the foot of God's throne for mercy.
She clasped her hands and prayed.
Ah ! more than the recollection of all the examples of all the
heroines of history, did this prayer calm and restore the per-
turbed mind of Edith. Repeating it, she sank into a deep, re-
freshing sleep, of several hours.
She was violently shocked out of it.
Old Jenny stood over her, lifting her up, shaking her, and
shouting in her ears,
" Miss Edith ! Miss Edith ! it is no false 'larm now ! They
are here ! they are here ! We shall be murdered in our beds I"
Edith was wide awake in an instant and very calm. The
effect of her prayer had not left her.
It was no false alarm this time.
In the room stood old Oliver, gray with terror, while all the
dogs on the premises were barking madly, and a noisy party at
the front door was trying to force an entrance.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 47
CHAPTER III.
THE ATTACK
All that the mind would shHnk from of e
All that the body perpetrates of bad,
All that we read, hear, dream of man's distresses,
All that the devil would do if run stark mad,
All by which hell is peopled or as sad
As that mere mortals who their power abuse,
Was here as heretofore and since let loose." Byron,
VIOLENT knocking and shaking at the outer door and thi
sound of voices.
" Open ! open ! let us in ! for God's sae, let us in !"
" Those are fugitives not foes listen they plead they do
not threaten go and unbar the door, Oliver," said Edith.
Reluctantly and cautiously the old man obeyed.
" Light another candle, Jenny that is dying in its socket
it will be out in a minute."
Trembling all over, Jenny essayed to do as she was bid, but
only succeeded in putting out the expiring light. The sound
of the unbarring of the door had deprived her of the last rem-
nant of self-control. Edith struck a light, while the sound of
footsteps and voices in the hall warned her that several persons
aad entered.
"It's Nell, and Liddy, and Sol, from Hay Hill! Oh, Miss
Edy! Thorg and his men are up dar a 'stroyin' every thing- 1
Oh, Miss Edy 1 an' us thought it was so safe au' out'n de way
up dar ! Oh, what a 'scape ! what a 'scape we-dem has had 1"
" What ! do I hear you right ? Hay Hill attacked ! Thorg
there !" exclaimed Edith. Her light was now burning, and she
locked wildly at the intruders. " Thorg 1 Thorg at Hay Hilll
Impossible 1"
"Yes, Miss Edith, yes; Thorg cutting and slaying and
clashing and burning, to his heart's content."
48 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"Thorg at Hay Hill! Good heaven of hearens ! and the
family ? and Fanny ? Merciful God ! Fanny ?"
The three fugitives began at once, in a wild and hurried man-
ner, to tell their story.
But Nell, with a wierd, commanding gesture, arrested the
speech of the others, and came forward herself to tell the tale.
She was a wild, unearthly figure, as she stood there in the
led glare of the caudle, where all else around was in murky ob-
scurity a wierd figure, jet black thin as a skeleton, and bent
with age. A scant, red, linsey gown, short and sleeveless, ex-
posed the long, skinny arms and legs, the wizened face was
fearfully contrasted with the protruded and glaring eye-balls
and gleaming fangs, and with the white, woolly hair, around
which was twisted a sanguine red handkerchief. Her abrupt
and angular gestures, her glaring eyes, her cat-like bounds and
springs, gave a supernatural and witch-like aspect to the most
frightful looking old hag you ever saw.
With many "starts and flaws," and staring of the wild orbs,
and lifting of the skinny arm, she told the awful story, which
disentangled from her wild confusion of ideas was this :
" That about eight o'clock on the evening before, the family
of Colonel Fairlie, of Hay Hill, were assembled in the parlor
for tea, and only waiting for the return of Mr. Laurie, the
colonel's son-in-law, from Charlotte Hall, to sit down at table,
when a large party of foragers, under Thorg, rode into the
yard, dismounted, and entered the house, which they proceeded
to sack. No resistance was made by the feeble household,
wTiere resistance would have been madness, as it would have
been totally ineffectual, except in provoking the foe to greater
violence. Only Colonel Fairlie endeavored to secure the safety
of his daughter by flight and concealment. He seized her
quickly, and, with what speed age could make, bore her off to
a neighboring woods. But he was seen, pursued, overtaken,
his child torn from his protecting bosom, and he himself put to the
sword. Half an hour later Mr. Laurie returned to find his home
a smoking heap of ruins, hi<$ father-i i-law murdered, and his
THE MISSING BRIDE. 49
bride, half an idiot, in the arms of a rude soldier. To draw
his pistol and shoot the mau dead upon the spot was the work
of a second. It was the first and last blood Henry Laurie ever
shed. He was instantly surrounded, knocked down and bayo-
neted absolutely impaled pinned to the earth by the pikea
of the soldiers. The negroes had fled, leaving Fanny in the
hands of the drunken and demonized soldiery.
" The main army was supposed to be on the march north-
wards to Washington City. It was more than probable that
they had overtaken the caravans of the retreating planters."
It is impossible to describe the effect of this story upon Edith.
Horror, wonder, despair, seemed to confuse and paralyze her
mind.
" Go," she said, abstractedly, mechanically. " Go, Jeuny, take
these poor creatures into the kitchen, and do what you can for
them. I must consider what is best for us all."
Jenny and Oliver spoke to the half-crazed fugitives, and drew
them away from the young lady's chamber.
And, left alone, Edith tried to collect her thoughts to under-
stand what had occurred, and to prepare for what might be to
come.
W.hat had occurred ?
Hay Hill, thought so safe in its obscurity and unimportance
flay Hill, the chosen place of refuge for herself Hay Hill,
attacked, sacked and burnt to the ground ! The gray-haired
Colonel Fairlie, and the gallant Harry Laurie, whom she had
deemed so secure in their wisdom and valor both massacred 1
The beauteous bride, Fanny, whose exceeding great happiness
.was lately the object of so much speculation, wonder, and almost
eavy to Edith left to a fate too horrible to contemplate ! All,
Fanny ! she had been the sybil and soothsayer in all the little
gatherings of young people at her father's hospitable house*
often prophecying from the palmistry she practised without
believing she had, with mock solemnity, predicted her own fate
her life short her death sharp and sudden. And now, new!
It was stran<p how Edith remembered this prediction -at-
50 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
tachcd to it dependant on it was a prophecy that concerned
herself But she could not think of self now. Her whole mmd
was absorbed with the thought of Fanny.
It was necessary, however, to arouse herself, to do something
to prepare for what might happen.
And what was likely to happen ?
Why, that ere the day was over the marauders would visit
Luckenough.
And how should she meet them ? The deep, tragic events
occurring around her had exalted Edith's mind above the thought
of self, or the fear of death there was but one thing she feared
above all others, to share Fanny's fate, to fall into the hands of
the licentious soldiery. And this she resolved to forestall by
providing herself with the means of instant death, to be used if
the occasion demanded it.
This having been determined upon, Edith's mind grew calm.
She arose and opened the shutters to look out upon the night.
It was no longer night but morning. Day was dawning, and
the east was tinged with the flush of the coming sun.
There is something always encouraging in the dawn of day
and the rising of the sun. Edith's heavy heart grew less oppressed,
' its gloomy despair stole away with the shadows of the night
nothing could happen to herself but death, and death, even by
her own hand, did not seem so horrible by daylight as it had
seemed in the murky darkness of the night. Her faith in God
and man her faith in her own moral power grew strong. She
did not despair of saving Luckenough even now, even from such
marauders as had laid waste Hay Hill and massacred its house-
hold. Edith began to dress herself While she was thus occu*
pied, Jenny came into the room, bringing a cup of strong coffee.
"I thought I would bring it to you before break'as', Misi
Edith, seein' how you was broke o' your res' las' night."
"Thank you, Jenny," said Edith, taking the cup and quailing
its contents, "but offer some to those poor creatures in the
kitchen. They are more in need of it than I am."
" I 'tends for to do it, Miss Edith, but Cracked Nell, she's
erore. I couldn't 'suade her to stay save my life "
THE MISSING BRIDE. 51
"You ought to have stopped her, however, poor creature ! for
where could she go when every place is infested with these
oldiers ?"
" 'Couldn's stop her for the soul of me, Miss Edith. She's
jes' as crazy as a June-bug ! an' de more you 'poses sick de wus
ley gits 1"
"But where has she gone? poor maniac!"
" She said how she had business o' 'portance some'ers else, at
Charlotte Hall, I b'lieves, an' so she went."
"Well, poor creature, I hope her wretched life will be safe.
You must go and attend to the others now. I shall not want
anything more just yet."
After breakfast was over, and the morning work hastily dis-
patched, Oliver presented himself at his young mistress' bed-
room door, and inquired if he had not better shut up and bar
all the doors and windows.
" No, Oliver, no ! there is not a door or window here that
they would not delight to break open, and it would be but play
for them to do it. No, we will not tempt and excite their anger
by giving them anything to combat. I have a different policy.
There are powers harder to overthrow than bars and bolts of
iron and doors of oak the spiritual influences that surround
home, harmlessness, peacefulness, non-resistance! No, Oliver,
bar and bolt no doors or windows, that would only provoke and
accelerate the attack, and cause the ruin of our homestead. No,
you will open wide the doors and windows, as our usual custom
is in summer weather. Let nothing be changed from the usual
routine. We must not look as if we dreamed of outrage. 1
shall sit here in the hall. Go bring my work-stand and chair
and footstool hither, and set them near the front door."
Oliver did so.
" Now open the front door and the back door, and prop them
open to let the breeze blow through as usual."
Oliver followed the directions of his mistress, and then stood,
nat in hand, to receive farther orders, while Edith seated herself
it her stand and began to ui -nnge her sewing.
52 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"Oliver, "she said, " here is a little pocket pistol that belonged
to my father. I kept it for his sake ; it may do me good
service in some extreme need ; I wish you would look and tell
me if it is in good order;" and she took the elegant little toy
of death from her ktand drawer, and handed it to her old servant.
He looked at it with the eye of a connoisseur.
"It's a perfect beauty, Miss Edith. No, honey, nothing 'tall
de matter of dis yer pistol."
"Have you any powder and shot, Oliver?"
"Some down at de quarter, honey."
" Go and get it then ; I want you to load that pistol for me,
and show me how to use it."
Oliver disappeared to do his mistress's bidding. He cleaned
the little weapon, prepared it for her use, loaded and brought
it to her, and showed her how to fire it off. He loaded and she
fired it several times.
"There, Oliver, I think I can trust myself to use it now.
Now load it well, Oliver ; put in a small bullet, and give it to me.''
Oliver did so, and Edith took the pistol and placed it in her
work-stand drawer.
" Now, for Marster's sake, Miss Edy, what you gwine do 'long
o' dat der little wiper-snake ?" inquired Jenny, with a shudder,
as she entered and saw the transaction.
" Only keep it by me, in case of emergency, Jenny. But I
trust to have no occasion for its use. Jenny, get your yarn,
your reel, and stool, and bring them here, and sit down with me
at work. And, Oliver, keep about the front door here not on
guard but at work get your wooden rake and be engaged in clear-
ing up the dry leaves from the grass. We must not seem as if
we expected a foe, or thought of violence. We must look home-
like, peaceful, harmless, non-resistant doing no wrong an 1
txpecting none. We must show no fear make no opposition ;
find then I feel sure that though they may rob the house, they
will leave it and its furniture uninjured, and ourselves entirely
unmolested. This is the best the only thing to do. For ii
wo were even now to fly, we should be just as apt as not to fall
THE MISSING BRIDE. 53
'nto their hands and if we should attempt to resist them, or to
bar their entrance here, they would laugh our efforts 1o scorn,
and never spare us. On the other hand, consider a party of
<bn.giiig soldiers coining to a quiet country-house, and finding
only a young woman engaged with her harmless sewing out 1
her two old servants at their peaceable domestic work the}
would not be able to do them a personal wrong."
"But Thorg! Miss Edith 1 if Thorg should come!'' said
Jenny.
" Still, if you follow the policy I have pointed out, you and
Oliver will be in no danger, even *-ora Thorg."
" But yon, Miss Edith ! you!"
" I have my remedy at hand."
Cheered and fortified by Edith's courage and constancy, the
old people arranged their morning's employment, as she had
directed.
And thus the forenoon was passed.
Edith sat sewing at her work-stand her heart filled with
grief for the fate of her friend Fanny ; with misgiving for the
safety of her uncle's retreating caravan, and with dread of what
might, the next hour, befall herself. But she governed and
suppressed these forebodings, whose expression would only do
harm. Her outward appearance was calm and brave, and sne
spoke only to encourage and fortify her two attendants.
Jenny sat near her mistress, reeling off yarn. And Oliver,
with his wooden rake, cleared up the grass of the lawn.
Once Edith arose from her work to go into her own room
and pray, for the failing heart to receive new strength. And
those few moments of her absence were fraught with fate to
Edith. As soon as she had disappeared and closed her cham-
ber door after her, Jenny left her seat, stepped cautiously tc
the front door, and beckoned Oliver silently to approach
Oliver softly dropped his rake,, and came stealing up tiie steps
of the portico.
" Oliver, what you tink Miss Edy want long o' dai fernal
wi|>T-suake of a little pistol you loden for she ?"
54 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Why, to shoot Thorg with, ef how he should come."
" What a funnelly fool I What de use o' she shoot he, when
der'd be twenty or thirty at his back to wenge him ? No, taint
to shoot no Thorys, nor no sick it's jes' to shoot she herself,
afore she'll fall into any o' der funnelly wicked hands !"
" No ! Lord ! you don't tink so 1 She musn't do nuffin 'tall
like dat der 'case allers when der's life der's hopes !" said the
old man, in a low voice, as he crept stealthily to the stand-
drawer and took out the pistol.
The old woman sat down to her reel, and reeled away as if
nothing had happened.
W r hat are you doing with that, Oliver ?" asked Edith, un-
suspiciously, as she re-entered the hall.
" Only 'suring of mysef how it's all right, Miss Edith," said
the old ican, with some nervous trepidation.
" And is it all right ?"
"Yes, Miss Edith, thank Marster!" said the old creature,
" with the sigh of a great deliverance," as he replaced the wea-
pon in the stand-drawer, and turned to go about his business.
" I do not* believe that we shall have occasion to use it, Oli-
ver," said Edith, resuming her seat and her work. " Where
are those poor souls from Hay Hill ?" she asked, after a little
pause, remembering the fugitives for the first time since
breakfast.
" Soun' asleep, Miss Edith, down at my quarter 'deed dey
is, chile, sleepin' like dead. I 'spose bow dey was fleein' and
'fendin all night last, an' dey's pcrf 'ly 'zausted."
That summer day was so holy in its beauty, so bright, so
clear, so cool ; that rural scene was so soothing in its influ-
ences, so calm, so fresh, so harmonious ; it was almost impossi-
ble to associate with that lovely day and scene, thoughts of
wrong and violence and cruelty. So felt Edith as she some-
tinies lifted her eyes from her work to the beauty and glory of
nature around Ler. And if now her heart ached, it was more
with grief for Fan ay's fate than dread of her own. There
THE MISSING BRIDE. 55
r-omes, borne upon the breeze that lifts her dark tresses, and
fans her pearly cheeks, the music of many rural voices of rip-
pling streams and rustling leaves and twittering birds ami
humming bees.
But mingled with these, at length, there comes to her atten-
tive ear a sound, or the suspicion of a sound, of distant horse-
hoofs falling upon the forest leaves it draws nearer it be-
comes distinct she knows it now it is it is a troop of Bri-
tish soldiers approaching the house 1
They rode in a totally undisciplined and disorderly manner;
reeling in their saddles, drunken with debauchery, red-hot,
reeking from some scene of fire and blood !
And in no condition to be operated upon by Edith's beauti-
rul and holy influences.
They galloped into the yard they galloped up to the house
their leader threw himself heavily from his horse and ad-
ranced to the door.
It was the terrible and remorseless Thorg ! No one could
doubt the identity for a single instant. The low, square-built,
thick-set body, the huge head, the bull neck, heavy jowl, coarse
sensual lips, bloodshot eyes, and fiery visage, surrounded with
coarse red hair, the whole brutalized, demonized aspect could
belong to no monster in the universe but that cross between
the fiend and the beast called THORG 1 And now he came,
intoxicated, inflamed, burning with fierce passions from some
fell scene of recent violence 1
Pale as death, and nearly as calm, Edith awaited his coming.
She could not hope to influence this man or his associates
She knew her fate now it was death ! death by her OWE
hand, before that man's foot should profane her threshold 1
She knew her fate, and knowing it, grew calm and strong,
There were no more hopes or fears or doubts or trepidations.
Over the weakness of the flesh the spirit ruled victorious, and
Edith stood revealed to herself richly endowed with that he-
roism she had so worshipped in others in that supreme mo-
ment mistress of herself and of her fate. To die by her own
56 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
hand! but not rashly not till a trial should be made- not till
ihe last moment. And how beautiful in this last fateful moment
she looked ! The death pallor had passed from her counte-
nance the summer breeze was lifting the light black curls.
soft shadows were playing upon the pearly brow a strange
elevation irradiated her face, and it " shone as it had been the
face of an angel."
" By George ! boys, what a pretty wench ! Keep back, yon
d d rascals I" (for the men had dismounted and were press-
ing behind him,) " keep back, I say, you drunken 1 Let
rank have precedence in love as in other things ! Your turn
may come afterwards ! Ho ! pretty mistress, has your larder
the material to supply my men with a meal ?"
Edith glanced around for her attendants. Jenny lay upon
the hall floor, fallen forward upon her face, in a deep swoon.
Oliver stood out upon tbe lawn, his teeth chattering, and his
knees knocking together with terror, yet faintly meditating a
desperate onslaught to the rescue with his wooden rake.
"No matter 1" for first of all we must have a taste of those
dainty lips; stand back, bl t you," he vociferated with a vol-
ley of appalling oaths, that sent the disorderly men, who were
Ugain crowding behind him, back into the rear ; " we would be
alone, d you ; do you hear ?"
The drunken soldiers fell back, and he advanced towards
Edith, who stood calm in desperate resolution. She raised her
hand to supplicate or waive him off, he did not care which her
other hand, hanging down by her side, grasped the pistol, which
she concealed in the folds of her dress.
"Hear me," she said, "one moment, I beseech you I"
The miscreant paused..
" Proceed, my beauty! Only don't let the grace before meat
be too long."
'I am a soldier's child," said Edith; her sweet, ciear voi.-je
slightly quavering like the strings of a lute over which the wiiid
has passed ; " I am a soldier's child my father died gallantly
on the field of battle. You are soldiers, nnd will not "uurv a
soldier's orphan daughter."
THE MISSING BEIDE. 57
" Not for the universe, my angel ; bl t 'era ! let any of 'em
hurt a hair of your head I I only want to love you a little, ray
beauty 1 that's all ! only want to pet you to your heart's con-
tent ;" and the brute made a step towards her..
" Hear me !" exclaimed Edith, raising her hand.
"Well, well, go on, ray dear, only don't be too long for raj
men want something to eat and drink, and I have sworn not to
break my fast until I know the flavor of those ripe lips."
Edith's fingers closed convulsively upon the pistol still held
hidden.
"I am alone and defenceless," she said; "I remained here,
voluntarily, to protect our home, because I had faith in the bet-
ter feelings of men when they should be appealed to. I had
heard dreadful tales of the ravages of the enemy through neigh-
boring sections of the country. I did not fully believe them.
I thought them the exaggerations of terror, and knew how such
stories grow in the telling. I could not credit the worst, be-
lieving, as I did, the British nation to be an upright and honor-
able enemy British soldiers to be men and British officers
gentlemen. Sir, have I trusted in vain ? Will you not let me
and ray old servants retire in peace ? All that the cellars and
storehouses of Luckenough contain, is at your disposal. You
will leave myself and attendants unmolested. I have not
trusted in the honor of British soldiers to my own destruction !"
"A pretty speech, my dear, and prettily spoken but not
half so persuasive as the sweet wench that uttered it," said
Thorg, springing towards her.
Edith suddenly raised the pistol an expression of deadly
determination upon her face.
Thorg as suddenly fell back. He was an abominable coward
in addition to his other qualities.
" Seize that girl ! seize and disarm her ! What mean you,
rascals ? are you to be foiled by a girl ? Seize and disarm her,
I say 1 are you men ?"
Yes, they were men, and therefore, drunken and brutal as
they were they hesitated to close upon one helpless girl.
58 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" II 1 fire and furies ! surround 1 disarm her, I say 1" vo-
ciferated Thorg.
Edith stood, her hand still grasping the pistol her other
one raise 1 in desperate entreaty.
" Oh ' one moment ! for heaven's sake, one moment ? still
hear me ! I would not have fired upon your captain ! NOT
would I fire upon one of you, who close upon me only at your
captain's order. There is something within me that shrinks
from taking life ! even the life of an enemy any life but my
own, and that only in such a desperate strait as this. Oh 1 by
She mercy that is in my own heart, show mercy to me! You
are men ! you have mothers, or sisters, or wives, at home, whom
you hope to meet again, when war and its insanities are over.
Oh ! for their sakes, show mercy to the defeaceless girl who
stands here in your power 1 Do not compel her to shed her own
blood ! for, sure as you advance one step towards me, I pull
this trigger, and fall dead at your feet." And Edith raised the
pistol and placed the muzzle to her own temple her finger
against the trigger.
The men stood still the captain swore.
" H 1 fire and flames 1 do you intend to stand there all day,
to hear the wench declaim ? Seize her, curse you 1 wrench that
weapon from her hand."
"Not so quick as I can pull the trigger!" said Edith her
eyes blazing with the sense of having fate the worst of fate in
her own hands ; it was but a pressure of the finger, to be made
quick as lightning;, and she was beyond their power I her finger
was on the trigger the muzzle of the pistol, a cold ring of
cteel pressed her burning temple ! she felt it kindly protective
as a friend's kiss 1
" Seize her ! Seize her, curse you !" cried the brutal Thorg,
J' ; what care /whether she pull the trigger or not ? Before the
I blood cools in her body, I will have had my satisfaction 1 Seize
her, you infernal "
" Captain, countermand your order I I bey, I entreat you,
countermand your ti'dei ! You yourself will greatly regret
THE MISSING BRIDE. 59
having given it, when you are calmer," said a young officer,
riding hastily forward, and now, for the first time, taking a part
in the scene.
An honorable youth in a band of licensed military ma-
rauders 1
" 'Sdeath, sir ! don't interfere with me ! Seize her, rascals t"
' One step more, and I pull the trigger !" said Edith.
" Captain Thorg 1 This must not be !" persisted the young
officer.
"I) n, sir! do you oppose me? do you dare? Fall back ;
sir, I command you ! Scoundrels ! close upon that wench and
bind her I"
" Captain Thorg 1 This SHALL NOT be ? Do you hear ?
Po you understand ! I say this violence SHALL NOT be per-
petrated I" said the young officer, firmly.
" D n, sir 1 Are you drunk, or mad ? You are under
arrest, sir 1 Corporal Truman, take Ensign Shield's sword !"
The young man was quickly disarmed, and once more the
captain vociferated.
" Knock down and disarm that vixen ! Obey your orders,
villains 1 Or by h 1, and all its fiends, I'll have you all court-
martialed, and shot before to-morrow noon !"
The soldiers closed around the unprotected girl.
" Lord, all merciful ! forgive my sins," she prayed, and with
a firm hand pulled the trigger 1
It did not respond to her touch it failed ! it failed !
Casting the traitorous weapon from her, she sunk upon her
knees, murmuring,
"Lost lost all is lost!" remained crushed, overwhelmed,
awaiting her fate !
"Ha! ha! ha! as pretty a little make-believe as ever I siwl'*
laughed the brutal Thorg, now perfectly at his ease, and g bat-
ing over her beauty, and helplessness, and deadly terror. "As
pretty a little sham as ever I saw !"
"It was no sham! She couldn't sham! I drawed out the
sho* unhekn.'wnst to her! I wish, I does, my fingers had
60 MIRIAM, THE A V E X G E R ; OR,
shriveled and dropped off afore they ever did it !" exclaimed
Oliver, in a passion of remorse, as he ran forward, rake in hand
He was quickly thrown down and disarmed no one had any
hesitation in dealing with Mm.
"Now then, my fair 1" said Thorg, moving towards his victim
Edith was now wild with desperation her eyes flew wildly
around in search of help, where help there seemed none. Then
Bhe turned with the frenzied impulse of flying.
But the men surrounded to cut off her retreat.
"Nay, nay, let her run ! let her run ! give her a fair start,
and do you give chase ! It will be the rarest sport ! F^x-
hunting is a good thing, but girl-chasing must be the very b 1
of sport, when I tell you mind, / tell you, men she shall be
the exclusive prize of him who catches her!" swore the te
morseless Thorg.
Edith had gained the back door.
They started in pursuit.
"Now, by the living Lord that made me, the first man t?-.at
lays hands on her shall 'die !" suddenly exclaimed the young en-
sign, wresting his sword from the hand of the corporal, spring-
ing between Edith and her pursuers, flashing out the blade, aud
brandishing it in the faces of the foremost.
He was but a stripling, scarcely older than Edith's self 1he
arm that wielded that slender blade scarcely stronger than
Edith's own but the fire that flashed from the eagle eye showed
a spirit to rescue or die in her defence.
Thorg threw himself into the most frantic fury a volley of
the most horrible oaths was discharged from his lips.
" Upon that villain, men ! beat him down I slay him 1 pin him
to the ground with your bayonets! And then! do yonr will
with the girl !"
But before this fiendish order could be executed, aye, before
it was half spoken, whirled into the yard a body of about thirty
horsemen, galloping fiercely to the rescue with drawn swords
and shouting voices.
They were nearly three times the number of the foraging
soldiers.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 61
CHAPTER IV.
TOUNO AMERICA IN 1814.
" And in they burst! and on they rushed I
While like a guiding star,
Amid the thickest carnage blazed
The helmet of Navarre." Battle of Ivry.
YOUNG students of C Academy mere boys of from
thirteen to eighteen years of age, but brave, spirited, vigorous
lads, well mounted, well armed, and led on by the redoubtable
college hero, Cloudesley Mornington. They rushed forward,
they surrounded, they fell upon the marauders with an absolute
shower of blows.
" Give it to them, men 1 This for Fanny ! This for Edith !
And this ! and this ! and this for both of them !" shouted
Cloudesley, as he vigorously laid about him. " Strike for Hay
Hill and vengeance I Let them have it, my men ! And you,
little fellows ! small young gentlemen, with the souls of heroes,
and the bodies of elves, who can't strike a very hard blow, aim
where your blows will tell ! aim at their faces. This for Fanny 1
This for Edith !" shouted Cloudesley, raining his strokes right
and left, but never at random.
He fought his way through to the miscreant Thorg.
Thorg was still on foot, armed with a sword, and laying about
him savagely among the crowd of foes that had.snrrounded him.
Cloudesley was still on horseback he had caught up an axe
that lay carelessly upon the lawn, and now he rushed upon
Thorg from behind.
He had no scruple in taking this advantage of the enemy
no scruple with an unscrupulous monster an outlawed wretch
a wild beast to be destroyed, when and where and how it was
possible !
Ana so C" >udesley came on behind, and elevating this for-
62 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
rnidable weapon in both hands, raising himself in his stirrups,
and throwing his whole weight with the stroke, he dealt a blow
open the head of Thorg that brought him to the earth stunned,
perhaps dead. From the impetus Cloudesley himself had re-
ceived, i.e had nearly lost his saddle, but had recovered.
" They fly ! They fly 1 By the bones of Csesar, the miscre-
ants fly I after them, my men ! after them ! Pursue ! pursue !"
shouted Cloudesley, wheeling his horse around to follow.
But just then, the young British officer standing near Editb,
resting on his sword, breathing, as it were, after a severe conflict,
caught Cloudesley's eyes. Intoxicated with victory, Cloudesley
sprang from his horse, and raising his axe, rushed up the stairs
upon the youth !
Edith sprang and threw herself before the stripling, impul-
sively clasping her arms around him to shield him, and then
throwing up one arm to ward off a blow, looked up and ex-
claimed,
" He is my preserver my preserver, Cloudesley !"
And what did the young ensign do ? Clasped Edith quietly
but closely to his breast.
It was a beautiful, beautiful picture !
Nay, any one might understand how it was that not years
npcn years of ordinary acquaintance could have so drawn, so
knitted these young hearts together as those few hours of su-
preme danger.
' : My preserver, Cloudesley! My preserver*!"
Cloudesley grounded his axe.
"I don't understand that, Edith ! He is a British officer."
" He is my deliverer ! When Thorg set his men on me to
hunt me, he cast himself before me, and kept them at bay until
you came !"
" Mutinied !" exclaimed Cloudesley, in astonishment, and a
sort of horror.
"Yes, I suppose it was mutiny," said the young ensigu,
speaking for the first time, and blushing as he withdrew his arm
from Edith's waist
THE MISSING BRIDE, 63
" Whe-ew 1 here's a go 1" Cloudeslcy was about to exclaim,
bat remembering himself he amended his phraseology, aud said,
"A very embarrassing situation, yours, sir."
" I can NOT reget it !"
" Certainly not 1 There are laws of God and humanity above
all military law, and such you obeyed, sir ! I thank you on the
part of my young countrywoman," said Cloudesley, who ima-
gined that he could talk about as well as he could fight.
"If the occasion could recur, I would do it again! Yes, a
thousand times 1" the young man's eyes added to Edith only to
her.
" But oh ! perdition ! while I am talking here that serpent !
that copperhead ! that cobra capella ! is coming round again I
How astonishingly tenacious of life all foul, venomous creatures
are !" exclaimed Cloudesley, as he happened to espy Thorg
moving slightly where he lay, and rushed out to despatch him.
The ocner two young people were left alone in the hall.
" I am afraid you have placed yourself in a very, very dan-
gerous situation, by what you did to save me."
" But do you know oh, do you know how happy it has made
me ? Can you divine how my heart yes, my soul burns with
the joy it has given me ? When I saw you standing there be-
fore your enemies so beautiful ! so calm ! so constant I felt
that I could die for you that I would die for you. And when
I oprang between you and your pursuers, I had resolved to die
for you. But first to set your soul free. Edith, you should not
have fallen into the hands of the soldiers ! Yes ! I had deter-
mined to die for and with you 1 You are safe. And whatever
befals me, Edith, will you remember that ?"
" You are faint ! you are wounded 1 indeed you are wounded I
Oh where ! Oh ! did any of our people strike you ?"
" Xo it was one of our men, Edith ! I do not know you''
other name, s\vect lady !"
" Never mind my name it is Edith that will do ; but your
wound }our wound oh I you are very pale here ! lay down
upon this settee Oh, t is too hard ! come into my room, i/
64 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
opens here upon the hail there is a comfortable lounge there,
come in and lie down let me get you something ?"
" Thanks thanks, dearest lady, but I must get upon my
horse and go I"
"Go?"
" Yes, Edith don't you understand, that after what I have
dono after what I have had the joy of doing the only honor-
able course left open to me, is to go and give myself up to
answer the charges that may be brought against me ?"
" Oh, Heaven ! I know 1 I know what you have incurred by
defending me ! I know the awful penalty laid upon a military
officer who lifts his hand against his superior. Don't go ! oh,
aon't go !"
"And do you really take so much interest in my fate, sweetest
lady ?" said the youth, gazing at her with the deepest and most
delightful emotions.
'"Take an interest' in my generous protector ! How should
I help it ? Oh 1 don't go ! Don't think of going. You will
uot will you ? Say that you will not I"
" You would not advise me to anything dishonorable, I am
sure."
" No no but oh 1 at such a fearful cost you have saved me.
Oh ! when I think of it, I wish you had not interfered to defend
me. I wish it had not been done !"
" And /would not for the whole world that it had not been
done ! Do not fear for me, sweetest Edith ! I run little risk
in voluntarily placing myself in the hands of a court-martial
for British officers are gentlemen, Edith 1 you must not judge
them by those you have seen and when they hear all the cir-
cumstances, I have little doubt that my act will be justified
besides, my fate will rest with Ross, General Ross one of the
most gallant and noble spirits ever created, Edith ! And now
you must let me go, fairest lady." And he raised her hand
respectfully to his lips, bowed reverently, and left the hall to find
Uis horse.
ID the meantime Cloudesley Mornington had gone out to
THE MISSING BRIDE. 65
despatch Thorg if needful. But when he reached the side of
his fallen foe, the body lay so still that Oondesley believed it
dead. He did not like to strike a corpse but to kill Thorg
to make sure of his death, Cloudesley was resolved he thought
it his duty he felt it his duty just as men feel it incumbent
upon them to slay any cruel beast of prey fallen into their power
So Cloudesley stood over the monster, with his weapon raised,
watching with some curiosity and interest for some sign of life
and recovery that should invite the descending blow. He ha^
vratchod some minutes occasionally pushing the body with hi*
foot, and scrutinizing the brutal and ferocious face with some-
thing of a physiognomist's interest, when the monster suddenly
made a great spasmodic heave and plunge settled himself still
again and opened his eyes.
In an instant Cloudesley's foot was planted on his chest, and
the point of his sword placed against his throat.
" I believed that you were dead or you never would havo
opened your eyes again 1 Say your prayers ! Make your peace
with Heaven, for your hour has come !"
The miscreant attempted to struggle feebly, stupidly, in
effectually, for he was half dead, and the pressure of the point of
that sword against his throat was dangerous, might be instantly
fatal, and it warned him to be still.
" Say your prayers ! Make your peace with Heaven if you
can, for in five minutes your soul will be in eternity 1"
"Cloudesley! Cloudesley!"
The young man raised his eyes to see Edith standing opposite
to him.
" Cloudesley ! Spare that man ! Do not send his soul to God
with such a load of sin upon it!"
"Go into the house, dearest Edith !"
" No, not yet ! I dare not, Cloudesley ! spare that man ! Do
not kill a fallen, helpless foe, for see, he scarcely breathes now !"
"Eilith Lance! will you retire, or do you prefer tc remaia
iicre and witness an execution ?"
" You must not shed blood, Cloudesley ! You must not stain
4
66 MIEIAM, THE AVENGEE; OE,
your young, pure, innocent hand with blood! For your c\vn
sake, spare him !"
"Miss Lance, if you do not leave this, you will speedily see a
thing done that will haunt you all the nights of your life I"
"A murder! Yes, Cloudesley, call it by its right name ! But
you will not do such a deed before my eyes, and I may siy upon
my very threshold ! You will not, Cloudesley ! If you will not
spare him for his sake nor for your own sake, Cloudesley ! spare
him for mine, for JSdith's. I thank God that in this fray no
one has been killed on either side. I thank God that the soil
of our home is still pure from the stain of blood ! Oh, Cloudes-
ley ! for my sake, for nature's sake yea ! for God's ! do not
pollute this spot with blood ! Do not spoil its beautiful charm
do not make it hideous and loathsome in my sight ! Oh !
Cloudesley, if you should do this deed here oh ! Cloudesley !
I should never, never enjoy peace of mind again ! I should
never, never be able to endure my home, or even to look upon
your face again with pleasure, Cloudesley ! Do not give me so
much misery then !"
" Edith ! I hunger and thirst ! I pant and gasp for this demonV
life!"
"But yet, for my sake, you will spare him the Lord bless
you, Cloudesley !"
" Edith ! Do you know, ' it hath been said of them of old
time,' that it is a fearful thing to come between the criminal
and his just retribution ? Edith ! it hath been said that whoso
intercepteth such a righteous retribution, receiveth it upon his
own head, even as the object that passes between the thunderbolt
and its aim, is shattered to destruction. Edith ! I feel strangely
impelled to warn yon if you interfere to save this man, he will b
in some way fatal to you !"
" I accept the risk ! I accept it! Yes ! I come between the
criminal and his doom rather than have a plague spot on my
eoul or on yours I I intercept the thunderbolt rather than that
there should be one blasted spot such as blood would make
upon this sweet green sward 1"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 67
Cloudesley sheathed his sword and removed his foot from the
chest of the wounded man.
Just theu the young ensign was seen approaching leading his
lorse, but looking frightfully ill, and walking with pain and
difficulty.
" You are not going to leave us, sir ?" asked Cloudesley.
<; I am under the necessity of doing so."
'But you are not able to travel you can scarcely sit your
horse- Pray do not think of leaving us."
" You are a soldier at least an amateur one, and yon will
understand that after what has occurred, I must not seem to
hide myself like a fugitive from justice 1 In short, I must go
and answer for that which I have done."
" I understand, but really, sir, you look very ill you "
But here the young officer held out his hand smilingly, took
leave of Cloudesley, and bowing low to Edith, rode off.
Cloudesley and Edith followed the gallant fellow with their
eyes. He had nearly reached the gate, the old green gate at
the farthest end of the semi-circular avenue, when the horse
stopped, the rider reeled and fell from his saddle. Cloudesley
and Edith ran towards him reached him. Cloudesley disen-
tangled his foot from the stirrup, and raised him in his arms.
Edith stood pale and breathless by.
"He has fainted I I knew he was suffering extreme "pain.
Edith ! fly and get some water 1 Or rather here ! sit down and
hold up his head while I go."
Edith was quickly down by the side of her preserver, support-
ing his head upon her breast. Cloudesley sped towards the
house for water and assistance. When he procured what
he wanted and returned, he met the troop of collegians on
their return from the chase of the retreating marauders. They
reported that they had scattered the fugitives in every direc-
tion and loot them in the labyrinths of the forest They wore
tremendously elated with their victory. The victory of school
boys over regular troops. British troops ! That was the way
they chose to consider "t. But not a very surprising feat of
68 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
arms when we remember that the boys were healthy and vigor
ous lads from thirteen to eighteen well mounted well armed,
and brave as lions, and that they three times outnumbered the
enemy, who was already overdone by a clay and night and morn-
iug of horrid debauchery, and who, taken by surprise, would
not oven measure the strength of the attacking party.
Yet, nevertheless, the boys were fairly delirious with the
pride of their first victory.
When they saw the young British officer upon the ground,
supported in the arms of Edith, they rejoiced over another pri-
soner, as they thought. Two prisoners of war taken by their
party ! two officers, and one the notorious Thorg ! That was
almost too much glory for the heads of boys to bear sanely !
Several of them dismounted and gathered around the young
ensign.
But Cloudesley was now upon the spot, and while he bathed
the face of the fainting man, explained to them how it was, and
requested some one to ride immediately to the village and pro-
cure a physician. Thurston Willcoxen, the next in command
under him, and his chosen brother-in-arms, mounted his horse
and galloped off.
A mattrass was in the meantime brought down, the wounded
man laid carefully upon it, and borne by the boys to the man-
sion house. He was laid upon a cot in one of the parlors. A
young medical student among the youths, sending the crowd
from the bedside, proceeded to open his dress and examine his
wound, to do what he could for him before the arrival of the
doctor.
Edith retired from the room, and sent old Jenn^ to hi? as-
sistance. Old Jenny, since recovering from her s.roon, had
been walking about "settling things up," mechanically, like
01 e in a dream.
Edith found herself alone with Cloudesley, for a few mo-
ments.
" Tell me, Cloudesley," she said, "how it was that you came
BO opportunely to our relief?"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 69
" Why, you see, Edith, this morning we fellows were at oui
military exercises, in the academy grounds, when the news came
of the massacre at Hay Hill. As soon as we heard it, I rode
up to the head of our company, and turning and facing them,
I said, 'Soldiers, attend I' And they attended. 'You have
heard of the inhuman outrages at Hay Hill.' They had heard.
1 Then draw your swords.' And they drew. ' Throw away the
scabbards.' Aud they threw. 'Raise their points to Heaven.'
And they raised. 'Bow your heads.' And they bowed. 'Now
swear by the sacred love you bear your mothers, sisters and
sweethearts, never to sheath your blades until you sheath them
in English flesh.' And they swore. 'Now cry, "God for
Harry, England and St. George I" No 1 thunder and blazes !
thataintit! I mean, "God for vengeance, Fannie, and Hay
Hill !" ' And they cried. ' Now, right face I quick step ! for-
ward ! march !' And they marched. And here we are. We
came, we saw, we conquered."
" But the doctors ! I wonder they did not feel a great re-
sponsibility in letting you come !"
" Oh, the Big Wigs did try to stop us. But they were not
in time. You sea, when they saw me from the house haranguing
my men, they thought we were only exercising as usual. But
when they saw the company defiling down the road, they
came running out in a body old Grim at their head to see
what was the matter. They ordered us in. But soldiers know
their duty better. I addressed them. ' If any man over thir-
teen years of age deserts his ranks at this crisis, he shall be
forever expelled from this company, and from the society of all
honorable men, and shall be considered a 'pshaw ! a nuisance in
the noses of fellows forever and ever 1' The majority stood by
me many even of the little fellows insisted on going with us
and some great lubberly babies of nineteen went back with thfl
professors."
" But you started for Hay Hill. Alas ! much too late it
must have been ! But how came you here !"
" That's it ! We had proceoded about three mi' v of onr
70 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
march, and reached the fork in the road where it turns in lo
the forest towards this place, when we met an old woman whc
told us that Hay Hill was nothing but a blackened heap of
smoking ruins, and that not a soul of either destroyer or victim
remained upon the place, but that we must go to Luckenough,
wher-e we should be wanted. That the house would be attacked,
and there was no one there but Miss Edith to defend it. She
said she had started to go to C , and get us to come for
this very purpose that she could not bear for Miss Edith to
suffer, whatever might befall Luckenough 1"
" It was poor old Nell, was it not ?"
" Yes, it was Nell
CHAPTER V.
EDITH'S LOVE.
" A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green
No more of me you knew,
My love !
No more of me you knew." Sir Walter Scott.
" EDITH I I should not hesitate to announce the fact to a
foung lady of less resolution than yourself, but, my dear Lady
Castellaine ! we must fortify this ' castle' as well as we can
against a possible renewal of the attack, for the probability is
these rascals I beg your pardon, Edith may report their own
defeat, and our weakness, and return with a reinforcement to
burn or batter down these walls over our heads. So, I believe
I must go and see the other fellows, Edith, and consult what is
>est to be done," said Cloudesley Mornington, touching his cap
to the young laij rf the mansion, as he left her
THE MISSING BRIDE. 71
Cloudeslev went to call a council of war in the salocn.
Edith glided softly to the door of the parlor, where, stretched
upon cot, lay her wounded champion. But though she list-
ened attentively, all was so still within, that she could hear
nothing of his condition. After a little anxious listening, and
a little awkward hesitation, she tapped softly at the door, and
brought out Solomon Weismann, the young medical student,
before mentioned.
"How is is Thorg?" asked the maiden.
" Thorg oh ! he? why,' he is seriously injured a contu-
sion of the cerebellum, and concussion of the cerebrum, de-
priving him for the present of the powers of volition anu
sensation, and threatening to terminate in death. He is now
lying on a cot in the next room to this of the young ensign, in
a comatose state, with a half a peck of ice about his head, and
half a peck of mustard about his extremities. May destiny
baffle the utmost skill of medical science in his case ! I feel it
my duty to do all that can be done to save him, but I hope it
may fail, that's all."
" You must not encourage such feelings in your heart for
the purity and nobility of your own soul, you must not. But
your other patient ?"
" The young ensign ? Oh! He is very dreadfully injured,
indeed, Miss Lance," replied the youth, who, knowing nothing
of the circumstance of his patient's having received his inju-
ries in Edith's defence, could not guess that she should take
any deep interest in his fate.
" Has his wound been dressed ? is he suffering much ?"
asked Edith, in a tremulous voice.
"Why, yes to both of your questions ! I have dressed his
veound as well as circumstances will admit, but he is suffering
extremely ; must be, you know, Miss Lance. You see, his in-
jury is a very complicated one it is at once a punctured,
contused, and lacerated wound tearing the pectoralis-minor,
shattering the third and fourth ribs, with the intercostal mus-
fle*. near Mieir articulation with the second os-sternum, and
72 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
driving the splintered bones through the pleura-costalis, and
ihe pleura-pulmonalis into the parenchyma," answered the
young student, making the most of the occasion to display his
science.
"But is that a very dangerous wound or not ? I think 1
don't quite understand," said Edith, faintly.
" Well, I judge it to be a very bud thing, Miss Lance, when
the ribs are broken and driven into the substance of the lungs "
" Oh !" gasped the young girl, with a painful start, as if she
herself had received a bayonet thrust through the bosom.
The medical student went pitilessly on, regardless of the pain
he was inflicting
" High inflammation and fever has set in, and he is suffering
excruciating agony."
" I hope you are mistaken I did not hear him groan
once," faltered Edith.
"Why, no! really, he shows the most marvellous fortitude-
while I was examining and probing his wound, and picking out
little splinters of bone from the pleura, and taking up an ar-
tery, and closing up the ragged gash though his lips were
white, and his brow knitted with the mortal agony, not a groan
escaped him ! no, not one ! I could not help admiring him,
enemy to our country as he is !"
Edith was unconsciously wringing and compressing her hands
" But the wound is not mortal not mortal ?"
" Why, what a tender heart you have, Miss Edith, to feel so
much compassion for a wounded enemy. Suppose it had been
one of our countrymen yes ! suppose it had been me ? Why,
the shook would have killed you !"
"But the wound is not mortal you said so didn't you?'"
" Of course I did not, Miss Lance. Certainly the wound is
mortal ; but you need not distress your kind heart about it, for
though we shall do all that we possibly can to alleviate his suf-
ferings, yet still we must consider that he is our country's enemy,
and therefore I should think you need not lay awake, to-night.
thinking of his misery 01 go into mourning for him when IK?
d>s"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 73
11 Oh, I wish, I ivish the surgeon would coine I When do
you think he will come? You are so young, so h experienced,
you cannot be an infallible judge you may be mistaken. Oh !
when do you think the doctor will be here ?"
" It is impossible for me to say, Miss Lance," replied Salo-
mon, piqued at her distrust of his own skill ; " I do not know
but what I do know is, that the doctor cannot do much when
ne does come. And whether he gets here to-night or not, 1
can tell you how it will all end. The inflammation must in-
crease, and the fever rise until it reaches delirium, and his ex-
cruciating agonies must continue to augment until mortification
sets in, when the pain will abate, and the fever subside, and an
easy death close the scene. This will probably take place some
time to-morrow morning. Anything more you wish to know,
Miss Lance ?"
"No! no!"
The young man disappeared within, closing the door after
him.
A short gasp, a suppressed sob, and Edith leaned, half faint-
ing, against the wainscotting.
Presently she heard wheels rolf up to the door and stop.
She looked up. It was the carnage of the surgeon, whom she
saw alight and walk up the steps. She went to meet him, com-
posedly as she could, and conducted him to the door of the sick
room, which he entered. Edith remained in the hall, softly
A'a!king up and down, and sometimes pausing to listen.
After a little, the door opened. It was only Solomon Weis-
mann, who asked for warm water, lint, and a quantity of old
'iuen. These Edith quickly supplied, and then remained alone
in the hall, walking up and down, and pausing to listen as be-
fore ; once she heard a deep shuddering groan, as of one ia
mortal extremity, and her own heart and frame thrilled to the
sound, and then all was still as before.
An hour, two hours, passed, and then the door opened again,
Find Edith caught a glimpse of the surgeon, with his shirt
sleeves pushed above ' xi 's elbows, and a pair of bloody hands
M MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OE,
It was Solomon who opened the door to ask for a basin of
water, towels and soap, for the doctor to wash. Edith fur-
nished these also.
Half an hour passed, and the door opened a third time, and
the doctor himself came out, fresh and smiling. His counte-
nance and his manner were in every respect encouraging.
"Come into the drawing-room a moment, if you please, Miss,
Edith, I want to speak with you."
Edith desired nothing more, just at that moment.
" Well, doctor your patient ?" she inquired, anxiously.
" Will do very well I Will do very well ! That is, if he be
properly attended to, and that is what I wished to speak to
you about, Miss Edith. I have seen you near sick beds before
this, my dear, and know that I can better trust you than any
one to whom I could at present apply. I intend to instal you
as his nurse, my dear. When a life depends upon your care,
you will waive any scruples you might otherwise feel, Miss
Edith, I am sure 1 You will have your old maid, Jenny, to
assist you, and Solomon at hand, in case of an emergency. But
I intend to delegate my authority, and leave my directions with
you."
" Yes, doctor, I will do my very best for your patient."
" I am sure of that. I am sure of that."
She wished to tell him that the invalid was her preserver,
and had received the wound in defending her from his own
party, but it was a long, eloquent story, in Edith's apprehen-
sion ; she would not interrupt his directions by alluding to it
now she would do full justice to it another time. Now she
wanted to receive his orders and ask some questions.
" His wound, doctor, is not dangerous then ?"
"Well no, Miss Editfa, if he is properly nursed."
" Solomon Weismann told me the wound was a very terrible
one," said Edith, repeating the description he had given of the
injury.
The doctor laughed.
" Solomon is a pedantic fool 1 and bent upon astonishing
everybody with his knowledge."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 75
" Sarvtu.t, sir I Beg your pardon, raarster, fer interruptin'
o' you ! but you 'low how Marse Soloraun Weismann was not
sensible o' his 'fession ?" inquired Jenny, appearing at the door
with a scrap of paper in her hand, which she studied very
dubiously.
" Well, now, Aunty, I rather think it is no concern of yours."
" 'Deed, beg your pardon, marster, it's a heap o' 'cern o 1
mine. 'Cause, you see, marster, how I took a 'struction in my
t'roat quinsequence o' settin' out'n de jew long o' Miss Edy
las' night. So jes' now I tells Doctor Solomun 'bout it. An'
he look down my t'roat, he did, an' 'formed me how I had de
tongs-an-sumtin-or oder."
"Do you mean tonsilitis?"
"Yes, marse! dat it! tongs-and-eat-us, an' he guv me dis
yer 'scription!" said Jenny, handing the mysterious scrap of
paper. " Please read it, marster, an' see if it's all right case
I has my doubts o' dese yer youngsters."
The doctor took the paper and laughingly read, " Pulv.
Capsi. one scruple, Chlorid. Sodea. half a scruple, Aceti. half
a fluid ounce, Aqua. Puris. Bull., quantum suf."
Jenny listened with her mouth and eyes growing wider at
every item, until at its conclusion she burst out indignantly with,
" Dar I what I tell you ? Mus' t'ink how people's a funuelly
fool ! to heave all dat dere rank pisen truck down der 'troats !"
" Why, that's all very good ! all right 1 simple and proper
remedy enough ! that's the pedantic for red pepper tea 1 which
you know of yourself is good for a common sore throat, and
which you can make for yourself well enough ! There ! now
take yourself off Jenny; I have something to say to yon/
mistress."
Jenny left the room, grumbling to herself,
" Wonner why de debbil dat der 'ceited fellow could'nt o'
tolled me to make pepper tea for my sore t'roat 'stead of writin.'
il )\vu Pull. Caps an Aquafortis bull. It do soun gran' though,
'decil do it! 'Aqua fortis,' I'll member of 'em! Ah! Lcr',
what it is to have an viification 1"
76 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
The doctor was giving Edith his last directions.
" Above all things, Miss Lance, the patient must be kapt
entirely free from heat and excitement of all kinds he must be
kept perfectly still and cool, yet not too cool you must use
your judgment. You will find the same directions, together
with my written orders for the regulation of his medicine and
diet for the next twenty-four hours, on this paper/' And the
doctor placed in her hands a folded slip, and took his departure.
Edith was glad to have the privilege nay, the duty of nurs-
ing her invalid. Yet she felt by no means at ease. She knew
the doctor's way of old how, with his cheerful, hopeful temper,
and encouraging, flattering tongue, he was just as apt to put
too fair a face upon matters as Mr. Solomon was to put too
dark a one. She had often heard it said of the doctor, " Oh !
Doctor Brightwell, though the best doctor in the world, will
never own that there is anything serious the matter until the
patient is in the grave 1" Edith knew it to be true of him,
too. And so it was not with the lightest of hearts that she en-
tered the sick room of her patient. She was relieved from the
deep despondency into which Solomon's report had thrown her,
but not from anxiety. She prepared the iced tamarind water
the doctor had ordered to cool his burning thirst, and placed it
on a stand at hand, and then she took a large feather fan and
sat down to fan him her present duty being to keep him cool,
yet to keep his chest covered carefully, lest the least air should
penetrate to that dreadful wound, and to give him drink when-
ever he needed it. Since the fatigue and pain of the second
and thorough examination and dressing, the surgeon had found
it necessary to give the wound after his clumsy student, the
patient had fallen into the sleep of exhaustion. But his face
was flushed with rising fever, his slumber was restless he mur-
mured in his disturbed dreams, and threw about his left arm, 1
his right arm, though itself uninjured, was bound down, lest its
slightest motion should disturb the wound upon that side. He
needed the closest watching, the most vigilant attention, such
as on I 1 " one so interested in his life as Edith was would givs
THE MISSING BRIDE. 77
him. He awoke several times in the course of the evening, und
took the drink from her hands, but never recognized his nurse.
He called her "Marian," and "dearest Marian." But never
" Edith." Edith, and the scenes of the last few hours, seemed
to have passed from his memory. As his fever rose, the poor
girl's heart sank, she thought Solomon's prophecy was about to
be fnlQlled.
The long, gawky figure, red head, and freckled face of the
medical student frequently appeared at the door, and once dur-
ing the evening he relieved her watch, while she went out to
give some orders to Jenny and Oliver.
" And I likes for to know, Miss Edy, what we-dem got to
get for dem dar boys' suppers ? Dey aint had the fust bit o'
dinner, an' is as hungry as houn' dogs," said the latter.
And indeed it was a serious consideration. There were some
thirty youth ; and the provisions of the garrison of Luckenough
were not extensive the first evacuating party under Commo-
dore Waugh having carried off nearly all th-j edibles. Edith
was nonplussed.
" If I kills all de chickens as is left, and cooks all de bacon
and eggs, der'll be enough for to-night and to-morrow morniu'.
But what de debbil we-dem gvvine do arter datt"
" Oh, well ! if there's enough for the present, use it, Jenny,
and to-morrow we can send to some of the neighbors and get
provisions." So this matter was settled, and Edith resumed
her watch.
She watched by his cot through all the night, fanning him
softly, keeping his chest covered from the air, giving him 1m
medicine at the proper intervals, and putting drink to his lips
when he needed it. But never trusted her eyelids to close for
\ moment. Jenny shared her vigil by nodding in an easy
hair; and the young medical student by sleeping soundly on
the wooden settee in the hall. So passed the night. After
midnight, to Edith's great relief, his fever began to abate, and
he sunk into a sweet sleep. In the morning Solomon roused
himself, and came in and relieved Edith's watch, and attended
78 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OE,
to the wants of the patient, while she went to her room to bath*
her face and weary eyes.
After breakfast there was an arrival at the honse. Two of
the professors from the academy came in search of their pupils.
They explained that they should have come the evening before
had not the return of Doctor Brightwell to the village, and his
nport of the state of affairs at Luckenough, put them at ease
io respect to their charge. The professors reported that tho
British forces were far on their march to Washington City, and
the neighborhood was for the present delivered from their com-
pany. The lads were then mustered, the roll called, and all
being found right, they departed with the professors once more
for "Academic Shades." And Edith and her patient, with
Jenny and Oliver, who attended Thorg, were left alone in the
hall.
She prepared the light, nutritious food he was permitted to
partake, and placed it on the stand by the bedside ready for
him, when he should awake, and then resumed her seat beside
him to fan him, and to watch the refreshing sleep into which
he had fallen. No mother ever watched her child with more
care and tenderness.
How she thanked Heaven for that restoring sleep, and for
the deep, cool quiet of the whole house, so favorable to the
sufferer. The back windows of the room were open, but the
thick branches of the old elm trees made a dark, pleasant shade,
and the cool breeze murmured low, slumbrous music through
the rustling leaves as it came into the room. Everything was
so soothing and refreshing to the invalid, and she so quietly
rejoiced in it.
How strangely how suddenly this new interest had entered
hei sail Twenty-four hours ago, and she had never known
the existence of this generous, noble boy, who now occupied
all her thoughts. Twenty-four hours ago she had not seen his
face, and now that beautiful countenance, with the elegant
Hebrew profile the high, pale forehead, crested with raver
Hack ringlets, the acquiline nose with the Ibin, quivering noa
THE MISSING BRIDE. 79
tril, the short, haughty upper lip, and the superbly curved chin,
the dark, flashing eyes, " like the eagle's, yet sometimes like
the dove's" the eyes that had blazed with such insufferable
light when defending her, yet softened into such ineffable ten
ilerness when speaking to her the whole beautiful, spirited,
yet gentle countenance, seemed familiar and dear as though it
had always been associated with her life, and indispensable :o
its happiness.
Towards noon he opened his eyes, turned them around the
room, and slowly came to the consciousness of his position.
His wandering glance fell upon Edith, and softened and bright-
ened as it were at once. With a smile full of almost child-like
surprise and delight, he stretched out his hand to her.
" Are you nursing me, dear lady ? this is very good."
" How do you feel now?" asked Edith, taking the hand that
he held out. It was rather feverish, and she began to sponge
it with cold water.
"I am better, I think, gentle lady. I thank you verj
much." _,
His voice was faint, he spoke with difficulty, and after saying
r.hat, spoke only with his eloquent eyes, while Edith bathed his
hands and face, and placed his little refreshment to his lips.
In the midst of this the surgeon arrived, and entered the hall
in a little smothered bustle.
Edith went out to receive him. He had brought along with
him an elderly lady from the village one Miss Nancy Skamp
a distant relative of his own, who, he told Edith, would remain
with her as long as she needed her company and assistance.
Miss Nancy had gone up stairs in charge of Jenny, to taki
off her bonnet and " things."
Edith accompanied the doctor to the sick room. He re
ceivcd Edith's report, praised her skill, examined the condition
of his patient, and was sorry to find him not so well as he had
Jioped and expected. There appeared to be much inflamma-
tion, and the fever was rising again.
Edith supplied the doctor with everything requisite for thf
80 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
re-dressing of the wound, sent Jenny in to wait upeu uiui, and
then went out to welcome Miss Nancy Skamp, who was now
coining down the stairs.
Miss Nancy, by-the-way, was " own aunt" and sole proprie-
tress of Mr. Solomon Skainp Weismann, the promising young
aspirant to medical honors. She was like him, too. They
were " like as two pins," the neighbors said. The same tall,
bony figure the same red hair the same fair, freckled skin
the same sharp, thin features, which, nevertheless, gave a mas-
culine look to the old lady's face, and a feminine air to the
young gentleman's. Miss Nancy piqued herself upon her own
and her nephew's red hair and freckles they were the signs,
she said, of the very purest Saxon blood none of your Celtic,
or other inferior races, ever freckled or had red hair.
In talking with Edith, Miss Nancy corroborated the report
made by the professors in the morning the British forces had
entirely left the neighborhood that was ascertained beyond
all doubt.
" But, oh ! wasn't that the awfullest massaeree at Hay Hill,
Miss Edith ?
"Horrible, indeed 1 And who could have foreseen it?"
said Edith, shuddering.
" Why, most any one, Miss Edith, I should think 1 It has
always been my opinion, when people come to bad ends it's
Lheir own faults. Now, there's Fanny Fairlie "
" Dearest Fanny 1 has anything been heard of her since that
light ?"
" No, nothing certain. They do say she was seen rambling
about in the woods, as mad as a March hare. The two oid
negroes that escaped massacreem^, you know, are staying at
Oid Fields, with Mrs. L'Olseau. It seems to me she haa
enough to feed, poor lady, without them."
The doctor now entered, to leave new directions with Edith
and Miss Nancy, and to take his departure.
He said he should send Solomon over that night, to sit up
with the sick man.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 81
So, towards evening, according to promise, Mr. Solomon
arrived. And soon after supper Miss Nancy obliged Edith
and her two fatigued attendants to go to their several apnrt-
moiits.
For some time after Edith lay down, she was kept awake by
Jiat strong nervous excitability induced by loss of sleep, and it
tvus midnight when at last she sunk into a fitful and perturbed
slumber. About two hours after she was awakened by the
sound of groans. She sat up to listen. It was her patient,
who was groaning and tossing, and talking to himself, and no
one seeming to pay the slightest attention to him.
Edith arose quickly, slipped on her dressing-gown, and went
into his room.
There sat the aunt and nephew sound asleep. And there
rolled and tossed the wounded man, wild with fever, pain and
burning thirst.
Edith gave him the cooling beverage, and sponged his head
and face and hands with aromatic vinegar. But the fierce
heat of the fever dried up the moisture without being cooled
by it, and he still raved and tossed in high delirium. Edith
was very much alarmed. She roused up Mr. Solomon, and
sent him, on horseback, to the village for the doctor. And
then she woke up Miss Nancy, who had slept through all this,
and whose first words, when she opened her eyes, were,
"Ah! I am glad you have come, Miss Edith, for I have not
closed my eyes all night, and I'm all but worn out ; so now,
boney, if you'll just take my place, I'll go and try to get some
sleep." And rising and yawning, she walked away.
Edith let her depart, and 1 waked up Jenny in her stead. The
patient's delirium rose to frenzy ; and it began to be as much
as Jenny and Oliver, who was called to her assistance, could
do to keep him in the bed. The doctor came at sunrise. lie
administered such remedies as his skill and experience sug-
gested, but ascribed the whole mischief to the first unskillful
dressing of the wound by Solomon, and said that he was sure
uomd extraneous substauce had been permitted to work us way
5
82 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
into the lungs, where no one knew the extent of the evil a
might now, or eventually cause.
Be that as it might, the present sufferings of the patient were
terrible. And for days life was despaired of. The most skillful
medical treatment, and the most careful nursing only, had
scarcely saved his life. And even after the imminent danger
was over, it was weeks before he was able to be lifted from the
brd to the sofa.
In the meantime, Thorg recovered, and prepared to leave
the house. He took quite an affectionate leave of the young
ensign, and with an appearance of great friendliness and ho-
nesty, promised to interest himself, at head-quarters, in behalf
of the young officer. This somehow filled Edith with a vague
distrust, and dark foreboding, for which she could neither ac-
count, nor excuse herself, nor yet shake off. Thorg had been
exchanged, and he joined his regiment after its return from
Washington City, and before it sailed from the shores of
America.
Weeks passed, during which the invalid occupied the sofa in
his room and Edith was his sole nurse ; Miss Nancy Skamp
having left the house. And then Commodore Waugh, with his
wife, servants, and caravan, returned to Luckenough.
The old soldier had been " posted up," he said, relative to
all that had transpired in his absence.
There were no words, he declared, to express his admiration
of Edith's "heroism."
It was in vain that Edith assured him that she had not been
heroic at all that the preservation of Luckenough had been
due rather to the timely succor of the college boys, than to her
own imprudent resolution. It did no good the old man was
determined to lookrapon his niece as a heroine worthy to stand
by the side of Joan of Arc.
" For," said he, "was it not the soul of a heroine, that en-
abled her to stay and guard the house ; and would the college
company ever have come to the rescue of these old walls, if they
had not h^ard that she had resolutely remained to guard them
THE MISSING BRIDE.
and was almost alone in the house ? Don't tell me ! Edith is
the star maiden of old St. Mary's, and I'm proud of her 1 She
is worthy to be my niece and heiress ! A true descendant of
Marie Zelenski, is she ! And I'll tell you what I'll do, Edith !"
he said, turning to her, " I'll reward you, my dear I I will. I'll
marry you to Professor Grimshawl Thai's what I'll do, my
dear ! And you both shall have Luckenough ; that you shall !"
Months passed the war was over peace was proclaimed,
and still the young ensign, an invalid, unable to travel, lingered
at Luckenough. Regularly he received his pay ; twice he re-
ceived an extension of leave of absence ; and all through the
instrumentality of THORG. Yet all this filled Edith with tho
greatest uneasiness and foreboding ungrateful, incomprehensi
ble, yet impossible to be delivered from.
CHAPTER VI.
EDITH'S TROUBLES.-
" One hath stirred within thy breast
The quick and lasting interest,
That is not easily suppressed."
" I CANNOT tell, for the life of me, why Edith should prefer
the love of a stranger, whom she hasn't known half a year, to
that of her old uncle, whom she has known all her life,"
growled Old Nick.
" You must remember your own youth yor preferred the love
of a stranger to that of the father you had known all your life,'
said good Henrietta.
" Humph ! Hump 1 - 1" said the Commodore.
" Yes, and you wisntd to marry, too, when you were young."
"No I I didu\ neither, Old Hen, I ran away from you and
84 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
went to sea, and \vas gone nigh upon twenty years. If /mar-
ried, it ivas all your doings, indeed ! What would ail me to tie
myself to one tree, when I could have the range of the whole
orchard? But you had waited for me so long, and were so
f'oud of me. However ! I won't hit you in the teeth with it,
Old Honey. But now about Edith! If she must fall in love !
1 want to know why in the mischief she don't fall in love with
Grim' ? Now, Grim' is what I call a man for any woman's
eye, that is, if /know anything about women !"
"Which you don't!"
" Isn't he a very handsome man, now ?"
" In his own opinion."
"Well, he is very learned, that you'll admit?"
"Pedantic, you mean."
"And very religious!"
"Self-righteous."
"Oh-h-h!" roared the Commodore, thrusting forward hia
head, and striking his stick upon the floor, " I vow to heaven,
Old Hen, you'd be-devil an angel."
" Yes ! angels of darkness 1"
" I uphold that Grim' is a perfect man !"
' " Oh ! yes ! Professor Grimshaw is perfectly intolerable !
Edith feels that as well as I do."
"Intolerable upon what account, I should like to be in-
formed ? If he were ugly, or deformed, or stupid, or poor, I
could comprehend it; but he is a man of good looks, good
parts, and good prospects !"
"Yes ! but women don't necessarily fall in love with a man's
beauty, intellect, or social advantages."
" With what then, I want very much to know ! With his
ugliness, or stupidity, or forlornity, I suppose ?"
"Just as likely as not."
"Oh-h-h!" bellowed Old Nick, thrusting forward his great
head, and ramming his stick into the floor, " 0-h-h-h ! You
put me past all my patience with your conceit, and your rash
general rules. You never knew one particular instance of what
vo^. say I defy you to tell me one, just one, now onei"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 85
"Well, I married you."
"Humph! Humph! Humph!" said Old Nick.
There was a long pause after this.
" Well, at last," said the old Commodore, "what I Ljve re
solved upon is this that Grim' shall be the master oi Luck
enough, let who will be the mistress!"
" Then give it to him in the name of all that's ugly, but
don't, for heaven's sake, tempt any of your poor nieces, through
their necessities, or clog the gift with the burden of an un-
willing and unacceptable wife. As for Edith, her heart's in-
tegrity is incorruptible and Doctor Grimshaw himself, occupies
his thoughts as little with Edith as she does with him."
"Now, that's what I call confounded perversity and ingrati-
tude, when they know how it would please me, and my good
intentions towards them. What the mischief should ail Grim'
and Edith, not to fall in love with each other, when I desire it ?"
"Because honest hearts are not to be bought, or sold, or
persuaded."
"Oh-h-h!" blowed Old Nick, "I'm tired of all the con-
founded nonsense! but I know what I'll do."
Here the conversation ended.
From the foregoing dialogue, you will see how affairs stood
at Luckenough. It was late in the spring, Mr. Shields had re-
ceived orders to join his regiment in Canada, and upon their
reception, he had had an explanation with Edith, and with her
permission, had requested her hand of her uncle, Commodore
Waugh. This threw the veteran into a towering passion, and
nearly drove him from his proprieties as host. The yo ing
ensign was unacceptable to him upon every account. First
and foremost, he wasn't "Grim." Then he was an IsraeMto.J
And, lastly! horror of horrors! he was a British officer, ami
dared to aspire to the hand of Edith. It was in vain that his
wife, the good Henrietta, tried to mollify him ; the storm raged
for s.'veral days raged, till it had expended all its strength,
and subsided from exhaustion. Then he came, as he alwayi
86 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
ultimately did, under the influence of Henrietta's calm tempera
ment and better judgment. First of all, she assured him that
" what will be, will be," that whether he opposed or favored
the match, it would finally come off, that love is no respecter
of parsons, prejudices or creeds that any one could see that
two such lovely, excellent beings as Edith and Shields, were
created for each other, and would make a " matchless pair "
If he did not contradict her, he assented silently, or with a
gruut a bearish, sullen sort of assent and he took his resolu-
tion. Soon after this he summoned Edith to his presence.
" Come here, huzzy ! So 1 you're determined, are you, to
marry this young rascal ?"
Edith cast her eyes on the ground, but did not speak.
" Well, I am to take your silence for assent, I suppose ?
Very good. Now, here is my ultimatum. I am no tyrant,
minion, do you hear ! I oppose nobody's freedom of will not
II I let every fool do as they like ; only I claim the privilege
of doing as I like also. God Almighty gave man so much free
agency, that he may redeem and sanctify himself, if he pleases,
or damn himself to all eternity, if he likes that better 1 Hea-
ven save me from the sin of depriving one of His creatures of
their meed of liberty 1 Therefore, Miss Edith Lance ! marry,
if you like, and whom you like. You are of age ! But hear,
in that case, what I shall do. I have hitherto made no secret
of my intentions towards you. They were, to have made you
the heiress of all my possessions. Now all I have to say to you
is this that if you will have the good sense to marry Mr.
Grimshaw, these intentions shall be more than fulfilled they
shall be anticipated. Upon your marriage with Grimshaw, I
will give you a conveyance of Luckenough only reserving to
myself and Old Hen a house, and a life-support in the place :
Sut if you will persist in your foolish preference for that young
scamp, I will give you nothing. That is all, Edith. Now go
and do as you please. Only, as the Master said when He was
betrayed by one He had chosen ; ' What thou doest, do quickly I'
I canno lea", suspense !"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 87
During the speech Edith remained standing, with her eyes
fixed upon the floor. Now, she spoke with tearful eyes aud in
a tremulous voice.
" That is all is it not, uncle ? You will not deprive ine of
any portion of your love : will you, uncle ?"
" I do not know, Edith I I cannot tell; when you have deli
berately chosen one of your own fancy, in preference to one of.
mine the man I care most for in the world, and whom I chose
especially for you ; why, you've speared me right through a
very tender part ; however, as I said before, what you do, do
quickly ! I cannot bear to be kept upon the tenter hooks 1"
" I will talk with Michael, uncle," said Edith, meekly.
She went out, and found him pacing the lawn at the back of
the house.
He turned towards her with a glad smile, took her hand aa
she approached him, and pressed it to his lips.
"Dearest Edith, where have you been so long?"
" With my uncle, Michael. I have my uncle's ' ultimatum,'
as he calls it."
" What is it, Edith ?"
" Ah 1 how shall I tell you without offence ? But, dearest
Michael, you will not mind you will forgive au old man's
childish prejudices, especially when you know they are not^er-
sonal but circumstantial, national, bigoted." /
"Well, Edith! well?"
" Michael, he says he says that I may give you my hand "
" Said he so ! bless that fair hand, aud bless him who be-
stows itl" he exclaimed, clasping her fingers and pressing them
to his lips.
" Yes, Michael, buW
" But what 1 there is no but ; he permits you to give me your
Hand; there is then no but 'a jailor to bring forth some men-
nrous malefactor.' "
" Yet listen ! You know I was to have been his heiress I"
'"No, indeed I did not know it! never heard it! never sag
88 MIRIAM, THE A V E X G E B ; OR,
pected it! never even thought of it! How did I know but
that he had sons and daughters, or nephews away at school !"
" Well, I was to have been his heiress. Now he disinherits
me, unless I consent to be married to his friend and favorite,
Dr. Grimshaw."
" You put the case gently and delicately, dear Edith, but the
hard truth is this is it not that he will disinherit you, if you
consent to be mine ? You need not answer me, dearest Edith,
if you do not wish to ; but listen I have nothing but my
sword, and beyond my boundless love, nothing to ofler you but
the wayward fate of a soldier's wife. Your eyes are full of
tears. Speak, Edith Lance ! can you share the soldier's wan-
dering life ? Speak, Edith, or lay your hand in mine.' Yet,
no ! no ! no ! I am selfish and unjust. Take time, love, to
think of all you abandon, all that you may encounter in join-
ing your fate to mine. God knows what it has cost me to say
it but take time, Edith," and he pressed and dropped her
hand.
" I do not need to do so. My answer to-day, to-morrow,
and forever, must be the same," she answered, in a very low
voice ; and her eyes sought the ground, and the blush deepened
on her oheek, as she laid her hand in his. How he pressed that
white hand to his lips, to his heart ! how he clasped her to his
breast ! how he vowed to love and cherish her as the dearest
treasure of his life, need not here be told.
Edith said,
" Now take me in to uncle, and tell him, for he asked me not
to keep him in suspense."
Michael led her into the hall, where the Commodore strode
up and down, making the old rafters tremble and qunke with
every tread puffing blowing over his fallen hopes, like a
nor'-wester over the dead leaves.
Michael advanced, holding the hand of his affianced, and
modestly announced their engagement.
" Humph ! So the precious business is concluded, is it 1"
''Yes, sir," said Michael, with a bow.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 89
"Well, I hope you may be as happy as you deserve! When
la the proceeding to come off ?"
"What, sir?"
" The marriage, young gentleman ?"
'"When shall I say, dearest Edith?" asked Michael, stooping
fo her ear.
" When uncle pleases," murmured the girl.
' Uncle pleases nothing, and will have nothing to do with it,
except to advise as early a day as possible," he blurted out,
" what says the bride ?"
" Answer, dearest Edith," entreated Michael Shields.
"Then let it be at New-Year," said Edith, falteringly.
"Whew! six months ahead! Entirely too far off!" ex-
claimed the Commodore.
"And so it really is, beloved," whispered Michael.
" Let it be next week," abruptly broke in the Commodore.
"What's the use of putting it off? Tuesdays and Thursdays
are the marrying days, I believe; let it then be Tuesday or
Thursday."
" Tuesday," pleaded Michael.
" Thursday," murmured Edith.
"The deuce! if you can't decide, I must decide for yon,"
growled Old Nick, storming down towards the extremity of the
hall, and roaring "Old Hen! Old Hen! these fools are to
be spliced on SUNDAY ! Now bring me my pipe ;" and the Com-
modore withdrew to his sanctum.
Good Henrietta came in, took the hand of the young ensign,
and pressed it warmly, saying that he would have a good
wife, and wishing them both much happiness in their union.
She drew Edith to her bosom, and kissed her fondly, but in
silence.
As this was Friday evening, little preparations could be
made for die solemnity to take place on Sunday. Yet Mrs.
Henrietta exerted herself to do all possible honor to the occa-
sion. That very evening she sent out a few invitations to the
dinner and ball, that in those days invariably celebrated 9
90
MIKIAM, THE AVENGER; OK
country wedding. She even invited a few particular friends ta
meet the bridal pair at dinner, on their return from church.
The little interval between this and Sunday morning, was
passed by Edith and Shields in making arrangements for their
future course.
Sunday came.
A young lady of the neighborhood officiated as bridesmaid,
and Cloudesley Mornington as groomsman. The ceremony was
to be performed at the Episcopal Church, at Charlotte Hall.
The bridal party set forward in two carriages. They were
attended by the Commodore and Mrs. Waugh. They reached
the church at an early hour, and the marriage was solemnized
before the morning service. When the entries had been made,
and the usual congratulations passed, the party returned to the
carriages. Before entering his own, Commodore Waugh ap-
proached that in which the bride and bridegroom were already
seated, and into which the groomsman was about to hand the
bridesmaid.
" Stay, you two, you need not enter just yet," said the old
man, " I want to speak with Mr. Shields and his wife. Edith 1"
Edith put her head forward, eagerly.
" I have nothing against yon ; but after what has occurred v
I don't want to see you at Luckenough again. Good-bye I''
Then turning to Shields, he said, " I will have yonr own and
your wife's goods forwarded to the hotel, here," and nodding
gruffly, he strode away.
Cloudesley stormed, Edith begged that the carriage might be
delayed yet a little while. Yain Edith's hope, and vain Mrs.,
Waugh's expostulations, Old Nick was not to be mollified. He
said that " those who pleased to remain with the new-married
couple, might do so lie should go home ! They did as they
liked, and he should do as he liked." Mrs. Waugh, Cloudesley,
and the bridesmaid determined to stay.
The Commodore entered his carriage, and was driven towards
home.
The party then adjourned to the hotel. Mrs. Waugh com-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 91
forting Edith, and declaring her intention to stay with her as
long as she should remain in the neighborhood for Henrietta
always did as she pleased, notwithstanding the opposition of her
stormy husband. The young bridesmaid and Cloudesley also
expressed their determination to stand by their friends to the
last.
Their patience was not put to a very long test. In a few
days a packet was to sail from Benedict to Baltimore, and the
young couple took advantage of the opportunity, and departed,
with the good wishes of their few devoted friends.
Their destination was Toronto, in Canada, where the young
ensign's regiment was quartered.
92 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR
PA11T SECOND.
CHAPTER VII.
SANS 8OUCI.
A little child, a limber elf,
Pin King, dancing to itself.
A fairy thing, with red, round cheeks,
That always finds and never pecks.
Makes such a joy unto the fight,
As fills a parent's eyes with light." Coleridge.
SEVKKAL miles from the manor of Luckenongh, upon a hill
not far frori the sea-coast, stood the cottage of the Old Fields.
There was nothing sublime or beautiful, or in any respect
attractive about the place, unless indeed the Very dreariness of
its aspect might have a curious interest for the chance traveler.
The house was a small, square edifice, of dingy white, shaded
by a single large elm, and surrounded by a somewhat dilapi-
dated fence.
Around it on all sides lay exhausted old fields, in a state of
almost absolute sterility.
Beyond them, landward, stretched the old forest of S*
Mary's, and seaward, the beach, and the waters of the bay.
An attempt had been made to cultivate the miserable soil
nearest the house, and a garden of half-blighted vegetables, and
a field of stunted corn, that lay withering under the burning
heat of an August sun, added to the unpromising appearance
o? the whole. In short, nothing could be more desolate and
THE MISSING BRIDE. 93
hopeless than the aspect of Old Fields' Cottage, at the time of
which we write.
The house contained but two rooms, one on the ground floor,
which served as kitchen, parlor, and sitting-room, and one just
above, which, being nothing more than a loft, was, nevertheless,
the sleeping apartment of the whole family.
The property was an appendage to the Manor of Luck-
enough, and was at this time occupied by a poor relation of
Commodore Waugh, his niece, Mary L'Oiseau, the widow of a
French eniigrec. Mrs. L'Oiseau had but one child, a little girl,
Jacquelina, now about eight or nine years of age.
Commodore Waugh had given them the cottage to live in,
with permission to make a living, if they could, out of the poor
land attached to it. This was all the help he had afforded his
poor niece, and all, as she said, that she could reasonably ex-
pect from one who had so many dependants. For several years
past the little property had afforded her a bare subsistence.
And now this year the long drought had parched up her
garden and corn-field, and her cows had failed in their yield of
milk for the want of grass.
It was upon a dry and burning day, near the last of August,
that Mary L'Oiseau and her daughter sat down to their frugal
breakfast. And such a frugal breakfast I the cheapest tea, with
brown sugar, and a corn cake baked upon the griddle, and a
little butter that was all ! It was spread upon a plain pine toble
without a table-cloth.
The furniture of the room was in keeping a sanded floor, a
chest of drawers, with a small looking-glass, ornamented b) 1 a
sprig of asparagus, a dresser of rough pine shelves on the
rijfht of the fire-place, and a cupboard on the left, a half-dozen
chip-bottorr.ed chairs, a spinning-wheel, and a reel and jack,
completed the appointments.
The heart of the widow was sore, too sore for comfort or
hope, as she sat down to the table for poor as this meal was,
it was almost the last, and there was no hope. And now not
even f ,he glad bea-Uy of her charming, though willtui child, her
94 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
little Jacquelina, nor the quaint talk of Jenny, who had comt
over that morning from Luckenough, could divert her from Ler
sadness.
" Look yer, Miss Mary ! Don't you set down dere in idle-
ness, an' 'spair 'an 'cuse Providence, 'cause fortin don't com*
an' walk into de door. You up an' try somet'in'."
' Why what can I try, Jenny ?"
" Anyt'in' 'ply to Congress for a penance for what yer fa-
tner did in the Rebelutionary War 1"
Mary laughed now, but answered, gravely,
" I do not think I like such things it's troublesome and ex-
pensive, and if we should get anything, which is doubtful, there
are eight brothers and sisters of us, among whom the pittance
would have to be divided, and it wouldn't be the least worth
while."
" Trufe is, Old Marse ought to do more for you 'an he does !*
" How can he ? He educates his two nephews, Cloudeslej
Mornington and Thurston Willcoxen, and helps a good many
others besides."
" I don't care ! I don't care, Miss Mary ! He got plenty I
An' he's yer own flesh an' blood. An' I were you I'd take
my chile, an' I'd go to Luckenough, an' I'd sit right down on
top o' Old Nick Waugh for the rest o' my days ! that I would !
'deed me ! Case he daren't 'ny you the shelter of his ruff, no
way, an' you a lady, an' his 'lation, too."
" Why, do you really suppose I could do such a dishono-
rable, bold, obtrusive thing as that, Jenny ? I would starve to
death first."
" Well, chile, everybody to their tastes. I shouldn't 'fer to
starve myself. Deed me ! Well ! anyhow, here's a 'pisile de
Commodore sont yer."
"A letter! Why you never said a word about having a
letter for me!"
" Lor', chile, to be sure. Why what you think I come all de
way over her' if it wa'n't for to bring a letter or- somet'iu' ?"
said Jenny, fumbling in her bosom, and producing the missive
"And why dida ; you give it to me before ?"
THE MISSING BEIDE. 95
'Oh! taint no quinsequonce ! I knowu it wur nuffin' hut
about Miss Edy's goin' an' marryin' o' the Britisher! Sure
he don't do nuffin' 'tall but talk about it, an' write about it, an'
1 thought how I'd jest leave you finish your breakfast 'fore I
sturved your mind wid sich!" said Jenny, with a shrug.
Mrs. L'Oiseau was devouring the contents of the letter, which
ran thus
" Mary, My Dear 1 I feel as if I had somewhat neglected
you, but, the truth is, my arm is not long enough to stretch
from Luckenough to Old Fields. That being the case, and
myself and Old Hen being rather lonesome since Edith's ungrate-
ful desertion, we beg you to take little Jacko, and come and
live with us as long as we may live and of what may come
after that we will talk at some other time. If you will be ready
I will send the carriage for you on Saturday.
" Your Uncle Nick."
Mrs. L'Oiseau read this letter with a changing cheek when
she finished it she folded and laid it aside in silence. As her
humble old friend, Jenny, knew nothing of its contents, she did
not feel quite justified in informing her just yet.
"It was about Miss Edy's going away, wa'n't it, Miss
Mary?"
* "Yes."
"/knowedit!"
Here the conversation dropped. And, Jenny, after kindly
remaining "to clear up the breakfast things," took her leave and
her departure.
Then Mary called to her side her child her Jacquelina her
Sans Souci as for her gay, thoughtless temper she was called.
I should here describe the mother and daughter to you. The
mother needs little description a pale, black-haired, black-eyed
woman, who should have been blooming and sprightly, but that
cure had damped her spirits, and cankered the roses in her
cheeks.
But Jacquelina Sans Souci merits a better portrait.
She was small and Alight f6r her years, and, though realty
96 MIEIAM, THE AVENGEE; OR,
near nin?, would have been taken for six or seven. She was
fair-skinr.ed, blue-eyed and gc Iden-haired. And her countenance,
full of spirit, courage, and audacity. As she would dart her
face upward towards the sun, her round, smooth, highly polished
white forehead would seem to laugh in light between its cluster-
ing curls of burnished gold, that, together with the little, slightly
Mimed up nose, and short, slightly protruded upper lip, gate
the charm of inexpressible archness to the most mischievous
countenance alive. In fact her whole form, features, expression,
and gestures seemed instinct with mischief mischief lurked in
the kinked tendrils of her bright hair ; mischief looked out and
Jaughed in the merry, malicious blue eyes ; mischief crept slyly
over the bows of her curbed and ruby lips ; and mischief played
at hide and seek among the rosy dimples of her blooming
cheeks.
Her eager, restless spirit gave a startling quickness, abrupt-
ness, and eccentricity to all her motions ; yet such was the
ineffable grace of every movement, uniting smoothness with
swiftness, that she reminded the beholder of some beautiful bird
or frolicsome kid.
She seldom walked, but ran or darted like a lap-wing with
this peculiarity her figure leaning forward, and her bright
head dipping downward in the swiftness of her flight.
She would generally impress you with two distinct feelings.
When she happened to be still with the idea of danger, as
in the proximity of gunpowder, an evil spirit, or, at the very
least, of a most artful and dangerous monkey, whose devices it
* r ere impossible to foresee, or forestall.
And when she chanced to be active, she inspired you with
the hunter's instinct to chase, catch, and delight in her capture,
just as if she had been some wild bird darting from bush to bush,
or some wanton doe abandoning herself to a delirium of play.
Upon the present occasion, Madam L'Oiseau found Sans Souci
swinging up and down upon the lowest limber branch of the old
elm that overshadowed the house. She called her in. and with
Bcai'cely restrained joy, communicated to her the contents of her
THE MISSING BBIDE. 97
uncle's note, and the vague hopes of future inheritance they in
spired concluding with,
" Now, Jacquelina, you must cure yourself of these hoydenish
tricks of yours before you expose them to your uncle remember
how whimsical and eccentric he is."
"So ami! Just as whimsical ! I'll do him dirt," said iho
young lady.
'Good Heaven! '"Where did you ever pick up such a phrase,
and what upon earth does doiug any one ' dirt ' mean ?" asked tho
very much shocked lady.
" I mean I'll grind his nose on the ground, I'll hurry him and
worry him, and upset him, and cross him, and make him run his
head against the wall, and butt his blundering brain's out. Wha*
did he turn Fair Edith away for? Oh! Fll pay him off! J'fl
settle with him ! Fair Edith shan't be in his debt for her injuries
very long."
From her pearly brow and pearly cheeks, " Fair Edith" wa c
the name by which the child had heard her cousin once called,
and she had called her thus ever since.
Mrs. L'Oiseau answered gravely,
" Your uncle gave Edith a fair choice between his own love
and protection, and the great benefits he had in store for her,
and the love of a stranger and foreigner, whom he disapproved
and hated. Edith deliberately chose the latter. And your
uncle had a perfect right to act upon her unwise decision."
"And for my part Iknow he hadn't all of my own thoughts.
Oh ! I'll do him"
" Hush ! Jacquelina. You shall not use such expressions.
So much comes of my letting you have your own way, running
down to the beach and watching the boats, aud hearing the vnl-
giir talk of the fishermen."
"I know a tall young waterman
I know a handsome waterman
1 Know a jolly waterman
1'hat sails upon the sea!"
sang the fairy shaking her golden curls in the greatest glco
6
98 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
She had a most beautiful voice, that gave an ineffable charm
eveu to the most common-place words and air.
"There! oh, Mary! just listen to her! all sorts of low songs
and catches ! Well 1 thank Heaven, all this will be changed
when you get to Luckenough ! Dear me, I can hardly realize
that we are going there. I don't realize it at all. It will be a
very great change. Well, thank Heaven, at any rate it will be
nearer the church, and we shall have the use of a carriage, and
can go every Sunday. And, perhaps, your uncle will send you
to school or get a teacher for you into the house. And who
knows but he will make you his heiress, Jacquelina ! You
must try to please him."
" I'd as soon try to please Old Satan ! And all to get his
money, too ! Do you think Pd try to cut Fair Edith out ? Oh I
Mimmy !"
"Don't say 'cut-out,' that is low, too; say undermine but
it will not be undermining Edith. She has already, through
her foolish attachment to that young man, lost her inheritance."
"I don't think Fair Edith was foolish at all. He was nice
and he wore, oh ! such a beautiful coat ! And I don't wonder
Fair Edith loved him. For, indeed, I loved him myself. And
I shall tell uncle so, too, if he asks we."
" You'll spoil your fortune, that I see plainly enough, if I
let you go on so."
" I'll spoil uncle's notion of his. He shan't think his fortune
is everything to bribe everybody to do everything he pleases,
right or wrong !" answered the- willful elf, with that graceful
dip of her head, as she suddenly darted out of the doors and
ran no one knew whither it was one of her tricks.
" Sans Souci " was an excessively fascinating, and, there-
fore a thoroughly spoiled child. Her willfulness had such
courage and candor and honesty in it and such a witching
grace, as disarmed her very gravest mentors. This was unfor-
tunate, as her willfulness was impulsive rather thau obstinate,
and by steady, firm, and gentle discipline, might have been
overcome, or, at least, modified and guided. As it was, it waa
THE MISSING BRIDE. 99
cultivated until it grew and flourished a very strong weed it
(he garden of her soul often graceful and beautiful, it is true,
but also noxious to the health of all the flowers of beauty and
goodness implanted by God and nature there. Do not blame
my poor little " Careless " blame her mother, her pastors and
masters, if you please, but not herself too much. Life lav be-
fore her with its awful chastisements. And be sure that the
plant of bitterness that might have been so easily drawn up
from the yielding soil of her child-bosom, but had been permit-
ted to strike deep, strong roots in her heart, would be up-
rooted and torn forth some time by the hand of life, though
the lacerated bosom should bleed itself to death.
On Saturday, at the hour specified, the carriage came to Old
Field Cottage, and conveyed Mrs. L'Oiseau and her child to
Luckenough. They were very kindly received by the Commo-
dore, and affectionately embraced by Henrietta, who conducted
them to a pleasant room, where they could lay off their bon-
nets, and which they were thenceforth to consider as their own
apartment. This was not the one which had been occupied by
Edith. Edith's chamber had been left undisturbed and locked
up by Mrs. Waugh, and was kept ever after sacred to her
memory.
The sojourn of Mrs. L'Oiseau and Jacquelina at Luckenough
was an experiment on the part of the Commodore. He did
not mean to commit himself hastily, as in the case of his sudden
choice of Edith as his heiress. He intended to take a good,
long time for what he called " mature deliberation" often one
of the greatest enemies to upright, generous, and disinterested
action to hope, faith, and charity, that I know of, by the way.
Commodore Waugh also determined to have his own will in all
things, this time at least- He had the vantage ground now,
and was resolved to keep it. He had caught Sans Souci
young, before she could possibly have formed even a childish
predilection for one of the opposite sex, and he was determined
v> raise and educate a wife for his beloved Grim'. Grim' coula
100 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
certainly wait six or seven years for the sake of a great estate
and a young wife, and in six or seven years the child of nine
would be marriageable, he thought his wish, of course, " was
father to that thought." And in the meantime he resolved to
keep such a watch over Jacquelina, that no fascinating voung
oSicer, nor anybody else, should run away with her heart. And
all these counsels he kept to himself not trusting even Hen-
rietta with them. He sent Jacquelina to school at C .
She went every morning on a pony, with a servant to attend
her, and to remain in the village all day, and to bring her home
at night. This continued through the summer and fall, but
towards winter, when the roads began to be very bad, it
was necessarily discontinued. It was a part of Commodore
Waugh's plan not to send Sans Souci away from home, or to
let her out of his own surveillance. Therefore upon the en-
forced suspension of her attendance ai school, he was very
much embarrassed as to how he should proceed with her edu-
cation. At length a bright thought struck him. Professor
Grimshaw had lately returned to C Academy, after an
absence of several months. Dr. Grimshaw would, doubtless,
resume his semi-weekly visits to Luckenough, for no bad wea-
ther or bad roads had ever yet deterred him. Well ! when
next Grim' came to the house, Old Nick would let him some-
what into his plans, and engage him upon every visit to set
lessons to Jacquelina, which she should learn in the intervals,
and to take the general supervision of her education. The
longer he contemplated this plan the better he liked it, and the
more he improved it. Dr. Grimshaw should also be Jacque-
lina's escort from church every Sunday, when he usually ac-
companied the family home to dinner. And this was the waj
be should manage that. Jacquelina should no longer go with
himself and his wife in the carriage she should ride the pony,
ind as Grim' also always rode horseback, he would thus be
obliged to escort the only equestrian female of the party. Oh,
he knew how to manage, he chuckled to himself! he would so
betimes accustom Sans Souci to Grim' that she would not be
THE MISSING BRIDE. 101
able to do without him, and so drill her into the idea that IK
was to be her future husband, that she should not be able tc
dream of anybody else in that relation. Meanwhile the Com-
modore became very fond of his little " Thoughtless," and she
began to like her uncle's petting and caressing so much as to
forget her resolution " to pay him for his behavior to Edith,"
and took no unusual pains to annoy him. But, alas, without
any painstaking, and by merely following out her impulses,
Sans Souci annoyed the old man excessively. And his trou-
bles increased in proportion with his love for the hare-brained
child. For one thing, she was incessantly running herself into
danger, that kept her self-constituted guardian in perpetual
tremors. Then she was always starting forbidden subjects, or
making terribly unfortunate speeches, which always shocked
Henrietta, enraged the Commodore, and kept her poor mother
on the qui vive.
For instance, after her first night at Luckenough, in the
morning, at breakfast, her uncle asked her,
"Well, Flibbertigibbet! how did you like your hammock
and quarters ?"
" Hammock and quarters ?"
" Yes, your bed and your room, I mean ?"
" Oh ! why, not at all ! it was very large and gloomy it smelt
dreadfully damp and musty, and the rats and mice ran about in
the walls so much, that I could not sleep a wink ! Say, uncle,
mother says you may leave this old house to me, when you die
Now, please don't, for indeed I wouldn't live in it for anything
in the world, and if ever you give it to me, I shall just set fire
to it and burn it down, as sure as you do !"
Here was an explosion ! The Commodore darted a look of
rage at poor Mrs. L'Oiseau, who blushed violently, and faltered
out that she had only meant to bribe Jacquelina into being a
good girl that she, for herself, desired and expected nothing
of the sort, of course heaven forbid! The Commodore would
uot affront a iady, and his relative, at his own board. Ho
gulped down his angel s he could, and abruptly rose from Ins
102 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OB,
seat, and left the table. And it was some time before he re-
covered his serenity.
Mrs. L'Oiseau led her child to her own room, and ?oui-
menced a tearful expostulation with her upon the subject of her
habitual thoughtlessness, and the continual mischief that it
caused. Sans Souci gazed at her mother in the utmost amaze-
ment.
" Why, mother, what did I say ? How should it have made
such trouble ?"
Mrs. L'Oiseau attempted to make her understand. In vain I
" I only repeated your own words, Mimmy how could they
have been improper ?"
And upon one particular Sabbath day, Sans Souci fell into
an unprecedented number of mistakes and misfortunes. The
whole family at Luckenough, with the exception of herself, had
remained at home, but she was sent to church for the whole
day in charge of Doctor Grimshaw, who was one of the teachers
of the Sunday-school. And the restless fairy had felt herself
dreadfully bored by the long catechism lessons of the morning,
the longer service and sermon of the forenoon, and the repeti-
tion of the whole matter in the afternoon. So she arrived
home in the evening thoroughly exasperated by the confine-
ment and discipline of the day. She met the family circle at
the supper table. Doctor Grimshaw, after having brought her
home, had departed.
"Well, Jacko 1 who did you see at church ?" asked her uncle,
pinching her ear.
"Jacko" twitched herself away, impatiently exclaiming,
" All the people ! Such a dismal looking set ! I don't want
t<> go there again ! I wont, neither ! There, now !"
" Why, Monkey, I'm sure Doctor Grimshaw is a very pleasant
looking gentleman !"
"No he isn't, neither! He is worse than all the rest! a
ong-legged, black old Orge ! He tired me to death with hard
questions at the Sunday-school. He made me learn ' The
Seven Deadly Sins' before he would let me go out!'' exclaimed
J-wquelina, indignantly
THE MISSING BRIDE, 103
"Well, but, Lapwing! didn't he reward you for it? Didn't
he give you those pretty pictures I saw you put between the
leaves of your mass book ?" inquired Mrs. Henrietta.
" S'pose I did, I put them there to get them out of my sight.
Pretty pictures, indeed ! They are not pretty at all ! Ugly
things. Sorrowful women shrouded in black, with the whites
of their eyes turned up 1 And horrid old men in ugly hoods,
with skulls and cross-bones before them 1 Pretty ? Ugh I"
exclaimed Jacquelina, shuddering.
" My dear child, it is very sinful in you to talk in that way
they were pictures of blessed saints and holy hermits," said
Mrs. L'Oiseau.
" Were they ? Well, now, how was I to know they were
blessed and holy, when they looked so wicked and miserable ?"
" Oh, my child, my child, couldn't you read the inscriptions
nnder them ?"
" No, how could I ? They were in Dutch !"
" In Latin, my dear! In Latin! the universal language of
the church."
" Well, it's all one to me, who don't know a word of what it
means only I know it all makes me sad and angry, and I
dreadfully hate 'The Seven Deadly Sins,' and black shrouds
and turned up eyes, and skulls and cross-bones I do ! There I"
" What is the next lesson you have to learn in the cate-
chism !"
"Why you know just what comes next the 'Four Sins that
3ry to Heaven for Vengeance.' And Doctor Grimshaw said if
I would learn them well by next Sunday, he would give me
another picture. And he showed it to me. It was another
olcssed picture of a man roasting on a gridiron!" exclaiuiea
Sans Souci, as near bursting into tears as the fairy could be.
" But I wont learn the ' Four Sins that cry to Heaven for
Vengeance' to please nobody indeed wont I ! and then to
have a premium of a man roasting on a gridiron ! It makes
my head open and shut to think about it ! And I can't stand
it 110 how. indeed can't I. that's flat! I wish I was a boy. and
104 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
I'd run away and seek my fortune like Jack, that I would!
Cloudy Morning, he's going to sea, he says. And if people
don't leave me be, with their skulls and cross-bones, and roasted
men, I'll put myself in boy's clothes and run . away, and be a
snilor, too ! that I will !"
The Commodore roared with laughter he always did at
Sans Souci's willfulness, when it did not come in contact with
his own.
But the tears rushed to Mrs. L'Oiseau's eyes, and she began
to expostulate, saying,
" Oh, my dear, my dear little girl, don't, don't talk so rudely
and violently. I know, of course, you never in the world could
do anything like that, but still, don't talk of such horrid things,
my dear. You must be sweet, and gentle and docile, like
the dear little children of the Nuns' school that you saw in
church to-day."
" What were they all dressed in white for, Mimmy ?" aoked
Jacquelina, curiously.
"Why, their white dresses were emblematic of their spotless
innocence."
"Umph hum! I know now. And were the black dresses
of the nuns emblematic of the other?"
11 Oh, you wicked child 1 No, they wear black as a badge
of their retirement from the world, and their devotion to
heaven."
"Is black the favorite color in heaven, Mimmy?"
" Jacquelina, I have heard it said that a child can ask more
questions in a minute than a sage can answer in a century, aiid
I believe it."
"And that's what you so often tell me, Mimmy! Nobody
ever did answer all my questions, and take pains to give me
satisfaction, except Fair Edith ! but then there were few like
her/ Sorrow the day she went away!"
The master of the house, who had been laughing until this
moment, now suddenly changed his countenance, laid down Li?
knife and fork and looking sternly at his little niece said.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 105
" That is a name I never permit to be mentioned by any on-=
under this roof!"
Sans Souci pursed up her lips, and stretched her eyes.
" Indeed !" she said. " That's mighty unlucky now 1 becanso
1 had rather talk about Fair Edith than repeat the prettiest
verses, and I'm sure I shall never remember to forget her.-
" You had better do so, Miss, I assure you," said the Com-
modore.
"Oh! Jacquelina !" exclaimed her mother, in a low, anxious
<oice.
" Now, uncle, and now Mimmy, s'pose I was to forget to
talk about Fair Edith, that wouldn't prevent other people fioin
talking, and they do talk a plenty now, I tell you !"
The Commodore pricked up his ears he was rather sensitive
10 public opinion. Jacquelina was quick to perceive it she
went on maliciously,
" Yes ! they were talking about it in church, between the
morning and the afternoon services, to-day."
" Humph ! Impudent, meddlesome fools! As if it were the
least consequence to me what they thought or said 1 But who
were they then, Monkey ?"
"I don't know! Gentlemen, I s'pose. Some of the Big
Wigs, as Cloudy Morning calls them, I reckon."
" Humph ! Rascals ! And what were they saying, Worth-
less ? Not that I care, of course ! but what was it ?"
"Why, they all agreed that you were an old brute, to be-
have as you did to Fair Edith Lanc3. But that it was just
like you that you always were an ugly old beast, every way !"
" What ! they abused your uncle before your face ?"
" Yes, sir."
"Well, you are a ready-witted little wretch ! Your tongue
has quite a sharp edge to it I What did you say in my de
lence ?'
" Nothing at all !"
" And why not, Jackanapes ? or Jill-anapes ! why not ?"
" Because I knew they were telling the truth I"
106 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"What!"
" Oh, my dear !" cried Mrs. L'Oiseau.
" Never mind. Let her talk ! Her tongue will cut off Let
head yet."
" No, uncle, u will only cut off my inheritance," said Jacque-
lina, who, child as she was, had thoroughly learned the meaning
of that phrase.
This shocked them all into silence for a little while, and then
the Commodore spoke again.
" And pray, Miss, am I to understand that you also think ino
a brute, to act as I did in the case of Edith ?"
Sans Souci stretched her eyes to the widest extent, in sincere
astonishment, and after a little pause, replied,
"Why, uncle, to be sure I do! What could I think but the
truth ?"
" There goes the very last hope of au inheritance," thought
Mrs. L'Oiseau, as she arose from the table in great distress,
and apologizing for her child's rashness as well as she could,
led her away to their room, and sitting down upon the bed,
began to sob.
"Oh, my child! my dear! my Jacquelina! You have ruined
yourself and you'll be sent back, with your mother, to starve,
at Old Fields or at the very best, to grow up in ignorance
and poverty!"
" Don't cry, Mimmy ! Pm not afraid !"
"Oh, Sans Sauci! Sans Souci! Well might your poor fa-
ther call you Sans Souci !' "
" Mother, what is the meaning of Sans Souci ? Is it Sat u
Susan?"
" No, my poor dear, nor Sane Susan neither, you poor little
poosc."
" "What is it then, and why am I called so ?"
"Because it is just what you are one 'without care'
1 without thought.' I'm sure you deserve the name ? Oh, Sans
Souci ! Sans Souci ! you've ruined us bc*h ! I don't mind for
myself, but you, child, you!"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 107
"Don't cry, Mimmy! I'm not a bit afraid! Lord! he can't
lo without me ! I make him laugh nobody else ever does "
" There's something in that, maybe. But you must be very
polite and attentive to Professor Grimshaw; you must try to
please him because he is a great favorite with your uncle."
"And I'm a great favorite with him, Mimmy! And if he
would only stop teaching me the seven deadly sins and thr rest
of it, I should like him so much !"
"Who, Professor Grimshaw, my dear?"
"Yes, Mimmy."
" I was afraid you didn't like him ?"
" Oh ! but I do ! he is so stiff and solemn and dark and lan-
tern-jawed and so comical looking and so like the picture of
the Ogre, in the fairy tales, that I can't help laughing every
time I look at him ! And he likes me, too, only he never
laughs at me ; he never laughs at all now that is so funny."
" It is because he has got a grave, serious sort of character.
You must try to be serious, too. This is a very serious world,
we live in."
" Now, Mimmy, I think it is the very funniest world that ever
was heard of !"
"Be serious, my child! this is a very serious life we lead.
And you must try to please a serious man like Professor Grim-
shaw, by attending to serious things the sermons that you
hear, for instance 1 Now I'll warrant Dr. Grimshaw, if he
should come to-morrow, would ask you about the sermon to
day. And I'm afraid you could not tell him one word of it."
" I had reason to mind it !"
" I'm glad to hear it ; but what was it that fixed your atten-
tion so, my dear ?"
"Why, that about it's being always Sunday in Heaven jW
tuch a Sunday, as this, vnly more so!"
"The saint's everlasting rest one eternal Sabbath."'
"Yes! I know but "
" What ? Jacquelina !"
" If that's the case it's going to be very du!' up there ! And
(W i heap liefer go to t'other place '"
108 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
So much for poor Sans Souci's lessons in English grammai
and church catechism 1
More than six months had passed since the arrival of Jac
qneliua at Luckenough. It was now mid-winter, and the snort
lay nearly two feet deep around the old mansion-house, and the
naked trees of the forest stood out stiff and stark in black
^racery against the leaden back-ground of the sky. The roads
were in such a condition, as to nearly preclude the possibility
of traveling. No one came and went between Luckenough
and the rest of the world, except Doctor Grimshaw, and some-
times Cloudesley Mornington. The excitement of the Christ-
mas holidays had passed, and all life was rather lifeless at
Luckenough.
Jacquelina was, however, a wholesome irritant, and kept the
people from dying of torpor. In and out of the house almost
every instant ; keeping the doors banging, and the wind driving
through the old passages and parlors, to the great detriment
of the invalid soldier; all over the plantation, and through
every negro quarter; upon the tops of sLeds and barns and
corn-houses ; out into the forest, and up into the highest
branches of the dry, bare trees, upon no other errand than that
of mischief and danger ; sliding upon the frozen forest stream,
into which she often broke and fell, with no more fatal conse-
quences than a douse in the ice water, anc 1 a run home in stiff,
frozen clothes; clambering upon the bads of unbroken colts,
and holding on their manes for a bridle, and riding them until
they threw her into the snow getting herself once tossed by
the bull, and saved only by falling into a deep drift in short,
going everywhere, and doing everything that could keep her
friends on a perpetual rack of anxiety, was little Satis Souci I
And the more the sprite tormented and tortured her friends,
the better they seemed to love her. This was especially the
case with the Commodore. Nothing could exceed his care for
the child. He charged every servant on the premises with the
duty of looking after her, and keeping her in sight, and out of
danger, th^^tening each one separately with the most awfn)
THE MISSING BEIDE. 109
risitatious of his wrath, if any harm came to Miss Jacquelina
L'Oiseau. And a precious time the servants had of it, parti-
cularly old Jenny, who was the regularly appointed nurse or
maid of the young lady. Jenny declared it her private belief,
that she should not live out half her remaining days for chasing
after " that there little limb."
"Where is the little wretch now?" asked the Commodore,
one day when the family were about to sit down to dinner.
" Where is she ? Call Jenny !"
And when Jenny was called, and came in, gray and breath-
less with fear
"Where is Miss Jacquelina?" he asked.
"Done dome up de top o' de hemlock, ole Marse, honey!
'deed is de chile. I couldn't 'vent her to save my precious life.
Au' now one o' de branches done broke, an' she can't get down
again. 'Deed it wa'n't no fault o' me, ole Marse, chile ! Nobody
can't do a single thing long o' dat young gal, dey can't, in "
Jenny broke off suddenly, and dodged in time to escape the
pitcher that old Nick hurled at her head, as he started up from
the table, and, without hat or overcoat, rushed out into the
wintry weather.
lie ran, puffing and blowing, to the old hemlock, that stood
at the farthest extremity of the front lawn.
" Oh, you little vixen ! Oh, you little wretch ! You you
little imp, you I Wont I give it to you when I get you down?"
gasped the old man, as he reached the spot, and stood panting
for breath, and suffocating like a stranded whale,
" Hold out your arms and catch me, uncle ; I am going to
jump !" she exclaimed, her malicious blue eyes scintillating
laughter as she swung up and down upon the fragile brand 1 .
" STOP ! STOP 1 Do, if you dare, you little infernal machine !
Wait till I get a ladder !" cried the Commodore, bursting into
H sweat of terror.
"Quick! uncle! Here I come!" she exclaimed, swinging
ip, and flinging out her arms for a flying leap.
He had just time to extend his own arms and receive her a*
110 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
she came he so weak with his fright that her weight ovei
threw him, and he fell and rolled over in the snow, she up
permost, clinging to him, convulsed with laughter. He picked
Himself up, groaned, rubbed his joints, and then seized and
shook the little mischief out of breath, and dragged her along
home to his wife. He entered the house, vociferating,
"Old Hen! Old Hen, I sayl Come, here! What the
fiend shall I do with this little abomination ? I have the
greatest mind to whip her to death ! Little panic that she is
she's worse than ten Ediths yes ! than ten thousand Ediths !
Girls are an insupportable nuisance ! And I vow I would dis-
card them all forever, and adopt one of my nephews for my
heir, only that Grim' can't marry my nephew ! And I am re-
solved Grim' shall succeed me at Luckeuough."
"Well, why not bequeath it to Grim' unconditionally?"
" No ! it mustn't go out of the family. But don't bother me
about that, Old Hen! I don't want to talk about that. I
want to know what to do with this little imp of Satan ! Little
wretch that she is 1 I swear, I've lost a hundred pounds of
flesh since she's been in this house 1 She frets my nerves to
fiddle strings my coat hangs on me like a shirt on a marlin
spike 1 I know she'll finally be the death of me ! she'll bring
on a stroke of apoplexy or palsy ! She has already put me
through such a course of panics, anxieties, terrors and palpita-
tions, that I am as nervous as a hysterical girl ! Now just take
her away and lock her up in the dark closet without her dinner.
Doit!"
Henrietta led the little offender off, but not to meet the fato
to which she had been sentenced.
Sans Souci, hanging her head down, not in mortification, but
in the deep study of some new mischief some plan by which
she could " pay Uncle Nick off for this."
Henrietta entered her own bed-room, and sitting down, lifted
Jacquelina to her lap, embraced her, smoothed the tangled curls
of her bright hair, laid the tired, mischief-brewing little head
against her own soft, cushiony bosom, looked lovingly, seriouslj
iu the mischJvous little face, and btgiunin# with.
THE MISSING BRIDE. Ill
" My dear child ray sweet little Lina " entered upon a
rather long lecture about the beauty of docility, propi iety and
obedience.
Sans Souci appeared to listen with the utmost attention,
only sometimes her eyelids swayed heavily, as if they would
close in sleep. But, upon the whole, Mrs. Waugh had every
reason to suppose that she was producing a very serious im-
pression upon the little creature, whose eyes were towards the
last fixed upon hers with great earnestness. Jacquelina was
evidently full of some thought.
"Aunty!" she said, when Mrs. Henrietta had finished the
lecture, and was reposing upon her laurels. "Aunty 1" looking
solemnly in the lady's face.
"What, my dear?"
'' Do you know the white kitten's eyes are open and it ain't
but eight days old 1 Indeed they are I You can see them
yourself if you go in the barn. I'm going now!" And Sans
Souci jumped up, darted through the door like a bird with
spread wings, and in a twinkling was seen flying across the lawn.
Mrs. Henrietta sighed deeply, and arose and left the room.
So the elf escaped confinement upon that occasion. But the
next day she fell into so many unpardonable disorders, that for
the first time in her life, she found herself actually imprisoned
in the long threatened "dark closet," the dark closet in the
disused parlor, and where Mrs. Waugh kept her choicest jellies
and sweetmeats.
Cloudesley Mornington, who happened to be spending the
day at Luckenough, was extremely indignant at what Le called
"this outrage," "this tyranny." He would say little, of course,
but as soon as the parlor was vacated, he went into it and sat
down at the outside of Sans Souci's prison door, telling her not
to grieve, that he meant to stay there until she was released, if
it were all night telling her how much he liked her, and what
a good girl she was, and what an old brute her uncle was, and
offering to tell her stories and sing her songs to while away th
hours of captivity.
112 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
But Sans Sonci was incurable she grieved without limit.
"Don't cry, Linny! Liuny, don't cry, they'll hear you, you
Enow! And /wouldn't let them hear me if /were you. I
wouldn't let them think I cared so much about it, not I !"
It was no use 1 Sans Souci wept and wailed without ceasing.
At last a bright thought struck Cloudesley. He put his lips to
the keyhole and whispered,
" Linny ! listen 1 Don't cry ! cat the sweetmeats!"
"And so I will, Cloudy!" said the little captive, and sud-
denly the tears and sobs ceased, and Sans Souci became very
still, while Cloudesley sat down chuckling. Soon after he took
" Esop's Fables" from his pocket and began to read to her
And she listened and ate sometimes stopping to say,
" This citron is very nice I wish I could put some out to
you, Cloudy ;" or " this ginger is jamb ! I wish you had some !"
To which he would answer,
"Never mind 1 had a great deal rather you ate it."
So he continued to read and comment on what he read, and
to joke, and she listened and laughed, and ate preserves until
the afternoon had passed. And then her talk grew shorter
and shorter, until she ceased saying anything of her own ac-
cord. And then her replies to him grew indistinct and wide
of the subject. And, lastly, from her utter silence, he knew
that the child had fallen asleep. Still he sat and kept guard,
that she might not waken and find herself alone. When it
grew dark, and he heard some one coming, he slipped out at
one door as Mrs. Waugh entered by the other. The lady
brought a candle and a key, and opened the closet door to re-
lease her prisoner.
And there she found Sans Souci sound asleep among tb
rifled sweetmeat jars I
THE MISSING BRIDE. 115
CHAPTER VIII.
THE BLIGHTED HEART.
"Oh! fate, how could thy vengeance light
So bitterly on one so bright 1
How could the hand that gave such charms
Blast them again in love'* own arms ?" Moore.
IN February, the deepest snow storm fell that had fallen
during the whole winter. The roads were considered quite im-
passable by carriages, and the family at Luckenough were
blocked up in their old house. Yet one day, in the midst of
this "tremendous state of affairs," as the Commodore called it,
a messenger from Benedict arrived at Luckenough, the bearer
of a letter to Mrs. Waugh, which he refused to entrust to any
other hands but that lady's own. He was, therefore, shown
into the presence of the mistress, to whom he presented the
note. Mrs. Waugh took it and looked at it with some curi-
osity it was superscribed in a slight feminine hand quite new
to Henrietta ; and she opened it, and turned immediately to
the signature MARIAN MAYFIELD a strange name to her ; she
had never seen or heard it before. She lost no more time in
perusing the letter, but as she read, her cheek flushed and paled
her agitation became excessive, she was obliged to ring for
a glass of water, and as soon as she had swallowed it, she
crushed and thrust the letter into her bosom, ordered her ttule
to be saddled instantly, and her riding pelisse and hood to be
brought. And in fifteen minutes, without a word of explana-
tion to any one, she was seated on her beast, and attended by
the messenger, mounted upon another mule the only kind cf
animal that could stand these dreadful roads set forward to-
wards B . The Commodore, who saw her depart, fancied
that she was bound on some little errand of mercy (not an un-
usual thing with the good woman) in the immediate neighbor-
7
114 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
hood. In the meantime, Henrietta put her mule to its utmost
speed, and in two hours and a half reached the village, acvl
alighted at the little hotel. Of the landlord, who came forth
respectfully to meet her, she demanded to be shown immedi-
alely to the presence of the young lady who had recently ar-
rired from abroad. The host bowed, and inviting the lady to
fellow him, led the way 10 the little private parlor, the door of
which he opened to let the visitor pass in, and then bowing
again, he closed it and retired.
And Mrs. Waugh found herself in a small, half-darkened
room, where, reclining in an easy chair, sat Edith ? Was it
Edith ? Could it be Edith ? That fair phantom of a girl to
whom the black ringlets and black dress alone seemed to give
outline and personality ? Yes ! it was Edith ! But oh ! so
changed! so wan and transparent, with such blue shadows in
the hollows of her eyes and temples and cheeks with such
heavy, heavy eyelids, seemingly dragged down by the weight of
their long, sleeping lashes with such anguish in the gaze of the
melting dark eyes 1
"Edith, my love! My dearest Edith 1" said Mrs. Waugh,
going to her.
She half arose, and sunk speechless into the kind arms opened
to receive her. Mrs. Waugh held her to her bosom a moment
in silence, and then said,
"Edith, my dear, I got a note from your friend, Miss Mayfield,
saying that you had returned, and wished to see me. But how
is this, my child ? You have evidently been very ill you are
still. Where is your husband, Edith ? Edith, where is your
husband?"
A shiver that shook her whole frame a choking, gasping sob,
was all the answer she could make.
" Where is he, Edith ? Ordered away somewhere, upon some
distant service ? That is hard, but never mind 1 Hope for the
best ! You will meet him again, dear ? But where is he, then ?"
She lifted up her poor head, and uttering "Dead! dead I"
dropped it heavily again upon the kind, supporting bosom.
THE MISSING BEIDE. 115
" You do not mean it ! My dear, you do not mean it ! You
do not know what you are saying ! Dead 1 when ? how ?" asked
Mrs. Waugh, in great trouble.
" Shot 1 shot !" whispered the poor thing, in a tone so hollow,
h seemed reverberating through a vault. And then her stricken
head sunk heavily down and Henrietta perceived that strength
and consciousness had utterly departed. She placed her in the
easy-chair, and turned around to look for restoratives, when a
door leading into an adjoining bed-room opened, and a young
girl entered, and came quietly and quickly forward to the side
of the sufferer. She greeted Mrs. "Waugh politely, and then
gave her undivided attention to Edith, whose care she seemed
fully competent to undertake.
This young girl was not over fourteen years of age, yet the
most beautiful and blooming creature, Mrs. Waugh thought,
that she had ever beheld. A perfect Hebe ! A richly develop-
ing form, softly flushed over with the roseate hue of pure blood,
that deepened and brightened to a fine carnation bloom on her
cheeks and lips a rich growth of golden-bronzed hair that
rippled in a thousand glittering wavelets over the superb head,
and turned into a ringlet wherever a tress escaped the comb that
confined the burnished mass into a knot behind a pair of fine,
dark, clear blue eyes, full of sweetness and candor a luxuriant
exuberance of vitality glowing over the whole form and face
glowing without heat, glowing with a dewy coolness, like a
blooming damask rose in the morning an expression of kind-
ness, cheerfulness, confidence and strength pervading her whole
appearance such was Marian Mayfield !
Her presence in the room seemed at once to dispel the gloom
and shadow.
She took Edith's hand, and settled her more at ease in the
chair but refused the cologne and the sal-ammoniac that Mrs.
Waugh produced, saying, cheerfully,
" She has not fainted, you perceive she breathes it is better
to leave her to nature for a while too much attention worries
her- -she is very weak."
116 MIEIAM, THE A V E N G E E J OK,
Marian had now settled her comfortably back in the resting-
thair, and stood by her side, not near enough to in the least in-
commode her.
"I do not understand all this. She says that her husband is
dead, poor child how came it about? Tell me!" said Mrs,
Waugh, in a low voice.
" Marian's clear blue eyes filled with tears, but she dropped
tncir white lids and long black lashes over them, and would not
let them fall ; and her ripe lips quivered, but she firmly compressed
them, and remained silent for a moment. Then she said, in a
whisper,
" I will tell you by-and-by," and she glanced at Edith, to
intimate that the story must not be rehearsed in her presence,
However insensible she might appear to be.
"You are the young lady who wrote to me ?"
"Yes, madam."
" You are a friend of my poor girl's ?"
" Something more than that, madam I will tell you by-and-
oy," said Marian, and her kind, dear eyes were again turned
upon Edith, and observing the latter slightly move, she said, in
her pleasant voice,
" Edith, dear, shall I put you to bed are you able to walk ?"
" Yes, yes, murmured the sufferer, turning her head uneasily
from side to side.
Marian gave her hand, and assisted the poor girl to rise, and
tenderly supported her as she walked to the bed-room.
Mrs. Waugh arose to give her assistance, but Marian shook
her head at her, with a kindly look, that seemed to say, " Do
not startle her she is used only to me lately," and bore her out
of sight into the bed-room.
Presently she reappeared in the little parlor, opened the
blinds, drew back the curtains, and let the sunlight into the
dark room. Then she ordered more wood to the fire, and when
it was replenished, and the servant had left the room, she in-
vited Mrs. Waugh to draw her chair to the hearth, and then said,
" I am ready now, madam, to tell you anything you wish to
THE MISSING BKIDE. 117
know indeed I had supposed that you were acquainted with
everything relating to Edith's marriage, and its fatal results."
"I know absolutely nothing but what I have learned to-day
We never received a single letter, or message, or news of any
kind, or in any shape, from Edith or her husband, from the day
they left us until now."
Marian's bosom heaved, her lips quivered, and a large teai
trembled a moment on her dark lashes, and then rolled slowlj
down her damask cheek a dew-drop on a rose. She calmh
wiped it away, and then drawing a deep breath, said,
" You did not hear, then, that he was court-martialed, and .
sentenced to death ?"
" No, no good Heaven, no 1"
" He was tried for mutiny or rebellion I know not which .
but it was for raising arms against his superior officers while
here in America the occasion was but you know the occa-
sion better than I do."
"Yes, yes, it was when he rescued Edith from the violence
of Thorg and his meni But oh ! Heaven, how horrible ! that
he should have been condemned to death for a noble act ! It is
incredible impossible how could it have happened ? He neter
expected such a fate none of us did, or we would never have
consented to his return. There seemed no prospect of such a
thing. How could it have been ?"
" There was treachery, and perhaps perjury, too. He had an
insidious and unscrupulous enemy, who assumed the guise of
repentance, and candor, and friendship, the better to lure him
into his toils it was the infamous Colonel Thorg, who re-
ceived the command of the regiment, in reward for his great ser-
vices in A merica. And Michael's only powerful friend, who cou!<l
an:! would have saved him was dead. General Ross, you are
aware, was killed in the battle of Baltimore."
" God have mercy on poor Edith ! How long has it been
Bince this happened, my dear girl ?"
" When they reached Toronto, in Canada West, the regiment
commanded by Thorg was about to sail for England. On its
U8 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
arrival at York, in England, a court-martial was formed, and
Michael was brought to trial. There was a great deal of per-
sonal prejudice, distortion of facts, and even perjury in short,
he was condemned and sentenced one day, and led out and shot
the next!"
There was silence between them then. Henrietta sat in pale
and speechless horror.
And Marian's bosom was heaving vehemently, and she was
pressing her hands first upon her face and then upon her breast,
as if to command down the strong emotion.
"But how long is it since my poor Edith has been so awfully
widowed ?" at length inquired Mrs. Waugh.
" Nearly four months," replied Marian, in a tremulous voice.
"For six weeks succeeding his death, she was not able to rise
from her bed. I came from school to nurse her. I found her
completely prostrate under the blow. I wonder she had not
died. What power of living on some delicate frames seem to
have. As soon as she was able to sit up, I began to think
that it would be better to remove her from the strange country,
the theatre of her dreadful sufferings, and to bring her to her
own native land, among her own friends and relatives, where
she might resume the life and habits of her girlhood, and where,
with nothing to remind her of her loss, she might gradually
come to look upon the few wretched months of her marriage,
passed in England, as a dark dream. Therefore I have bi ought
her back."
Mrs. Waugh looked and listened with the deepest interest,
mingled with astonishment, at the young girl so childlike, yet
so womanly so youthful, yet so wise and prudent.
"And you, my dear child," said she "you were Michael
Shields' sister?"
" No, madam, no kin to him and yet more than kin for ho
loved me, and I loved him more than any one else in the world,
as I now love his poor young widow. This was the way of it,
Mrs. Waugh : Michael's father and my mother had both been
married before, and we were the children of the first marriages j
THE MISSING BRIDE. 119
vrhen Michael was fourteen years old, and I was seven, our pa-
rents were united, and we two grew up together. About two
years ago, Michael's father died. My mother survived him
only five months, and departed, leaving me in the charge of her
step-son. We had no friends but each other. Our parents,
since their union, had been isolated beings, for this reason hia
father was a Jew my mother a Christian therefore the friends
and relatives on either side were everlastingly offended by their
marriage. Therefore we had no one but each other. The little
property that was left was sold, and the proceeds enabled
Michael to purchase a commission in the regiment about to
sail for America, and also to place me at a good boarding
school, where I remained until his return, and the catastrophe
that followed it."
She was silent sometime after this, her bosom heaving with
ill suppressed emotion. At last she resumed,
" Lady, all passed so suddenly, that I knew no word of his
return, much less of his trial or execution, until I received a
visit from the chaplain who had attended his last moments, and
who brought me his farewell letter, and his last informal will,
in which the poor fellow consigned me to the care of his wife,
soon to be a widow, and enjoined me to leave school and seek
her at once, and enclosed a check for the little balance he had
In bank. I went immediately, found her insensible through
grief, as I said and, lady, I told you the rest."
Henrietta was weeping softly behind the handkerchief sho
held at her eyes. At last she repeated,
"You say he left you in his widow's charge?"
"Yes, madam."
" Left his widow in your's, rather, you good and faithful
sister."
" It was the same thing, lady; we were to live together, and
to support each other."
" But what was your thought, my dear girl, in bringing her
Here ?"
" I told you, lady, that in her own native land, among her
120 MIEIAMj THE AVENGEE; OK,
own dear kinsfolk, she might be comforted, and might resume
her girlhood's thoughts and habits, and learn to forget the
strange dark passages of her short married life, passed in a
foreign country."
"But, my dear girl, did you not know, had you never heard
that her uncle disowned her for marrying against his will ?"
" Something of that I certainly heard from Edith, lady, when
I first proposed to her to come home. But she was very weak,
and her thoughts very rambling, poor thing she could not
stick to a point long, and I overruled and guided her I could
not believe but that her friends would take her poor widowed
heart to their homes again. But if it should be otherwise,
still"
Well ? still ?
" Why, I cannot regret having brought her to her Dative
soil for, if we find no friends in America, we have left none in
England a place besides full of the most harrowing recollec-
tions, from which this place is happily free. America also
offers a wider field for labor than England does, and if her
friends behave badly, why I will work for her, and for her
child, if it should live."
" Dear Marian, you must not think by what I said just now,
that I am not a friend to Edith. I am indeed. I love her
almost as if she were my own daughter. I incurred my hus-
band's anger by remaining with her after her marriage until
she sailed. I will not fail her now, be sure. Personally, I
will do my utmost for her. I will also try to influence her
uncle in her favor. And now, my dear, it is getting very late
and there is a long ride, and a dreadful road before me. The
Commodore is already anxious for me, I know, and if I keep
him waiting much longer, he will be in nc mood to be per
suaded by me. So I must go. To-morrow, my dear, a better
home shall be found for you and Edith. That I promise upon
my own responsibility. And now, my dear, excellent gal
good-bye. I will see you again in the morning."
And Mrs. Waugh took leave.
THE MISSING BBIDE. 121
' No," thundered Commodore Waugb, thrusting his head
forward and bringing his stick down heavily upon the floor.
" No, I say ! I will not be bothered with her or her troubles.
Don't talk to me ! I care nothing about them 1 What should
her trials be to me ? The precious affair has turned out just as
I expected it would! Only what I did not expect was that we
should have her back upon our hands ! I wonder at Edith !
I thought she had more pride than to come back to me for
comfort after leaving as she did !"
This was all the satisfaction Mrs. Waugh got from Old Nick,
when she had related to him the sorrowful story of Edith's
widowhood and return, and had appealed to his generosity in
her behalf. Henrietta thought she had never seen her husband
look hideous and revolting before the round shoulders looked
more humped the bull head and neck more bullish the wiry
gray hair and beard more grizzly, and the flaming scar across
his face more fiery than ever. She felt rather indignant, slow
as she was to be moved to anger; but for Edith's sake she
governed her feelings, and replied,
" Poor child she did not come back to seek aid from any
one. She lies like a dying child, without the power to form a
thought or wish for herself, and she knows nothing whatever
of my application to you."
" Then you'd better wait till she authorizes you to beg for
her, Mrs. Waugh."
" I would," said Henrietta, suppressing her anger, " but if
she is lying there, perfectly incapable of thought or action, and
in the greatest extremity, some one must think and act for
ner."
" Let her husband's fine English relations do it, then."
" He had but one relative, a young girl ; she has come over to
attend upon Edith, as I told you before."
" With the hope of bettering herself, I suppose ! Yes 1 I
know all abo" 1 /- such moves as that. I can see as far into a mill-
stone as uny one else ! But they'll be disappointed, both of
them 1 I'm not a man to be trifled with 1 Edith made her
122 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
choice, and now, as it has not turned out quite so nappily aa
she expected, she shall not turn back, and hoodwink and make
a fool of me. I'm not to be wound around her fingers, or yours
either, Old Hen ! I'll not interfere 1 as she has baked she must
brew. /'// not be bothered with her. Give me my pipe, Old lieu I
Henrietta arose and filled his pipe with unusual care, and
lighted it well and put it in his hands, and then sat quietly by
his side, until she thought the weed had had time to soothe his
excited nerves ; and then she began again, and sought to per-
suade him by every means in her power to relent towards her
niece. She urged upon him the claims of humanity, of relation-
ship, of Christian charity, of the world's opinion vain, and
worse than vain ! And as for the fumes of tobacco, while they
soothed him into quietness, they also seemed to sink him into
sullenness and doggedness. And at last, Henrietta arose and
left the room with a feeling of repulsion, that all Old Nick's ugli-
ness had never been able to awaken before.
The destitute return of Edith was now pretty generally known
through the household, thanks to the Commodore's loud replies,
and brutal and violent manner. The members of the family
were gathered into little knots, discussing the affair. Henrietta
was very much troubled and perplexed. She had given her
word that a home should be provided for Edith and Marian that
very day she had also promised to see them that morning.
.Now the morning was half over, and she had nothing hopeful to
carry them.
It was little Jacquelina who helped her out of the dilemma.
She chanced to find the fairy in her mother's room, standing
setween old Jenny's knees, getting her hair combed and curled.
"Aunty I Has Fair Edith come back ?"
"Yes, my dear."
" And wont uncle invite her to come here and stay?"
"No, Lapwing."
" And she hasn't got any place to go ?"
"No, she is houseless, poor thing."
" Well, I'll tell you what, Aunty, let her go and live at Old
THE MISSING BRIDE. 123
Field Cottage that's a nice place ! A great deal nicer than
this great big, horrid, old Lock-em-up, as Crazy Nell calls it.
I'm sure I wish Mimmy would go back to it herself we can see
the outside of the world there, and the ships go up and dowu
the bay. Fair Edith can go there."
" Why, I do not know but that's a good idea, Lapwing. I'll
speak to your mother about it."
When, a few minutes after, Mrs. L'Oiseau entered the chamber,
Mrs. Waugh broke the subject to her.
"Why," said Mary, "the cottage stands just as we left it.
The furniture is mine, and Edith is quite welcome to the use of
it, if her uncle will consent to let her reside there."
" Indeed I shall not ask him any questions about it," said
Mrs. Waugh, " and since you are kind enough to let Edith have
the use of the furniture, I shall load a cart with provisions and
send it on in advance, and I shall then go to Benedict and
convey Edith and her friend thither. And, Jenny, you may
just pack up your clothes and go with me. You must remain
with Edith, to wait upon her for some months to come yet in
the meantime, we will find some younger maid for Lapwing, and
after that we will see what's to be done." And Henrietta went
out to hasten her preparations.
Mary L'Oiseau was very much disturbed in consequence of
this independent proceeding on the part of Mrs. Waugh, and
expressed her dread lest she herself should draw the anger of
the irascible Commodore down upon her head, for the share she
had in it by lending her furniture. But Jacquelina was indig-
nant that any one should be afraid to befriend Fair Edith. And
Old Jenny expressed her perfect confidence that her mistress
knew what she was doing, and that if she couldn't " 'irol old
marse in all things, she could 'trol him in meet."
r
124 M IK I AM, THE AVENGER; OR,
CHAPTER IX,
MARIAN.
"Not only good and kind,
But strong and elevated is her mind;
A spirit that with noble pride
Can look superior down
On fortune's smile or frown;
That can, without regret or pain,
To virtue's lowest duty sacrifice." Lori. Lyiileton,
AFTER despatching a wagon, well loaded with all necessary
provisions, and many comforts and luxuries, for Old Field Cot
tege, Mrs. Waugh mounted her mule, and attended by Jenny
on another, trotted off towards B .
Good Henrietta was never thoroughly provoked before this.
These usually calm, benignant souls, when they are moved, are
very deeply troubled, indeed. She rode on, in something very
like sullenness, feeling a strange, new repulsion toward her
old invalid soldier, and a dislike, bordering upon contempt, for
Mary L'Oiseau, and her small selfishness and cowardice.
Old Jenny, excessively social and loquacious, like all her race,
made several attempts to open a conversation, persevering until
her mistress, speaking for the first time, said,
"Don't bother me, Jenny."
And at this really unprecedented rebuff, the old maid sunk
into a mortified silence, that continued the remainder of the ride
through the forest.
When they reached the village and the little hotel and were
shown into the small, shady parlor, Mrs. Waugh found Edith
and Marian both preset t, and enjoying more comfort and privacy
than might have been e xpected.
Edith reclined upon i lounge, with a thin handkerchief laid
over her face.
And Marian sat, not too near, busily plying her needle
THE MISSIXG BBIDE. 125
how her fingers flew ! yet with what quiet swiftness ! That was
the first thing Mrs. Waugh noticed as she entered the room.
The young girl lifted her blooming face, ard arose and came
fcrward.
"Why how busy you are, my dear! How fast your rosj
fingers do fly perhaps that is what keeps them so fresh and
roseate."
" Perhaps. But one of the things my mother succeeded in im-
pressing upon my mind was, the value of time as capital the
only capital of the poor the only inheritance which all have re-
ceived alike from the Heavenly Father. Now I have a plenty
of time, and no lack of work ; and whatever my hand ' findeth to
do,' I ' do it with my might !' " said Marian, smiling and nodding.
There was a frank, confident, cheerful strength in everything
the young girl said, or did, or looked, that had the most en-
couraging and inspiring effect upon any one who saw or heard
her. The little fog was charmed away from Henrietta's temper
by the sunniness of Marian's presence.
"And Edith, my dear ?"
" She had a quiet night took some little breakfast this morn-
ing, and has been lying very still as you see her all day."
Henrietta walked softly towards the sofa, and Edith drew the
handkerchief from her face, and held out her poor, thin, trans-
parent hand.
Mrs. Waugh took it, and caressed it a little, and bent over
and softly kissed the sufferer, and sat down by her.
But Edith turned her head to the wall, and again covered her
face with her handkerchief.
Mrs. Waugh then explained to Marian the arrangements that
had been made for their accommodation at Old Field Cottage,
apologizing, at the same time, for the small size and solitary
situation of the house, and bitterly regretting that she had not
in herself the power to offer a home at Luckenough.
" But now do you know that I think what has been provided
is just the best possible provision in the world for Edith?
Think of it 1 Under present circumstances, it would drive her
126 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
crazy to live at Luckenough. The cottage is just what she
needs it offers her the solitude, the silence, and the perfect
rest she craves. As to its poverty of accommodations, that too
falls in with her mood. Edith, like many other mourners in
their first bereavement, is possessed of a certain asceticism, and
will enjoy no luxury, or even comtort, if she can help it, be-
cause the loved and the lost are not to share it with her. And
I really do not think nature ever errs in these things and I
think if they are not opposed, they help to soothe the sharp
pains of sorrow, and afterwards they gradually wear out."
" Where did you get your wisdom, my dear girl ? and you so
young too young to have known much trouble, or to have
had much experience."
" I have seen a great deal of other people's sorrows, and my
little experience has been of a sort to make me observe and re-
flect. But let us talk of Edith you need not be afraid that
she shall suffer for any comfort upon account of the distance of
the cottage from the village. I am a good walker, and can go
ten or fifteen miles without much fatigue."
"And do you think that I shall allow anything of that sort ?
N"o, my dear I shall send over the pony that used to be
Edith's, and my, own mule also, and oats and corn for both.
Consider, my dear girl, that I have the right to provide for all
tbe wants of your little household. What a well ordered little
home it will be with you at the head of it, I am sure ! and I
will do my best to anticipate all your wants, but if I happen to
forget any, call upon me with the utmost freedom and frankness,
as upon one who considers herself very deeply obliged to you
for all your kindness and attention to her own niece."
Mrs. Waugh then arose to take leave, and they went to the
parlor. Henrietta went to the sofa, and stooped and kissed
Edith, merely whispering, in a low voice,
" Good-by, dear child ; I will see you again in the morning."
Edith took her hand and pressed it in silence. And so they
parted.
Mrs. Waugh went home.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 127
The next morning at sunrise the family carriage stood at the
door, and Henrietta had it well packed with everything that
she could think of to add to the stores sent on the day before.
And leaving word for the family to sit down to breakfast with-
out her, she entered the carriage, again accompanied by Jenny,
and drove to B .
She got there in time to eat breakfast with Marian. She
then insisted upon settling the whole bill at the hotel, and had
all the baggage belonging to her two proteges packed into a
cart, to follow in the wake of the carriage. Then, assisted by
Marian, she dressed Edith, and placed her on the back seat of
tho carriage, and herself and Marian occupied the front seat.
Jenny rode in the baggage cart.
And so they set forward towards Old Field Cottage. Their
way lay over desert mea-dows, through remnants of the forest,
over the old sterile fields, for seven miles to the sea-side cottage.
It was ten o'clock when they reached it the snow lay
drifted all around the deserted cot no road was near it, except
that made by the provision wagon that had come the day be-
.ore.
Edith was lifted out, and borne over the snow into the house.
And the rest of her party followed. The room was just as wo
have seen it in the time of Mrs. L'Oiseau's residence there
with its low ceiling, its white-washed walls, sanded floor, pine
table, flag-bottomed chairs, plain shelves, and corner cupboard,
filled with blue delf ware ; there was no lounge nor easy chair
to receive the languid frame of the invalid. She had to be
carried up stairs in the arms of Oliver, and laid upon her bed,
When she had fallen into a sleep of exhaustion, Mrs. Waugh
aud Marian left her, and came down stairs and had a talk.
"Now, is there anything that you can think of that I can
send her, my dear ?" asked Henrietta.
"Yes, Mrs. Waugh, if you will be so good. You know that
she cannot stay up in that loft every day, and all day long, aa
well as all night, and neither can she sit up down here "
"I see- she needs a couch and a lounging chair for this room,
128 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
and she shall have them. I will send them over to-morrow It
there anything else ?"
" No, madam."
The floor was crowded with the unladen contents of the two
baggage wagons. And Marian was already busy among ham
pers, baskets, bundles, bags, casks, kegs, etc., arranging them
in the cupboard or under the shelves.
Mrs. Waugh looked as if she wished to assist, but she was
all unaccustomed to the use of her hands, and she could only
call Oliver from watering the horses, and Jenny from gather-
ing wood for the fire, to come in and assist in clearing the room
and packing away the provisions.
When ail this was done, and the fire was blazing cheerfully, and
the kettle singing over it, and the little round table set out
with some of the dainties she had furnished, Henrietta only
waited to partake with Marian of the first meal eaten in the
little home " a tea dinner " and then took leave, promising
to visit her at least three times a week.
Henrietta reached Luckenough about sunset, little thinking
of the furious storm that was to meet her there. As she drove
up to the house and alighted from the carriage, one of her
favorite housemaids came out with a frightened countenance,
and drawing her aside, whispered,
" Please, mist'ess, go up to your room, and 'tend like you're
got a berry bad head-ache."
" And why should I do that, you blockhead ?"
" 'Deed mistress, honey, ole marse done got de debbil in him,
an' I wouldn' wonder what he'd do 1 'Deed mist'ess, don't you
go in dar, honey, please. You take 'vice. 'Deed he is got de
debbil in him, honey 'deed he! chuck up to his berry
t'roat !"
" So much the more reason for my going to him. He has
bottled up Satan against my return. He will let him off, and
get rid of him as soon as I appear," thought Mrs. Waugh, as
she passed into the house, and sought at once the presence of
the angry man. She found him stamping up and down the
THE MISSING BRIDE. 129
hall alone he had frightened every living creature from hia
proximity. Mary L'Oiseau was cowering in her distant chum-
ber, Jacquelina off into the forest, the servants all huddling to-
gether in the kitchen the very dogs had sneaked oif and were
trembling in their kennels. And the Commodore strode up
and down the hall, in the solitary majesty of his own demoni-
acal passion. In his best moods he was unfortunately very
ugly, but now, in his diabolical anger, he was hideous hia
huge form, and hnmped shoulders, and big head, and grizzly
hair and beard, and fiery visage, adorned with that flaming
scar all, as it were, lighted up and glowing with fiendish rage 1
As socn as Henrietta appeared, the storm burst upon her de
voted head,
I am not about to describe this scene it is unfit for repeti
tion here. It is sufficient to say that the Commodore had
learned all that his wife had been doing for Edith and now
he poured out his wrath without measure ; all that a coarse
and unscrupulous old man, roused to fury, would say and do ;
was said and done infamous charges, degrading epithets, and
brutal and violent threats were hurled at, were showered upon
good Henrietta. He called her an artful, designing woman, a
deceiver, a household traitress nay, he did not scruple many
times to call her a thief accusing her of purloining and ap-
propriating property to which she had no right. And since
he could not prosecute her, as he would any other malefactor,
he should use his own authority, and punish the felony as it de-
served. And so he strode and swore and gesticulated stop-
ping once in a while to shake his fists in Henrietta's face. It
took about three hours for him to blow and storm himself down
into a state of exhaustion.
And there sat Henrietta just as quiet as if she had been a
wax figure, labeled, "a fat, comfortable, middle-aged woman
reposing." So she had sat many times before, waiting for the
tempest to subside only this time had he but noticed the set
of her mouth !
As it was. her very immobility at last added fuel to the fir
8
130 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
of his rage, lie suddenly stopped before her, and looking as
if he was about to seize her, exclaimed,
" Why don't you speak then, madam ? What have you to
answer to all this ? What can you say ? Why don't you
speak ?"
" Because that which I have to say, should be heard by a
man in his sober senses which you are not," said Henrietta.
"Oh-h-h! Tah-h-h! Pish-ish-sh! Tush-uih-sh!" and every
other expression that would throw contempt and scorn upon
her words and " What is it then ?"
"Anon presently, Commodore! What I have to say, shall
be said some half hour hence, when you have blown off the last
of your auger. Will you please to begin again, and not stop
till you get through ?"
He did begin again ! And his first fury, violent as it was,
was a mere jest to this one he became actually insane, mad-
dened, frenzied. More than once Henrietta felt herself in im-
minent personal danger. It was terrific but it was the sooner
over. In less than half an hour his strength was thoroughly
exhausted, and he let himself drop into his elbow-chair as
feeble, as helpless, as much in need of a restorative as a fainting
girl.
Henrietta contemplated him, as he sat there gasping and
blowing, and blunderingly wiping his inflamed and streaming
face. At last she spoke
"What I had to say to you, Commodore, is this listen, for
believe me, it nearly concerns our future life."
" Go on, ma'am."
"You know well enough that I am not subject to tempers,
not apt to speak from excitement, and not a woman of vain
words."
" Too much preface, ma'am too much preface by half."
" Yery well ; to proceed I need not remind you what my
regard for you has hitherto been. You know that I was be-
trothed to you at the age of fifteen that you went away, and
for twevty years was lost to your family during the whole of
THE MISSING BRIDE. 131
that time, even when believing you to be dead, I remained
faithful to your memory. At the end of that time at the age
of thirty-five, I found myself an old maid but still an inde-
pendent and happy old maid, with my fortune and time at my
own disposal. Then you suddenly reappeared unrecogniza-
ble, a weather-beaten, battle-scarred, disabled old man. And
when you asked me to redeem the pledge I had made you
twenty years before, I left my free and happy life, to become
your nurse and housekeeper. You know how light and pleasant
your amiable temper rendered my tasks. Enough ! What I
have been to you for the last fifteen years, it better becomes
you to remember than me to recapitulate."
"You are turning off fine phrases, I think, madam!"
" I can turn off coarser ones, better adapted to your com-
prehension, Commodore Waugh."
"Damme, madam, what do you mean?"
" Only this," said Henrietta, "I mean that the scene of this
afternoon, shall never be repeated with impunity I mean if it
should be repeated, to leave you at once and for ever! And I
am not one to make vain threats."
Had the roof of the house fallen, had the sky dropped, had
the surface of the earth collapsed had any of these impossible
things happened, the Commodore would not have been more
completely astounded, more utterly overwhelmed ! Henrietta
leave Mm ; he do without Henrietta ? Was ever such a thing
heard of in all life's impossibilities? He sat back perfectly
immoveable, with his eyes staring forward at her until they
seemed swelled to double their usual size, and threatened with
the fate of the proud frog in the fable. He looked really pitia-
ble. Henrietta proceeded without mercy.
"Heretofore I have submitted to all your whims and ca-
prices, because they did not interfere with the discharge of my
Christian and social duties ; I have submitted improperly even
then perhaps. I do not know that it was well so to have
fostered your ill humors. But I had, as I still have, a very
strong attachment to you, wherever in nature the strange af-
132 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
fcction could have come from. Now, however, to use a phrase
not too 'fine' for your comprehension, you have got to the
length of your cable with me ; you can go no further at all,
without cutting loose, breaking with me. What I have done
for Edith, has been done at my own proper expense. I should
Bcorn to remind you, were it not necessary, that Old Field Cot
tage was a part of my own dower that Jenny, whom I have
sent thither, was my own woman, and that the provisions I have
sent, were purchased with my own funds. I have seldom ap-
plied to you, Commodore Waugh, for money to carry on the
household expenses. It seems very mean and miserable that 1
should have to say these things to you, but it is absolutely
needful to do so. And, moreover, I assure you, Commodore,
that whether you like it or not, I am fully determined to pro-
vide for Edith and her little household ; and remember, she is
your niece, not mine. I intend to send her over the sofa and
the easy-chair from my bedroom ; and also my mule and the
pony that she used to ride, and a cart-load of provender for
them. And I shall also settle a pension on her. This I feel
to be incumbent upon me, and shall do it at my own cost, and
whether you like it or not. But, Commodore Waugh, I repeat
it, if you do impede me in the performance of my duties, if you
do harass, and wrong, and abuse me about them; I will, sc
heaven help me ! separate myself from you at once and forever.'-
" You you you are heated ! You you are angry. You
speak from excitement, Henrietta," stuttered the confounded
and discomfited old soldier.
" No I never get excited. I am cooled by what has passed
. not heated. I am not moved to anger, Commodore, but to
action. You know it. And you know I will keep my word.
For I am not one to use vain threats, 'or having formed a reso-
lution to repent of it, or having taken a step to retrace it
And so, Commodore Waugh, I leave you to think upon what
I Lave said." And Henrietta arose and gathered her shawl
around her shoulders, and went to her chamber to take off he!
bonnet and prepare for tea.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 133
He sat there, immovable his nerves and brain almost in a
state of disorganization. " Think" of what she had said ! He
didn't know how to think he had never thought in his life.
Henrietta had always been his thinker he had considered it a
part of her duty. She had always thought for him, as she had
nursed him, kept house for him, managed his farm, and ba-
lanced his accounts. And now, suddenly to call upon him to
" think" the most difficult of all the rest. He couldn't think,
that was all about it! his brains were in a state of semi-
decomposition, and had long ceased to perform any other
function than that of a very dull galvanic battery, to propel
the turgid blood in its downward ebb. So he sat there as
helpless as an old lion without claws or teeth, feeling himself to
be not a dangerous brute, though he could roar so terribly.
Henrietta's matrimonial admonition had been administered
with all due privacy and discretion. Yet what is there that
transpires in a house full of servants, especially of old family
servants, who have an interest beyond mere curiosity in know-
ing everything that happens, that is not discovered and dis-
cussed ? It was therefore well ascertained that the Commodore
had been put down, that the household " Thunderer" had been
silenced, and that his throne was a stool of repentance ! And
so the Commodore shared the bitter fate of " Darius great and
good," and other fallen potentates, and was not only deserted
but derided " at his utmost need." Mrs. L'Oiseau kept a dis-
creet distance, knowing not how to steer her course to avoid
the Scylla and Charybdis of the opposed parties. For though
Henrietta was decidedly Lady Paramount, yet the Commodore
alone possessed the power of bequeathing Luckenough. The
very servatts no longer flew to do his bidding perhaps, bo-
cause the dispirited old man had ceased to une the moving
arguments of candle-sticks and pokers hurled at their heads
The Commodore was a dethroned despot, and so everybody
took sides against him.
Everybody but Jacquclina. It was impossible to calculate
what would be that elf's course of action in any given rase
134 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
no conclusion could ever be drawn from her precedents or from
& knowledge of her character it was sure to deceive. One
thing alone you could reckon upon if you should expect her
to pursue one course, you might be sure she would pursue the
other. Upon this occasion any one in the world who knew
Jacqueliua and her little eccentric antecedents, might have rea-
sonably supposed that she would have strongly opposed herself
to her uncle. Not she. Now he was the weaker party, and a
certain chivalric generosity always led Sans Souci to range
herself upon the weaker side very often that was the only test
of right and wrong, and reversing the code of the world, Sans
Souci was too apt to consider the weak and defeated always
right, and the strong and victorious always wrong. So Jac-
queliua adhered to the Commodore in his mortification. She
novered about him, ran his errands, picked over his tobacco,
filled and lighted his pipes, combed his hair and beard, and did
everything she could think of to mitigate his case. And when
nothing could move his melancholy, she would break out in
something like the following strains of flattery and consolation :
" Never you mind, Uncle Nick ! Spose you were naughty
you've got the same right to be naughty that other people
have, I reckon, and so don't you feel cut up about it !"
" But I've not been naughty, Jacquelina," would the Com-
modoit; answer, almost meekly, " I only wanted justice what
was in the bond, you know I"
" Never mind, Nunky never mind whether you have or
not ! You've got as much right to tell fibs about it as the
murderers have to plead ' not guilty.' "
Ob 1 such a deep groan would be the comment upon this !
" Don't you take on so, now, Nunky. Don't groan swear '
Raise a row, and make a tremendous noise ! Fire off your
jluuderbuss as fast as ever you can load it! And blow the
whole house sky high 1"
" Urn yes I know 1 I should like to do that but then
Henrietta would leave me, Jacko she would, as sure at
shooting?"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 135
" Oo-oo-oo !" cooed Sans Souci, pursing up her lips and
raising her eyebrows, " is that it? Now I know!"
Soon after this, Jacquelina took it upon herself to arraign
Henrietta.
" Now, aunty, just you tell me what you've been doing tc
uncle to make him mope about so, like a poor old turkey gob-
bler with the distemper ?"
" Does he?" said Henrietta, absently.
" ' Does he ?' Why anybody can see he does ! He's lost all
nis pleasant old ways he never stamps up and down the hall
roaring and bellowing and scaring the old beams and rafters
into shaking agues and he never throws the cats out of the
window, nor kicks the dogs, nor flings his boot-jack at Bill's
head, nor does anything he used to do 1 He's lost all his live-
liness. He'll pine away and die, I know he will. Now what
have you done to him?"
" Nothing improper, Lapwing."
" I don't know what you call improper, I am sure, aunty,
/think it was shocking to treat him so. And he the head of
the family !"
"Yes, but, my dear, suppose the 'Head' were so heated and
inflamed as to be almost crazy, and in danger of getting quite
frantic and doing the other members some fatal injury, wouldn't
you clap a lump of ice to the ' Head' to cool it down and make
it sensible ? And now, my little Lapwing, if you can under-
stand what I have said, so much the better, but whether you
can or not, go now and wait upon your uncle, attend him as
devotedly as you please, the better you serve him the more I
shall be satisfied with you, only, my dear, don't presume to lec-
ture your aunty, that is quite beyond your province, my little
Lapwing."
"Well, that is right downdacioust" exclaimed Jacquelina;
" aunty not only mutinies against the Commodore, br.t rebela
against me !" And from that time Sans Souci made common
jraus^j with her uncle, and became the strongest and uiost un-
compromising of allies
136 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Nevertheless, Henrietta's star was in the ascendant and
reigned supreme. And to do the good creature justice, she
did not abuse her power. She was more attentive than ever
*o the invalid soldier, and more careful than ever of his inte-
rests, but she did send over the sofa and easy-chair, and the
mule and pony, etc., to Edith, and she did also settle aa
annuity upon her being the half of her own income from her
bank stock. As for the Commodore, when he recovered from
his first panic of astonishment, the new necessity of moderating
and controlling his furious passions proved very beneficial, not
only to his moral but to his physical health ; and he began to
miss those sudden and violent attacks of illness that had so
often brought him to the brink of the grave, and that had
always been traced back to those frantic outbreaks of temper
as their cause. Not that the old soldier was wholly reformed
in that respect. By no means a sudden and total suppression
of his passions might have killed him ; but he was so modified
and improved that life at Luckenough grew much brighter and
more comfortable.
CHAPTER X.
HOUSEKEEPING AT OLD FIELD COTTAGE
" She hath no scorn of common things,
And though she seems of other birth,
Yet patiently she folds her wings
To tread the humble paths of earth.
She doeth little kindnesses,
Which most leave undone or despise,
For naught that sets one heart at ease,
Is low esteemed in her eyes." Lowell.
IT was a very interesting little family that settled down at the
bay-side cottage the tiny family of three in all.
There was Edith, with her low illness and her still sorrow
THE MISSING BRIDE. 137
her sorrow that had passed through all its violent, passionate,
and frenzied stages, and had settled into this deep, calm de-
spair, out of which, if you will be patient with her, it will also
pass, for Providence is a wise, beneficent father, and Nature is
a tender nursing mother, and they will bring her through.
Fo; the present blame her not that she lay upon her lounge al-
ways as still as death, with her slender white hands clasped
above her head, and her handkerchief thrown over her eyes, as
if to shut out the sight of all earthly objects that she lay there
with her fair face growing paler, and its blue shadows deeper,
day by day.
There was Marian, beautiful and blooming Marian, with her
young wisdom, her cheerful temper, and her ready sympathies
with her swift, light step, her busy, nimble fingers, and her
prompt, despatchful industry. She cheerfully and confidently
assumed the whole care and responsibility of the small house-
hold, and diligently occupied herself with its interests, and
with manifold, affectionate preparations for the welcome of the
little pilgrim, who, she trusted, would shortly bring hope and
love back to the young widowed mother's heart, and sunshine
and gladness to her humble home.
Lastly, there was Jenny, with her indefatigable hands, and,
alas ! her indefatigable tongue, too a source of ever fresh en-
tertainment to the English girl, to whom negro character, uot
as it is falsely presented in books or comic songs, but as it
really exists in the south, full of indestructible self-esteem, dis-
interested affections, and audacious wit and humor, was en-
tirely new, quaint, and piquant. Not the least amusing to
Marian was the air of perfect kindness and sincerity with which
Jenny approved and patronized her, telling her that the Eng-
lish were " Jes as good as white people when they 'haved their-
selves." And often the maiden's merry laugh would have rung
out in silvery cadences, but that it was arrested on her budding
lips by the thought of the suffering monrner on the softt, to
whom laughter, sunlight, and music, were as yet insupportable
Marian busied herself, with making the tiny cottage more
138 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
nonportable and attractive. Remember it had but two rooms,
one below and one above, the upper one being nothing but a
chamber in the roof. And Marian thanked Heaven that it
would take but very small means to furnish both as neatly and
prettily as needful, thus naturally with her bright, cheerful tem-
per, finding in the very meagreness of space a cause of con-
gratulation. Marian set about preparing and adorning that
upper room for Edith. It was a very fair sized chamber,
coarsely lathed and plastered, and roughly floored, and had a
good sized window at each end. The east one with a view 01
the bay, the west with one of the forest. The only furniture
of the room was two bedsteads and beds, covered with blue
checked counterpanes, and a tall, three-legged, old pine toilet-
table, without cover or looking-glass. Marian and Edith occu-
pied this only sleeping-room, while Jenny slept down stairs
npon a mattrass that was taken up every morning.
Bnt Marian, as I said, set about preparing and adorning this
numble chamber for Edith. She went to B , and by the
sacrifice of a rich pearl brooch, an heir-loom and Marian's
only ornament, she procured money to buy her materials and
Fend them home in a hired cart. And the next day all her im-
j^rovements were so quietly made, as not to attract the atten-
tion of Edith, lying still upon the sofa, with the handkerchief
over her face.
And now set the room after Marian had metamorphosed it.
The walls were whitewashed the floor covered with delicate
Straw matting the two beds with fine white counterpanes the
Lwo windows were shaded with plain, deep-blue paper blinds,
Mid draped with clear white muslin curtains; and her toilet-
table covered with a top-piece and valance of white dimity, and
adorr.ed with a bright little looking-glass, and a pretty bottle
of cologne, a tasteful pincushion, and other little matters.
Opposite this toilet was a new wash-stand, with a pure white
service Near Edith's bed was an invalid's chair, with a foot
cushion. And there were two plain stands, and two other
chairs. Lastly, in one corner, stood a pretty new cradle, ali
THE MISSING BEIDE. 139
made up with its little bed and pillow and sheets Marian's
stolen, delightful work for a week past, and all covered by
the finest white Marseilles quilt. It was near evening when the
room was finished, and Marian stood with her cheeks glowing
with exercise and satisfaction, contemplating her work she
thought the pearl brooch well bestowed, and never did the
vainest beauty enjoy the display of her costliest jewels as
Marian enjoyed this appropriation of her only one. Ah, if
Marian could only have had in addition to the batisfaction of
doing good, the pleasure of giving delight! But that she
kne\v was impossible she could not give Edith delight;
nothing could do so. And her unspoken conclusion was en-
dorsed by Jenny, who was tripping daintily over the clean
straw matting, and settling here and there a fold of the white
draperies.
"But Lor' Gimini ! it aint de fuss bit o' use, far as she's
cerued 1 It's ebery singly bit hev away on she ! ten to one
she'll not 'serve whedder dese yere nice 'Sales quilts aint dem
rler funnelly ole blue cottin counterpins ! 'Clare to Marster in
hebben, ef it aint right 'scouraging to see how she do go on
layin' eberlastin' on dat sofa, like a dead corpse laid out !"
"We must have patience, and leave her to Nature a little
longer. I have the greatest faith in Nature. 'Nature,' you
know, ' is the handmaid of the Lord !' "
" Is she ? I uebber hear tell o' dat before. Yes, but now I
thinks ob it, some handmaids 'lects ob der duty, an' idles about.
Maybe dat's de way Nater do ! Leastways, ef Nater didn't
pet Miss Edy out o' dat der putty soon, I'd try somet'in' else
deed me 1"
Marian smiled, and they went below Jenny to get tea, and
Marian to sit down by Edith's couch and ply her needle, her
rosy fingers flying like a bird.
4t night, when Marian helped Edith up stairs Jenny at*
ei.diug with a light the invalid entered the chamber, casting
.er eyes around in a languid, absent manner, that left it in doubt
tfhethei or t H she saw the change. Even the vexed exclama^
140 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OE,
tisn of Jenny "Dar den! what I tell you? She don't notic*
a singly thing !" failed to attract her attention.
But Marian led her up to the little cradle, and asked,
" What do you think of this, dear Edith ?"
-The widow cast a weary, saddened glance upo the pretty
novelty, and turning away her eyes, said, mournfully,
, ''It's no use dear; the child will die."
'Not a bit of it!" said Marian, cheerfully, "the child will
live !"
No more was said then. Edith had spoken more than she
had at any one time since her bereavement, and Marian hailed
it as a promising symptom. And she thought that the time
had now come when it was right to modify her "let-alone"
system in regard to Edith when the mourner might be gently
drawn, without pain, from her self-absorption, and interested in
the business of life and the hopes of the future. And Marian
resolved to proceed accordingly.
The next day Edith lay as usual upon the lounge, with her
arms laid up above her head, her slender white hands clasped,
and the handkerchief thrown over her face.
And Marian sat near her, busy with her needlework, her rosy
fingers flying with their usual celerity. She was a dear, pleasant
girl, and a beautiful creature to look at as she sat there. Do
you see her? in her plain, light-blue gingham dress, with her
plump, rosy arms and neck, and her fresh and blooming cheeks,
and full, ripe lips, and clear, kind, blue eyes, and golden bronze
hair, rippling in bright wavelets off her white forehead, and
gathered in a burnished knot behind, from which here and there
a stray tress twists itself out in a tiny, glittering, spiral ringlet?
Do you see her, as she bends lightly over her work, with her
flying fingers a work that never seemed toil, so pleasantly was
it done, and so cheerful was her countenance, and so happy her
voice. At length she took from her work-basket a tiny pair of
infant's socks, that she had knit of white lamb's wool now
Marian thought if there was any article of a baby's dress pretty,
suggebtive, and even touching, it was the little socks so holding
them towards Edith, she said,
THE MISSING BRIDE. 141
"How do you like these, dear Edith ? do you think they will
lo?"
The mourner did not hear ; but upon Marian's repeating the
question, she drew the handkerchief from her face, and turned
ner eyes upon her sister.
" How do you like these little socks, Edith? Please look at
their.. I think they are pretty and I have other pairs rose-
colored, and straw-colored, and azure."
"Trifles ! trifles I and useless all 1" said the sufferer, turning
away her face. " Oh, Marian I make two shrouds instead. We
shall die I and my child."
" Not you. Not either of you. You will live, and learn to
enjoy life," said Marian, cheerfully, as she resumed her work.
"But, Marian, I wish that we may die ! I hope and pray to
die, with all the poor, feeble power of hoping and praying that
is left in this broken heart 1 I hope and pray to die. It is all
that I have left to wish for I"
" You have much better things than that to hope for, dear
Edith."
" Oh I Marian ! do you know can you know how hopeless,
how joyless the future spreads before me ? How loathsome is
life how welcome would be death !"
"But you will get over this, dearest, dearest sister, you will
get over this. You are so young yet, dear Edith only three
or four years older than myself."
" So young, am 1 1" repeated the mourner, In a voice of de-
spair " so young am 1 1 Ah 1 that is the very worst of all-
the worst of all that is left, I mean to think that I should hare
to carry this aching heart, this sore, sore heart through all the
tages of life down to deep old age ! Long ago, long ago I
would have quieted this aching, throbbing heart, whose every
pulse is a pang, in the first deep water that offered a icsting
plaoe, but for the fear of God 1"
" You forbore to die for the fear of God, go a step higher,
dearest Edith," said Marian, her young face in a glow of faith
ind hope, " resolve to live for the love of God 1"
142 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OH,
"I cannot! oh, I cannot, Marian! I have no strength the
no desire for strength to live. Prometheus chained to his rock
with the vultures preying on his vitals. Such should I be.,
hound to life with this devouring grief eating out my heart !
Oh! this gnawing, gnawing worm of grief! I cannot, cannot
boar it through long years of life !"
' ' Nor will you be called to bear it long. Nature will heal
the bruised heart, you will be drawn out among your brothers
and sisters of this earth, you will lose the intensity of your own
grief in seeing how many people there are in the world as sorely,
aj heavily beraved as yourself, yet living on in the cheerful per-
formance of life's duties you will find people to whom your
li. e will be of the greatest service, and you will find some who
will love you tenderly, as I do, Edith. And finally you will re-
cover and forget your early sorrows, and will live a long and
useful and happy life I"
"Forget ! / forget ! Oh ! no, no, no, no ! Oh ! never, never !
I can never forget him could I ever forget Michael ? Oh !
Michael ! Michael !" she cried, passionately bursting into a vehe-
ment fit of weeping, and burying her face in the pillow.
Marian's bosom heaved, and the tears swelled to her eyes, but
she repressed her emotion, though her voice faltered when she
spoke again.
"No, you will never forget 'him,' 1 ' 1 she said, gently, "that is
not what I mean, or wish. His pure life, his lovely self-devotion,
and his early martyrdom, you can never cease to remember.
But memory will cease to be the poignant anguish that it is it
will become a gentle melancholy, when you will speak of him
without pain then a tender reminiscence, when you will love to
talk of him and lastly, a sweet, solemn, holy thought, verging
into a divine hope, which you will not care to speak of, but
will ponder in your heart. And this sweet time will come, dear
Edith, when the pang of the violent severance of persons is over,
and you begin to feel the impression of his continued existence
his great spiritual life and of his frequent presence and loving
watchfulness orer you. You will feel this you will feel, ia
THE MISSING BRIDE.
143
some respects, a closer union with him than you had before.
You shake your head, dear Edith ! You do not feel that now ?
I know you do not ! no mourner does in the first bitter days of
bereavement. Your intense longing for the bodily presence, your
despair and your unbelief, keep out his pure spirit, that would
nsit and bless you bless you in the divine, new intelligence he
vould inspire in your brain, and the heavenly charity he would
breathe in your heart. So come the ministering spirits of the
departed to their loved ones on earth not manifesting them-
selves to sight or hearing for disembodied spirits do not act
with material organs upon material senses but visiting us in
spiritual impressions, in beautiful inspirations. So come the
heavenly ones, dearest Edith !"
"You speak like one acquainted with grief yet you cannot
be, Marian. You! a young blooming, happy girl."
"You think so! yet I am an orphan, dear Edith. Before
saw you, I had lost every one in the world who loved me thers
was not one left. I saw my father die then my mother and
Michael's father, whom I dearly loved and lastly, Michael.
Do you think I am heartless, dear Edith ? Do you think I did
not share your grief for Michael ? I did not in the same
intensity, for I know and realize what that which we call death
really is. I have felt the spirits of my loved departed revisit
me again ; I have felt them in the deeper insight into spiritual
things, in the increased joys of my soul's life in its enlarged
affections, elevated thoughts, and accession of faith and hope
and love ! I feel that Michael watches over us not only from
his heavenly home but he draws near to us he sees all that I
ara trying to do to reconcile you to life ; and that helps me tc
persevere. Dearest Edith, it is only the bitterness of your sor-
row that keeps you from realizing this consolation but that
will have an end, and then you will find even in this world, him
whom you think you have lost!"
" Never ! Never 1 for the bitterness of death will never have
passed."
"It will, de^r Edith 1 I have seen a great deal of trouble in
144 MIKIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
this world much of my own, and much more of other people's
yet I never new a sorrow either of my own or others, tha,
time and nature and Providence did not cure ! The world could
not be carried on else. Life would stop, if every bereaved heart
buried itself in the grave of its dead, And what indeed have
Christians to do with the grave ? has not Christ gained the vic-
tory over it once and forever? What is the grave, but the
packing place for the worn-out habiliments of the soul ; our loved
ones are 'not there, but risen.' If we do not feel it so, then is
our religion a cold Theology a soulless body of a creed and
Christ, the Redeemer, has lived and died, and ASCENDED in vain !"
said Marian, with her beautiful face transfigured by inspiration.
And all this time, while she spoke such high truths in her
young wisdom, her slender fingers flew, plying her humble house-
hold needle.
CHAPTER XL
THE MAY BLOSSOM.
" I would more spirits were like thine,
That never casts a gloom before
Thou Hebe! who thy heart's rich wine
So lavishly to all dost pour! 1 ' Lmodl.
" WILL you look at the baby now, dear Edith ?"
It was a fair scene and hour a pleasant, moonlight evening.
early in May, and the humble attic chamber at Old Field Cot-
tage seemed lovely as the interior of some fairy temple. The
two white draperied beds stood at opposite corners, on each
side of the east window, and with wide space between them.
The window-curtains of white muslin were looped aside, giving
a clear view of the open sea, and admitting the moon rays, that
filled the room with a lovely, soft light.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 145
Upon the right-hand bed, in a soft mist of white drapery,
reposed Edith. Since the advent of her child, six hours before,
she had lain in the healthful sleep of physical weariness. She
was not only " as well," but better than " could be expected "
And at last she awoke, and Marian raised the infant in her
arms, and standing at the mother's bedside, said,
" Will you look at the baby now, dear Edith ?"
" Oh ! no, no I cannot I cannot 1" said the invalid, turn-
ing away, and covering her face with her hands.
She was thinking, poor, fond mourner, of him who lay
" sleeping in his bloody shroud."
" Please look at the poor baby, Edith, wont you ? Please
kiss her, and bless her, and then I will take her away."
"Oh! don't ask me! Oh! I cannot now not just now
when I'm feeling if he'd lived how fond how happy "
here the voice gave way, and the low sound of weeping was
heard.
Marian crossed the room, and turned down her own cover, and
laid the little one in her own bed.
But Jenny, who stood there stirring pap, was scandalized,
was indignant.
"Humph! So Nater is de hand-maid o' de Lord, is she?
Well ! for my part, I does think she's a good-for-nothing, 'lect-
fnl huzzy, as ever I see ! An' she 'serves to be sold to Georgy !
she do ! An' so I means to 'form my 'Vine Marster, next time
I pray to Him 1"
" N'importe," said Marian, smiling, and speaking to herself,
"laissez faire."
" Lazy fair ! Yes ! she may be a lazy fair ; but I tells you
what if she was a lazy darky, I know what 'ould come of hvr I
'Peed me !"
Marian laughed her low, musical laugh.
"Indeed. Jenny, if it were not for your company, I don't
know that I could keep up my spirits all the time !"
"No, honey, likely not. indeed chile 'cause you see, my
'ciety was always 'sidered edifyin', an' 'sides which, I'se had a
9
146 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
good deal of aperients in life, which has 'pared me lo be a
guide to de young. An' den I ain't proud, chile, 'deed me I
pride's sinful, an' I don't 'dulge in it as you knows yourself
for, dough you're an Englisher, I talks as free to you as if
you wer' a white 'oman if I did come o' de great fam'bly o'
lie Kalougus ! Sure we're all ekal in de sight o' Marster 1"
"But, Jenny," said Marian, smiling, "/came of ail older
and gi eater family than the Kalougas."
" Lor', honey ! How could that be ? And were you a lady
corn, sure enough ?"
Marian nodded and smiled.
"A fam'bly greater than the Kalougus ? But, Lor,' honey,
that's unpossible. Der couldn't be no famb'ly no greater dan de
Kalougus !"
"Yes, there can, and there is, and I belong to it!"
" An' what fam'bly is it, den, honey ?"
"Adam's," said Marian, gravely and earnestly.
"Adams! You don't say so, chile! Well, dat is quality,
sure 'nough ! Why, de Presiden' ob de Benighted States, is
John John Pearry ? no ! Quincy Adams ! aint he ? Bui,
Lor' ! I neber knowed how he had any English 'lations ! An 1
so you'se a lady born, Miss Marian ! Well, who'd a b'lieved it !
Dough, to tell Marster's truffe, Pd a b'lieved it ! 'Cause you
nebber did look like any o' dese yer poor white people 'deed
you ! You always had long o' you, a sort of a sort of a
gov'uing, 'manding sort of way quiet, too like you was used
to it ! Lor' ! you must o' had a heap o' land and niggers !"
"No, I never had either."
"Lord, chile! dat's missfortunit I You come o' what's
called cayed gentility ?"
"Yes."
' I might o' knowed it 1"
" The family I belong to Adam's family is very large, and
though some of its members are very wealthy, and very noble,
and even royal, yet some are also very poor and needy I belong
' the poor.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 147
"Well, den, honey, all I sez is, how your rich 'lations ought
to do something fur yer. An' ef I wer' you, soon as ebber Miss
Edy 'covers of her 'finement, I'd go right up to Washington
an' I'd set right down on top o' ole John Quincy Adams dat's
hat I'd do jes' as I telled Miss Mary 'bout our ole Marse !
an' she tuk my 'vice, an' now see what her prospects is ! all
along o' takin' good 'vice. Now, you take my 'vice, Miss
Marian, and see what'll come of it. Take my 'vice. I'se au
ole 'ornan as is had aperients !"
"But," said Marian, laughing, "Mr. Adams is a very, very
distant relative, and I even doubt if he'd acknowledge the re-
lationship.
" 'Deed he ! proud to do it ! an' you so han'some 1"
Marian smiled, and blushed she could not deceive even in
jest.
' I must explain all about this great old family to you to-
morrow, Jenny," she said.
"Do, chile ! I loves dearly to tell 'bout de quality."
And all this time while they talked, Marian's busy hands
were going as fast as ever. She was preparing some cool, light
farinacious food for Edith. When it was ready, she took it
to the bedside and persuaded her patient to swallow a few
spoonsful. Then she handed the little waiter, with the bowl
and spoon, to Jenny, saying,
" Now, Jenny, you may go down stairs and spread your mat-
***=: ami go to bed. I intend to sit up. But be sure to leave
some fire in the fire-place, and a kettle of water, in case Edith
should need something in the night. I also shall want to come
down and make myself a cup of tea towards \nidnight, to keep
me awake till morning."
"You 'tends for to kill yourself! You jes' aof Up all las
uight, and up to-night ! I wont 'mit of it ! 'deed me I Jes'
you go 'trait 'long to bed. I gwine for to set up myself, 'deed
me!"
But the young nurse was peremptory, and the old woman nad
to yield and go down stairs, grumbling.
148 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OR
Nothing could equal the tact and tenderness of this young
tvatoher in the sick room.
It is true she sat by the east window, looking out upon the
scene upon the barren waste that lay between the cottage and
the beach, and upon the sea, into which the crescent moon was
just sinking, striking a slender line of diamond light across the
waves.
But at every moan or restless motion of her patient, she waa
softly and silently at her bedside to render assistance. Her
services were so quiet, yet so effectual, they seemed like the
charmed ministry of some spirit loving silent and invisible.
There was nothing in her mute footfall, and nothing in the color
or material of her soft, gray gown, to annoy sensitive sight or
hearing, and the tones of her voice possessed the spell of sooth-
ing. The beautiful girl knew this, for she had studied it, and
therefore she would not resign the duty that she felt no one else
could fulfill as well as herself! And so she sat up night after
night. And, in truth, several successive nights' watching did
not seem to hurt her in the least degree. A short nap at noon,
when both the mother and child were asleep, seemed sufficient
to restore her. The finely organized creature had such a great
fund of health and vital energy.
Upon the fourth day, Edith sat up in her easy-chair. Marian
had wrapped her tenderly in the new, soft, white flannel dress-
ing-gown that she made for her, and laid her gently back
among the downy pillows of the chair. Then she softly combed
out the silken tresses of her hair, turning the slight flossy black
ringlets around her fingers, until they fell like raveled silk each
side the pearly forehead, and played in wavering shadows over
the thin, fair, spiritual face. Marian thought she never had
seen so lovely a face. And she took a little hand-mirror from
the toilet-table and held it before Edith ; but as soon as Edith
caught the beautiful reflection of her own face to Marian's sur-
prise she suddenly threw up her hands and disheveled all her
hair, and hiding her face in the pillows, burst into an unccn-
uolable fit cf weeping. She was thinking of those dear, loved
THE MISSING BKIDE. 149
eyes, now closed in death those fond, appreciating eyes that
had so delighted lo watch every change of her changeful face!
The merest trifle sometimes ! the fall of her eyelashes, the wa-
vering shade upon her fair cheek of some straying ringlet all
had a poetic charm for him! Everything, everything even her
own beauty brought, back so vividly the image of him she had
lost! Now that he could no longer rejoice in her beauty, sh
felt it to be painful to be almost wrong to be beautiful foi
other people's pleasure ! And she felt it would be a sort of
satisfaction to look plain and homely. And she understood
how it must have been that the old time, ugly, and repulsive
"widow's cap" and "weeds" must have originated, not as a
mere form, but in some sick, sick heart that feHjust as she did.
Marian stood by Edith's side, patient and cheerful as usual,
until the storm of grief had passed, and then she said,
" Let me make you tidy, dear Edith. You know your Aunt
Henrietta will be here in a very few minutes now, and it would
give her pain to see you this way."
" Well well comb my hair if you must, but comb the curia
out straight, and turn them plainly off my forehead. I cannot
bear to look as I used to."
Marian humored the invalid. And Edith, with her silky
black hair parted over her fair brow, and half covered with the
little delicate lace cap, looked lovelier than before. It was im-
possible to mar the beauty of that face. But Marian kept the
glass at a safe distance, wisely resolving not to wound the sensi-
tive young widow again with the sight of her own loveliness.
In the course of half an hour Mrs. Waugh arrived in her car-
riage, and very much inclined to scold Marian for "noi Caving
sent her word of "the event" till the evening before.
" But you know," said Marian, " I had no one to send but
Jenny, and it was impossible to spare her for the first three
days. Besides there was no very imminent necessity. Edith
was doing very well, and it is just as pleasant to you to come
now and find her sitting up."
And 1 , then they entered Edith's chamber
150 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
The young mother sat as Marian had arranged her, looking
the very picture of fragile, spiritual beauty. Upon her lap, no
longer banished, lay the baby.
Henrietta was very tender-hearted, and this touching sight,
of the widowed young mother and her new-born babe, impressed
her to tears- She went up, very softly, however, and kissed
Edith, and sat down and talked with her very quietly, and after
a little while took the baby upon her own lap, and began to
admire her.
"And what is to be her name, Edith?" inquired Mrs
Waugh.
Nobody had thought of that. Marian could not tell. Edith
did not answer.
" She must be baptized, you know."
" I had not remembered it."
"You had better call her 'Marian;' I am sure there is no
one who so well deserves the compliment."
"No Marian is my good angel but Marian! what was
his mother's name ? strange ! I never knew he never chanced
to tell me; but then we were so little time together; and his
mother must have died before his recollection," said Edith, her
voice almost drowned in unshed tears.
" She did. Her name was Miriam she was a Jewess of the
same tribe as his father."
"Then let my child be called Miriam," said Edith.
Mrs. Waugh had brought her carriage packed full of things
pots of preserves and sweetmeats ; jars of jelly and jam ,
packages of loaf sugar, tea, coffee, spices, beef-tongues, and
many other articles in the eating line ; and also rolls of fine
flannel, and whole pieces of linen, and of lawn, and of cambric,
and sundry other items in the clothing way. And she now went
down stairs, accompanied by Marian, to overlook the unpacking
of the carriage, anl the packing away of the presents.
Henrietta spent the whole day with Edith, and went away in
the evening, well pleased with her visit, and with everything
she had found at Old Field Cottage.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 151
Edith recovered slowly but surely. Yet Marian kept the
baby at night.
" It is better for you and for the child, that I slu uld keep
her," said the young nurse for you are not strong, Edith!
You need unbroken rest to restore you. And, besides, all
physicians agree that it is better for a young infant to sleep
with a strong, healthy person, like myself."
So the baby slept in Marian's bosom, not only then, but
always.
And as Edith lay in her bed at night, between asleep and
awake, she would often hear the young girl soothing the infant,
cooing to her like a mother-dove to her young and would
wonder at tH maternal tenderness that filled the maiden's
heart for the baby. In after years, in the dark and tragic
hours, Edit> remembered these days and nights with a soul
wrung with remorse, to think how little at the time she had
appreciate! the lovely self-devotion of the young girl.
When Edith was able to go down stairs, a very different
scene to what the cottage grounds usually presented, met her
view. Marian bad industriously occupied herself with the
adornment of the outside as well as the inside of the house.
She had laid the little yard off in borders and beds, and fer-
tilized them well with seaweed, and stable compost, and kitchen
slops, and in short, with every refuse animal and vegetable mat-
ter, that would otherwise have littered the premises and she
had planted flowers and sowed seeds and trained neglected
vines, until the barren waste immediately around the house
"bloomed and blossomed as a rose." 4nd every shutter) ess
window was deeply shaded with flowering annual creepers.
The kitchen garden, a little beyond, was also in a forward state
of progress. Everything about the little home was metamor-
phosed, as by an angel's hand.
But, alas, the young mistress of the house could take no
pleasure in it. Her heart continued "exceeding sorrowful,
even unto death," and ''would not be comforted, because hi
was not"
152 MIKIAM, THE AVENGEE; OR,
But Marian was not disheartened.
"Edith," she said, reverently, "too much, perhaps, I have
relied'upon simple nature to heal your heart. Go, Edith, to
the God and Father of nature to your Father and Creator,
who made your heart, and endowed it with those great affec-
tions so liable to suffer, who knows as none eke can know
how the wound lies, and how to heal it. Go, Edith, to your
Maker. Seek Him earnestly, seek Him constantly, in prayer,
until He blesses you. Sweep aside, as so many flies, all doubts
and fears, and all conflicting creeds and doctrines about Him!
And go, a spirit, to the Father of Spirits find the comfort
there is in God, the Consoler! Oh! Edith, they tell us of God
the Creator, God the Father; and awful, and beautiful, and
joyous words they are indeed ; ' Great tidings of great joy.'
But, oh ! Edith, none but the wretched, the forsaken, the be
reaved, and the stricken in heart, who seek Him, know the in
finite rest and comfort, ' the peace that passeth understanding,'
the Divine joy found in GOD THE CONSOLER!"
"And is that the secret of your happiness, Marian ?"
" That is the cause of my happiness, not the secret ; God's
glorious light is no secret but to the willfully blind!"
And thus this household angel of the Lord led the mourner
from the darkness of her sorrows into the Glorious Light.
CHAPTER XII.
OUR FAY
" A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, bewilder, and waylay." Wordsworth.
AUNTY, I am going to see Fair Edith's baby," said" .lacqne-
i, following Mrs Waugh up and down, as that good 1-ady
THE MISSING BEIDE. 153
went through the old house, opening the creaking windows,
and airing the musty rooms, that breezy May morning " Do
you hear me, aunty? I am going to see Fair Edith's baby."
''But I cannot give you leave to do so, Lapwing; your
uncle's orders are peremptory upon that point."
"I didn't ask leave, aunty ! and as for uncle's orders, you
didn't mind them when you went !"
"Hem hem-m! That is a very different thing, Lapwing,
of which you are not competent to judge. When the com-
mands of any human being in authority clash with the com-
mands of God, we must obey the Creator rather than the
creature. Justice and humanity required that I should for once
disregard your uncle's will, because it was not right. But re-
member this, Jacquelina, that if your uncle is not always exactly
right, it is because no human being possibly can be perfect
and he is not, upon that account, the less entitled to your re-
spect and obedience."
Jacquelina swallowed a rising yawn, and said,
"Well, I don't know whether it is 'justice and humanity,'
bnt something requires me to go and see Fair Edith's baby."
" I can tell you its name, Lapwing it is caprice."
" Well, anyway, I think I, too, shall disregard uncle's wishes,
because they are not right, and go, as you did, aunty. 'What's
good for the gander is good for the goose.' "
"Yes, but, Lapwing, what's good for the goose may be fatal
to the gosling, as disobedience often is to a child."
"Aunty, I tell you I'm going to see Fair Edith's baby, and
the beautiffil English girl, that everybody in the village says is
as beautiful as all the angels ! Mind if I don't 1 I don't care
\ohat Ole Marse say, as Jenny says."
" Jenny is getting insolent, I'm afraid ; she's no example to
you. And you must obey your uncle."
They had, by this time, reached the door of the room formerly
occupied by Edith. Mrs. Waugh unlocked it, and entered,
followed by Jacquelina. The good lady then hoisted all the
windows, and threw open all the shutters, and a-flocd ol Ugi*
154 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
poured in, filling every nook and corner of the room. The
place remained just as Edith had left it nearly twelve months
before. Here, in addition to the heavy and permanent furni-
ture appertaining to the bed-chamber, were articles that should
have been considered Edith's own peculiar personal property.
A small book-case, with glass doors, through which you could
read the titles of a well-selected set of books ; a small writing-
desk furnished ; a neat work-stand ; a pretty work-box ; a low
sewing-chair and foot-cushion; two port-folios, filled with
drawings and engravings, upon the table ; small framed pic-
tures on the walls ; and statuettes of saints and angels on the
mantel-piece.
Jacquelina had not entered this chamber since Edith's de
parture, and she looked around with curiosity, and then turning
to Mrs. Waugh with surprise, said,
"Why, aunty, I thought uncle had sent all Fair Edith's
things to her the day after she was married ?"
" He sent her wardrobe and jewelry, but these other things
he considered belonged to the room, and not to Edith."
"But, didn't he buy them and give them to her ?"
"Yes, to ornament her room, not to take away," he says.
"Oh, that was so " mean, she was going to say, but Jac-
quelina sometimes restrained herself. "Aunty, why don't you
just have them packed up and sent right over to Old Field ?"
"Because, Lapwing, I have no right to do so. Your uncle
insists that they are not Edith's, and they were not purchased
with my funds ; therefore, Lapwing, I have no right to send
Jtem, as I had to send the other things."
" Why don't you ask uncle to let you send them ?"
"I did, Lapwing, and he refused."
"I'll go ask him myself! I just will! I reckon he better
not refuse me !"
And Jacquelina flew to find the Commodore. She might
have been gone ten minutes, and Mrs. Waugh, having finished
her errand in the room, was about to leave it, and close the
door, when Jacquelina came flying back, her fair brow flushed,
and her blue eves stormy with indignation.
THE MISSING BKIDE. 155
" "Well, Lapwing, did you find your uncle and ask him ?"
'Yes, I did."
" And wtat did he say ?"
" He liked to bit ray head off ! An ugly old snapping turtle '
But I'll pay him for it!"
Henrietta did not fail to reprove "the little vixen" for her
irreverent threats, and then the aunt and niece separated for
the time. Mrs. Waugh to make her old soldier presentable in
company, and Jacquelina to seek her mother in her own apart-
ment.
" Come in, my child ; you must hurry now, and get dressed
for church 1"
" For church again this morning, Mimmy ! Now you don't
say that, after going to church all day yesterday, you're going
all day to-day ?"
"Yes, my dear, we are all going. Your uncle and aunt and
myself are going in the carriage. And you are to ride the
dapple gray. Professor Grimshaw will be here to attend you."
" I should like to know what you are all going to church
to-day for 1"
"It is a holiday of obligation my dear."
"A holiday of obligation ! Why this is Monday ! a working
day of obligation ! According to the commandment, there are
six of them in the week, and the seventh day is the Sabbath of
the Lord, and the only holiday of obligation we read of!"
" Jacquelina ! I wont stand that ! I really wont ! I have
put up with your whimsicalities and perversities, but your here-
sies I will not permit I That would be fatal indulgence in-
deed!"
" "Well, but Mimmy ! Do tell me, why should the command-
ment of the Lord be set aside, and one of His six working days
of obligation be made a holiday of obligation ?"
" i "ou have no business to ask questions, Jacquelina ! But
for your instruction I will inform jou that this is the day of the
Holy and blessed Saint Bonniface !"
"Well, I hope the borny-fa< ed saint is bonny in Ivs temper,
156 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
too, and wont take it amiss if, 'stead of going to church to do
nim honor, I stay at home to do the Lord some service."
"What on earth do you mean, you little irreverent. Oh-
holy saints ! what loill ever become of this child 1 Go directly
and call Maria, to get you ready for church."
"But indeed I can't go, Mirnmy! Ton my word, I've got
something very particular to do for the Lord, at home ! I have
indeed !"
" I do believe the child has taken leave of her senses," said
Mrs. L'Oiseau, going to the door, and calling,
" Maria, take Miss Jacquelina and get her ready for church."
"Oh 1 I can't go 1 I can't I Indeed, indeed, indeed, I
can't, Mimmy ! I have got such an awful ear-ache!"
" Ear ache ! what should have given you an ear-ache ? This
is not the weather for taking cold !"
"No, but uncle bawled at me till he made them ache. Oh !
I know if I go to church I shall have to be taken out and
brought home. Oh ! oh ! oh ! how my ears do ache !"
What is the need to detail all the imp's perversity. She
conquered, as she was generally permitted to do. And all the
family departed without her.
All the house-servants, except Maria, and all the field labor-
ers, except Stupe, had also gone to church. This last named
individual was a sort of nondescript functionary about the pre-
mises useful in nothing but implicit and literal obedience
sometimes a dangerous gift, as the Commodore had once
proved, when in sending Stupe with a candle to the cellar one
night to unpack some hampers of champagne, he had said,
" And now be sure to set the straw a-fire, you black rascal."
"When, half-an-hour after, the boy returned, the master
asked, in some anxiety,
" Did you set anything on fire, you scoundrel ?"
" Yes, sir, I sot de straw a-fire, as you tel'ed me, but de
cellar is so damp it wont burn good !"
You may fancy the terror, confusion and trouble, before the
flames could be extinguished. This incurable thick-headednest
THE MISSING BRIDE. 157
bad fastened upon him the sobriquet r>f Stupid or Stupe his
real name was Festus.
Jacquelina relied upon Stupe as the tool of the plan she had
in view for the day. She waited until she thought the church
party had got a mile or two away, and then she went out of
the front door to look for him. She found him in the front
yard trimming the grass.
" Hi, Festus ! what are you doing there when you ought to
be getting up the cart ?"
" The cart, Miss ?" repeated Stupe, staring with all his eyes.
" Certainly, the cart. Of course, the cart! What are you
thinking of? I lay anything you had better let your old
Marse come back and find you havn't got the cart up 1"
" I wasn't 'tending nothing else, miss. I wasn't thinking
'bout getting no cart up !"
" Pshaw ! you blockhead, I mean you better not let him come
and find you havn't got it up."
" Oh ! yes, miss ! What is I got to do ?"
" Catch a strong horse, and hitch him to the single horse
eart, and bring it up to the door, now, directly ! Make haste,
now !"
" Yes, miss," and Stupe ran off to do her bidding, while
Jacquelina entered the house to equip herself for a ride.
Maria was mending her own clothes in her mistress's room.
Jacquelina called to her
Maria, you have just got to come down here, and help me
o pack up these things. Uncle I mean aunty, is going to send
to Fair Edith I mean Mrs. Shields."
"What things, Miss Lina?" asked the maid, leaning over
tho balustrades.
" These things in her old room, you stupid thing, you T
. Didn't you see aunty take me in the room this morning, aad
point them out to me ?"
"Yes. miss, I saw you and mist'ess go in there."
"Well, then, come along, and help me to pack the thingg
one wants to send to Old Fields.' 1
158 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
The maid came down without the slightest demur or doubt,
so much was she carried away by the assured manner of het
little mistress.
By the time they had wrapped up all the statuettes and vases,
and had taken down all the pictures, and packed up all the
nooks in a large trunk, they heard the sound of the horse-cart
drawing up before the door. Then Jacquelina went out, and
called Stupe in to help to lift all the furniture out. The book-
case and the writing-desk, the work-stand and the work-box,
the sewing-chair and the foot-stool, the box of pictures, the
box of statuettes, and the trunk of books, were all taken in turn,
and carefully packed into the cart. It was a light load for a
strong horse, and when all was put in, Jacquelina locked the
room door, hung up the key, and told Stupe to help her up
into the cart, as she was to go with the things. Here, for the
first time, Maria made some objection.
" You musn't go, indeed, Miss Lina 1 You know you've
cotched cold a'ready, and has got sich a berry bad ear-ache !"
" My ear-ache is well ! And I'd like to see who'll stop me I"
said Sans Souci, leaping, with Stupe's assistance, up into the
cart.
Stupe walked by the side of the horse, cracked his whip, and
the cart started, leaving poor Maria behind, in doubt and un-
easiness, not at all upon account of the furniture and the books
but on account of Jacquelina's whim of accompanying them.
The cart proceeded on its way tolerably well, until they got
into the bad road leading through the forest. Now, poor
Stupe was a miserable driver, and there is no knowing how
soon their necks might have been broken, had they not chanced
to meet Cloudesley Mornington, on his way to the hall.
" Oh 1 Cloudy I Cloudy Morning ! I am so glad to see you 1
I just want you to help me in a splendid piece of of "
"Mischief?"
" No !" said Sans Souci, indignantly. " You always think
mischief. No a piece of good work, sir."
"You had better let me get up there in Stupe's place aud
drive he'll smash the cart, an j endanger your life, yet."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 159
" That's just what I want you to do, Cloudy 1"
" What ? Smash the cart and throw you out ?'
"No, you know it isn't 1 I want you to get up and drive*
Cut were you going to the hall ?"
"Yes!"
" Well, then, you can just let Stupe take your horse, and
lead him to the house, while you drive on to Old Fields."
" Is it there you're going ?"
"Yes."
"Whew!"
" Xow, what did you say ' whew ' for ? Never mind, get in,
and I'll tell you all about it as we go along."
Cloudesley threw the bridle to the boy, and sprang upon the
seat near Jacquelina, and drove on.
When Stupe was left far behind, Sans Souci explained to
Cloudesley tne ousiness that she was upon. " Cloudy" looked
very grave for awhile, and
" Lina," he said, " this looks to me, very much like not ex-
actly shop-lifting, but house-lifting, if one might call it so !"
" It's no such thing, now, Cloudy ! There ! Aunty and every-
body think Edith ought to have them, because they know unclo
did give her the things, though now he wants to withhold them
out of curiousnessl But never mind, Mr. Cloudy! If you.
don't want to go with me if you are afraid, you may just get
down, and go back, and I'll call Stupe -he's not afraid, poor
slave boy as he is 1"
"Pooh! It was not myself, but you I was thinking of ! You!
to dare your uncle's anger so I"
" Yes! I know he will be oh! he'll be awful! But I don't
care ! not 1 1 Because, you know he daren't send and take the
pretty things away from Fair Edith again that would be too
shameful, and he knows it. So Fair Edith gets her things, I
don't care how much he storms at me ! But mind, Cloudesley !
don't you let on how uncle didn't send them. Fair Edith will
think that either he or aunty sent them, of com % se, and you just
let her think so. And T *he asks any questions leave the talk-
'n? to me "
160 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Oh I of course you'd take the floor, whether it were given yon
or not."
By this time they had got out of the forest, and into the open
country and good roads.
" Now make Samson travel ! You know he'll have a good
time to rest at Old Fields, and no load to bring back."
"Except a load of sin!" said Cloudesley, as he put whip to
the powerful draught horse, and- they moved rapidly on.
They soon came in sight of the sea-shore, and soon after came
upon the little cottage, now half concealed in climbing and
clustering vines, azure morning glories, rose-colored and purple ;
flowering peas, and scarlet running beans, climbed up and shaded
all the windows, and overran the little lattice work over the
door. In the yard before the cottage were blooming damask
roses, and 'white lilies, golden head daffodils and jonquils, blue
hyacinths, variegated tulips, and other swee'. spring flowers.
In the door, canopied more royally than a queen by the over-
arching vines, stood Marian, with her white dress and amber-
hued tresses fluttering in the breeze.
" Oh ! My ! how pretty ! Did you did you ever see any-
thing near so pretty ?"
"Which do you mean, the cottage or the young lady?"
" Oh ! all together ! both ! the picture. Oh I My ! how
gweet!" exclaimed Jacquelina, as they pulled up before the gate
Marian, from her position, had recognized the blue cart, and
Samson, the draught horse, from Luckenough, which had been
at the cottage twice before to bring things sent by Mrs. Wau-gh
to Edith. And now it was with more pleasure than surprise that
ehe saw it once more stand well laden before the gate. She could
not, however, recognize either of the young people, whom she
had never seen before. Nevertheless, as soon as the cart
atopped, she came down the walk smiling, and holding out her
hand to the little girl that jumped off the cart and jerked open
the gate, and rushed into the yard, exclaiming eagerly,
44 Where's the baby ?"
"Who are you, my dear ?" inquired Marian, catching he*
oand to restrain her, yet striling kindly on her all the time.
THE M I 8 8 I X O BRIDE. 161
"' Oh ! You know ! Jacquelina 1 Uncle's niece I There'tf the
cart with some things for Edith. Aunty's gone to church.
Oh ! for goodness sake let me hurry in and see the baby."
" Stay, my dear, here comes the young gentleman we must
6top for him."
" Oh ! that's only Cloudy Morning. Cloudy ! Cloudy Morn-
ing ! why don't you come along ? What makes you so bashful ?
I declare if you ain't a-blushing like a hollyhock 1"
And, in truth, Cloudesley was blushing, and had been hold-
ing back a little, awed for the first time in his life by the beauty
of a young girl.
" She is not merely pretty she is beautiful, as beautiful as
as Oh, Heavens ! what a charming, delightful face 1" exclaimed
Cloudesley to himself, as he shook off his strange timidity, and
met the young lady who was advancing to welcome him.
Then Marian invited them into the house.
Edith, fully recovered, sat in her rocking-chair with the infant
in her lap. Sans Souci was about to fly to her, and, perhaps,
seize the child the prize ! the wonder ! But the fair and fragile
appearance of the young mother subdued her impetuosity, and
she came softly to Edith's side and knelt down, and looked at the
baby some time, lightly kissing its forehead several times, and
saying,
" Oh ! Fair Edith, I do love your little baby so much I May
Cloudy come and see it ?"
" Oh, yes," said Edith.
" Oh ! Cloudy, do come and see the wonderfullest little beauty
you ever saw in your life 1"
And Cloudesley came, and took and pressed the hand that
Edith held out to him, and then to conceal the tears that came
rushing to his eyes, he stooped and tenderly lifted the infant
from her lap and carried it off to the window. Jacquelina fcl-
lowing him with,
" Isn't it a beauty ? Oh ! Cloudy, isn't it a beauty ?"
Cloudesley choked down his emotion, falteringly admired the
baby, made believe to joke and pinch its cheek "to see if such a
10
162 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OB,
queer little thing would cry," and then as soon as he had gathered
self-command, he went back and laid the child on the mother's
lap. Happily also, old Jenny entered the room just then, ana
had to make her joyful greetings. And then Cloudesley, assisted
by Jenny, went out to unload the cart. The things were brought
in, and Marian, aided by Cloudesley, unpacked and arranged
them. Meanwhile, Samson was unharnessed, watered, fed, and
turned out to grass until the afternoon.
Then Jenny kindled the fire and put on the tea-kettle for a
coffee dinner to please poor Edith there was always a tea or
coffee dinner at the cottage, as there is in many other houses
where the family consists wholly of women and girls. There
were, besides, nice light bread and fresh butter, a broiled chicken,
cold beef tongue, and peach preserves with cream. Jacquelina
and Cloudesley heartily enjoyed seeing the meal prepared under
their own eyes on the neat village hearth, and Jacquelina assisted
Marian to set out the little round table, and spread upon it the
snowy cloth, and place on that the semi-transparent white ser-
vice, that she declared "looked like refined moonlight." And
as for Cloudesley, no alderman ever enjoyed his venison and
turtle soup, eaten with a golden spoon, more than he did the
coffee ; truth to tell, Cloudy was remarkable for his devotion to
the Arabian berry. And in the cottage everything was so snug,
so cool, and so pleasant, that beautiful spring day, and the
bright little fire on the hearth was not inharmonious with the
open doors and the fluttering white muslin curtains and overhang-
ing vines, through the partings of which could be seen on one side
of the house a view of the sea, and on the other the flower yard
and fields and forest. The meal was so impromptu, so easy,
and the party that gathered around the table so youthful, so
keenly alive to pleasure in every form, even Edith's pale cheek
brightened into smiles.
Soon after dinner, Cloudy went to speak to Sans Souci, who
at by the baby's cradle.
" Lina, had I not better harness the horse to the cart, and
get ready to start home ?"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 163
" No 1"
" But it is .setting late "
" Now, Cloudy Morning, don't you fret yourself into a fidget
J am going to stay till sundown, and go home by moonlight."
"But, my dear Lina, what will your uncle say to you ?"
" Why, he'll storm at me, dreadfully, and that he'll do any-
how? It's as well to be hanged for a sheep as a Iambi yes,
and better, I think. I like to have the worth of a scolding, if I
am to get the scolding. I know there'll be a tremendous
storming up at home, but I intend to earn it, every bit of it ;
and then it will be such a satisfaction to know I deserved it,
and that it was all right !"
As the imp said this, her malicious blue eyes, blazing with
mischief and defiance, met those of Marian fixed upon her-
fixed most intensely upon her and most strange was the effect
of that mutually encountering gaze upon the beautiful English
girl. While yet unable to withdraw her fascinated eyes, her
cheeks were overspread with a paleness, and sweeping her hand
across her brow, as though to dispel some baleful vision, she
Bank into a chair. So sudden was her pallor and her sinking,
that Edith and Cloudesley sprang to her side.
"You are sick you are sick, dear Marian, what is it? will
you lie down ?" asked the former, while the latter brought a
glass of water.
" Thank you, how very strange and foolish," said the young
girl, taking the glass and drinking the water, and then again
passing her hand back and forth across her brow, as if to clear
away a cloud.
" What was it, dearest Marian, that made you ill !"
" I really do not know ; I cannot account for it at all a
sudden panic seized me and I fell it is passing away now in
fact it i? past ;" smiling and blushing at the unaccountable
emotion; "now, indeed, it is quite gone," she added, still more
brightly smiling in Edith's anxious face, and rising and lightly
shaking off all the clouds from her sunny presence !
Sans Souci stood by the window in the attitude and with tbe
expression of deep thought.
164 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
" Cloudy." she said, as the youth approached her; "look at
me have I got the evil eye ?"
"Why, yes, to be sure you have! Didn't you know it
before ?"
" Now, Cloudy ; you just be serious, have I got the evil eye ?"
asked the imp, in a low, fearful whisper.
" Why, no, you little goose ; what makes you ask such a
simple question?"
" Why, because, just now when I was laughing and thinking
of how I would do uncle, I happened to look up in Marian's
face, and the instant she caught my eyes she turned pale and
sank down, and I felt as if I had killed her."
" Pooh ! your looking at her had nothing to do with It," said
Cloudy ; " and now I tell you, Lina, we had better set out
home, or we'll not get there by nine o'clock !"
"And I don't care if we don't get there ti'U twelve 1 'In for
a penny, in for a pound,' as Solomon Weismann says ; and be-
sides, I've got ever so many things to see first, that Marian
promised to show me."
And so the Jay had ! First of all, she must go up stairs
with Marian and see the pretty new chamber furniture, and alt
the baby's pretty little clothes, that were laid away so nicely in
an upper bureau drawer. And then she must see the wren's
nest in the gourd out at the chamber window, and hear about its
waking the family up with its singing early in the morning.
And next, she had to visit the tortoiseshell cat and her two
kittens ; and, lastly, she had to go down to the shed and see
Lily, the handsome white Durham heifer, fed. And during all
ihis time, the elf was so interested in the sweet life around her,
and so modified by its subduing influences, that when at last
she came in, hojding Marian's hand, she looked gentle and mild
enough to have been Marian's little sister. Jenny had tea on
the table, and Cloud esley had Samson harnessed to the cart.
So, after tea, the young visitors took leave of Edith and Marian/
and kissed the forehead of the sleeping baby, and departed.
Marian had put a beautiful posey in the hands of Jacqueliua,
THE MISSING BRIDE. 16o
telling her that the next time she went to Benedict, she would
buy a little rocking chair, so that her little visitor should have
a comfortable seat when she came again.
" And I can rock the baby ?"
" Yes !" said Marian, kissing her with her smiling, rosy lips.
And then the cart drove off. Jenny walked by its side
some distance to the first road gate, sending endless messages
of respect and love and remembrance to every member of th
household of Luckenough, from her master (" poor ole forsook
benighted sinner," as she called him,) and her mistress, down
to Stupe, the yard-sweeper.
Meantime Marian had returned to the house, smiling, roseate,
cheery as usual ; and making some pleasant remark about the
departing visitors, she took her sewing and sat by the sea-view
window to work. But Edith drew up to her side.
" Marian, I want you to tell me, dear, what it really was that
agitated you so ?"
Marian laughed. " I accept all experiences in physiological
phenomena, Edith, even that, strange and unaccountable as it
was ? You will smile ; but as I happened to meet that child's
blue eyes, blazing with an insufferable light, while her whole
form dilated as instinct with mischief and charged with de-
struction, I know not how it was, but some fell spirit, apart
from the child, seemed yet to gaze at me and threaten me
through her eyes ; and a sudden panic seized me, and I sank
with the strangest impression, with the feeling of a strong marts
arm catching me in a vice-like grip, and a sharp knife plunged
into my chest " Marian shuddered in spite of herself. "It
may be something it may be a presentiment or a vision or it
may be nothing more than the effect of disordered nerves ; per-
haps we drink too much coffee ; and yet I am perfectly well
Bu. the affair is not worth so many words, dear Edith, and now
that I have satisfied your curiosity, I will not give the subject
another thought." And Marian resumed her needle-work, her
fingers flying with accelerated speed to make up for lost time.
Marian had sometime previous got through all the litt.1*
166 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
household sewing, and DOW she employed herself in working
collars and caps, which she left at the village shops to be sold,
and in the scarcity of such articles there, they commanded a
ready sale. And now as Marian worked, she sang a favorite
song.
CHAPTER XIII.
SANS SOUCl's FIRST GRIBF.
" Jamie's on the stormy sea." New Song.
MEANWHILE, Cloudesley and Jacquelina rode on through
the woods
" Oh ! I do love you better than anybody in the world,
Cloudy !" exclaimed the child, throwing her arms around the
young man's neck with one of her impetuous hugs and kisses.
" I do love you more than anybody in the world I"
' So do I you, Lina! Only I know you wont let me tell
you so a few years from this, when you get to be a young
lady."
" Wont I though, Cloudy! I should like to see myself not
letting you. Cloudy?"
" Well, Humming-bird ?'
" I do believe you'd do anything in the world for me."
" I believe so too, Lina."
" Even if it was naughty ?"
" I fear so, Lina at least, if I couldn't prevent your run-
oing yourself into trouble and danger, I should have to go
shares with you."
" Well, now, Cloudy ! this is what I want you to do, just
as soon as ever we get home you take your horse and go
back to Benedict quietly, without coming into the house, of
saying \*ord to anybody.''
THE MISSING BRIDE. 167
" And why should I do that ?"
11 Never mind ! because I ask you !"
' Now, Lina ! I know what you are up to! You want me
to sneak back to the village, and leave you to bear all the
brunt of the Commodore's wrath I Now, Lina, what would
you think of me, or what should I think of myself to do such a
mean, miserable act?"
" I know you couldn't do anything mean, Cloudy ! But, oh !
Indeed, indeed I do wish you would go quietly back, as I say ;
for, see here, Cloudy I I don't mind uncle's storming at me one
bit! Indeed, indeed don't I ! I enjoy it! that I do! just as I
should ft magnificent thunder storm, such as scares everybody
else to death! But I can 1 1 bear to see him rage at you! and to
see you stand there with your lips compressed so bitterly, and
your eyes flashing under their lids like a smothered fire ! No !
F can't bear that !"
" And do you think, Lina, that my heart rises and burns so
upon my own account no, Lina, no, but upon yours!"
" And that is true, I know. For, whenever uncle blows you
up, it is because of me. We get into all our troubles together,
don't we, Cloudy? Or, at least, /draw you into all my trou-
bles! Yes, indeed! I've just thought of it! I'm always get-
ting you into scrapes ! But I won't do so any more ! indeed I
won't, you dear, good Cloudy!"
"Never mind, Lina! It has been man's doom ever since
Eve got Adam into that precious scrape of robbing the apple
tree!" said Cloudesley, laughing good-humoredly, as he put
whip to the horse.
They were just entering the precincts of Luckenough. It
was after ten o'clock, and as they entered the lawn, the arrival
of a cart at such an unprecedented hour, set all the dogs upon
the premises to barking. And Cloudy had to use his lungs,
and his whip, too, to conquer a peace, before they would
recognize him.
When they drove up to the door, they found ihe front of tha
buse all shut up and darkened.
168 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Cloudy alighted, helped Jacquelina down from her seat, ani
then they both went up the steps to knock at the door, half
expecting to be refused admittance. But just as Cloudy seized
the knocker, the door was cautiously opened, and Mrs. Waugh
drew him in, making a sign of silence. Then she beckoned
Sans Souci, who entered, for the first time in her life, in a sort
of awe. And lastly, she let her fellow watcher, old Oliver, out,
to put the horse and cart away. Then she led the way into a
back parlor, and struck a light, and turning to Jacquelina,
said,
"Oh! my dear child! what have you done! Your uncle
will never forgive you ! He \& frightfully angry !"
" You needn't tell me that, aunty ! I knew it all along !"
" But, oh ! my dear, you don't know the extent of his rage
this time ! Why, Lapwing, he drove every servant to bed be-
fore he went himself, and he swore that no one of them should
admit you to-night ! Think of it, my dear ! The Lord knows
what he will do to-morrow !"
" Aunty, just tell me! will he send and take Fair Edith's
pretty things away again ?"
" No, my dear, he wont do that, because that would make
' a town-talk all over the country,' as he calls it. But I do
fear he will punish you very severely to-morrow !"
" Never mind! All right! He daren't kill me, nor break
my bones, and for anything short of that I've earned it,
thanks be to goodness ! And so he don't take Fair Edith's
things away again, I'm satisfied! Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la ! sang
Sans Souci, making a whirl.
" Hush ! you little wretch you ! is that the way you meet it?
You had better waken your uncle up, that is all ! I was very
much afraid the barking of the dogs would wake him, but it
didn't!"
Then Mrs. Waugh asked after Edith, and the baby, and
Marian. And when she had received satisfactory answers, =ihe
lighted a second caudle, and put it in the hands of Cloudesley,
baying,
THE MISSING BRIBE. 169
"There, young man, you know your room go to it, while 1
take this child to her mother. Good night."
"Good night, Cloudy!" said Sans Souci, running, and
holding up her face for a kiss.
" Good night, Fire-fly," said Cloudesley, lifting her up and
k'ssing her, and putting her down again.
And Mrs. Waugh led her away.
I shall pass over the domestic tornado that swept through
Luckenough the next morning. We have seen sufficient of
Commodore Waugh's edifying method of family discipline to
understand exactly how it was. The result was this : that Sana
Souci was sentenced to a month's imprisonment in her chamber
which was first when Old Nick cooled down a little, i.om-
muted to a week's, and next, when uncle began to be enuayee
for the company of his little Jacko, to a day's confinement
As for Cloudesley, who had come in for his full share of uouse,
it was decided that he should be sent to sea immediately nor
was there any commutation of this sentence ! For the affection
growing up between the little girl often, and the youth of six-
teen, was already beginning to give the Commodore uneasi-
ness, as likely at some future time to interfere with his plans
in favor of "Grim."
"Who knows when the nonsense called love germinates. 1'n
sure I can't remember when I no, when Henrietta took pos-
session of me, soul, body, and estate!"
Commodore Waugh, by reason of his great services in the
Revolution, as well as his late rank in the Xavy, and his ex-
tensive political connexion, had ample influence to procure for
his ward a midshipman's warrant, and to get him appointed to
a good ship.
And the old sailor made a journey to Washington City for
the purpose. And since he went upon a benevolent errand, it
would be invidious to relate how much peace befell Luck-
enou^ i during nis absence ! He came back at last, bearing
the warrant that metamorphosed Cloudy into a naval officer.
Cloudesley was then dispatched t Baltimore to procure 1 im
170 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OB,
self an outct. And after an absence of two weeks, he re-
turned to Luckenough, to wait orders. He soon received them
to join the ship " Susquehanna" upon or before a stated day.
The intervening time was spent by Cloudesley at Luckenough,
where Mrs. Waugh, Mjcs. L'Oiseau, the maid Maria, and even
Jacquelina, all devoted themselves to his service, until his linen
was made up, and his wardrobe in perfect order for a three
years' voyage. As for Sans Souci, to the surprise of every-
body, she seemed perfectly delighted with the idea of Cloudesley's
going to sea as a midshipman. She entered into the spirit of
the thing with all her heart and soul ! And after having assisted
to get his wardrobe in order, she helped to pack his sea-
chest. Cloudy, on his part, promising to bring her any num-
ber of parrots, monkeys, and other animal and vegetable and
mineral curiosities from foreign parts.
"Poor Lapwing! she never parted with any one she loved,
for any length of time, in all her life, and she doesn't know
what it is when it comes 1" said good Henrietta, noticing the
child's high spirits.
Jacquelina excessively admired Cloudesley's new uniform, and
nothing would do but he must put on the full, parade dress,
that she might admire him in it. So, to gratify her, and to
please himself, too, maybe, as well as 'to "astonish the natives"
of Luckenough generally, perhaps, Cloudy donned his hand-
somest uniform. Sans Souci was delighted, enraptured, en-
thusiastic.
"Cloudy?"
" Well, Lina ?
"I want you to save that suit of uniform for me !"
"Now, Linal"
" Yes, I do ! I want you, when you've worn it out, or out-
grown it, to put it away and save it for me I want to keep it,
because it is the first uniform you ever wore ! Now, will you
do it ? Will you promise me ? Will you bring it back to mo
when you come? If you will, I will keep it, and show it to
you when you are aie old gray-haired post-captaiii 1"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 171
" Yes, Lina, I will save this uniform, and bring it back to
you when I come," said Cloudesley, and he inwardly resolved
to wear it but a few times, and then supply its place with a new
suit, and put it away to keep untarnished for Jacquelina.
Sans Souci was half delirious with delight and admiration,
seized both his hands, and holding them, danced up and down
before him her eyes dancing more than her feet. Suddenly
her manner changed her bright face was overshadowed
" You are 'most a man now, Mr. Cloudy," she said.
" Well ! what of that, Lina ?"
" Pm only a little girl."
"And what of that?"
"You'll go and fall in love with a grown lady."
I shall do no such thing, Lina. What put such a notion in
your head ?"
" Doctor Solomon said so !"
<; Solomon's a fool!"
"Yes, I know! but fools speak truth, they say."
" Not in this instance, Lina."
" No ? And you wont fall in love with a grown lady ?"
"No, surely not."
"Not if they're ever so pretty, and ever so rich, and want
you to, ever so much ?"
"No, no, no, and a thousand times no, Lina !"
"And you wont ever marry anybody but me will you,
Cloudy ?"
" No, Lina, I pledge my word I will never marry anybody
but yon."
" God bless your dear, sweet, darling heart of you, I do say ! I
knew you wouldn't," she exclaimed with delight. " Oh, Cloudy 1
I do love you so much ! I do love you better than the whole
world put together."
When the day at last came for Cloudesley's departure, it was
arranged that his baggage should be sent on before in a cart,
und that the Commodore should take him in the carriage to
B whence he was to sail to Baltimore. Jacquelina went
172 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
through the parting like a Trojan ! Indeed, she did not feel 01
reali/e it at all. Cloudy was full of spirits, and so was she
On taking leave, she threw herself for the last time around
Cloudy's neck, exclaiming, as usual,
" Oh ! Cloudy ! I do love you best of all in the whol< world I' 1
And he returning the parting caress, answered, as a ivays,
" And so do I you, Lina 1 But you wont say you love ma
vhen I come back!"
"Wont I, then ! If I don't, you may call me a I g story-
teller!"
And so, without sentimentality or tears, the boy u .d girl
separated. Cloudesley entered the carriage with the Commo-
dore, and was driven off towards Benedict. And Jucqnelina
re-entered the lonesome house very lonesome it seemed indeed
with Cloudy and the pleasant bustle all gone, and the excite-
ment of his going all over, and the reaction at hand ! How
empty Cloudy's room looked ! He would not be in that room
again for three years at least ! Three years ! what an intermina-
ble time ! Say never at once ! It had not struck the child in
that manner before, but now it did with all its force ! And
now she felt stunned, amazed, with only the power left to won-
der why she had not realized what this parting truly was before !
There was nothing left of Cloudy's in the room, except an
old pair of boots but " Jacko" thought they looked so like
Cloudy at least they so reminded her of Cloudy, that she fell
upon them in a vehement fit of grief, the first she had felt upon
his account. What made i.t worse for poor Lina, was the fact
her mother and her aunty had also gone to Benedict to make
some purchases, and to see Cloudy off. And the house was
left to herself, and Maria, her maid. So Jacquelina mourned,
with no one to comfort her.
About the middle of the forenoon, however, there happened
to arrive two visitors from C , namely, Miss Nancy Skamp
and her accomplished nephew, Mr. Solomon Weismann, the
medical student. They had come in total ignorance of the ab-
sence of the family for that <^ay. However, that made no
THE MISSING BRIDE. 173
difference at Luckenough. Maria informed the guests that he*
mistress would be home in the afternoon, and would be very
glad to find them ; also, that Miss Jacquelina was very much
dowii about Master Cloudesley's going away, and that it would
be kindness for them to stay and cheer her up. And therefore
Miss Nancy Skamp and her nephew neither of whom had the
slightest idea of going back charitably consented to remain.
They were shown into the parlor, into which Jacquelina pre-
sently came to bid them welcome. Poor Sans Souci's eyes
were red, and her face was swelled with crying. Miss Nancy
Skamp saluted the child with a kiss, and after asking about
the health of her mother, and her aunty, and the Commodore,
&c., began to "cheer" the little hostess up with all the en-
livening gossip she could think of how Peter Semmes was
going to have his leg taken off, because mortification had set in ;
and how Doctor Brightwell's little boy had lost his eyesight
since he had the measles ; and how widow Lloyd's son had been
taken up for petty larceny, and his mother had lost her reason,
and tried to drown herself, &c., &c., &c. But none of these
things appeared to raise Jacquelina's spirits in the least degree.
And presently Solomon commenced. He had his own pet
theory of curing grief, namely, upon the Homoeopathic prin-
ciple. So he began
" So, Cloudy is gone, Miss Jacquelina?"
" Yes," said the child, trying to command herself, and to
behave " like a lady."
" Poor Cloudy ! how long is he going to be absent ?"
" Three-ee years!" cried Sans Souci, beginning to falter and
lose her self control.
"Oh! poo-oor Cloud-dy!" said Solomon, in the most pa-
thetic of tones.
"Oh! Oh, dear! Oh, hoo-oo !" sobbed Sans Souci, still
iryiug valiantly to suppress an outbreak of grief.
*' Poor, dear Cloud-dy ! Away upon the stormy sea for-
three whole years! Oh! mv 1 what a long time! it will
hardly ever come to an end Poor Cloud-dy ! Not to see
174 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
Cloudy for three whole years ! What in the world will yon
ao ?
" Oh ! oh ! don't ! don't !" cried the tortured child, striving
to suppress her sobs.
" And for him to live on beef junk, and mouldy crackers, and
stale water, for three whole years!"
" Oh ! oh 1 don't ! I shall smother I I shall die ! Oh ! hecca 1
hecca !" gasped Jacquelina, struggling for breath.
" And then to have to climb up to the mast-head in the
dreadful storms, and be rocked about between the thundering
and lightning clouds, and the boiling ocean waves, until maybe
he is shaken off, and pitched into the depths of th-e sea, and
drowned !"
"Oh! hecca! hecca! hoo-oo !" gasped Sans Souci, really
suffocating
" And then if he makes the least objection to that sort of
treatment, to be court-martialed for mutiny, and hanged a
dog at the yard-arm !" said the merciless Solomon.
"Oh! hecca! hecca hoo-oo cahoo !" gasped and strug-
gled Jacquelina, as she fell back in spasms.
" There, now ! what have you done to the child ?" said Misa
Nancy Skamp, coming forward with her aromatic salts.
" Go away, Aunt Nancy ! You're an old lady, and I'm a
medical man ! two classes that never did agree, and never will.
I know my business ! Let her alone, I tell you ; don't raise her
head up! There, now! she's got off a whole month's grieving
in that spasm 1 I tell you I don't believe in these old chronic
troubles ; these enduring neart-aches. If anybody has a grief,
let them bring it to a crisis at once : look at it on its very dark-
est side, and nurse it up till it rises to a head, and breaks iu
tears and sobs, and, if need be, spasms, and then it goes offl"
" Yes ! and the patient goes off with it !" said Miss Nancy,
indignantly.
:< No, the patient doesn't go off with it I Not when the patient
la young and strong, as this one ; and of course, in all cases, a skill-
ful practitioner modifies his treatment according to the age an<?
THE MISSING BRIDE. 175
constitution of the subject. I have my own theory of the treat-
ment and cure of grief. Now, grief is a passion that acts
powerfully upon the body, and is reacted upon in the same de-
gree by the body. Thus grief tends to surcharge the heart and
lungs with blood, making that sense of weight and heat thai
causes the frequent sigh. Now, what is a sigh but the drawing
in of a deep draught of cold air to relieve the heat of the chest ?
Tears also relieve, by throwing off the superabundance of fluid
pressing against the brain. Sobs and spasms and so on, are
better still, for they tend to drive away the blood that might
congest near the heart. In a word, sighs, tears, and sobs are
the agents appointed by nature to relieve body and mind, by
throwing oft' the heat and weight accumulated by grief, and dis-
pelling the congestion by sending the blood in healthy circula-
tion through the extremities. Hence the ineffable relief you
women feel after having what you call a good cry ! It is your
suppressed grief that kills."
" Yes ; I have heard silent sorrow is very apt to break the
heart," said Miss Nancy, sentimentally.
" No, it doesn't break the heart, neither ! that is another
popular fallacy. Every physician knows the heart can't break
Why, it is about the toughest part of the human body."
" It has need to be, I am sure," said Miss Nancy, la-
conically.
"Well, and it is, and it never breaks ; when grief kills, as
it does sometimes, from suppression, there is usually a conges-
tion of the portal circle, a failure of the gaglionic nerves, or,
perhaps, a general atrophy, but never a broken heart a post-
mortem examination would probably find the heart the sound-
est of all the members. Grief never would kill, however, if it
wa'u't for that humbug 'fortitude.' Now, fortitude is in direct
opposition to the laws of nature. Fortitude has slain moro
than grief or pain. I would have any one in grief weep and
wail,; they will get over it the sooner 1 and I would have any
one in great physical pain cry out lustily it will do them good I
But, I declare, here's that child come round already. It is too
176 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
soon s*i-? hasn't half unladen her bosom yet ! Poor Cloudy.
Poo-o^r Cloud-dy !" he said, turning to Sans Souci, who was
sitting np on the sofa, wiping her eyes. " Poor Cloudy !"
Sans Souci looked at him resentfully.
"But /would not trouble myself about him, if I were you,
either ; for you may take my word for it, he wont trouble him-
self about you long 1"
" I don't want him,to, I'm sure I But I know he'll think of
me !" said Jacko.
" Not he, indeed ! What ! Why, you're nothing but a little
girl ! and he is a gentleman and an officer, and he'll go to
foreign countries, yes, and to foreign courts also ; officers go
everywhere, and he'll see many beautiful and accomplished
ladies ; not little chits of children,, but grown ladies, who will
admire him, and dote on him ; ladies always dote on officers,
especially handsome young officers like him, and he'll never
think of you again!"
" He will ! Cloudy will! I don't care if the queen falls in
love with him, Cloudy wont forget me ! We're engaged !"
" Think so ? Ah, child ! Cloudy is lost to you, indeed !
STou had better try to forget him, for, between one thing and
/mother, you'll never see him the same again ! for if he don't
fall from the mast-head and get drowned ; nor mutiny and get
hanged ; nor catch the yellow fever and die in a hospital, he'll
be sure to fall in love with some fine lady, and never come
back to see the little girl again !"
"Cloudy wontl Cloudy wont do any such thing, you
monster, you ! Oh ! how I wish Cloudy were here to whip
you !" and Sans Souci fell once more upon the sofa in a tem-
pest of tears and sobs, caused this time as much by anger as
sorrow
" There !" said Solomon, " I reckon I have given her such a
ciose that she'll be sick of the subject of Cloudy, and glad
enough 1o turn to something else and make herself happy I"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 177
TART THIED.
CHAPTER XIV.
WANDERING FANNY.
11 All was confused and undefined
In her all-jarred and wandering mind,
A chaos of wild hopes and fears;
And now in laughter now in tears,
But mildly still in each extreme,
li was u jocund morning in early summer some five jeam
after the events related in the last chapter.
The sun had risen in cloudless splendor above the bright
waters of the Chesapeake, and all nature rejoiced in the beauty
and glory of the day ! There was gladness in the radiant
morning sky I gladness in the fresh elastic air ! gladness in the
sparkle and flash of the fluid emerald waves ! gladness in the
dance of the dewy forest leaves ! gladness in the smiles of the
blooming flowers 1 and rapture in the jubilant carolling of a
thousand birds that sent up their morning song of praise and
thanksgiving.
The matin hymn of all nature was a Gloria-in-Excelsis.
Old Field Cottage, standing in the midst of this scene, was
a perfect gem of rural beauty. The Old Fields themselves no
longer deserved the name the repose of years had restored
them to fertility, and now they were blooming in pristine youth
far as the eye could rea ~h between the cottage and the forest,
11
J 78 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OB,
and the cottage and the sea-beach, the fields were covered with
a fine growth of sweet clover, whose verdure was most refresh-
ing to the sight. The young trees planted by Marian, hnd
grown up, forming a pleasant grove around the house. The
sweet honeysuckle and fragrant white jasmine, and the rich,
aromatic, climbing rose, set and trained by Marian, had run all
over the walls and windows of the house, embowering it in
verdure, bloom and perfume.
And upon this glorious summer morning Marian had come
out into the flower yard to enjoy the fresh, invigorating air, and
to see the sun as it were, rise up from the depths of the sea, touch-
ing with living fire every sparkling emerald wave 1 She was
standing at the little wicket gate there was a rustic arch span-
ning the gateway. She had trained morning-glories to climb
over it, and now she stood beneath them rejoicing in the
beauty and splendor of her best beloved flowers, rejoicing with
a shade of pensiveness in her joy for how perfect, yet hort
evanescent was the beauty of these morning-glories, these most
lovely and fragile and ephemeral of all Flora's children. In
perfect harmony with the freshness and splendor of the hour,
was the beautiful girl, as she stood carelessly under the arch of
morning-glories a very Hebe ! a very goddess of joyous life
and health, and summer ami sunshine. Into what a glorious
fullness and perfection of beauty had the maiden ripened ! Her
finely developed form had attained a prouder height and richer
fullness, and was suffused with the fresh, cool, roseute flush of
pure blood and perfect health ; her superb bosom and shoulders
had a more charming contour and her fine head arose with a
queenlier grace. Her rosy cheeks were richer and brighter in
their bloom ; her clear blue eyes were darker in hue and deeper
in expression, and her luxuriant golden bronze hair was
brighter in the sunshine and darker in the shade than hereto-
fore. She wore her hair as before parted over the snowy
forehead, rippling in tiny burnished wavelets clown each sidti
the blooming cheeks, and gathered into a shining mass behind,
from which escaped here and there a fugitive tress, *wistuig
Itself into a glittering spiral ringlet.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 179
While Marian stood enjoying for a few moments the morn-
ing hour, she was startled by the sound of rapid footsteps, and
then by the sight of a young woman in wild attire, issuing
from the grove at the right of- the cottage, and flying like a
hunted hare towards the house.
Marian impulsively opened the gate, and the creature fled in,
fiantically clapped to the gate, and stood leaning with her
back against it, and panting with haste and terror.
She was a young and pretty woman pretty, notwithstand-
ing the wildness of her staring black eyes and the disorder of
her long black hair that hung in tangled tresses to her waist.
Her head and feet were bare, and her white gown was spotted
with green stains of the grass, and torn by briars, as were afso
her bleeding feet and arms. Marian felt for her the deepest
compassion ; a mere glance had assured her that the poor, pant-
ing, pretty creature was insane. Marian took her hand and
gently pressing it, said,
" You look very tired and faint come in and rest yourself
and take breakfast with us."
The stranger drew away her hand and looked at Marian from
head to foot. But in the midst of her scrutiny, she suddenly
sprang, glanced around, and trembling violently, grasped the
gate for support. It was but the tramping of a colt through
the clover that had startled her.
" Do not be frightened ; there is nothing that can hurt you ;
yon are safe here."
" And wont he come ?"
"Who, poor girl?"
"The Destroyer!"
" No, poor one, no destroyer comes near us here ; see how
quiet and peacable everything is here!"
The wanderer slowly shook her head with a cunning, bitter
smile, that looked stranger on har fair face than the madnes?
;tself had looked, and,
" So it was there," she said, " but the Destroyer was at hand,
and the thunder of terror and destruction burst upon our quiet
180 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
but I forgot the fair spirit said I was not to think of that
such thoughts would invoke the fiend again," added the pool
creature, smoothing her forehead with both hands, and then
flinging them wide, as if to dispel and cast away some piinfu!
concentration there.
" Look at the flowers," said Marian, " are they not beautiful
this morning?"
The stranger's face softened into a sweet, placid, pensive
tenderness, and,
" Yes," she said, very slowly, " the flowers were always very
kind to me, the dear, blessed flowers they never change to me
as Bothers change they never call me ' Crazy Fan,' nor ' Poor
Fan,' they don't seem to think I am so and they smile on
me, and lean towards me, and love me like I was another
flower."
"And so you are, poor wanderer, a broken, storm-beaten,
faded flower but a flower that may yet bloom in Paradise,"
thought Marian, as she reached her hand to gather a white lily,
and hand it to the stanger.
But the hand of the poor stroller prevented her.
" Oh, do not break the lily ! If you knew what a heavenly
message the white lily brings," she said, " and oh ! if you knew
how sad it is to be broken off and never find your root of life
again ! /was broken off, but the broken flowers are happier
than I, for they die 1"
"Because you are immortal, and must live to recover, in
another and better world, the treasures you have lost here,"
said Marian, gravely and sweetly.
" I know I know I" murmured the maniac, softly, to herself,
" but why am I shut out so long ?"
" We cannot tell we must all wait our time. But, come
into the house, Fanny you said your name was Fanny, did you
nut ?"
"Yes," said the stranger, suddenly changing her manner,
and breaking into song.
THE MISSING BUI BE. 181
*' Tht*y cftllp*! m i dark-oywl Fanny,
\Vh, n fri,-i-.,l> ai;l fi.rtiim- smilt-a-
llut Kni-lnni- | rnv.-J nnomny.
And now I'm Sorrow's child!"
" Well, Sorrow is not an unkind mother, in the end, pool
fanny be sure of that. And now come in and lie down or
i lie sofa, and rest, while I make you a cup of coflee. Come!
come into the house 1"
J>nt the same expression of cunning came again into the
poor creature's face, as she said
"In the house? No, no no, no! Fanny has learned some-
thing ! Fanny knows better than to go under roofs they are
traps to catch rabbits ! 'Twas in the house the Destroyer found
us, and we couldn't get out ! No, no ! a fair lield and no favor
and Fanny will outfly the fleetest of them 1 But not in a house !
not in a house !''
"Well, then, I will bring an easy chair out here for you to
rest in, you can sit under the shade, and have a little stand by
your side, to cat your breakfast. Come ! come nearer to the
house," said Marian, taking poor Fanny's hand, and leading
her up the walk.
They were at the threshold.
" No ! no ! I can't go so near the house ! I can't indeed ! I
am the Doomed, and Fate follows in my footsteeps!" said the
poor creature, pulling back.
" VViiat do you mean ? Come, be gentle and good, and no harm
can touch you here. Come, if you will not enter the house, sit
down here, on this porch step, until I make you more comfortable. ;
"No! no! I must n->t! I should bring evil to the home I
[ have brought evil ! I ought not to have entered your gate !"
cried the maniac, wildly, wrenching her hand from Marian -;
clasp, and turning to depart.
"Bi.t, why?" said Marian, gently, going after her. " Whj 'i
we 1o not fear evil here !"
" Don't follow me! don't! I am a conductor of evil ! J
should draw a thunderbolt of misfortune down upou your lu.ad
Avoid me '
182 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OE,
" Not so ! I would invoke the thunderbolt upon my onro
ncarl, sooner than I would desert a sister woman to the fury of
misfortune's storm !"
" You would ?" said the wanderer, turning and facing her,
"The Lord knows I would! I hope any woman would."
The poor creature slowly and sadly shook her head, answer
ing at random
" No ! no ! It was not my fault ! But if the plague had
seized me if I had been a leper What was I going to say ?
Oh !" And the maniac clasped her temples, and her features
grew sharp, and her eyes intense, as if in pursuit of an idea,
that she seemed now to have found, now to have lost. At last^
suddenly she raised Jier eyes, and gazed intently into Marian's
face, and then she gave a start, and her features began to work
strangely.
"Are you Marian ?" she asked abruptly.
" Yes, that is my name."
" Oh, I oughtn't to have come here ! I oughtn't to have come
nere !"
" \Vhy ? What is the matter ? Come, be calm ! Nothing
can hurt you or us here I"
"Don't love! Marian, don't love! Be a nun, or drown
yourself, but never love !" said the woman, seizing the young
girl's hands, gazing on her beautiful face, and speaking with
intense ani painful earnestness.
" Why? Love is life. Y'ou had as well tell me not to live
as not to love. Poor sister ! I have not known you an hour.,
yet your sorrows so touch me, that my heart goes out towards
you, and I want to bring you iu to our home, and take care of
you," said Marian, gently.
" You do ?" asked the wanderer, incredulously.
"Ileavon knows I do ! I wish to nurse you back to health
amd culm ness."
"Then I wculi not for the world bring so much evil to jou!
Yet it is a lovelier place to die in, with loving faces around,
But it i-j a better phvoe to live in ! I do not let people Ulf
THE MISSING BRIDE. 183
where I am, unless the Lord has especially called them. I wish
to make you well ! Come, drive away all these evil fancies
and let Me take you into the cottage," said Marian, taking her
hand.
Yielding to the influence of the young girl, poor Fanny
Buffered herseL to be led a few steps towards the cottage ; then,
with a piercing shriek, she suddenly snatched her hand away,
crying
" I should draw the lightning down upon your head 1 I am
doomed I I must not enter !" And she turned and fled out
of the gate.
Marian gazed after her in the deepest compassion, the tears
filling her kind blue eyes.
" Weep not for me, beautiful and loving Marian, but for your-
self yourself!"
Marian hesitated. It were vain to follow and try to draw
the wanderer into the house ; yet she could not bear the thought
of leaving her. In the meantime the sound of the shriek had
brought Edith out. She came, leading little Miriam by the
hand.
Edith was scarcely changed in these five years a life without
excitement or privation or toil a life of moderation and regu-
larity of easy household duties, and quiet family affections,
had restored and preserved her maiden beaut)'. And now her
pretty hair had its own will, and fell in slight, flossy black
ringlets down each side the pearly brow and cheeks ; and no-
thing could have been more in keeping with the style of her
beauty than the simple, close-fitting black gown, her habitual
dress.
But lovely as the young mother was, you would scarcely
have looked at her a second time while she held that child by
her hand so marvelous was the fascination of that little crea
turt's countenance. It was a face to attract, to charm, to de-
iJght, to draw you in, and rivet your whole attention, until yoc
became absorbed and lost in the study of its mysterious spell
witching c ace, whose nameless charm it were impossible to toll
184 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
I might describe the fine dark Jewish features, the glorious eyes,
the brilliant complexion, and the fall of long, glossy, black
ringlets that veiled the proud little head ; but the spell lay not
in them, any more than in the perfect symmtery of her form, or
the harmonious grace of her motion, or the melodious intona-
tions of tor voice. She wore a black dress like her mother's
Edith would have it so.
And the color was in perfect harmony with the character of
the little girl's countenance. For it might be hereditary tern
perament, or peculiar individuality, or her mother's deep dis-
tress just preceding and following her birth ; either or all of
these, but something gave to the child's splendid Syrian beauty
a prevailing expression of impassioned melancholy. And there,
pt-rhaps, lay the mystery of its spell.
Edith, still leading the little girl, advanced to Marian's side,
where the latter stood at the yard gate.
' I heard a scream, Marian, dear, what was it ?"
Marian pointed to the old elm tree outside the cottage fence,
under the shade of which stood the poor stroller, pressing her
Bide, and panting for breath.
" Edith, do you see that young woman ? She it was."
" Good Heaven !" exclaimed Edith, turning a shade paler,
and beginning, with trembling fingers, to unfasten the gate.
" Why, do you know her, Edith ?"
" Yes ! yes ! My soul, it is Fanny Laurie ! I thought she
was in some asylum at the north!" said Edith, passing the gale,
and going up to the wanderer. "Fanny! Fanny! Decrest
Fanny !" she said, taking her thin hand, and looking in her
crazed eyes, and lastly putting both arms around her neck and
kissing her.
" Do you kiss me ?" asked the poor creature, in amazement.
" Yes, dear Fanny ! Don't you know me ?"
" Yes, yes, you arc I know you you are let's see, now n
"Edith Lance, you know your old playmate!"
"Ah! yes, I know you had another name."
" Edito Shields, since I was married, but I am widowed now,
Fanny '
THE MISSING BRIDE. 185
"Yes, I know Fanny has heard them talk!"
She swept her hands across her brow several times, as if It
clear her mental vision, and gazing upon Edith, said,
"Ah! old playmate! Did the palms lie? The ravaged home,
the blood-stained hearth, and the burning roof for me the
filed nuptials, the murdered bridegroom, and the fatherless
child for you. Did the palms lie, Edith ? You were ever in-
credulous! Answer, did the palms lie?"
" The prediction was partly fulfilled, as it was very likely to be
at the time our neighborhood was overrun by a ruthless foe. It
happened so, poor Fanny ! You did not know the future, any
more than I did no one on earth knows the mysteries of the
future, ' not the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father
only.'"
This seemed to annoy the poor creature soothsaying, by
palmistry, had been her weakness in her brighter days, and now
the strange propensity clung to her through the dark night of
her sorrows, and received strength from her insanity-
" Come in, dear Fanny," said Edith, " come in and stay with
as."
"No, no!" she almost shrieked again. "I should bring a
curse upon your house ! Oh ! I could tell you if you would hear !
I could warn you, if you would be warned ! But you will not !
you will not!" she continued, wringing her hands in great
trouble.
"You shall predict my fate and Miriam's," said Marian,
smiling, as she opened the gate, and came out leading the child.
"And I know," she continued, holding out her palm, "that it
will be such a fair fate, as to brighten up your spirits for sym
pathy with it. w>
" No ! I will not look at your hand !" cried Fanny, turning
away. Then, suddenly changing her mood, she. snatched
Marian's palm, and gazed upon it long and intently; gradually
her featuies became disturbed dark shadows seemed to sweep,
as a funereal train, across her face her bosom heaved gat
dropped the maiden's hand.
186 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Why, Fanny, you have told me nothing ! What do you gee
in my future ?" asked Marian.
The maniac looked up, and breaking, as she sometimes did,
intD improvisation, chanted, in the most mournful of tones, these
words :
" Darkly, deadly, lowers the shadow,
Quickly, thickly, comes the crowd
From death's bosom creeps the adder,
Trailing slime upon the shroud 1"
Marian grew pale, so much, at the moment, was she infected
with the words and manner of this sybil ; but then, "Nonsense!"
she thought, and, with a smile, roused herself to shake off the
chill that was creeping upon her.
"Feel! the air! the air!" said Fanny, lifting her hand.
" Yes, it is going to rain," said Edith. " Come in, dear
Fanny."
But Fanny did not hear the fitful, uncertain creature had
seized the hand of the child Miriam, and was gazing alternately
upon the lines in the palm and upon her fervid, eloquent face.
" What is this ? Oh ! what is this ?" she said, sweeping the
black tresses back from her bending brow, and fastening her eyes
upon Miriam's palm. " What can it mean ? A deen cross
from the Mount of Venus crosses the line of life, and forks into
the line of death ! a great sun in the plait of Mars, a cloud in
the vale of Mercury ! and where the lines of life and death meet,
a sanguine spot and a great star! I cannot read it! In a
boy's hand, that would betoken a hero's career, and a glorious
death in a victorious field ; but in a girl's ! What can it mean
when found in a girl's ? Stop !" And she peered into the hand
for a few moments in deep silence, and then her face lighted up,
her eyes burned intensely, and once more she broke forth in im-
provisation
"Thou shalt be bless'd as maiden fair was never bloss'd before
And the heart of thy bulov'd shall be most gentle, kind and pure
But thy red hand shall be lifted at duty's stern behest,
And gire to fell destruction the head thou lov'st the best
Feel ! the air ! the air 1" she exclaimed, suddenly dropping tht
shild's hand, and lifting her own towards the sky.
THE MISSING BSIDE. 187
"Yes, I told yon it was going to rain, but there trill not be
much, only a light shower from the cloud just over our heads."
" It is going to weep! Nature mourns for her darling child !
Hark ! I hear the step of him that cometh 1 Fly, fair one 1 fly i
Stay not here to listen to the voice of the charmer, charm Le
never so wisely!" cried the wild creature, as she dashed off
towards the forest.
Marian and Edith looked after her, in the utmost compassion.
" Who is the poor, dear creature, Edith, and what has reduced
her to this state ?"
" She was an old playmate of my own, Marian. I never men-
tioned her to you I never could bear to do so. She was one
of the victims of the war. She was the child of Colonel Fairlie
and the bride of Henry Laurie, one of the most accomplished
and promising young men in the state. In one night their house
was attacked, and Fanny saw her father and her husband mas-
Bac r ed, and her home burned before her face ! She fell into
the hands of the soldiers 1 She went mad from that night."
" Most horrible !" ejaculated Marian.
" She was sent to one of the best northern asylums, and the
property she inherited was placed in the hands of a trustee old
Mr. Hughes, who died last week, you know ; and now that he
is dead and she is out, I don't know what will be done, I don't
understand it at all."
" Has she no friends, no relatives? She must not be allowed
to wander in this way," said the kind girl, with the tears swim-
ming in her eyes.
"/shall always be her friend, Marian. She has no others that
I know of now; and no relative, except her young cousin,
riiurston Willcoxcn, who has been abroad at a German Univer-
sity these five years past, and who, in event of Fanny's death,
would inherit her property. We must get her here, if possible.
I will go in and send Jenny after her. She will probably over-
take her in the forest, and may be able to persuade her to come
back. At least, I shall tell Jenny to keep her in sight, until she
is in some place of safety."
188 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER] OR,
"Do, dear Edith!"
"Arc you not coming?" said Edith, as she led her little girl
towards the house.
"In one moment, dear; I wish only to bind up this morning-
glory, that poor Fanny chanced to pull down as she ran through.' 1
Edith disappeared in the cottage.
Marian stood with both her rosy arms raised, in the act cf
binding up the vine, that with its wealth of splendid azure-
hued, vase-shaped flowers, over-canopied her beautiful head like
a triumphal arch. She stood there, as I said, like the radiant,
blooming goddess of life and health, summer sunlight and blush-
ing flowers.
The light tramp of horse feet fell upon her ear. She looked
up, and with surprise lighting her dark-blue eyes, beheld a gen-
tleman mounted on a fine black Arabian courser, that curvetted
gracefully and capriciously before the cottage gate.
Smilingly the gentleman soothed and subdued the coquettish
mood of his willful steed, and then dismounted, and bowing
with matchless grace and much deference, addressed Marian.
The maiden was thinking that she had never seen a gentleman
with a presence and a manner so graceful, courteous and princely
in her life. He was a tall, finely proportioned, handsome man,
with a superb head, an aquiline profile, and fair hair and fair
complexion. The great charm, however, was in the broad,
sunny forehead, in the smile of ineffable sweetness, in the low
and singularly mellifluous voice, and the manner, gentle and
graceful as any woman's.
" Pardon me, my name is Willcoxen, young lady, and I have
the honor of addressing ?"
"Miss Mayfield," said Marian.
" Thank you," said the gentleman, with one involuntary gaze
of enthusiastic admiration that called all the roses out in full
bloom upon the maiden's cheeks; then governing himself, ho
bent his eyes to the ground, and said, with great deference
" You will pardon the liberty I have taken in calling here,
Miss Mayfield, when I tell you that I am in search of an un
THE MISSING BRIDE. 189
nappy young relative, who, I am informed, passed here not
long since."
She left us not ten minutes ago, sir, much against our
wishes. My sister has just sent a servant to the forest in
search of her, to bring her back, if possible. Will you enter,
and wait till she returns?"
With a beaming smile and graceful bend, and in the same
sweet tones, he thanked her, and declined the invitation. Then
he remounted his horse, and bowing deeply, rode off in the
direction Fanny had taken.
And Marian remained at the gate lost looking after his
retreating form. Once he turned his head, and seeing her still
standing there, he bowed lowly, to the very pommel of his sad-
dle, and then disappeared in the forest. And the roses upon
the face of Marian were in their brightest bloom when she
re-entered the cottage. The neat breakfast-table was standing
in the middle of the floor, covered with its snow-white cloth,
and adorned with its pure white service the coffee-pot and
the plate of rolls and the dish of stewed oysters were still sit-
ting upon the hearth. And as Marian helped Edith to arrange
these upon the table, the latter inquired,
" Who was that speaking to you at the gate, Marian ?"
" Who but Mr. Willcoxen."
" What! not Thurston Willcoxen I"
" The very same !"
" You astonish me! He returned!"
" So it appears !"
" Why, when did he get back ?"
" I am sure I do not know ! He never volunteered to tell
me, and 1 certainly was not at liberty to inquire."
' Well, I am amazed! What was the object of his visi{
here ?*
" He jame in search of Fanny. He introduced himself by
name, ai.d inquired after her, and as seon as he received the
necessary directior.s, he set out in pursuit of her, and that ii
all," said Marian as she sat down to the table, and began to
190 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
arrange the cnps to ponr ont the coffee, for of this little labof
also the kind girl habitually relieved Edith.
After a little silence, Edith said,
" Thurston was a very handsome youth when he left the
country how does he look now, Marian ?"
" A^ r ell," said the young girl, hesitating and smiling, " I do
not know how princes ought to look, or how they do look no
better, really, I suppose, than humbler men yet I have but
one word to convey my impression of this gentleman's appear-
ance and address both were princely. I have seen no one
like him in this neighborhood no one with so fine an expres-
sion, or so fascinating a manner a manner, what shall I say
so full of suave and stately courtesy of proud deference in a
word, Edith, I had the simplicity to gaze after tUe gentleman's
retreating figure, thinking I had never seen any one ride so
admirably, until he actually turned and bowed, at which I
came in the house, a little flushed at having betrayed so much
rusticity."
While they were yet talking, Jenny returned from her
errand alone.
" Did you see Mrs. Laurie?" asked Edith.
" Who de debbel she, honey ? Oh ! you 'fers to poor, dear,
misfort'nate Miss Fanny! Yes, honey, I seen she," said
Jenny, sitting down, and taking off her sun-bonnet, and making
herself comfortable. " Yes, honey, I fell in 'long o' her, 'jes
on de edge o' de wood. Dar she was had hev herse'f right
down on de jewey grass, unnerneaf o' de trees ; an' I went to
her, an' tried to 'suade her to git up, but I couldn' make no
'pression on her, to save my life! she didn' seem to hear me,
nor likewise to see me ! I jes' might as well stan' an' 'laver to
a dead corpse laid out. An' I was jes' batin' 'long o' myse'f
whedder I shouldn' pick her right up an' heave her right 'cross
my shoulders an' tote her 'long home when sudden a patter-
a-pat-pat! comes somet'n' into de woods, and up rid Marse
Rooster Willfoxden ! an' I much 'spectin' to see de debbil as
he 1 Well, he rid up, he did ! like any hey-my-lord 1 An' ho
THE MISSING BRIDE. 191
flings hisse'f offen his horse, he does, and he goes soP like up
to Miss Fanny, an' he draps down on one knee, and takes her
ban' in hisscn, an' speaks 'spec'ful an' soP like 1 Oh 1 you
dunno how sof ! no mudder to her sick baby no soffer an'
sweeter au' calls her ' Fanny, my deares' cousin 1' 'Deed he 1
his deares j cousin, an' he 'suades her till she lets him liP her
up, an' sit her on de horse, an' he takes de bridle in his hau
an' leads de horse, and 'tends to her, and she goes 'long wid
him quiet as any lamb ! Dar, now ! what anybody t'ink o' dat 1
arter me spendin' my breaf talkin' an' talkin', an' argifyin' an'
argifyin', an' not be able to do a singly t'ing long o' her?"
This was certainly a day of arrivals at Old Fields. Usually
weeks would pass without any one passing to or from the cot-
tage, except Marian, whose cheerful, kindly, social disposition,
was the sole connecting link between the cottage and the
neighborhood around it. But this day seemed to be an
execution.
While yet the little party lingered at the breakfast- table,
Edith looked up, and saw the tall, thin figure of a woman in a
nankeen riding-shirt, and a nankeen corded sun-bonnet, in the
act of dismounting from her great, raw-boned, white horse.
" If there isn't Miss Nancy Skamp!" exclaimed Edith, in no
very hospitable tone " and I wonder how she can leave the
post-office."
"Ohl this is not mail day!" replied Marian, laughing,
" notwithstanding which, we shall have news enough." And
Marian who, for her part, was really glad to see the old lady,
arose to meet and welcome her.
Miss Nancy was little changed; the same tall, thin, narrow-
;hested, stooping figure the same long, fair, freckled, sharp set
face the same prim cap, and clean, scant, fadey gown, or one
of the same sort made up her personal individuality. Misa
Nancy now had charge of the village post-office ; and her early
and accurate information respecting all neighborhood affairs,
was obtained, it was whispered, by an official breach of trust ;
if BO, however, no creature except Miss Nancy, her black boy.
Z92 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
and her white cat, knew it. She was a great news carrier, it if
true, yet she was not especially addicted to scandal. To her,
news was news, whether good or bad, and so she took almost
as much pleasure in exciting the wonder of her listeners by
recounting the good action or good fortune of her neighbors as
the reverse.
And so after having dropped her riding-skirt, and given that
and her bonnet to Marian to carry up stairs, and seated her-
self in the chair that Edith offered her at the table, she said,
sipping her coffee, and glancing between the white curtains
and the green vines of the open window out upon the bay,
" You have the sweetest place, and the finest sea view here,
my dear Mrs. Shields ! but that is not what I was a-going to say.
I was going to tell you that I hadn't hearn from you so long,
that I thought 'I must take an airly ride this morning, and
spend the day with you. And I thought you'd like to hear
about your old partner at the dancing-school, young Mr. Thurs-
ton Willcoxen, a-coming back la, yes I. to be sure 1 we had
almost all of us forgotten him, leastwise / had. And then,
Miss Marian," she said, as our blooming girl returned to her
place at the table, I just thought I would bring over that mus-
lin for the collars and caps, you were so good as to say you'd
make for me."
"Yes, I am glad you brought them, Miss Nancy," said
Marian, in her cheerful tone, as she helped herself to another
roll.
"I hope you are not busy now, my dear."
" Oh ! I'm always busy, thank Heaven ! but that makes no
difference, Miss Nancy ; I shall find time to finish your work
this week and next."
" I am sure it is very good of you, Miss Marian, to sew for
me for nothing ; when "
"Oh, pray, don't speak of it, Miss Nancy."
" Bat indeed, my dear, I must say I never saw anybody like
you ! if anybody's too old to sew, and too poor to put it out,
it is ' Miss Marian' who will do it for kindness j and if any-
THE MISSIXG BRIDE. 193
body is sick, it is ' Miss Marian' who is sent for to rrarse them;
and if any poor negro, or ignorant white person, has friends off
at a distance, they want to hear from, it is ' Miss Marian' who
writes all their letters !"
" But, Miss Nancy, what of it ? It is a real happiness to
me ! and I think it is right to find as well as to make all the
happiness we can in this world."
" But, my dear, I don't know how you have the time, I don't
indeed. Your day must be forty-eight hours long, and your
week fourteen days !"
Marian laughed.
" We can always find time for a sacred duty, Miss Nancy,
and I do think to nurse the sick, and sew for the old and blind,
and to write for those who cannot write for themselves, are sa-
cred duties."
"Indeed I often try to remember what the neighborhood did
before you came into it, and I wonder what we should all do if
you were to be taken away 1"
Marian laughed again.
"I am not likely to be taken away, Miss Nancy, I expect
to grow gray at Old Field Cottage, and if I were to die, or
depart, no doubt Heaven would provide you with a sub-
stitute."
" 1 don't know where one would be got then, I'm sure I For
I know everybody thinks there's not your equal to be found.
And as for me, Miss Marian, I should really think you were a
saint if you didn't laugh so much."
At this Marian laughed more laughed till the tears came
into her eyes.
"Do eat your breakfast, Miss Nancy, and let me eat mine
for, if you will compliment me so much, I shall nave to cumpli
ment back again, and then my (offee will get coid."
Jenny, who stood at the fire, stewing fresh oysters, and li'-'en-
ing to the talk, now looked askant over her shoulder, and
grumbled, inaudibly,
" Why. in de iuimy's name, don't de ole creeter let her wit
12
194 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
tels slop her month, for ebery precious word as comes out'n it
is 'm/. Keepin' de table stanin' in de middle o' de floor till
nigh 'pon nine o'clock, an' me wid my work to do !"
When they arose from breakfast, and the room was tidied np,
and Edith, and Marian, and their guest, were seated at their
work, with all the cottage windows open to admit the fresh and
fragrant air, and the rural landscape on one side, and the sea
view on the other, and while little Miriam sat at their feet dress-
ing a nun doll, and old Jenny betook herself to the garden to
gather vegetables for the day, Miss Nancy opened her budget,
and gave them all the news of the month. But in that which
concerned Thurston "Willcoxen alone was Edith interested, and
of him she learned the following facts : Of the five years which
Mr. Willcoxen had been absent in the eastern hemisphere, three
had been spent at the German University, where he graduated
with the highest honors ; eighteen months had been passed in
travel through Europe, Asia, and Africa ; and the last year had
been spent in the best circles in the city of Paris. He had been
back to his native place about three weeks. Since the death of
Fanny Laurie's old guardian, the judge of the orphans' court had
appointed him sole trustee of her property, and guardian of her
person. As soon as he had received this power, he had gone to
the asylum, where the poor creature was confined, and hearing
her pronounced incurable, though harmless, he had set her at
liberty, brought her home to his own house, and had hired a
skillful, attentive nurse to wait upon her.
" And you never saw such kindness and compassion, Miss
Marian, except in yourself. I do declare to you, that his man-
ner to that poor unfortunate, is as delicate and reverential and
devoted as if she were the most accomplished and enviable lady
in the land, and more so, Miss Marian, more so !"
" I can well believe it ! He looks like that !" said the bean-
tiful girl, her face flushing and her eyes filling with generona
sympathy. But Marian was rather averse to sentimentality, so
dashing the sparkling drops from her blushing cheeks, she
looked up and said, "Miss Nancy, we are going to have
THE MISSING BRIDE. 195
chickens for dinner. How do you like them cooked ? It don't
matter a bit to Edith and me."
" Stewed then, if you please, Miss Marian ! or stop no 1
think baked in a piel"
CHAPTER XV.
THE FOREST FAIRY.
" Leaping spirits light a air I
Dancing heart untouched by care!
Sparkling eye and laughing brow!
And mirthful cheek of joyous glow!"
OK the afternoon of the same day spent by Miss Xancy
Skamp at Old Field Cottage, the family at Luckenough were
assembled in that broad, central passage, their favorite resort iu
warm weather.
Five years had made very little alteration here, excepting in
the case of Jacquclina, who had grown up to be the most en-
chanting sprite that ever bewitched the hearts, or turned the
heads of men. She was petite, slight, agile, graceful ; clustering
curls of shining gold encircled a round, white forehead, laugh-
ing in light; springs under springs of fun and frolic sparkled
up from the bright, blue eyes, whose flashing light flew bird-
like everywhere, but rested nowhere. She seemed even less
human and irresponsible than when a child verily a being of
the air, a fairy, without human thonghtfulness, or sympathy, or
affections I She only seemed so under all that fay-like levity
there was a heart. Poor heart I little food or cultivation !rii :
it had in all its life.
For who had been Jaequelina's educators ?
First, there was the Commodore, with his alternations of
blustering wrath and foolish fondness, giving way to his anger,
196 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
or indulging his love, without the slightest regard to the effect
produced upon his young ward too often abusing her fof
something really admirable in her nature and full as frequently
praising her for something proportionately reprehensible in her
conduct.
Next, there was the dark, and solemn, and fanatical Dr.
fjrimshaw, her destined bridegroom, who really and truly loved
the child to fatuity, and conscientiously did the very best ho
could for her mental and moral welfare, according to his light.
Alas ! " when the light that is in one is darkness, how great is
that darkness !" Jacquelina rewarded his serious efforts with
laughter, and flattered him with the pet names of Hobgoblin,
Ghoul, Gnome, Ogre, &c. Yet she did not dislike her solemn
suitor she never had taken the matter so seriously as that!
And he on his part bore the eccentricities of the elf with match-
less patience, for he loved her, as I said, to fatuity doted ou
her with a passion that increased with ripening years, and of
late consimied him like a fever.
And then there was her mother, last named because, what-
ever she should have been, she really was the least important
of Jacquelina's teachers. Fear was the key-note of Mrs.
L'Oiseau's character the key-stone in the arch of her religious
faith she feared everything the opinion of the world, the un-
faithfulness of friends, changes in the weather, reverses of for-
tune, pain, sickness, sorrow, want, labor! All the evils of life
were exaggerated and made imminent by that one principle in
her character, and worse than all, poor creature, her soul was
tilled, not with the love of the Father, but with the fear of the
Angiy God! the Dens Iri of her tremendous dread ! Eler
vorldly wisdom was of the same character, governed by tlu-
^ime motives, fear and self-interest. "Whatever you do, my
.lour, you must please your uncle and Doctor Grimshaw never
;jni!i| your aunty she hasn't much in her own right to leave to
anybody, 'and she is wasting it all on Edith. But your uncle,
my dear; you must please your uncle, and win Dr. Grimshaw,
too, fur he never will leave you Luckenough, unless you are ic
THE MISSING BRIDE. 197
be Dr. Grimshaw's wife, and if he don't, what should we do\
Be homeless beggars for the rest of our lives !"
Now the time had not yet come for this proposed marriage
to shock the merry maiden. She did not realize what was in-
tended the words were meaningless to her, worn out with con-
stant use ; she had heard them ever since she could remember,
and she paid no attention to them; so to speak, "t\ey went
in at one ear and out at the other."
She was " ower young to marry yet."
So thought not the Commodore ; for a year past, since his
niece had attained the age of fourteen, he had been worrying
himself and the elders of the family to have the marriage so-
lemnized, "before the little devil shall have time to get some
other notion into her erratic head," he said. All we>'e opposed
to him, holding over his head the only rod he dreaded, the
opinion of the world.
" What would people say if you were to marry your niece of
fourteen to a man of thirty-four ?" they urged.
"But, I tell you, young men are beginning to pay attention
to her now, and I can't take her to church that some jackanapes
don't come capering around her, and the minx will get some
whim in her head like Edith did, I know she will ! Just see
how Edith disappointed me ! ungrateful huzzy ! after my bring-
ing her up and educating her, for her to do so ! While, if she
had married Grim' when I wanted her to do it, by this time I'd
have had my grandchil ! I mean nieces and nephews climb-
ing about my knees. But by I I wont be frustrated this
time !"
And so Jacquelina was kept more secluded than ever. Se-
cluded from society, but not from nature. The forest became
her haunt. And a chance traveler passing through it, and
meeting her fay-like form, might well suppose he was deceived
with the vision of a wood-nymph,
The effervescent spirits of the elf had to expend themselves
in the same way. As a child she had ever been as remarkable
for surprising feats of agility as for fun, frolic, mischief, and
198 MIEIAM, THE A V E N G E E ; O E,
diablerie. And every one of these traits augmented with h*
erowth. Feats of agility became a passion with her her airy
spirit seemed only to find its full freedom in rapid motion in
daring flights, in difficult achievements, and in hair-breadth
'scapes. Everything that she read of in that way, which could
possibly be imitated, was attempted. She had her bows and
arrows, and by original fitness, as well as by constant practice,
she became an excellent markswoman she had her well-trained
horse, and her vaulting bars, and made nothing of flying over a
high fence or a wide ditch. But her last whim was the most
eccentric of all. She had her lance. And her favorite pastime
was to have a small ring suspended from a cross beam, and
while ridiug at full speed, with her light lance balanced in her
hand, to catch this ring and bear it off upon the point of that
lance. In feats of agility alone she excelled, not in those of
strength that airy, fragile form was well fitted for swiftness
and sureness of motion, yet not for muscular force. Her uncle
and Grim' indulged her in all these frolics her uncle in gnat
delight Grim', under the protest, that they were unworthy of
an immortal being with eternity to prepare for.
In these five past years, Cloudesley had been home once
namely, at the end of the stated three years. He had been re-
ceived with unbounded joy by his child-friend ; had brought her
the out-grown suit of uniform ; had spent several months at
Luckenough, and renewed his old delightful intimacy with its
little heiress presumptive, and at length had gone to sea again
or another three years' voyage. And it must be confessed that
Jacquelina had found the second pai'ting more grievous than
the first. And this time Cloudesley had fully shared her sor-
row. He had been absent a year, when, upon this evening, we
5nc the family assembled in the spacious passage.
I said that with the exception of Jacquelina, little change had
passed "over the members of the household. Mary L'Oiseau
was almost precisely the same.
Mi's Wangh had increased in flesh to such a degree as made
it rather heavy work for her to go up and down stairs, a task
only to be accomplished with much panting and blowing.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 199
The Commodore was very much the same in aspect as when
first presented to the reader. But he was suffering from the
gout, that frequently confined him to his room. And this afflic-
tion, so far from disciplining his character or improving his
temper, made him twice the tyrant that he was before. And
Henrietta, really affected by his sufferings, not only never her-
self crossed his humor, but never permitted any one else to do
BO. She compelled them to submit with " Remember your
master's suffering leg, you thoughtless wretches you!" to the
house servants. And to Jacquelina, "Oh! my love! just re-
member your poor uncle's poor, dear leg, and put up with his
little ways !" His little ways ! I will tell you what they were !
one of his little ways was when confined to his room to
pound upon the floor, with his crutch, until three or four ser-
vants all started to run to him at once notwithstanding the
imminent danger of having the said crutch hurled at their heads
as soon as they should appear at his door, or laid vigorously
over their backs as soon as they should get within arm's length
of him, for it was impossible to know exactly who was wanted,
and if the right one did not come " woe betide him" when he
did. Never had that leg, in the days that in company with its
fellow limb, it had stamped up and down the hall, kicking the
men and boys, and propelling the dogs and cats through the
door, and making the old beams and sleepers tremble with sym-
pathetic fear been so much the dread of delinquents as now
that it was swathed in bandages, and laid up on pillows. That
leg was a sort of marshal's baton held up in terrorem over the
whole family a sceptre of iron, before which all must bend.
Until finally Jacquelina got very tired of the bother, rebelled,
and vowed that she, for one, was not going to be walked over
by her uncle's leg any longer ! there 1
On this especial evening, the old sailor was so much better
as to be able to come down into the hall and lie upon the
settee, that before-mentioned green, wooden settee that stood
against the wall in a line with the foot of the stairs. Henrietta
upon one end of it, and here he lay at full length, with hw
200 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
nead on the good women's lap. Thy were discussing tlie on
exciting topic of the neighborhood, the return of Thurston
Willcoxen.
"Jf he had been guided by me," said the Commodore, "he
never would have gone into foreign parts frst. I think Ame-
rica, the United States and territories of North America, quite
extensive enough for any young man's ambition !"
" Was it extensive enough for yours, uncle, when you went
away for twenty years ?"
" Hush, Magpie ! You never open your lips that some sauce
don't come out of them !"
" Sauce-pi quante, uncle ?"
" No, Minx ! that goes in fast enough in company with rock-
fish !"
" Now, I leave it to any one who knows me if 7 am a gour-
mand! At least I have not gout enough to get the gout !"
"Where is my crutch? or the boot jack? Is there nothing
to throw at her ?"
" Can't you throw a repartee, uncle ?"
" Silence, huzzy ! Will nobody take that girl off my back ?"
" Yes, dear uncle, any of the young gentlemen about Bene-
dict will gladly do so !"
" Set fire to the young men about B !"
"Well, then, Thurston Willcoxen will !"
" Devil fly away with Thurston Willcoxen ! He and all the
rest of them put together are not worth Grim's little finger!"
" Ah ! but, uncle, Grim' is so emphatically grim /"
" He is a grave, self-governed man, as every instructor of
jouth should be, and I wish you to love and respect him."
"But I hate schoolmasters!"
"But he is not a schoolmaster, Hornet! he is & professor."
"Worse and worse! professors are the superlative degree of
si.-hoolmasters, and I perfectly loathe, abhor, and abominate
professors!"
" Yes, but Wasp *ongue ! he is a very fine fellow, besides
being m$ friend /"
THE MISSING BRIDE.
"Now, that is a most reasonable reason for liking him!"
"Yes, but if I make you marry him "
" Make me marry HIM ! !"
" Yes, I say if I do, I'll give you Luckenough into the bar-
jrain !"
" Would you? Ha! ha! ha! Why, uncle! that would be
heaping wrong upon wrong! Why, uncle! I don't like Luck-
enough any better than I do the professor ! I would no mure
live in it than I would live with him! And I wouldn't take
the haunted old place in fee-simple, much less with the incuni-
brance of that Ghoul !"
" Ghoul ! Have you eyes in your head ? Do you recognise
a handsome man when you see one?"
"Is Grim' handsome, uncle? I really did not know it!
However, people's tastes vary in the matter of beauty now mi,
taste differs totally from yours. I never could think your pet
Ogre handsome. Thurston Willcoxen is my ideal of manly
beauty !"
" There it is again ! Girls are the most infernal calamity a
man can be cursed with ! Now I suppose you'll go making
yourself a fool about him I"
"Make myself a, fool? No indeed, uncle! One is enough
of that class in any family I"
" What do you mean by that, Pepperpod ?"
"Nothing, sir," said Jacquelina, with much meekness.
" Well 1 whatever you mean, Minx, I warn yon not to fall in
love with Thurston Willcoxen because he is handsome ! For
Grim, is just as handsome as he is, and handsomer, too, besides
being my friend."
" I didn't know that we were to choose people by their good
looks, and I am very sure, my dear aunty, here, never chose
}te* husband for his beauty."
" Well, if she didn't, Saucebox, she chose him for his bravery,
which is a better quality, I reckon I"
"Bravery? Now, uncle, you know I thinK the existence of
that attribute in some people wants p-oof ! I for one, always
202 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
considered it traditionary and fabulous as far as you were con-
cerned, or at least only existing and active while drums were
heating and flags flying, and bullets whizzing, and blows falling
in all directions, and the demon to pay generally ! and the only
alternative left was to fight or fall 1 / never saw much of the
fire-eater about you, dear uncle ! Besides, how came that bul-
let under your shoulder blade ? You must have got that \\hen
you were running away !"
" I didn't, you vixen ! I got it on board the Bon Ilommo
Richard in the thickest of the fight ! My pistols were spent 1
My sword was broken 1 And I had closed with the foeman,
hand to hand ! foot to foot ! breast to breast ! in a death-grip !
We were each trying to cast the other off the deck and over-
board 1 And we should probably have gone overboard toge-
ther and been drowned locked in each other's arms, like a pair
of ardent and suicidal lovers, had not that chance bullet struck
me, and made this wound, for which Old Hen will get a pension
some of these days when it kills me !"
" A penance, uncle 1 Say a penance ! I like Aunt Jenny's
name for it best 1"
" Bother ! I don't want to bandy nonsense with you I want
to talk sensibly. And now listen ! I do not wish my niece to
let her thoughts wander after any of these hair-brained fops, so
entirely beneath her notice ! For I intend that she shall be the
wife of a man of character and responsibility of years, and
weight and substance I"
" Lord ! what a pity it is you can't marry me yourself, uncle !
Vou are the heaviest and oldest man in the neighborhood !
Say, wouldn't you like to marry me yourself, uncle ?"
" I'd like to brain you !" ejaculated the old soldier, feeling
about and finding nothing but his tobacco-box, he sent it fly-
ing at her, Jacquelina dodged, and ran away laughing.
" Come back here, Minx 1 I want to talk to you !" he said.
" Disarm him, aunty ! take away his pipe, and his spectacles,
and his snuff-box, and his pocket-book, (I don't think he will
throw hi wot * 7 * at me !) and everything he can make a missile
of!"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 203
" Come back here, you little imp ! Don't you see I've got
nothing?"
Jacquelina came back, still laughing, and took her seat at
her uncle's feet.
" I want to talk to you, yon little aggravation ! Have you
no ambition ? Shouldn't you like to be the wife of a great
man ? Now, Grim' is already beginning to distinguish him
self. He will be a great man yet !"
" Yes ! if he grows stout with years ! He ' stands high ' in the
community now !"
" You look as if you were making fun and I believe you are!
I tell you, Professor Grimshaw is destined to make his mark in
the world !"
" Of course, if he leaves his tracks in the mud."
" Henrietta ! I'll be shot if I stand this P
" No ! certainly not ! don't try, uncle I it might hurt your
poor leg!"
"Oh! Oh, Lord! What a visitation! What a judgment!
Whatever shall I do with this this this . Don't you know,
yon minx, that Doctor Grimshaw will most f robably be the
next President of College ? And have you no sense of
the dignity that would attach to you as the wife of so dis-
tinguished a man ?"
Jacquelina put her finger upon her chin, and cast her eyes
down in demure reflection then she soberly arose, walked up
to the hat-rack, and standing before the little glass inserted
there, deliberately contemplated herself for several minutes.
Then as soberly she walked back and resumed her seat, saying,
" It wont do, uncle ! I don't look like it ! no, not one bit I"
" Don't be too humble, Miss L'Oiseau ! For whether you
really deserve it or not, you will have that ' greatness thrust'
apon you !"
" Then, indeed, I shall cast it off again."
"Indeed, you shall not!"
" Try me ! Dare to try me !"
UD to this time t"ie bantering conflict had been carried on
204 MIKIAM, THE AVENGERj OK,
good-humoredly, notwithstanding the sauciness of Jacquelina'a
retorts, but now there was danger of the antagonists getting
out of temper, and the sham quarrel becoming a real one, whet
Mrs. Waiigh interfered by changing the subject.
They lingered long in the hall that evening, longer than
usual. Was it with any prophetic feeling that this would bo
the very last evening they would ever sit in that old passage
way again ?
That very night the old mansion, that had withstood the
storms of more than two hundred winters, was burned to the
ground !
The fire broke out in the kitchen. Upon that fatal evening
it had been left to Stupid to cover up the brands on the kitchen
hearth. No one could surmise how he contrived to draw on
the calamity. It is true that Maria, who was waiting on her
master at his bedside, had mockingly told " Stupe" to be sure
and leave a coal sticking to the broom when he swept the ashes
up. But could Stupe have been such a fool as to take her at
her word ? Maria was not certain, and upon the whole, she
thought it best not to investigate the matter too closely. For
indeed, Stupe had become most lamentably stupid since his
master's accession of illness and ill-temper had kept him in a
state of perpetual panic, in fact since the reign of the leg had
commenced.
Be that as it may, upon the evening of the fire, Jacquelina
had gone to her room she had an apartment to herself now
and feeling for the first time in her life, some little uneasiness
about her uncle's " whim" of wedding her to Grim', she had
walked about the floor for sometime in much restlessness of
mind and body ; then she went to a wardrobe, and took out
Cloudy's treasured first uniform, and held it up before her.
Flow small it looked now ; why it was scarcely too large for
herself! And hov much Cloudy had outgrown it! It had
Qttcd him nicely at sixteen, now he was twenty-one, and in two
years more he would be home again! Smiling to herself, and
tossing her charming head, as at some invisible foe, she said,
" Yes, indeed I should so like to see them do !t t"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 205
She pressed the cloth up to her face, and put it txr&y, and,
till smiiiug to herself, retired to rest, to dream of her dear
playmate.
She dreamed of being in his ship on the oper sea, the scene
idealized to supernal beauty and sublimity, as ail such scenes
are in dreams ; and then she thought the ship took fire, and
saw, and heard, and felt the great panic and horror that ensued.
She woke in a terrible fright. A part of her dream was true 1
Her chamber was filled with smoke, and the house was chaotic
with noise and confusion, and resounded with cries of "Fire I
Fire !" everywhere. What happened next passed with the
swiftness of lightning. She jumped out of bed, seized a wool-
len shawl, and wrapped it around her head, and even in that
imminent danger not forgetting her most cherished treasure,
Cloudy's suit of uniform, snatched it from the wardrobe and
fled out of the room. Hef swift and dipping motion that had
gained her the name of "Lapwing," now served her well
shooting her bright head forward and downward, she fled
through all the passages, and down all the stairs, and out by
the great .hall, that was all in flames, until she reached the lawn,
whei-p the panic-stricken and nearly idiotic household were as-
sembled, weeping, moaning and wringing their hands, while
they gazed upon the work of destruction before them in im-
potent despair 1
Jacqnelina looked all around upon the group, each figure of
which glared redly in tie light of the flames. All were present
all but the Commodore ! Where could the Commodore be ?
Jaequelina ran through the crowd looking for him in all di-
rections. He was nowhere visible, though the whole area was
lighted up, even to the edge of the forest, every tree and branch
aiui twig and leaf of which was distinctly rwealed in the strong
red "'lure.
"Where is uncle? Oh! where is uncle?" she exclaimed,
running wildly about, and finally going up to Mrs. Waugh,
who, in her uightclothes, stood looking the statue of con
steniauun !
206 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Jncquclina shook her fat arm.
"Aunty! aunty! Where is uncle? Are you bewitched f
Where is uncle ?"
" Where ? Here, somewhere. I saw him run out before
me."
"No, you didn't! you mistook somebody else for him. Oh.
my Lord ! he is in the burning house ! he is in the house !"
"Oh, he is in the house 1 he is in the house!" echoed Hen-
rietta, now roused from her panic, and wringing her hands iu
the most acute distress. " Oh ! will nobody save him ! will
nobody save him !"
It was too late ! Commodore Waugh was in the burning
mansion, in his bedchamber, near the top of the house, fast
asleep 1
"Good heaven! will no one attempt to save him?" screamed
Henrietta, running wildly from one to the other.
They all gazed on each other, and then in consternation upon
the burning building, every window of which was belching
flame, while the sound of some falling rafter, or the explosion
of some combustible substance was continually heard ! TP
venture into that blazing house, with its sinking roof and falling
rafters, seemed certain death.
" Oh ! my God 1 my God ! will none even try to save him?' 1
cried Henrietta, wringing her hands in extreme anguish.
Suddenly
" Pray forme, aunty!" exclaimed Jacquelina, and she darted
like a bird towards the house, into the passage ; and seemed lost
in the smoke and flame 1
Wrapping the woollen shawl closely about her, and keeping
near the floor, she glided swiftly up the stairs, flight after flight,
and through the suffocating passages until she reached her
uncle's door; it was open, and his room was clearer of smoke
than any other, from the wind blowing through the open
w indow.
There he lay in a deep sleep ! She sprang to the bedside,
seized and shook the arm of the sleeper.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 207
" Uncle ! uncle ! wake, for God's sake, wake ! the house is
on fire 1"
"Hum-m-m-e!" muttered the old man, giving a great heave
and plunge, and turning over into a heavier sleep than before.
"Uncle! uncle! You will be burned to death, if you don\
wp,ke up !" cried Jacquelina, shaking him violently.
" Humph ! Yes, Jacquelina ! urn um um Grim ! mn
nin Luckenough! muttered the dreamer, flinging about his
great arms.
" Luckenough is in flames ! My God ! My God I Uncle 1
wake ! wake!'' she cried, shaking him frantically.
"Ah! ha! yes ! d d little rascal is at her tricks again !" he
said, laughing in his sleep.
At that moment there was the sound of a falling rafter in
the adjoining room. Every instant was worth a life, and there
he lay in a sodden, hopeless sleep.
Oh, surely the angels who saved the children in the fiery fur-
nace will hold up the sinking roof!
Suddenly Sans Souci ran to the ewer it was empty. There
was no time to be lost ! every second was invaluable ! He must
be instantly roused, and Jacquelina was not fastidious as to
the means in doing so 1
Leaping upon the bolster behind his great, stupid head, she
reached over, and seizing the mass of his gray, grizzly beard, she
pulled up the wrong way, with all her might, until, roaring
with pain, he started up in a fury, and seeing her, exclaimed,
" Oh ! you abominable little vixen ! is that you ? Do you
dare ! Are you frantic, then ? Oh, you outrageous little dare-
devil ! Wont I send you to a mad-house, and have you put in
a straight-jacket, till you know how to behave yourself! You
infernal little wretch you !"
A sudden thought struck Sans Souci, to move him by his
affection for herself.
"Undo, look around you! The house is burning! if you
do not rouse yourself and save your poor little 'wretch,' she
mujt perish in the flames!"
208 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
This effectually brought him te his senses; he understood
everything ! he leaped from the bed, seized a blanket, envel-
oped her in it, raised her in his arms, and forgetting gout,
lameness, leg and all, bore her down the creaking, heated stairs,
flight after flight, and through the burning passages out of the
house, in safety.
Oh, surely the angels had held up that sinking roof, that, as
soon as they had passed in safety, feil with an awful resonance,
sending up new flames to Heaven, bearing, as it were, the story
of the young girl's heroism.
A shout of joy greeted the Commodore, as he appeared with
Jacquelina in the yard.
But heeding nothing but the burden he bore in his arms, the
old sailor strode on until he reached a convenient spot, where he
threw the blanket oif her face to give her air.
She had fainted the terror and excitement had been too
great the reaction was too powerful it had overwhelmed her,
and she lay insensible across his arms, her fair head hanging
back, her white garments streaming in the air, her golden locks
floating, her witching eyes closed, and her blue lips apart, and
rigid on her glistening teeth so she lay like dead Cordelia in
the arms of old Lear.
Henrietta and Mi-s. L'Oiseau, followed by all the household,
crowded around them, with water, the only restorative at hand.
At length she recovered and looked up, a little bewildered,
but soon memory and understanding returned, and gazing at
her uncle, she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, and
burst into tears.
She was then carried away into one of the best negro quar-
ters, and laid upon a bed, and attended by her mother and her
maid Maria.
The Commodore, with his wife, found shelter in another quar-
ter. And the few remaining members of the household wore
accommodated in a similar manner elsewhere.
They had scarcely got within doors wnen the storm, that had
been muttering in the distance all the forepart of the uight.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 209
txiw burst upon the earth. The rain came down in torrents,
like another deluge, and continued with unabated violence until
morning.
The sun arose upon a strange, wild scene a scene of beauty
and of desolation 1 There was the greensward and shrubbe-
ries, and the surrounding belt of forest, all verdant and spangled
with rain-drops, and sparkling in the fresh light of morning
and there, in the midst, was the ruin, with its blackened walls
and chimneys ! The fire had been effectually extinguished by
the floods of rain, but not until it had completed the work of
destruction.
Nothing had been saved but the clothing in which the family
stood. Something doubtless might have been secured from the
flames had there been an organized action, or a leader, with
presence of mind enough left to direct the crowd, who, panic-
stricken by the suddenness, and the unprecedented nature of
the catastrophe, had remained totally inactive.
The loss, complete as it was in regard to Lnckenough, was
not, however, very great ; the house and the furniture were old,
and might be considered to owe no farther service to their pro-
prietor. For years there had been a talk of pulling down and
rebuilding and refurnishing. The long deferred and doubtful
matter was now precipitated and rendered certain. That was
all. After a rude breakfast, the best that could be prepared
under the circumstances, a family council was called, and it was
decided that they should go to B for the present, until
some other course was fixed upon, especially as Jacquelina was
very ill and needed immediate medical attendance.
The stables had not been burned, and the carriage and
n.orses were safe. Festus and Bill were directed to bring them
around, while Maria, mounted on a mule, was despatched to
the nearest neighbor to borrow clothing for the burnt-oat
family.
It was near noon before they were all ready to set forth from
the scene of disaster, and it was the middle of the afternoon
when they found tnemselves temporarily settled at the little hotel
13
210 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR
at Benedict, in the very apartments formerly occupied by Edith
and Marian.
Here Jacquelina suffered a long and severe spell of illness,
during which her bright hair was cut off.
And here beautiful Marian came, with her gift of tendej
nursing, and devoted herself day and night to the service of the
young invalid. And all the leisure time she found while sitting
by the sick bed she busily employed in making up clothing for
the almost denuded family. And never had the dear girl's
nimble fingers flown so fast or so willingly.
Every day the Commodore, accompanied by Dr. Grimshaw,
rode over to Luckenough to superintend the labors of the
workmen in pulling down and clearing away the ruins of the
old mansion, and preparing the site for a new building.
Six weeks passed and brought the first of August, before
Jacquelina was able to sit up, and then the physicians recom-
mended change of air and the waters of Bentley Springs for
the re-establishment of her health.
During her illness, Jacquelina had become passionately at-
tached to Marian, as all persons did who came under the daily in
fluence of the beautiful girl. Dr. Grimshaw was to accompany
the family to Bentley. Jacquelina insisted that Marian should
be asked to make one of the party. Accordingly, the Commo-
dore and Mrs. Waugh, nothing loth, invited and pressed the
kind maiden to go with them. But for many reasons Marian
declined the journey first, she could not or would not loave
Edith, except upon missions of benevolence or necessity
secondly, now that her services were no longer needed, she did
not wish to accept the hospitality of the uncle from whom her
sister was still estranged ; and, lastly, had neither of these great
reasons existed, a smaller one equally cogent wouid have pro-
vented her becoming one of the party, namely Marian had no
proper wardrobe for the occasion. Two or three coarse, light-
blue ginghams, and lilac calicoes, and one white dress, con-
stituted Marian's summer outfit. The dear maiden was too
disinterested, too nuch the servant of the public, to have accu-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 211
mulated anything beyond the necessities of clothing for her
self. Therefore, when her duties as nurse and seamstress wer*
over Marian rejoined Edith.
And Commodore Waugh, with his wife, hiss niece, and fail
Grim', set out in the family carriage for Bentley Springs.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MOCK-TOURNAMENT.
The lovely stranger stands confessed
A maid in all her charms." Goldsmith.
IT was Jacquelina's first visit to a watering place, and it mignt
be said to be her first entrance into society. Her health rapidly
improved, and she gave herself up to pleasure with all the en-
thusiasm of a novice. None so gay as she ! Her hair had not
been cut so close but that it would curl and cluster in little
golden rings around her laughing forehead giving new piquancy
to the fairy face. She was the newest beauty there.
Near the last of the season, there was a project started that
enlisted all Jacquelina's interest this was a mock-tournarner..,
to be followed by a masked ball. She entered into the spirit
of the thing with all her heart and soul, as usual. Indeed, it
was believed by those who had good opportunities of judging,
that the fairy herself was the invisible inspirer and instigator of
the wrole affair; that she dropped a hint here, and a hint there.
in the proper quarters, where her suggestions would fall like
iparks of fire on combustible material, until the whole company
at the Springs were a-blaze with excitement upon the subject
of the mock-tournament.
And all the young men, and many of the elder ones, passed
several hours daily in practicing j and already there was such a
212 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
difference in skill displayed, that confident predictions were
made as to which should carry off the ring the greatest number
of times, and which should be the second, and the third, in
success, etc.
Jacquelina listened to all this with the greatest gravity, only
there was such an unfathomable depth of mischief lurking hi
her demure eyes !
The ladies were equally busy with the subject of the characters
to be assumed, and the dresses to be worn at the fancy ball.
An agent was procured and dispatched to the city, with writ-
ten directions to select materials for the fancy dresses, mock
armor, etc.
Everybody knew, of course, that it was going to be a burlesque,
and expected and prepared for nothing else. I must pass over
the bustle of the preparations that occupied two weeks, and the
accession of company from the neighboring towns and villages
and the country round about, that poured into Bentley to see
the wonder of the mock-tournament the actors in which knew
perfectly well that they were making fools of themselves, but they
did so with purpose, "prepense and aforethought," and no less
zealously upon that account.
The great day of the tournament came at last. I suppose it
is necessary to give some idea of the scene in which the splendid
spectacle of the tenth century was revived and travestied in the
nineteenth.
The hour was fixed for noon. The site was well selected.
Imagine an open plain, ending at the south with a high,
steep cliff, crowned with a forest, which at noon cast a long,
dense shadow. Under the shade of this cliff were erected the
seats of the spectators, wooden benches, raised one above the
other, backwards. Here, at an early hour, were assembled and
seated the greater number of the visitors of the Springs that
is to say, all the ladies and children, and such of the gentleman
us did not take active part in the burlesque.
Opposite these seats, at the extreme north of the plain, under
a canopy, the King-at-A rms, with heralds and pursuivants, in
costume, held his court.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 213
At the east end was the gate through which the "knights"
entered here were also stationed heralds and pursuivants in
fancy dresses.
Opposite, at the west extremity, was the gate through which
they (the knights) issued, and here were stationed the "minstrels,"
that is to say, a modern band of music silent now, Dut to
strike up a triumphant peal at the pass of every victorious
knight.
Now, il you fancy that this mock-tournament is to be an en-
counter of gallant knights with shield and lance, I am sorry to
disappoint you. We cannot even so much as travestie those
things now. Few men now would like, even in sport, to meet
an opponent in such thunder-shocks ! No ! It was an encoan-
ter only of lance and ring a feat of agility an exhibition of
sleight-of-hand, quickness and sureness of eye, and skillful and
elegant horsemanship no more.
And now take notice a well rolled gravel-road was made to
traverse the plain from the east gate, at which the knights were
to enter to the west gate, from which they were finally to issue.
Midway across this road stood what looked precisely like a
gibbet, with a noose hanging down. Don't be shocked how
ever ! For it was a much more merry matter. That was a
rope certainly that hung down midway from the cross-beam
and at the end of that rope was a small steel hook, with its point
towards the west. Upon that hook hung an iron ring of four
inches in diameter. Now the feat to be accomplished was this
for the rider, while in full gallop, to bear off the ring on tho
point of his lance.
Among the spectators were of course our rustic family from
Luckenough-r the Commodore, Mrs. Waugh, Mrs. L'Oiseau,
and Dr. Grimshaw all except Jacquelina! and ail taking the
greatest interest iu the scene about to be performed.
Poor Jacquelina i Unlucky Sans Souci! It really seemed a
very great pity, after all the zeal she had displayed in the get-
ting up of this frolic that on the very morning of its enactment*
she should be seized with oh 1 such a maddening nervous head-
214 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
ache ! A. headache that " ached" so dreadfully, she could not
bear a ray of light or the sound of a footfall a headache that
nothing but utter darkness and silence and profound rest cou'd
mitigate. She vowed that she was sure, if she heard any cne
within ten feet of her room-door, she should fall into fits. And
BO she had every window-shutter closed, and sent Grim', and the
Commodore, and her mother, and her aunty, and the maid Maria,
all in turn, out of her room protesting that if she was not left
alone, she should go into convulsions ! But if only permitted to
go quietly to sleep, she should be better in the afternoon. And
eo, at her urgent desire, she was left alone in the dark room,
with a lump of ice at her head, and mustard-plasters on the solea
of her feet.
Everybody pitied Miss L'Oiseau, but soon forgot her in the
excitement of the coming scene.
" Poor Lapwing ! how unfortunate that she should be sick
this day of all days," said Mrs. "VVaugh, "but she seemed right
well content, too, and doubtless she will be much better this
afternoon, and be able to assist at the fancy ball," added the
lady, comforting herself that she might the better enjoy the
scene about to commence.
A herald in a blue tunic blew his trumpet ,at the northern
extremity of the area, proclaiming the lists open, and the tour-
nament about to commence. At the east gate, another herald,
in a yellow tunic, repeated the proclamation. And at the west,
another in red reiterated it. These officials were termed by the
uninitiated crowd, "the red boy," "the yellow boy," and " the
blue boy 1" A goodly number of competitors, in fancy drosses
and mock armor, were congregated at the eastern gate. The
" blue boy," in a sonorous voice, proclaimed their names and
titles. The characters assumed for the occasion were alas for
modesty and veneration ! the very greatest heroes of the middle
ages ; among them, " Richard Coeur-de-Lion," the " Black
Prince," " Harry, of England," (Henry Y.) " Hotspur," " Sii
William Wallace," etc. There were also some of a mere comic
character, (it was all comic enough,) there were Dor. Quixote
THE MISSING BRIDE. 215
and Sancho Panza, Sir Hudibras, etc. But the name of the
first competitor was about to be proclaimed, and a dead silent
ensued.
"The Knight of Malta!" shouted the herald from the north %
whose voice was, unluckily, very thick.
" The Knight of the Altar! 1 ' repeated the east herald, whose
ears were no better than the other's voice, and,
" The Knight of the HALTER 1" vociferated the west herald,
who was too far off to hear well.
" Oh ! that is too funny 1 Poor Lapwing I How she would
enjoy that !" said Mrs. Waugh.
But just then the Knight of the " Halter" dashed forward on
the road, with his lance balanced lightly in his right hand
and without pausing or slackening his speed in the least, sped
through the area, and bore off the ring ! The band of music
struck up a triumphal air, and the spectators gave a shout of
congratulation. The successful aspirant turned and rode around
the area, and fell into his place. And the ring was restored to
its station.
And then the name of another candidate was proclaimed in
turn by the three heralds, and he rode forward This was a
splendid equestrian but alas, as he sped through the course,
he only touched, and did not carry off the ring ; and the music
kept a dead silence, while he rode back crest-fallen, with his
lance trailing by the saddle-bow.
Then came a third candidate, who also missed ; and then a
fourth, who carried off the ring ; and a fifth and a sixth, who
failed even to touch it ; and a seventh and eighth, who bore it
off in triumph. And thus, with more or less success, all the
candidates who had failed were ruled out from the list of com-
petitors, while those who had succeeded remained for a second
trial of skill.
There were but nine competitors in the second course. And
this passed off with the like success as the first that is to say,
less than one-half the candidates succeeded. Five failed, and
had their names stricken off the list Four remained to try the
216 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
third course. These were " The Black Prince," " Hotspur,"
" Don Quixote De La Mancha," and " The Knight rf Malta,"
alias of the " Halter."
With the narrowing down of the number of competitors, the
excitement of the actors, as well as of the spectators, arose. Oa
the part of the rivals there was of course more fatigue, and les?
steady coolness than before. Perhaps it was upon this account,
that in riding the third course, three of the competitors failed,
while only one, "The Knight of Malta," succeeded, thus re-
maining, as he and every one else supposed, sole victor of the
field!
Not as they knew of, however ! " There's many a slip 'twix'
the cup and the lip," and "oft expectation fails, and most oft
there where most it promises." For while the victor knight,
bearing aloft the ring upon the point of his lanee, was careering
around the field, and the ladies were waving handkerchiefs
and casting bouquets in his way, and while the triumphant
music was pealing, and the crowd was shouting, and the trum
pets blowing, and the heralds vociferating, and the "King-at-
Arms" preparing to proclaim, through his marshals, that the
renowned " Knight of Malta" was the victor of the day, and
entitled to the honor of crowning the lady of his fealty Queen
of Beauty and Love hark! the winding of a horn, whose
piercing notes penetrated through all grosser sounds, and an-
nounced the advent of a new challenger !
And lo ! at the west gate, a vision of dazzling splendor !
Sun and stars and diamonds, how radiant ! It was a young
knight, a mere stripling, in what seemed silver plated scale
armor, that glanced and flashed in the sunlight with blinding
radiance his helmet was encircled by a diadem of what seemed
precious stones diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, that sparkled,
glowed, and blazed in rays of many colored fire, crested with a
snow white plume his steed was white, with housings of white
satin, wrought with a deep border of silver lilies, and finished
with a deep fringe of silver threads. Light, graceful, serial,
and dazzlingly radiant, was this resplendent vision ! All the
THE MISSING BRIDE. 2] 7
crowd arose to look, and then turned their half blinded eyes
away.
A herald from the King-at-Arms demanded his name, lineage,
and country.
" PRINCE ARIEL, from the Court cf Fairy."
His errand at the tournament ?
To challenge the victor knight to a trial of a dozen rounds !
This was very trying indeed, just in the moment of victory.
But by all the gallant and generous usages of chivalry, this
challenge must not be refused besides, the Fairy Prince was
such a mere sprite not likely to conquer in material contests.
The assembly also, by acclamation, demanded that the challenge
should be accepted. And it was accepted. Order was restored.
Lots were drawn for the first trial, which fell on the fortunate
Knight of Malta.
Once more, with lance balanced in his right hand, the knight
spurred on his charger towards the arch, and passed under it,
carrying off the ring. And while he rode round the area, the
crowd shouted, and the music pealed forth as before.
It was now the turn of the Fairy Prince. He was stationed
at the west gate. With a swift, smooth, wavy motion, he gal-
loped on, his silver armor glancing in the sun rays, passed
under the arch, and carried off the ring. And the music struck
up, the crowd applauded, etc.
The Knight of Malta's turn. He dashed on, with lance held
as before, and passed under the arch, bearing off the ring, amid
the usual peals and plaudits.
And then again the Fairy Prince. He sped forward, like
arrow to its aim, swept through the arch, and bore off the prize,
amid the acclamations of the impartial multidude, and the
thunders of the music.
So far the success was equal, although the Fairy Prince far
surpassed the Knight in elegance, and serial grace of carriage.
And this equality of success continued for several more rounds.
At length, however, the Prince seemed to wish to bring the
cortest to a crisis. And when his turn came round, instead
218 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
of sweeping onward like a flash of lightning, as he had done
before, he set forward in a gentle arable, until he got within a
few feet of the arch, when he backed his horse for a flying leap,
aimed his lance, and vaulted through, carrying off the ring
upon the point, and falling again into the gentle amble, finished
the course ; then turning on his road, he rode back, and in the
act of vaulting through the arch, replaced the ring upon the
hook, amid deafening thunders of applause.
This was a feat that had not been attempted before. The
Knight of Malta, thus tacitly challenged to rival this skill, de-
clined the attempt, and in all knightly courtesy yielded the
palm to Fairy Prince as Victor of the Day.
The excitement of the crowd was unprecedented. Every man
was up on his feet. Every lady was waving her handkerchief.
The band of music went mad, and raved away in a perfect
storm of triumph. The heralds nearly split their throats blow-
ing the trumpets. And the King-at-Arms, and all his marshals,
vociferated themselves hoarse, in trying to " conquer a peace."
A i length, however, silence was restored.
And then " Prince Ariel, of Fairyland," was pronounced
victor of the day, and entitled to the honor of crowning his
liege lady Queen of Beauty and Love.
Bfit who was the radiant Prince Ariel, and who was the
lady of his choice ? That was the question that excited to the
utmost the interest of the breathless assembly.
He had received the crown from the King-at-Arms, and was
about to indicate his queen by the act of coronation ! What
lady would she be ?
He now rode around the area, bearing the crown in his hand,
and approaching the seats of the spectators, paced along be-
neath them, his snow-white charger prancing in its spangled
white housings, his silver armor flashing in the sun, his diadem
of precious stones burning like a circlet of fire around his hel-
met, his snow-white plume dancing above his closed vizor.
Oh, who was the dazzling Fairy Prince ?
Reader, have you ever doubted his identity for a single
moment ?
THE MISSING BRIDE. 219
Bat lo ! he has paused before a group among the spectators.
Expectation is on tip-toe ! All bend their eyes to that focus !
But how is this ? It is our rustic party from Luckenough, and
there is no fair lady in the group ! What can the Fairy Prince
mean ? All eyes are riveted to the spot. And the Commo-
dore and his party don't know what to make of it at all. The
Commodore's eyes are distended to their widest ability. And
the rest of the party wait in breathless expectancy ! They have
a faint impression that the victor is in search of Jacquelina.
The Fairy Prince now bows before the group, until the snow-
white crest sweeps the snow-white housings of the steed ; and,
placing the crown upon the point of his lance, he raises it and
Ays it at the feet of THE COMMODORE.
A shout of laughter rends the air ! The veteran blushed
olack with embarrassment, shame and anger, at what he con-
siders an attempt to turn him into ridicule. But the multitude
shout " Take up the offering, gallant Commodore ! Take it
np ! See you not that the tribute was made to your beautiful
niece, the lovely Miss L'Oiseau, whom we are sorry to miss
from this tournament, but whom we shall be glad to hear pre
sently proclaimed the queen of love and beauty !" " Unmask !
Unmask, gallant knight, and declare yourself, that we may know
whom to name when we toast the victor 1"
Tremendous is the sensation, deafening the shouts and cheers
when the Fairy Prince raises his visor and reveals the golden
hair, and laughing brow, and malicious blue eyes of our Sans
Souci 1
"Oh good! that girl will be the death of me! She abso-
lutely makes my heart beat in the back of my head, and my
shoulders open and shut like a pair of clap-boards 1" groans the
overwhelmed Commodore.
220 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
CHAPTER XYII.
THE SPRITE IN THE CONVENT.
" Now is it not a pity such a merry girl as I,
Should be sent to a nunnery to pine away and die I"
THE mock-tournament had broken up in disorder the co
puny gathering into knots to discuss this last eccentricity of
Miss L'Oiseau, or dispersing to laugh at it in their own apart
ments.
The Commodore, with a grip of Jacquelina's shoulder, sent
her along before him and his party, until they reached their
own private parlor.
" And now you what shall I call you ? What shall I say to
you ? Was ever a man so bedeviled as I am 1" ho exclaimed,
standing her before him.
" Have patience, uncle ! ' Patience, and smoke your pipe !' "
" I'll be shot if I do ! Where did you get that masquerading
dress, you little minx ?"
" I ran you in debt for it, uncle ! It cost only three hundred
dollars."
" Three hun WHAT ?"
"Yes, you see, it's not real precious metal and precious
stones it's only the best o' tin and colored glass nothing's
real in it but the white plumes ! And aunty can have them for
her winter bonnet if she wants them. And that'll be a real
saving !" said Sans Souci, very demurely, her wicked eyes
sparkling with internal fun.
The Commodore trotted up and down, making short, impa-
tient turns in the narrow room, like a chafed old lion in Ins
cage, and grunting.
" Ugh ! ugh I ugh I She crushes me ! She presses me ! ]
feel like a lemo" between the squeezers, with every drop of
THE MISSING BRIDE. 221
olood starting from eyery pore of my skin. Ugh I ugh ! You
little imp of Satan, you 1 Where in thunder did you think I
was to get three hundred dollars to pay for your deviltries ?''
" Nowhere in thunder, sir."
" I wont pay for it ! there, Minx I"
" Just as you please, uncle 1 Only do remember that you
gave the agent a carte blanche to get any faney dress I should
order, and I fancied ordering this!"
" It was a breach of trust ! It was an abominable breach of
trust ! And three hundred dollars for so much flashy trash !"
" Ha, ha, ha ! be comforted, uncle ! Since you are so stingy,
let me tell you that your niece's fancy dress cost you next to
nothing. The agent hired it for her from a pantomime com-
pany I"
The Commodore uttered a cry, and dropped down into a
chair as if he had been shot. He was really shocked.
" All the fiends alive ! Henrietta, do you hear that ! Mary,
do you hear that ! She has actually dressed herself in the com-
mon property dress of some theatre or other ! Ugh 1 ugh !
ugh ! She she's a visitation of wrath ! she she's a judgment
on me for my sins ! Ugh 1 ugh 1 She's a cleaving madness,
she is ! 'A pantomime property,' you 1 Get out of my
sight this instant, you imp, before I'm tempted to murder
you !"
" Don't fret and fume, uncle it will bring on the gout !' ;
" Begone I"
" Don't fret, uncle ! I have only been joking with you I
Why I would no more wear second hand costume, than than
you would have me to do it. The agent had this suit made
to order for me and it did not cost much either a mere trifle !"
"Who can put any confidence in what you say, you elf?'*
" Everybody can, uncle 1 You can when I assure you that
I am telling the truth 1 And since you spoke of the price, let
me tell you again that this cost only "
" D 1 take the cost 1 I'm not thinking of the cost, but of
your conduct '
222 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Yes ! didn't I do it beautifully, uncle ? Aint you proud of
me now ? Aint I an honor to you ?"
"You're a catastrophe! Get out of my sight! Begone J
And don't let me see you again for a week 1"
Jacqueliua laughed, and started, her mock armor jingling
like silver bells as she went.
When the door closed after her a family council was held.
Henrietta sat there, taking things as quietly as she usually took
them. But Mary L'Oiseau was pale with surprise, dismay,
and dread, until the Commodore, turning to her, said,
" Well, madam ! What do you think I shall have to do with
this precious girl of yours ?"
" I'm sure I don't know," said the timorous creature, be-
ginning to weep. " I always knew it would turn out just so !"
"Just how?"
" I always knew Jacquelina would give you offence, and then
and then"
" Well, aod then what ? Can't you speak, Mary ?"
But Mary was weeping.
" I ask you what you think had best be done with her."
"Oh! I'm sure I don't know! I can't defend her! You
must do exactly as you think fit! I shan't interfere!"
"No matter what I decide to do with her ?"
"No, indeed! for I'm perfectly weary and worn out with
contending with her follies."
"Well, then, I'll marry her to Grim' right off!"
" Oh, no ! not that ! She is but fifteen ! she is too young !
Besides, she wouldn't consent now! She'd be sure to be
mulish ! Wait for two or three years, until she is old enough,
and Las sense enough to see the advantages of such a marriage
then she'll consent."
" Then she will be sure to do just as Edith did ! Especially
as it Till be some time before Luckenough is built up, and we
shall have to board in the village, where we shall see all sorts
of people, and she'll have beaux, and who can prevent it ?"
" But can't you send her to some convent-school for a yeai
THE MISSING BRIDE.
or two, until we are settled again at Luckeuough, or until she
is old enough to be married ?" suggested Mrs. L'Oiseau, meekly
and whimperingly.
" To a convent-school I never thought of that before let
me see now yes ! I think that will do the life is very se-
cluded, and the discipline very strict. Yes ! that is very good.
She shall go and stay a year, and then she shall come out and
marry Grim'. That is excellent 1 Really, Mary, when you're
put to it you have got more sense than anybody would thidk 1
I'll go and talk to Grim' about it!"
And, leaving the two ladies alone, the Commodore went in
quest of Doctor Grimshaw, whom, after a long search, he found
walking up and down a secluded avenue of the lawn in much
disturbance of mind. Perhaps of all her friends who had been
present at the mock tournament, Doctor Grimshaw had been
the most severely shocked and scandalized by the feats of his
betrothed. Yet now that the Commodore addressed him, and,
walking up and down with him, explained his plans in regard
to Jacquelina, Grim' shook his head. He did not like to part
with his favorite did not know what they should do without
her at home, and did not believe it safe to send her to a
nunnery.
" Do you know the partridge never can be tamed, and dies if
it is caged ? My fairy love is like the partridge. If she is put
in the convent she will drive the sisters mad, or break her own
heart. Don't send her away. Wait till we are married. I am
sure I can reform her, and make her happy also."
"Yes! but I tell you," said the Commodore, "that unless
you consent to part with her for a time, you may never marry
her! Where we are going to live it will be impossible to
separate her from young people of her own age, even from
Thurston Willcoxen, and what would you think now if I should
tell you that already her fancy has been touched by that young
man from merely seeing him at church ?"
Doctor Grimshaw started and changed color jealousy had
entered his heart for tin first time jealousy uf the elegant
Thurston Willcoxen.
224 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" He must not be permitted to form her acquaintance ! He
must not be permitted to enter the house where she lives !"
"I should like to know how that's to :oe prevented while we
are boarding, unless I send her to school as I purposed."
" Something else must be thought of. I cannot lose her so
ciety. And I cannot consent that she shall suffer constraint.
We must find some other plan."
While Doctor Grimshaw was thus pleading the cause of his
elfish love, a waiter approached and handed him a little tri-
angular note. His sallow face flushed when he saw that it waa
from Jacquelina. It contained the following flattering pro-
position : That as her mother and her aunty had declined
being present at the fancy ball of that evening, and had de-
termined that she should not appear unless escorted by Doctor
Grimshaw therefore she had decided upon taking a character
which would afford him a fitting opportunity of attending her
in costume she should appear as Beauty in the fairy tale of
"Beauty and the Beast." Would he therefore please to come
us the Beast ? She had selected this, she said, in consideration
of his convenience, because it would require so little modifica-
tion of his usual appearance and manner. If he did not like
that, however would he be Yulcan to her Venus? She
offered him the choice ; she only wished to please him, she was
pure.
Dr. Grimshaw was not unaccustomed to this style of com-
pliment from the highly provoked and equally provoking fairy.
And previous to this day he had received her witty jibes and
taunts and sarcasms with a patience and philosophy which was
not without some natural dignity, as if he had felt that a man
of his years and 'earning, and highly respectable standing in
church and state, must not suffer himself to be disturbed by the
quaint petulance of an elf. But now his bosom was vulnerable,
for his heart was sore with new-felt jealousy jealousy of the
all-praised Thurston Willcoxen. And he felt her shafts keenly.
At any time before this, he would have borne his suffering in
silence ; now, stung by jealousy, he cried out bitterly
THE MISSING BRIDE. 225
"Yes! Beast! YulcanI Ogre! Afrit! Gnome I Ghoul!
Goblin! Nightmare! Vampire! Warlock! Giraffe! Griffin!
Dragon ! Leprehaun ! Kelpie ! Old Man of the Sea ! Her vo-
cabulary of abuse is inexhaustible, and these are the Jove namea
ehe calls me by !"
"In the name of all the demons, Grim', what the d 1 does
ail you? What the furies are you driving at?" exclaimed the
Commodore, with his great round eyes staring with all their
might at his excited companion.
At another time, Dr. Grimshaw would have concealed the
tricks of his elfish love, and so shielded her from her uncle's
wrath. But jealousy is as m$an and spiteful in some stages, as
it is terrible and remorseless in others. It is said to be "as
cruel as the grave ;" it is also loathsome as the worm that
battens therein. He passed Jacquelina's little squib of a note
to the Commodore, where it acted like a lighted match thrown
into a barrel of gunpowder. The old soldier exploded into fury ;
abusing the poor fairy without measure, calling her names that
would never bear repetition here, and swearing horribly profane
oaths that he would send her to the nunnery, where she should
remain until she knew how to behave herself. And as to the
fancy ball of that night, she should not appear at it at all, i*i
any character or under any escort whatever. She should, on
the contrary, keep her own chamber, where she would have
leisure to repent of her \^ckedness, he reckoned. But for
the Commodore to reckon without Jacquelina in anything that
materially concerned herself, was not safe.
It is true he put his threat in execution and locked the poor
elf up in her room, and took away the key, lest some one should
release her. But Jacquelina laughed at his cunning, and with
the point of her scissors, inserted between the lock and the
catch, easily turned back the bolt and set herself at liberty.
And that evening, in the midst of the fancy ball, when every-
body had seen everybody else, and curiosity was satisfied, and
the excitement apparently over, a great sensation was created
by the sudden rising of a new star, who was announced as the
14
226 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Elfin Princess Maligna who never unmasked, but in the course
of the evening contrived to set more people by the ears to-
gether, and excite more lover's quarrels, and cause more sur-
prises, and panics, and starts and tremors, than had probably
ever afflicted any one night, since " the morning and the even-
ing were the first day." And at cock-crow she vanished. No
one could have sworn to the identity, but it would have been
impossible for Jacquelina to have proved an alibi during th<j
hours passed by the Elfin Princess at the fancy ball.
The next morning the fay was cited to appear before the
family court, which held its session in the private parlor. And
there she was informed of her doom, to be sent to the nunnery
to school for one year.
To the surprise of all, Jacquelina received this sentence with
great calmness only her eyes were really flashing beneath their
demure lids, her lips were puckered up with a suppressed smile,
and her whole form and face were instinct with the concealed
anticipation of some unprecedented mischief and delicious fun.
Oh 1 she was willing to go to the nunnery, certainly 1 there
was nothing she would like better or so well I And so it was
settled.
The season at Bentley was now over. The visitors in num-
bers were leaving. And the family of Luckenough prepared
to follow their example.
They returned to the lodgings at B , where they were
once more settled by the middle of September. Preparations
were then commenced for the outfit of Jacquelina. Her mother
wept incessantly at the thought of parting from her darling
though willful child, from whom she had never been separated
in her life. Jacquelina sought to comfort her.
" Don't fret, Mimmy ; Pll be back in a week!" she said, mys-
teriously.
" Not so soon as that, my dear, I know. But, oh ! Jacky, I
never loved but you ; and I do hope that your conduct will ba
BO exemplary that your uncle will soon shorten the term of
vorr imprisonment, and recall you For I know that if he hears
THE MISSING BEIDE. 227
good reports of you from the sisters, he will sacrifice the price
of the whole term, and bring you home before it is over ; for
with all his faults, he is not stingy."
" No, indeed ! And never you mind, Mimmy, my conduct
shall be such that I will return in a week!"
11 1 hope so, indeed, my love ; but it will not be quite so soon
as that, I fear 1"
" Oh, Mirnmy, you always fear something ! I tell you / shall
behave in such a way as to be brought back in a week /"
"Well, my love, may be so ; but I fear your old uncle wont
trust so sudden a reform as that 1"
The convent-school selected for Jacquelina, was that of St.
Serena, situated on Mount Serena, in a distant, hilly, and highly
picturesque county. The day of her departure arrived, and
with many tears the members of the family took leave of Jac-
quelina, who, with ill suppressed mirth and mischief peeping out
from under her downcast eyelids, and out of the corners of her
pursed up lips, entered the carriage with her uncle, and com-
menced her journey. The afternoon of the second day brought
them near their journey's end.
There is not in all the south a more beautiful country than
that which surrounds the convent whose name I shall purposely
veil under that of Mount St. Serena. It is broken, hilly, and
mountainous, clothed with fine forests, watered by crystal
streams, and varied by rocks, caverns and waterfalls.
A road through this highly picturesque scenery, running now
by the side of a forest-shaded river, now under the shadow of
some extended cliff; winding now around the base of some
wooded hill, and now through the tortuous defile of some moun-
tain pass, brought our travelers finally within the precincts of
the convent grounds.
A carriage drive through a fine piece of woods led them tj
the banks of the narrow, rock-bound, forest-shaded, beautiful
riTer, St. Serena, where a ferry boat waited to take them across.
Upon the rising ground on the opposite side, in the midst of
a grove of trees, gleamed the white walls and chimneys of th
228 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
convent buildings. The main building, and all the lesser ones
dependent upon it, were in the pure and elegant style of Gre-
cian architecture. The grounds around them were highly im-
proved and adorned with artificial lakes, grottos, groves, groups
of statuary, arbors, shaded walks, and everything that wealth
in the hands of taste could procure to perfect them in beauty
and pleasure. And surrounding all was the undulating, hillj
and mountainous country that I have described.
The carriage containing our travelers entered the ferry boat,
and was poled across the river.
Passing up a gentle ascent, they entered by a handsome gate
opon a graveled and elm-shaded drive, that conducted them up
to the front of the convent a handsome, white granite front,
with a portico supported by light Ionic columns, running the
whole width.
Here the carriage stopped, and the Commodore alighted,
followed by Jacquelina, whom he led up the marble stairs to
the main entrance.
The door stood wide open, and at once they entered the hall,
across which, about six feet before them, stretched an iron gra-
ting, behind which sat a closely-veiled nun, with a great key
this was the porteress of the nunnery.
The old Commodore, keeping a respectful distance, bowed
low and explained his business, and requested to see the Mother
Superior,
The porteress, without raising her veil, merely pointed to a
door on their side of the grating, and on the left of the hall.
The Commodore bowed again, and conducted Jacquelina
through that door into a plainly but neatly furnished parlor,
across the centre of which, from side to side, and from floor to
ceiling, ran the same iron grating.
Silently behind the grating appeared the shadow of the Lady
Superior. She was a comely and benignant looking woman, of
about thirty years of age, and spoke in a voice so pleasant that
it* tones haunted the ear for days afterwards.
.As everything had been pre-arranged by an epistolary cor-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 229
respondence between herself and Commodore Waugh, there was
now nothing to do but to deliver Jacquelina into her hands, and
take leave.
The Commodore's heart sank lower and lower as the instant
of departure hastened on. He detained his little " Minx" as
long as possible he would even now have gladly taken her
back with him, had such a step been advisable for the pros-
perity of his private plans he wished to gather her to his bo-
som and kiss her fondly but he durst not do so within those
holy walls, or in that holy presence; so, pressing her hand, and
bidding her " be a good girl," and finally kissing her cheek in
the most decorous manner, he took leave and departed, bitterly
regretting the untoward fate that compelled him to leave his
" Monkey" in " that gloomy prison," as he chose to miscall the
most beautiful and enchanting place under the sun.
Never distress yourself, Commodore ! It would be difficult
or impossible to reduce Jacquelina to a strait from which she
could not deliver herself just as soon as she pleased. And
while you are bemoaning her fate as you roll along towards
home, her little head is busy in the devising of new mischief,
which shall make you lament and deplore with much better rea-
son than you do now.. As the Mother Superior led Jacquelina
along, she addressed her in a pleasant voice, saying,
" My dear, are you fatigued, and would you like to go to
the dormitory and lie down ?"
" No, mother, I am not the least tired."
" This is the recreation hour, and the pupils, your future
companions, are in the back lawn, amusing themselves ; per-
haps you would like to join them ?"
" Yes, mother."
The lady then conducted Jacquelina through the great hall.,
down the back stairs, and out into the back lawn where a
peerless vision of beauty burst upon the sight of the youi.g
girl.
If the grounds in front of the house were admirably laid out
ttnd adorned, those at the back were far more charming froic
230 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
natural beauty. In the midst was a small crystal lake, or
pond, half surrounded by trees ; green mounds and groves of
trees stood here and there ; and rocks and ravines, and banks
of wild flowers and parterres of cultivated plants, diversified
the scene. These grounds were terminated by or rather ran
into a fine piece of woods that climbed up the sides of steep
hills.
Here were assembled about one hundred young girls from
the ages of seven to seventeen engaged in various amuse-
ments. Some were skipping ropes, some trundling hoops,
some swinging, some mounted on Shetland ponies were pacing
around the outskirts of the grounds, and some were in little
boats rowed by the nuns upon the lake while others of quieter
temperaments, were cultivating the flowers in the parterres, or
gathered under the shade of trees, were dressing dolls or tell-
ing stories.
" Young ladies," said the Mother Superior, as she appeared
with Jacquelina, " this is Miss L'Oiseau, of St. Mary county.
I hope that you will make her welcome, and make her feel at
home among you."
Then calling one or two girls of about Jacquelina's own age,
she introduced her to them, and left her i their care.
But our fairy scarcely needed their introduction and patron-
age ; wherever there was youth and high spirits to be excited,
or dullness to be exasperated, or mischief in any shape or form
to be done, there was Jacquelina " at home."
And soon the sprite had thrown herself like yeast into the
crowd of young folks, and soon the whole mass was rising in a
state of fermentation. The swings flew higher, the skipping-
ropes turned faster, the Shetland ponies no longer paced, but
galloped, reared and pranced with their riders, and the little
skiffs no .onger floated gently, but dashed and splashed among
the sparkling waters, as if a whole shoal of water nymphs were
at play, until the nuns who rowed, assured their romping pas-
sengers that if they did not cease their sports, they would upset
the V~>ats. Even the quiet girls who had hitherto found ex-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 231
ritement enough in tending flowers and dressing dolls, or tell-
ing stories, now arose and contended with the others for tho
possession of the swings and skipping-ropes. In a word, the
whole pleasure grounds were in a state of irrepressible effer-
vescence, when the supper-bell rang and three or four Sisters
came out to marshal the girls to the refectory.
When supper was over, the crowd separated into their
class-rooms, for the evening studies, after which they prepared
to go to their various dormitories.
CHAPTER XVIII.
APPARITION IN THE DORMITORY.
" Art thou a MAN." Macbeth.
JACQOELINA was assigned a place among the elder girls,
whom she accompanied to their sleeping apartment, which was
situated on the second' floor.
Nothing in the convent that I have already described, excelled
this place in beauty and purity of aspect ; it seemed the very
temple of Vesta the innermost sanctuary of youth, beauty, and
innocence
It was a long room, with snowy walls and ceiling and floor
flanked by two rows of windows, with snowy linen blinds fur-
nished with two rows of white beds, and their heads to the
frail between the windows, and each closed in with curtains of
Irhite dimity.
Now, standing at the entrance of this pure sanctuary, look
ap the clear vista between the lines of snowy beds to the oppo-
site ext-emity of the room, and see a beautiful arched shrine,
232 MIKIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
relied with the most delicate lace, which festoons each side, re-
veal, within, a life-like image of the Yirgin, in white robes,
with her meek hands crossed upon her sinless bosom, and her
meek eyes bent as in thought. Some young girl's devotion has
place 1 upon her brow a wreath of fresh, fragrant, white roses.
To a poetic eye she seems to stand there the guardian of tlie
slumbers of pure and beautiful young girlhood.
In the corners, to the extreme right and left of the Yirgin's
shrine, stood the bedsteads occupied by the two nuns who had
charge of this dormitory, and the young girls who slept in it.
These beds differed in no respect from those of the pupils, ex-
cept they were a little larger.
Of the two duenna-nuns, Sister Agnes was a middle-aged lady,
of severe and stately presence and stern rule.
Sister Rose was a woman of twenty-five, with a fresh, girlish
countenance, and a pleasant smile and voice.
When Jacquelina was fipet introduced into this sweet, pure,
peaceful retreat, she felt a sudden sharp pang a sense of some-
thing unquiet, inhuman, elfish in her nature, at variance with
the beautiful character of the scene some discord at war with
this harmony some chaos incompatible with this order some
evil, in short, that she wished was not there.
Quietly each girl went within her own curtains to undress and
go to bed. A few only gathered around the smiling Sister
Rose for a good-night kiss. Some of the most warm-hearted
and demonstrative, threw their arms around the beloved Sister
and embraced her cordially.
But the stern Sister Agnes frowned upon such freedoms, which
she declared appertained to " inordinate and sinful affections of
the flesh."
This drew upon her the lightning flash of Jacquelina's eyes,
and, alas! put to flight all the fairy's redeeming thoughts, and
inspired her with a project of mischief which she resolved to
put in execution, for the benefit of sour Sister Agnes, that very
night. It was an unpardonable piece of diablerie, for which I
rtan offer no palliation, except that the poor elf was on tho higa
THE MISSING BRIDE. 233
road to destruction, with not one wise friend to intervene and
sa\ e her. And when you are inclined to severely blame poor
Sans Souci, remember her educators.
At last, all the young creatures were in bed, with their cur-
tains drawn around them all except Jacquelina.
"Why don't you retire, my love?" inquired Sister Rose.
"Because I haven't got my night-clothes," said Jacquelina.
" Haven't got your night-clothes why how is that, my deal,
where are they ?"
"Packed up in my trunk, wherever that may be."
'Oh! yes, to be sure. I beg your pardon, my dear. It was
my business to have attended to this but I really forgot it. I
often do forget things. Come with me, my dear, into the ware-
room ; your trunk is there," said Sister Rose, taking up a taper,
and leading the way.
They passed down a long passage, at the other end of which
was the door leading into the wardrobe wareroom, where the
clothing of the girls in this dormitory was kept, and where
Jacquelina's trunk remained as yet unpacked.
They entered, and while Sister Rose stood with her eyes bent
upon the ground, pattering an Ave, Jacquelina knelt and un-
locked her trunk, took from it a night-dress and another suit,
(of which more anon,) and wrapping them together in a tight
bundle, locked her trunk again, and arose to her feet.
" It seems to me you have a large bundle there, my dear,"
said the Sister.
" Yes, i have other garments besides the night-dress," said
Jacquelina.
" Ah, yes ! I suppose, after traveling you need a change.
1 hat is all right, under the circumstances. But hereafter, my
lear, remember that the pupils change only on Sundays and
Wednesdays, and or. those mornings you will find clean clothes
laid out upon your bed," said the Sister, and taking her taper,
she paced soberly along, leading the way back to the dormitory,
and followed by Jacquelina.
When they entered it, Sister Rose walked up and Bat
234 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
her wax taper before the shrine of the Virgin, where it waa
intended to burn all night. Then she pointed out to Jaeque-
lina the bed she was to occupy, drew her up, and kissed her
cheek, saying,
"Good-night, love. I hope you will be happy with us. I
hope you will sleep well. You mustn't be home-sick. All of as
are separated from our parents and friends here, but we are
very happy as you will be after a few days. Good-night, and
pleasant dreams to you, dear !"
And the kind Sister kissed her once again, and let go her hand.
And Jacquelina felt a twinge of compunction as she took
herself and her mysterious bundle within her own curtains.
She undressed and laid herself down, to wait until she should
be reasonably sure that everybody in the room was asleep, be-
fore commencing operations.
Occasionally she peeped out between her curtains how
sweet and calm and pure was the aspect of the room, with its
score of slumbering beauties, and the sleepless eyes of the
Yirgin watching over them ! Oh, elfin Jacquelina, how could
you bring wild confusion and dismay into such a sweet and
peaceful scene ?
She lay back upon her pillow, anxiously listening, until they
should all be locked in the arms of slumber.
Occasionally was heard the soft rustling of some young crea-
ture in her bed, like the fluttering of some young bird in its
nest. But soon all these sounds ceased. The fair sleepers
were all in the land of fairy dreams.
But it seemed to Jacquelina that the sour Sister never would
go to sleep that she found no more favor in the eyes Mor-
pheus, than of any other man. She sighed, and turned to the
right, and then grunted and turned to the left; and she "Ah,
rne"-ed and "Oh, dear"-ed until the elf thought surely she
must be suffering under that which is said to be the only
real misery great pain of body or remorse of mind. But it
was neither of these things it was only the sleeplessness
wised by that good friend or bitter enemy, "green tea!"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 235
that real and onlj "green-eyed monster" extant. At length,
however, Sister Agnes was also sound asleep, as was proved by
her deep and regular breathing.
And Jacquelina peeped out between her curtains, and seeing
everything still, and the Yirgin herself looking sweetly placid,
as if she did not deem much harm in her wild child's frolic,
she drew in her little mischief-brewing head, and commenced
operations.
Sitting up there in bed, she took off her night-cap and parted
her hair in boyish style on one side, letting the short, bright,
yellow curls cluster around her broad, fair forehead. Then she
laid aside her night- wrapper, and dressed herself in that other
suit aforesaid, which was no other than Cloudy's parade uni-
form! And lastly, she set the gold-laced and tasseled cap
jauntily upon her shining curls.
And then she emerged from her hiding-place, and stooa up,
as charming looking a little officer as could be seen on a sunny-
day's review 1 All alive with mischief, she stood in the midst
of the vista between the rows of snowy-curtained beds, and be-
fore the white-veiled shrine of the Yirgin, thinking whom she
should first startle out of their sleep, and out of their wits, by a
kiss ! She soon made up her mind, and with her eyes twinkling
roguishly, she tripped softly up the vist'a to the right-hand corner
bed, occupied by Sister Rose, and stood over the pretty slurn-
berer.
How serene and sweet she seemed, with her fair cheeks
slightly flushed by sleep, and one soft, white hand pressing the
crucifix lovingly, unconsciously to her softer, whiter bosom.
Jacquelina's heart warmed towards her she really wished
now, not for "fun," but for love, to stoop and kiss her as she lay 1
But in that dress ! Even elfish Jacko hesitated to do it, hesita-
ted to shock that pure and gentle bosom 1 So she stood for a
minute smiling on her. But the temptation to make mischief
was too great, and bending over her, she kissed her softly as a
butterfly lights upon a flower, Sans Souci's lips touched sleep
lug Rose's
236 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Rosa awoke, and opened her sweet eyes calmly enough, but
seeing, as she supposed, a young officer standing gazing upon
her, v$Le gave one wild, wild shriek, and covered up her head,
where she lay trembling, like a captured bird.
That shriek had roused all the sleepers.
Jacquelina dipped suddenly down, and darting along close to
the floor, reached the inside of her curtains, when she quickly
and quietly drew her wrapper over the uniform, hid the gold
laced cap under her pillow, and replaced it by her night-cap,
slipped into bed, drew the counterpane closely under her chin,
and shut her eyes, as in a deep sleep.
In the meantime, all was confusion in the dormitory. Every
girl was out of bed, trembling with undefined terror, and asking
everybody what was the matter. Sister Agnes was up also,
and scolding at the top of her voice. And poor Rose was cry-
ing, and lamenting, and wringing her hands.
Jacquelina now ventured to peep through her curtains there
stood Sister Rose, with flushed cheeks, and wild, tearful eyes,
twisting her fingers, and weeping, and protesting, and there
gathered the flock of girls in their night-dresses and bare feet,
and there stood Sister Agnes laying down the law.
" Was ever such a distraction I What can you think of your-
self, Sister Rose, to rouse all the school out of their beds with
such a shriek as that I How do you know but you've wakened
the pupils in the other dormitories, too ? And the Mother
Superior, for aught we know!"
"Oh 1 indeed, indeed it wasn't my fault! Indeed it wasn't!"
"It was your fault! If you had been thinking more of
your aves and paters, and less of vanities, you would not have
dreamed of seeing a one of those creatures !"
"Oh! It was a man, it was a man! Indeed, indeed it waa
a man ! It was a live man,' and no dream ! I never dream of
those beings ! Holy Virgin ! no Heaven forbid !"
" Yon have dreamed ! Why, you must be still dreaming !
Are you crazy ? Man indeed ! St. Mary ! I'm shocked at you I
Ct is really indecent How could one of those affairs get in I
THE MISSING BRIDE. 237
Where could he hide ? I believe you've lost your reason ! Yon
must think a great deal about such persons! The truth is,
you're too hearty ! I've noticed it a long time ! you eat too
much, and that is the reason you have had dreams ! You shall
keep a strict fast to-morrow, and after this you shall fast three
times a week, until you have somewhat mortified the pride of your
flesh. And if thai don't do, and if we are disturbed by any
more of your dreams and outcries, I shall have you deposed from
your place here in the dormitory, and sent back to your cell !
And I'll speak to Mother Ethelle about it to-morrow 1 A pretty
example for these girls ! Now, young ladies, return, every one
of you, to your beds, and let no more hysterical shrieks, from
any one, bring you out of them 1 And, Sister Rose, do you
return to yours, and be sure to repeat one hundred Ave Marias
and Our Fathers before you venture to close your eyes !" said
the angry Sister Agnes
Some of the girls turned to seek once more their pillows.
But Rose caught the robe of Sister Agnes, and said,
" Oh, Sister ! pray, pray have the room searched ! There was a
man in it!"
" Have done with such sinful fancies !" exclaimed Sister Agnes,
angrily.
" Oh, Holy Virgin ! will nothing convince her ? And are we
all to go to bed while there is such a monster in the room !"
" You certainly are frantic ! You want blood-letting ! Will
you look around now upon those well-secured windows, and
that double-locked door, and tell me, even supposing such
a creature could possibly get through the outer grate, how it
could get in here, or being in, where it could hide, or how it
could get out? You're a fool, Sister Rose! St. Mary for-
give me !"
But Sister Rose, persisted that she had spoken the truth, and
pleaded so earnestly to have the room searched, that all the
young girls, with one accord, flitted out of their beds like birda
from their nests, and looked underneath them looked every-
where went to Miss L'Oisean's bed and looked under that,
thep peeped between her curtains to see how soundly she slept.
238 MIEIAMj THE AVENGEE; O E ,
" Tired to death with her long journey, poor thing," they said,
softly closing her curtains again.
"Yes, young ladies I" said Sister Agnes, severely, "Miss
L'Oiseau is an example to you ! You don't see her starting up
out of her bed at this unholy hour of the night, to assist in
raising a confusion 1 And I hope that in future you will profit
by her example ! And now, young ladies, that you have proved
for yourselves that there is nothing in this dormitory, more sin-
ful and dangerous than your own follies, I hope that you will
go quietly to bed, and stay there. And as for you, Sister Hose,
I shall remember to do to-morrow as I said I"
And, frowning and angry, Sister Agnes retired to her couch.
And, laughing unmercifully at Sister Rose and her graphic
dream, the girls retired to theirs.
And sighing and weeping, and praying forgiveness of the
Virgin, for having permitted Satan to deceive her with a sinful
dream for such she now felt convinced it must have been
Sister Rose lay down upon hers.
And shaking her fist threateningly at the sour sister, Jacque-
lina peeped out from her curtains. The wicked fairy had not
half finished her frolic yet the best part of it was to come.
She had to wait a long time before everything was quiet the
girls would peep out and whisper to their nearest neighbors,
who would reply again. And Sister Rose sighed and sobbed
softly on her pillow. And Sister Agnes turned and tossed, and
grunted and groaned, and " oh ! dear me"-ed worse than before.
The clock struck twelve before all was again in repose. And
still Jacquelina waited nearly half an hour, to be certain that no
one awoke and watched. But at length she was convinced that
Ihey were all asleep, and all the more soundly for having been
once disturbed.
Then the elf oncp more arose, dropped the wrapper and took
off' the night-cap, arranged her yellow curls as before, and set the
jaunty middy's cap aside upon them and coming out from hev
concealment, stepped softly up to the left hand corner bed,
occupied by Sister Agnes. Her bed was uncurtained, like that
of Sister Rose ; but here all resemblance ceased.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 239
This was quite a different picture. Sister Agnes lay stretched
out beneath her coverlet, with her head straight upon the pillow,
as rigidly as if she were an effigy carved in marble, or a corpse
laid out for burial with both hands clasped upon her hard
chest, and grasping the crucifix with a grim grip, as if she had a
grudge against the blessed emblem, and meant that it should not
escape while she slept. Her stern features were sterner still in
sleep. Her eye-lids seemed as if they had been shut down and
then screwed down ; and the hard, thin, wiry, firmly closed lipa
seemed to be shut up and locked up with a key.
Jacquelina looked and laughed at that rigid figure, at thai
stern face, and especially at that severe, repellant mouth.
" Steel-springs, and rat traps, and crossed-cut saw teeth !" she
exclaimed. " I had as lief march my lips up and kiss the muz-
zle of a pistol while the fiend held the trigger 1 However, it
would never do for the uniform to show the white feather, even
under those circumstances ! So here goes ! Verjuice, verdigria
and vitriol, though, I know it's going to be dreadful !" she said,
making a very wry face as at the sight of a very bitter draught ;
and then gathering resolution to swallow it, she suddenly
pounced down, and gave the stern sleeper a rousing salute !
"Ah-r-r-r-r-r ah 1 Ah-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-oitch ! Ah-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-
oitch-awl" yelled Sister Agnes, jumping out of bed !
No hyena no screech-owl, ever screamed forth such a hor-
rible yell ! No form of English letters could give an idea of
the harsh, discordant shrieks that seemed to massacre alike the
air and the sense of hearing I Every girl sprang out of her
bed, shaking in the last extremity of terror at those awful
shrieks. Sister Rose was among them, white as her night-robe,
clasping her hands and pattering her ave. Jacquelina had run
away at the first alarm, and taken shelter in her curtains.
" Murder! murder! murder!" continued to shriek Sister Ag-
nes, like one demented.
" What is the matter ? Oh ! St. Mary, what is the matter ?"
tried the girls, wringing their hands, in the last agony of terror.
But as Sister Agnes only ran about with wild eyes, and mouth
240 M I R I A M , THE AVENGER; OR,
agape, giving forth those ear-splitting shrieks they clapped
their hands to their bruised and wounded ear-drums, and followed
her example, running about and screaming with all their might,
until soon was heard the sound of many feet, rushing in crowds
along all the passages towards the door of this dormitory. AH
the nuns, all the teachers, all the pupils, were roused up and
pouring thither, while the alarm bell of the convent was ringing
as if gone mad 1 The crowd was at the door, the girls ceased
their shrieking, and ran and unlocked it. And in pushed the
whole convent, with the Mother Abbess at its head. At her
coming the whole confusion and distracting noise abated.
" What is the matter ?" inquired the Abbess.
And " Oh ! what is the matter ? Oh ! what on earth is the
matter ?" breathlessly inquired all the nuns, novices and pupils.
" Silence, Sisters ! silence, children ! Leave the investigation
to me," commanded the Mother, of her followers. Then turn-
ing to the crowd of frightened girls, she asked, " Has anything
really happened ? Tell me the occasion of this outcry. What
is it ?"
" Oh ! we don't know ! we don't know ! But we think there
is a man in the dormitory !"
"A man in the room! Holy St. Mary!" exclaimed all the
profoundly shocked nuns, novices, and pupils.
" A man in the room impossible !" said the Abbess, while
the girls crowded around her, all talking at once, and saying,
"We were all asleep, and Sister Agnes screamed out! It
was Sister Agnes 1"
" Silence, young ladies, and let Sister Agnes come forward
and speak for herself. This is really very irregular ! Sister
Agnes, please to explain the cause of this false alarm for such
i must believe it, since it is absolutely impossible that a man
Bcould be here."
Sister Agnes came forward, turning up the whites of her
eyes, and crossing herself and amid many groans and sighs,
told the shocking story of a handsome young officer, in uni-
form, who was hidden somewhere in the room, and had come to
ber bedside and kissed her in her sleep t
THE M I S R-T X G BRIDE. 241
Among the girls who listened to this exciting explanation,
was the " culprit fay," herself, who stood theye with her flow-
ing night-dress effectually concealing the suit of uniform worn
beneath it, and with the middy's tasseied cap also hidden
tinder it.
The Lady Abbess listened to the story with a very grave
face. She was a fair and comely woman of thirty, full fifteen
years younger than Sister Agnes, notwithstanding she held, as
she deserved to hold, the superior rank. She heard the whole
tale to its close, deferring all comment for the present. Then
she calmly ordered that the room should be thoroughly searched.
And the girls started on the enterprise
" Away they ran and the hunt began,
Each corner to search, each uook to scan,
The highest, the lowest, the murkiest spot,
They searched for the culprit, and found him not."
Of course not ! Though the room was thoroughly " sifted," no
vestige of an intruder could be found. They hunted every-
where they looked under every bed, within every set of curtains,
shook all the pillows, turned up all the mattrasses, examined
the shrine of the Virgin, hunted every nook and cranny. Some
of the girls, in their zeal, turned their boots upside down and
unrolled and shook their stockings but no hidden enemy
dropped out; some, in absence of mind, opened and whirled
the leaves of their mass books, but found the pictures of men
only. In short, so thorough was the search, that if a pin had
been missing, it must have been found ! They searched every-
where, except (as usual) the right place, (Jacquelina's unsus-
pected person,) and no sign of the enemy could be seen. It
was no use there was no man there ! The alarm was a false
ore, that was clear. And got up by Sister Agnes, who vowed
and protested in vain. Nobody believed her. The girls laughed
at her, and the Mother Abbess looked very grave.
"I am very much mortified, Sister Agnes," she said, "to be
under the painful necessity of rebuking you here, in the pre-
oence of these young ladies, your youthful charge, whom your
15
242 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
irreproachable conduct should rather teach to respect yon t It
is humiliating to see a woman of your grave and sober years
and sacred calling, the subject of such vain and foolish dreams
and visions, as must totally unfit you for the post of chief
guardian to these young creatures. You will therefore be
pleased to consider yourself displaced, and to leave the doi mi-
tory this night. I will assign you a cell before I sleep. Sister
Serena, you will take Sister Agnes's vacated place."
And thus having administered justice, the Lady Abbess mar-
shaled her followers, and withdrew from the dormitory, the
crest-fallen Sister Agnes going after them ; and Sister Serena
remaining in her stead,
The young girls, exhausted by so much excitement, sought
their pillows, and soon fell asleep. And Jacquelina whispered
in confidence to her pillow, " So much for theirs* day !"
CHAPTER XIX.
DOCTOR GRIMSHAW.
There's a cold bearing,
And grave, severe aspect about the man,
As make our spirits pay him such respect,
As though he dwelt 'neath age's silvery pent-house,
Despite his years." Fanny KembU.
THIS morning came, and Jacquelina was puzzled to kno*
where to conceal her contraband uniform.
The moment was imminent. The girls were all -ising and
going into the hall connected with the dormitory, where, ranged
up and down the sides of the walls, were rows of wash-stands,
each numbered with the number of the owner.
Jacquelina rolled up the suit in the smallest possible corn-
pas 1 ', and put it under the mattrass, hoping that it might re-
THE MISSIXG BRIDE. 243
main hidden until she could devise some other hiding place fur
it. She knew it would never do to put it in her trunk, where
it would be certain of being found, when Sister Rose should
unpack it. So she was forced to leave it for the present where
it was, hoping the best.
And she went into the hall, or bathing, or dressing-room,
whichever it might be called, and had a wash-stand pointed
out for her future use. Then Sister Rose went to her trunk
and gave her out her soaps, brushes, combs, napkins, etc.
The girls were not tempted to linger over their toilets, for
there were no looking-glasses in the apartment, not the smallest
apology for one the nuns interdicted them as savoring of the
vanities of the world.
So the young ladies soon completed their hasty toilets, ud
were marched down into the chapel for matins. And when thia
was over they were marched in the same order to the refectory
for breakfast.
And all the while Jacquelina's thoughts were running upon
the awful suit of uniform, that dead body hidden under her
mattrass ! her emotions being divided between curiosity, anx-
iety, and mirth.
She had not long to wait, for just as the pupils had risen
from the table, and were marching out of the refrectory, one of
the lay-sisters came up and quietly singling out Jacquelina,
informed her that the Mother Superior desired her presence in
the dormitory.
Jacquelina was one of those creatures, who, unless she had
some great sin upon her conscience, would have jested on the
scaffold ! And as she followed the lay-sister, all sensations of
anxiety gave way to the thrilling anticipation of fun to come in
the looks of the horrified Mother Abbess and her nuns.
But Jacko was destined to be a little disappointed.
The lay-sister attended her to the door of the dormitory, ud
left her She went in. There was no one there but the Ab'
bess and Sister Rose the uniform was nowhere in sight.
" Shut the door and lock it, Miss L'Oiseau," said the Ab
bess, in a grave voice
244 MIKIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
Jacquelina did as she was bidden, saying to herself,
" I wonder if they are going to bring me before a secret
chapter, and have me inhumed alive for my frolic?" as she
approached them, half laughing.
The Abbess and Rose were standing near her bed. There
&)so she saw a, packet, neatly done up and pinned in a clean
napkin, which she felt sure must contain the uniform.
"Miss L'Oiseau," commenced the elder lady, speaking in a
giave, sad voice, "I need not tell you that the cause of the
alarm last night has been discovered. For your own sake, as
well as for the sake of our convent, and the young creatures it
shelters, I thank the saints that no one is in the secret of your
fault except myself and Sister Rose, in whose discretion I have
the utmost confidence. But after this indelicate joke, (to use
no harsher term,) I must separate you from the young ladies,
who should have beeu your companions. Until I hear from
your friends, to whom I am about to write, a full account of
this matter, you will share my apartment, and be under my
personal charge. Sister Rose, conduct Miss L'Oiseau thither.
Jacquelina's face, for the very first time in her life, blazed
with an overwhelming sense of humiliation. She had never
looked on her frolic in so severe a light she had never consi-
dered its impropriety indeed she had never considered at all
she had acted from impulse. And now that she was made to
feel and see a certain indelicacy in her practical joke, her face
burned with blushes, and her girlish shame was mingled with
indignation against those who had made her feel it. We know
that she was very perverse. Smiling and nodding her head
at the dignified Lady Superior, she said that she was content
.hat in the privacy of her room she should find ample time to
devise some new entertainment for herself, and that she was as
fertile in resources as any Jesuit among them ! And so saying
she followed Sister Rose.
The abbess wrote that day, and in the course of a day or two
came an answer from Commodore Waugh, enclosing a letter
to his neice. His letter to the Abbess explained something
THE MISSING BRIDE. 245
of Jacquelina's naturally elfish nature assuring her that it was
for the cure of this very fault that he had placed her under the
charge of the pious sisterhood ; bagging her not to consider
her fault too severely saying that what, k n a model young lady
Df society, might be deemed a shocking impropriety, was, in
nis wild little Jacko, a mere venial error, entreating her to ac-
cept the apology and atonement that he should command his
niece to make ; and to try her a little longer.
The letter to Jacquelina was quite another matter it wa3
shcrt not sweet, but crusty and characteristic. I apologise
for the necessity of introducing it.
BENEDICT, Oct. 15th, 1821.
You Little Demon ! If you don't go down on your knees
and beg sister What's-her-name's pardon, and put yourself
right with Mother Thingamy, I'll come and give you the con-
foundedest keel-hauling that ever you had ! I'll be shot if I
don't ! NICHOLAS WAUGH.
This edifying admonition restored Jacquelina to herself, by
putting to flight all her new feelings of maiden propriety, and
bringing back by association, all her love of fun, frolic and
deviltry. Laughing immoderately she seized her pen and wrote
as follows :
CONVENT OF ST. SERENA, Oct 16th, 182 .
Dear Uncle Nick : Haven't the least intention to go on my
knees to any being under God wouldn't do it to save myself
from death or my soul from purgatory 1 Haven't the least idea
either who you mean by " Sister What's-her name," or " Mother
Thingamy" nor what manner of punishment " the confound-
edest keel-hauling" may be. But I know one thing I'm fuller
of fun than than Grim' is of fanaticism ! And if you don't
come in two days from this and bring me home, I'll
leave you to imagine what I'll do next !
Your dutiful niece,
JACQUELINA
246 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
This note was sealed and dispatched. And what do yon
think was the result of it ? Why that in about another day
and a half, Commodore Waugh came in a state of mind be
tween a panic and a fury, and took his exemplary niece home.
The journey was performed on the part of the Commodore
in unmitigated sulkiness. Only once had he condescended to
address Jacquelina, and that was only to inform her that he
was tired of the responsibility of taking care of her that it
was necessary he should secure her from future harm, and that
as soon as they should arrive at home, she should forthwith be
married to Grim' that is, if Grim' would have such an un-
worthy piece of goods as herself.
" He'd better not," laughed Jacquelina. " I'd be the death
of him in a twelvemonth."
Little did the fairy dream she had uttered a prophecy 1
The Commodore condescended to make no comment on her
words, and the journey proceeded in silence.
They reached home at the close of the second day.
"What did I tell you, Mimmy ?" exclaimed Jacquelina,
throwing herself into her mother's arms. Didn't I say I'd be
home in a week ? and here I am !"
" Oh! Jacquelina 1 you will ruin us both ! you will break my
heart !" cried Mrs. L'Oiseau, repelling her caresses and push-
ing her away. Not that she was shocked and angered by Jac-
quelina's frolics, as that she was afraid, poor piteous creature,
to show her child any affection in the Commodore's presence.
Mary L'Oiseau, in her humble home at Old Fields, had pos-
sessed some self-respect, if little self reliance, but the promising
change in her prospects the domination of Commodore
Waugh, and the hopes and fears concerning the inheritance of
Luckeuough, had been sufficient to disturb the whole frets
action of her soul, and make her the shrinking, cringing,
timorous creature that we find her now. She was afraid to be
kind to her daughter lest she should offend the Commodore.
She was not afraid, by submitting to the Commodore, to offend
God. For mivh as she dreaded the dies irea, yet wneii tne
THE MISSING BRIDE. 247
frar of God and the fear of man contended in her bosom, the
nearest dread, the fear of man prevailed. So she kept her
daughter at a cold distance. Mrs. Waugh only dared to be
kind to Jacquelina.
The Commodore was amusing himself by making his family
as uncomfortable and anxious as he possibly could under the
circumstances.
Their apartments at the village hotel were extremely limited
consisting only of a small parlor and two tiny bed-rooms,
one occupied by himself and Henrietta, and the other by Mary
L'Oiseau and Jacquelina the whole suite, you perceive, scarcely
big enough for the Commodore to "blow out" and storm in.
So for hours after breakfast he would sit in the big arm chair
in the parlor, puffing great volumes of smoke from his tobacco-
pipe, and filling all the rooms and scenting all the window-
curtains, bed-draperies and wearing apparel with the stifling
vapor, till between smoke and fear, Mary L'Oiseau was always ill.
And bad as that was, it was not the worst that only in-
flicted discomfort ; another practice gave the greatest uneasi-
ness the Commodore would spend his afternoons and nights
playing cards and losing money in the bar-room.
How long this would have lasted, or how far it might have
progressed, it is impossible to tell ; had not " Locust Hill," the
place of Mr. Hughes, deceased, been advertised for rent. And
as Luckenough was far enough from completion, and as the
Commodore himself was smothering for want of space, he
rented it at once, sent to Baltimore for furniture, which he
said would do to help to refurnish Luckenough. As soon as it
arrived he went once more to housekeeping.
" Locust Hill " was a moderate sized country house, situated
on a gentle elevation, just outside of the village, and sur-
rounded by a grove of the trees from which it was named.
More servants were sent for from the quarters at Luckenough,
and here the family found themselves, as to external surround
ings, tolerably comfortable in body, if bodily comfort could co-
exist with suc\ arxiety of mind as they *vere called upon to
endure.
248 MIRIAM, THE AV-ENGEK; OK,
For, oh 1 the Commodore continued his visits to the village
hotel, where he would frequently play until he lost a large sum of
money, and then he would come home in the most ungovernable
rage with the whole family swearing that they were the mosfc
extravagant set of people that had ever ruined a man or brought
themselves to beggary that he would not be trampled on by
them any longer that Henrietta should be cut down to one
quarter of her present outlay for household provisions, and
that that little devil should be married to Grim', or should tramp
with her fool of a mother forthwith ! And that was all poor
Mary got for her submission. Such threats regularly sent her
to bed with a sick headache. And he swore that in his own
house he was "supreme ruler," and meant that they should
know it, too ! And, indeed, with the sums of money he was
losing at the gaming-table, and the sums he was expending in
the rebuilding of Luckenough, Henrietta became so alarmed,
that, with the piteous ineffectual manner of women under such
circumstances, she began first to economise in her personal
comforts saving pennies while he was wasting pounds.
Among other things whereas she had been accustomed to
have two or three seamstresses in the house twice a year, to
make up the clothing for the plantation negroes now she and
Mary L'Oiseau undertook, with the help of the maid Maria,
to do the whole work, and night after night they might be seen
gathered around the table, sewing diligently by the light of
two home-dipped tallow candles.
Now what do you think the Commodore actually did upon
one night? Coming home from the village, after having lost
more money than usual, he seized one of these candles, and
turned it down into its socket, exclaiming,
" I'll b shot if retrenchment mustn't commence somewheie!"
And the building up of Luckenough! The architect and
Lis subordinates had a time of it 1 For it was the first time that
the Commodore had ever had the importance and excitement
and enjoyment of a builder and every morning he rode ovei
to Luckenough and passed the forenoon in " dragooning" the
THE MISSING BRIDE. 249
Contractor, and driving the workmen, making them pull down
this, and alter that, and put up the other, in open defiance of
all rules of building, until the men were nearly driven to their
wits' ends, and the time and cost of completing the house was
extended indefinitely.
Indeed all family, dependants, and hired assistants, were
so thoroughly worn out with the Commodore, that his best
friends in their hearts prayed for the coming of the fogs and
rains of November, that should literally " lay him up by the
legs" in his own room, and confine his domination within
limited bounds.
At last, towards the latter end of November, their prayers
seemed answered, and the Commodore, swathed in flannels, and
wrapped in blankets, reclined in his great easy-chair, with his
leg laid out upon pillows on another.
And from the neighborhood of this chair, Henrietta sedu-
lously kept everything that could be used as a missile, even his
crutch. His meals used to be served on a little stand beside
his chair but one day he threw a fork at poor Maria, wound-
ing her face, and narrowly missing destroying her eye. And
after that, Henrietta cut his victuals up into small mouthfuls,
and sent him up a teaspoon to eat with.
You may imagine the furious storm that arose then, and
how the Commodore hurled plate, bowl and pitcher all through
tie window-glass into the yard.
But Henrietta told him it was of no use, that though every
member of the family, from herself down to the least servant,
should serve him faithfully, yet she could not have people,
especially poor, helpless maid-servants, killed, crippled, or
blinded in her house ; that she should certainly send him no
more knives and forks, and if he threw another china plate
through the window sash, she should send him up his food on a
large cabbage leaf, and his drink in a gourd. If he would act
like a madman he must be treated as such people were
not to be exposed to wanton injury, nor property to wanton
destruction.
250 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
A notable blessing was the result, for the Commodore swore
i furious oath, by all the demons, that not one of the family
should enter his room again during his illness, that he would
be nursed only by Grim', and waited on only by Festus
(" Stupe").
This new law was immediately executed. Grim' was sum-
moned and installed as nurse, and Festus brought from Luck-
enough and established as waiter, to the inexpressible relief of
the sorely fatigued and harassed family.
And all went on smoothly enough for a while, until one day,
when Grim' was dressing the swollen limb, Festus, with a basin
of hot water, approached trembling, as he always did when he
drew near his dangerous and uncertain master.
" Drop that basin on my leg, you little rascal, you!" vocife-
rated the Commodore, seeing how shakingly he held it.
When forthwith Festus, the literal interpretist, dropped the
basin upon the leg, as he was bid.
A horrible yell burst from the Commodore, who, with one
galvanic bound, overset Grim', and seized Festus by the ears,
and dragging him up within the bear hug of one arm, pum-
rneled him with the other until the boy was black and blue,
and the Commodore himself exhausted.
This brought on a severe crisis of his disease. He had to
be put to bed, the doctor had to be summoned, and a long and
serious fit of illness ensued. Mrs. Waugh, of course, was im-
mediately reinstated.
Dr. Grimshaw, at the Commodore's invitation, became an
inmate of the house, which was so convenient to the village
where his daily duties called him.
Whenever the Commodore was sufficiently free from pain
and fever, Mrs. Waugh and Mary L'Oiseau were sent from the
loom, and Grim' was summoned. And long consultations
were held by the two conspirators in the sick room.
The result was, that Dr. Grimshaw became the daily perse-
cutor of Jacquelina.
But the beautiful elf mocked and derided him ' turned him
into all sorts of ridicule ! laughed him to scorn 1
THE MISSING BRIDE. 251
And the more she charmed and fascinated him oy her laugh-
ter and her sparkling wit leveled at himself though it was-
the more impassioned he became ; declaring that her girlish
Bcorn was but the effervescing bead upon the champagne
showing the excellency of the wine.
And the more earnest he became, the more unmercifully shs
jibed and jeered at him the more immoderately she laughed.
Until one day when, as he vowed in his singularly sweet
tones that he loved her to distraction, she ordered him to go
down on both his knees and tell her so ; and then, and not till
then, she would give him an answer; for how dared he make a
declaration of love to her from any other position ? And when
the lost, infatuated man actually obeyed her laughing behest,
and dropped upon his knees at her feet, she fell back in her
chair, and laughed herself nearly into convulsions. The Pro-
fessor began to feel humilitated and indignant, and once or
twice made a start to rise ; but, between her peals of laughter,
Jacquelina raised her finger and told him no ! that he was to
Btay there, and wait for her answer. And there she kept him
until she became tired of the fun ; then, recovering from the
iast paroxysm of her laughter, she said,
" Doctor Grimshaw, not to keep you in suspense, I never
intend to be married at all ! I scorn the idea ! And, least of
all men, would I have you! for, dearest Ghoul, not to flatter
you, I bad as lief wed Old Time, with his scythe, or Death,
with his skull and cross-bones !"
His teeth closed with a snap he started up with a spring,
and darting upon her a look of mingled longing and hatred,
he hissed,
" Very well ! we shall see that \V
" Why, what does the Fright mean?" said Jacquelina, arch*
ing her eyebrows and pursing her lips; " are threats and ill-
temper the way to win a lady's love ?"
But Grim' had gone gone to answer a summons from the
Commodore, sent an hour before.
Now, Doctor Grimshaw was no fright, though by no means
10 handsome as tin partial eyes of the Comnmdoro found him.
252 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
His appearance was singular and somewhat repellant. He
was extremely tall and thin, with rounded, stooping shoulders,
like those of the Commodore himself. He chose always to be
clothed in a tight suit of solemn black a style of dress that
was characteristic of the man, and which exaggerated the tall,
thin, spectral look of his figure, and the pale, livid hue of his
complexion. He had black hair and eyes, and eyebrows that
nearly met at the narrow, sunken root of his long nose; his
cheeks were hollow, and his chin projecting, and his teeth had
a habit of catching with a snap, when anything suddenly
enraged him.
One looked at him with a mingled feeling of fear, dislike, and
pity as if he were very little more responsible for the evil and
danger that might be in him, than the serpent is for its fangs
and venom ; as if his faults were those of original sin and
hereditary growth, rather than of his own willful importation
and cultivation.
Ignatius Loyola Grimshaw was a foreigner by birth ; he had
come over with the Commodore when the latter returned to hia
native country, and the influence of the old man had obtained
him his present position and standing in the county.
Some surprise was expressed, and some conjectures made,
concerning the unusual interest and great affection the rugged
old soldier bore to his protege ; but, as time passed, and the
walk of Doctor Grimshaw was exemplary to a degree, these
suspicions and conjectures gradually died out, and the partiality
of the old man for the young one was set down as one of hia
unaccountable whims. And so Doctor Grimshaw grew in favor
with man, if not with Him who seeth not as man seeth.
Such was the pet of Commodore Waugh and the lover of
Jacqnelina such the man whose love she made the object of
her merry scorn.
Poor Sans Souci 1 her laughing days were almost over !
The Commodore, like the frozen adder of the fable, was " com-
ing round" again, under the tender care of Henrietta and Mary
L'Oiseau, and was preparing to sting at least one of the handa
that bad nursed him back to life, namely, "poor, misfortnit
THE MISSING BRIDE. 253
Mi?-? Mary,'' as Jenny called her Jenny, who now freely de-
dared ".hat she was very sorry she had ever " 'vised her to go
to Old Nick.'' The Commodore swore that he knew how "to
make Jacquelina knuckle under," and that he meant to do it, just
as soon as he was able to use his limbs.
It was now the middle of December. The snow was on the
ground, and the weather was bitterly cold. One morning,
during a snow-storm that kept all the family and all the female
servants confined within doors, the Commodore seized the oc-
casion to send for Jacquelina to his room.
She came in laughing at some merry jest that she had left
behind.
But the Commodore sternly motioned her to a seat, which
she took, and fearlessly waited for him to speak.
He told her roundly that he had come to the fixed and un-
alterable determination to have her married to Grimshaw, at
Christmas and that she might go and prepare herself for an
honor that he considered far above her merits.
" So much above my merits," said the elf, nodding her saucy
head at him, "that I haven't the least idea of accepting it."
" And by all the fiends in flames ! Miss, you SHALL accept it!
I'll be shot to death if I'll be fooled by you, or trampled on by
your mother any longer ?"
"Trampled on by my mother! Holy saints!" laughed
Jacquelina, "the idea of my poor, timorous Mimmy trampling
on anybody, much less you !"
" You laugh, you limb you I I'll make you laugh on the
wrong side of your mouth before I've done with you!"
"Which -is the wrong side, uncle?"
" Silence, Minx, before I box your ears !"
" I vow, if you were to do that, uncle, I'd seize your sick leg
and give it such a loving squeeze, as would put you to bed for
another month!"
" I believe you would, you little incarnate demon ! But
listen here ! I do not mean to be foiled this time ! For, bj
nil tho saints in heaven, and all the fiends in "
254 MIRIAM, THE AVENGE K ; OR,
"H-sh-sh-sh! you mustn't speak of your future home to ears
polite!"
" I wont be balked, you little vixen you. I'll finish what I
was a-goiug to say that is, that by Satan you shall be married
to Grim', at the coming Christmas !"
"It would certainly be only by that agency, if I were for
surely no such marriage as that could be made in heaven. Look
you here, uncle," she said, half laughing, though wholly in
earnest; "I would not marry Doctor Grimshaw for Luck-
enough, and all that it will contain no, not to save his life,
nor my own, nor yours, uncle ! I would sooner see Luck-
enough burned again to the ground, and the soil ploughed up
and sown with salt, to make it a sterile desert forever. I would
sooner see Doctor Grimshaw hung, and you in your grave, and
myself in my coffin than doomed to the living tomb of a mar-
riage with Doctor Grimshaw !"
" Then, by heaven! I'll turn you out of doors."
"No you wont, by 'heaven,' uncle. You will do it by the
other agency you mentioned !" laughed Jacquelina.
" I'll give you until Christmas, to come to your senses but
if upon Christmas eve you are not prepared to marry Doctor
Grimshaw, I'll thrust you into the street to starve!"
" You can do that ! but, praise be to the Lord ! you can't
make me marry Doctor Grimshaw ! So you do as you please,
uncle ! and do it as soon as you please ! I would rather beg
my bread, free and merry, than be the wife of that man ! No
earthly power can or shall compel me to marry Doctor Grim-
shaw! Fiddle-de-dee! The very idea of such a thing!" she
exclaimed, leaving her earnestness, and by a sudden transition,
breaking into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
In a rage, her uncle drove her from the room, and she ran
off to finish her fit of laughing in her own apartment.
Poor Sans Souci ! poor Lapwing ! how little she really
of those "earthly powers," she so fearlessly defied.
T U E .MISSING BRIDE. 26J
CHAPTER XX.
CLIPPING A BIRD'S
"And the maiden's face stopped its play,
As if her first hair had grown gray
For such things must begin some day!
In a day or two she was well again.
As w.ho should say' You labor in vain I
This is all a jest against God, who meant
I should erer be, as I am, content
And glad in his sight-, therefore glad I will be.'
So smiling as at first went she." Browning.
IT is written, "Thou shalt not seethe the kid in its mother's
milk." Yet Commodore Waugh did not hesitate to do thia
thine
The only way by which he could control Jacquelina, was
through her affection for her mother for filial love was now
the sole human and vulnerable part of the fairy's nature, and
he did not shrink from attacking that point.
Jacquelina had continued to laugh at his threats, and to defy
his fury. And he felt at last that she would, in her own per-
son, brave any fate, rather than have an unwelcome marriage
forced upon her. But her mother! he meant to make her
tremble for the fate of her mother !
For a year past, that poor woman's health, unnoticed by all,
except good Henrietta, had been sinking. A close room, an
infected atmosphere, a storm raised by the Commodore, a
change in the weather, a little indiscretion in diet, anything of the
kind was enough to make her ill for a day or a week, as it hap-
pened. There was also the little hacking cough, and the after-
noon flush in the cheeks, and light in. the eyes, and elevation of
the animal spirits, that could scarcely as yet be recognized as
hectic fever. Jacquelina was too young and inexperienced,
and all the rest of the family too careless to notice the insidious
approach of death all, except Henrietta, who watched the
256 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
victim with anxiety, frequently warning her in something like
this manner, " Mary, you must attend to that cough," or,
"Mary, child, don't sit in that draught of cold 7> " or, "It uj
time you had on your flannel, Mary."
This watchfulness and these admonitions had increased so
much of late, that they had attracted Jacquelina's attention,
and directed it to her mother and the young girl noticed for
the first time that she was very thin, and that her voice was
weak, and her footsteps faint and slow yet every day, after
dinner, when the invalid had such a fine color, and such a flow
of spirits, Jacquelina was reassured. One day, however, when
Mrs. Waugh had been more than usually anxious in her
thoughtfuluess for the poor little woman, Jacquelina followed
her aunt to her room, and asked, gravely,
" Aunty ! is there anything the matter with my Mimmy ?"
The tears swam in Henrietta's eyes as she looked at the girl.
" Your mother has not been well for a long time, my dear.
She is neither well nor happy therefore you must be very
attentive to her, Lapwing, and very careful not to wound or
disturb her in any way by your frolics, or you may some day
greatly repent it."
" Aunty ! you don't mean to say that Mimmy is seriously ill ?"
" Yes, my dear, she is seriously out of health I but we can
do much to help her especially you can, Lapwing, You are
her only child, and her greatest comfort, and you must do all
that you can to serve her."
" I am sure I will, aunty! There is nothing in the world I
would not do for my Mimmy ! But you don't, you don't think
there is any danger, do you ?" she asked, as her eyes overflowed
with tears.
" Oh, no, my dear ! No immediate danger. We must be
very careful of her that is all!"
But the young girl was not satisfied a weight had fallen
upon her heart she had learned to ponder, to watch, to hope,
and to fear, for one she loved " whom death might touch."
From that day forth, she watched her mother's changing face
THE MISSING BRIDE. 257
with tenderness and anxiety, waiting on her, anticipating her
wishes, saving her steps and labor, shielding her from harm,
and from her uncle's frequent harshness, in a way that no one
would have believed of the elf
In the night she often left her bed to creep on tiptoe to her
mother's room, to ascertain if she slept soundly, and often find-
ing her awake and feverish, she would slip down stairs, and go
to the distant spring to get a pitcher of fresh water to lave her
burning head, and slake her burning thirst. These night fe-
vers would go off towards morning in a profuse perspiration,
and Mary L'Oiseau would rise, though weak, and go about the
house as usual.
But the clouds were fast gathering over poor Sans Souci's
heavens.
The Commodore had quite recovered for the time being, and
he began to urge the marriage of his niece with his favorite.
Doctor Grimshaw's importunities were also becoming very tire-
some. They were no longer a jest. She could no longer
divert herself with them. She felt them as a real persecution,
and expressed herself accordingly. To Grim' she said,
" Once I used to laugh at you. But now I do hate you more
than anything in the universe ! And I wish I do wish that
you were in Heaven ! for I do detest the very sight of you
there !"
And to the Commodore's furious threats she would answer,
" Uncle, the time has passed by centuries ago for forcing
girls into wedlock, thanks be to Christianity and civilization
You can't force me to hare Grim', and you had as well give up
the wicked purpose," or words to that effect.
One day when she had said something of the sort, the Com-
modore answered cruelly,
" Very well, Miss ! / force no one, please to understand 1
But I afford my protection and support only upon certain con-
ditions, and withdraw them when those conditions are not ful-
filled ! Neither you nor your mother had any legal claim upon
me. / was not in any way bound to feed and clothe and house
16
258 i MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
you for so many years. I did it with the tacit understanding
that you were to marry to please me, and all your life you have
understood, as well as any of us, that you were to wed Doctor
Grimshaw."
" If such an understanding existed, it was without my con.
sent, and was originated in my infancy, and I do not feel and 1
will not be in the least degree bound by it ! For the expense
of my support and education, uncle ! I am truly sorry that you
risked it upon the hazardous chance of my liking or disliking
the man of your choice ! But as I had no hand in your ven-
ture, I do not feel the least responsible for your losses. Yours
is the fate of a gambler in human hearts who has staked and
lost that is the worst !"
"And by all the fiends in fire, Minion ! you shall find that it
is not the worst, /know how to make you knuckle under, and I
shall do it!" exclaimed the Commodore in a rage, as he rose
up and strode off towards the room occupied by Mary L'Oiseau.
Without the ceremony of knocking, he burst the door open
with one blow of his foot, and entered where the poor, feverish,
frightened creature was lying down to take a nap. Throwing
himself into a chair by her bedside, he commenced a furious
attack upon the trembling invalid. He recounted, with much
exaggeration, the scene that had just transpired between him-
self and Jacquelina repeated with additions her undutiful
words, bitterly reproached Mary for encouraging and fostering
that rebellious and refractory temper in her daughter, warned
her to bring the headstrong girl to a sense of her position and
duty, or to prepare to leave his roof; for he swore he "wouldn't
be hectored over and trodden upon by her nor her daughter
any longer I" And so having overwhelmed the timid, nervous
woman with undeserved reproaches and threats, he arose and
left the room.
And can any one be surprised that her illness was increased,
and her fever arose, and her senses wandered all night ? When
her mother was ill, Jacquelina could not sleep. Now she sat
by her bedside sponging her hot hands, and keeping ice. to her
THE MISSING BE IDE. 259
head, and giving drink to slake her burning thirst, and iisten-
mg, alas ! to her sad and rambling talk about their being turned
adrift in the world to starve to death, or to perish in the snow 1
calling on her daughter to save them both by yielding to her
uncle's will ! And Jacquelina heard and understood, and wept
and sighed a new experience to the poor girl, who was
" Not used to tears at night
Instead of slumber 1"
All through the night she nursed her with unremitting care.
And in the morning, when the fever waned, and the patient was
wakeful, though exhausted, she left her only to bring the re-
freshing cup of tea and plate of toast, prepared by her own
hands.
But when she brought it to the bedside, the pale invalid
waved it away. She felt as if she could not eat. Fear had
clutched her heart, and would not relax its hold.
" I want to talk to you, Jacquelina," she said.
" Eat and drink first, Mimmy, and then you and I will havtj
such another good talk!" said Jacquelina, coaxingly.
" I can't 1 Oh ! I can't swallow a mouthful, I am choking
now 1"
" Oh ! that is nothing but the hysterics, Miminy ! ' high
strikes,' as Jenny calls them ! I feel like I should have them
myself sometimes ! Come 1 cheer up, Mimmy ! Your fever i&
off, and your head is cool 1 Come, take this consoling cup of
tea and bit of toast, and you will feel so much stronger and
cheerfuler."
" Tea ! Oh ! everything I eat and drink in this unhappy
bouse is bitter the bitter cup and bitter bread of dependaiice 1"
''Put more sugar into it then, Mimmy, and sweeten itl
Come ! Things are not yet desperate ! Cheer up 1"
" What do you mean, my love ? Have you consented to bo
married to Professor Grimshaw !"
" No ! St. Mary ! Heaven forbid !" exclaimed Jacquelina,
shuddering for the first time.
" Now, why ' Heaven forbid ?' Oh ! my child, why are you so
260 MIRIAM, THE A V F X O E R J OR,
perverse ? Why wont you take him, since your uncle has set
his heart upon the match ?"
"Oh, mother ?"
" I know you are very young to be married too young ! far
too young ! Only sixteen, gracious heaven ! But then you
know we have no alternative but that, or starvation ; and it is
not as if you were to be married to a youth of your own age
this gentleman is of grave years and character, which makes a
great difference."
"I should think it did."
" What makes you shiver and shake so, my dear ? Are you
cold, or nervous? Poor child, you got no sleep last night.
Do you drink that cup of tea, my dear. You need it more
than I do."
"No, no."
" Why, what is the matter with my fairy ?"
"Oh, mother, mother, don't take sides against me! don't!
or you will drive me to my ruin. Who will take a child's part,
if her mother don't. I love you best of all the world, mother.
Do not take sides against me ! take my part 1 help me to be
true ! to be true."
"True to whom, Jacquelina ? What are you talking about ?"
" True to this heart to this heart, mother ! to all that is
honest and good in my nature."
" I don't understand you at all."
" Oh, mother, the thought of marrying anybody is unwelcome
to me, now ; and the idea of being married to Grim' is abhor-
rent ; is like that of being sold to a master that I hate, or sent
to prison for life ; it is full of terror and despair. Oh ! oh ! "
" Don't talk so wildly, Jacquelina ; you make me ill."
"Do I, Mimmy? Oh, I didn't mean to worry you. Bear
ip, Mimmy ; do try to bear up ; don't fear ; suppose he does
tur me out. I am but a little girl, and food and clothing are
iheap enough in the country, and any of our neighbors will take
me in just for the fun I'll make them. La ! yes, that they will,
just as gladly as they will let in the sunshine."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 261
" Oh, child, how little you know of the world. Yes, for a
day or two, or a week or two, scarcely longer. And even if
you could find a home, who would give shelter to your poor,
sick mother, for the rest of her life ?"
" Mother ! uncle would never deny you shelter upon mj
account," exclaimed Jacquelina, growing very pale.
" Indeed he will, my child ; he has ; he came in here last
night, and warned me to pack up and leave the house."
" He will not dare even he, so to outrage humanity and
public opinion, and everything he ought to respect."
" My child, he will. He has so set his heart upon making
Nace Grimshaw his successor at Luckenough, that if you
disappoint him in this darling purpose, there will be no limit to
his rage and his revenge. And he will not only send us from
his roof, but he will seek to justify himself and further ruin us
by blackening our names. Your wildness and eccentricity will
be turned against us, and so distorted and misrepresented as to
ruin us forever."
" Mother I mother ! he is not so wicked as that."
" He is furious in his temper, and violent in his impulses he
will do all that under the influence of disappointment and pas-
sion, however he may afterwards repent his injustice. You
nzust not disappoint him, Jacquelina."
" / disappoint him ? Why, Mimmy, Luckenough does not
belong to me. And if he wants Grim' to be his successor, why,
as I have heard aunty ask him, does he not make him his heir?"
" There are reasons, I suspect, my dear, why he cannot do so
I think he holds the property by such a tenure, that he cannot
alienate it from the family. And the only manner in which ha
can bestow it upon Doctor Grimshaw, will be through. his vrifo,
if the doctor should marry some relative."
" That is it, hey ? Well ! I will not be made a sumpter-
mule to carry this rich gift over to Doctor Grimshaw even if
there is no other way of conveyance. Mother ! what is the
reason the Professor is such a favorite with uncle ?"
"My dear, I don't know, but I have often had my suff
picions."
262 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
1 Of what, Murray ?
" Of a very near, though unacknowledged relationship ; don't
question me any farther upon that particular point, my dear,
for I really know nothing whatever about it. Oh, dear " And
the invalid groaned and turned over.
l! Mother, you are very weak ; mother, please to take some
tea; let me go get you some hot."
" Tell me, Jacquelina; will you do as the old man wishes you?"
" I will tell you, after you take some refreshments," said
Jacquelina.
" Well \ go bring me some."
The girl went and brought more hot tea and toast, and waited
until her mother had drank the former, and partaken of a morsel
of the latter. When, in answer to the eager, inquiring look,
she said :
" Mother I if I alone were concerned, I would leave this
house this moment, though I should never have another roof
over my head. But for your sake, mother, I will still fight the
battle. I will try to turn uncle from his purpose. I will try
to awaken Grim's generosity, if he has any, and get him to
withdraw his suit. I will get aunty to use her influence with
both of them, and see what can be done. But as for marrying
Dr. Grimshaw, mother I know what I am saying I would
rather die!"
" And see me die, my child ?"
" Oh, mother I it will not be so bad as that."
" Jacquelina, it will. Do you know what is the meaning of
these afternoon fevers and night sweats, and this cough ?"
" I know it means that you are very much out of healih,
Mimmy, but I hope you will be well in the spring."
" Jacquelina, it means death."
" Oh, no I No, no I No, no I Not so ! There's Miss
Nancy Skamp has had a cough every winter ever since I knew
her, and she is not dead nor likely to die, and you will be well
in the spring," said the girl, changing color and faltering in
p?te of herself.
THE MISSTXG BP, IDE. 263
" I shall never see another spring, my child "
" Oh, mother I don't I don't say so. You "
"Hear me out, my dear; I shall never live to see another
spring, unless I can have a quiet life, with peace of mind.
These symptoms, my child, mean death, sooner or later. My
life may be protracted for many years, if I can live in peace and
comfort ; but if I must suffer privation, want, and anxiety, I
cannot survive many months, Jacquelina."
The poor girl was deadly pale ; she started up and walked
the floor in a distracted manner, crying,
"What shall I do ! Oh ! what shall I do !"
" It is very plain what you shall do, my child. You must
marry Dr. Grimshaw. Come, my dear, be reasonable. If I
did not think it best for your happiness and prosperity, I would
not urge it. No, not to prevent myself being homeless and
starving in my illness. But, Jacquelina, look on both sides of
the subject. If you do not marry Dr. Grimshaw, your uncle
will disinherit you, and send us both out, houseless wanderers ;
here is, then, on one side, beggary and a blighted name. On
the other, wealth and position. Jacquelina, my child, this is
no Arcadian world whose people can live on sentiment,
heroism, love, or, still less, on 'freedom, fun and frolic,' your
favorite watch-words. Those who are well housed, well clothed,
and well fed, have abundance to be thankful for. They can do
without the ideal raptures of love and romance, and the rest of
the nonsense that exists nowhere but in the crazed brains of
poets and novelists. Food, and clothing, and warmth, and
shelter, are the necessaries of life ; the rest is but fantastical
foolishness ; not so much amiss if they can be had in addition
to the others, but never to be purchased at their expense.
Now, if you will only be a sensible girl, and a dutiful child, and
<narry Dr. Grimshaw, you will have all these things, and a
husband who dotes on you besides. And your uncle will be
yery good to you when once you have sacrificed your will to
Ms pleasure."
411 this time Jacquelina was walking up and down the floor.
264 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
wringing her hands. Presently she carne to her mother's side,
and said,
" Mimmy, don't talk any longer dear 1 There's a bright spot
on your cheek now, and your fever will rise again, even thia
morning. I will see what can be done to bring everybody to
reason ! I will not believe but that if /remain firm and faith-
ful to my heart's integrity, there will be some way of escape
made between these two alternatives."
But could Sans Souci do this ? Had the frolicsome fairy
sufficient integral strength and self-balance to resist the power-
ful influences gathering around her ?
The clouds thickened and darkened over her head. The
circle of irresistible fate seemed closing about her. And her
efforts to dissolve the spell, and throw off the influence, were
fitful, flighty, and ineffectual. And what was it that crippled
and distracted, and made impoj^nt her resistance ? It was her
love for her sick, and helpless, and timid mother. Not much
reverence had Jacquelina for that mother not much reverence
for anything on earth, had the elf; but a tender, nursing love,
without much respect a love whose character was betrayed in
the petting and protecting manner, and the childish names by
which the young girl would addresa her parent. That poor,
weak mother was the stumbling block in her path of rectitude.
Had she been alone, her elastic spirit would have thrown ott' all
weight, and stepped forth, free and fearless, into God's world
of work ; and the forest fairy would have become a toiling
kitchen " brownie," rather than have bartered her freedom for
sloth and wealth. But the choice lay between her own happi-
ness and her mother's ease and comfort ! It was, therefore,
with something like a wild, amazed despair, that the girl some-
times realized the facts of her position, and contemplated the
impending doom. For, battle and strive as the poor thing
might, who could doubt the issue ? Neither did the Commo-
dore leave her at peace for a single day. She avoided hei
ancle as much as she possibly could, and defied him when sne
met him. As thus when encountering him on the stairs or
at the table, he would ask her.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 26.5
" Well, are you making preparations for getting married, or
for leaving the house, which ?"
"Neither! I wouldn't marry the Ogre to save the world
from a general conflagration ! and I wont budge a foot out of
the house until Mimmy gets well, to save your soul alive '
There!"
" Oh ! if it comes to that, I can put you out !"
"I defy you to do it! You'd get mobbed by your own
colored people ! not to say the whole county, when they came
to know it ! You must think I'm a fool !"
" I do think so but I advise you to be sensible, and pre-
pare for your wedding or your flitting, for the day is fast ap-
proaching."
"I don't care if it is ! A good many things might happen in
a few days ! You might have a stroke of apoplexy, you know,
which would set everything right at once ! For my part, I live
"n hopes!"
" You do ! well, I live in certainties for on Christmas Eve,
at night, you either enter your bridal chamber, or get thrust
into the wintry weather and not you alone, but your mother
too !"
" Monstrous sinner ! Oh! it serves me just right for crossing
the path of fate, and saving you from the flames. I wish to
goodness I had let you be burned up there !"
" Oh ! ho ! ho ! ho !" roared the Commodore, with his hoarse
laugh " but you see you did do it ! It was your fate to save
me, as it will be your fate, beyond your deserts, to take ' Grim'
for your lord and master.' 7
" I'll kill him first ! a horrible old Yampire ! Oh ! I wish
I were a gipsy, or circus rider, or a rope dancer, or anythiug
on earth that is free and merry."
" Yes, I dare say ! And it is to prevent your running away
with some travelling menagerie, that I intend to make you safe
nnder Grirn's control."
" I'll run away afterwards! I wont marry him at all, I mean
but if I did, I'd run away from him, the ugly old Giraffe !"
266 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Grim' could restrain you."
" I'd break his heart I I'd drive him raving mad, and mak
him commit suicide !"
" Grim' will risk that."
" I'll end it all, and drown myself, before I'll marry him!''
" And I'll risk that."
And many such conversations as this would ensue between
the uncle and the niece. And Sans Souci would always leave
him with her spirits all on fire with opposition.
And, going into her mother's room, She would exclaim,
" Mimmy ! Be a woman 1 Bear up, Mimmy ! Oh, Mimmy ! try
to get well, and help me to withstand this monstrous wickedness."
But little help did the poor girl get from her feeble mother,
tfho would still receive her pleadings with such words as these
"Oh, Jacquelinal your perverseness will break my heart,"
or, " oh, you wild, misguided child ! you will kill me."
" Mimmy, you know 1 love you better than all the world."
" I know you pretend to love me ; but you are so selfish and
hard hearted, that you would rather see me die here than gire
up your own wild, foolish will, even when to give it up would
be for your own good."
During these interviews, Sans Souci would shed the bitterest
tears she had ever shed in her life, and she would retire from
them with her spirits depressed, and her powers of resistance
much diminished.
She tried and succeeded in winning the cordial sympathy and
co-operation of Mrs. Waugh. Henrietta was the only friend
and coadjutor she had in the house. Daily and hourly she
risked the storm of the Commodore's wrath, by her silent, steady
system of opposition to his views. She would constantly inter-
vene as a shield between him and poor Mary, between him and
Jacquelina, and between Jacqueliua and Doctor Oirimshaw.
JBhe resolutely expostulated with the Commodore about the cry-
ing sin of ruining the whole life's happiness of a poor child -
oue, especially, who had saved him from a horrible death by
fire, at the imminert risk of her own life.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 267
"Ah, but the little vixen! she says she is sorry she did it
low ! And that wipes out the remembrance of the favor I"
fhuckled the Commodore.
"And you know very well that that is only Lapwing's wild
talk ! It is just like the reckless elf, to destroy the whole effect of
an act of heroism by a little petulance I You know that even now.
badly as you use her, were your life again in danger, she would
risk her own to save yours. You know it, Commodore Waugh.
You know it, yet this is the way in which you would repay her !
I don't see how, remembering that awful night when she saved
you you can persist in a purpose, that if carried into effect,
will utterly crush her glad heart, and break her high spirit
forever!"
" 0-h-h-h!" roared the old man, suddenly bringing down the
point of his heavy stick upon the floor, and thrusting forward
his huge head ; " o-h-h-h ! what right has a female to spirit ?
She has a great deal too much spirit ! She is an impudent minx,
and I hope Grim' will break her spirit, that is all !"
"I should advise him never to try ! no woman worth having
can ever be governed except through her affections, or her con-
science ! And as Jacquelina neither loves nor respects the
man you would force upon her, I should dread for him to try
the part of a tyrant he would find the most dangerous rebel
that ever tyranny created."
" I mistake Grim' if he don't know how to manage a refrac-
tory girl, as long as he has been used to governing rebellious
boys!"
" You can talk of your niece in that way I And she saved
you from a death by fire ! saved you at the imminent hazard of
meeting the same horrible fate ! saved you, when not a strong,
brave man on the plantation would dare the attempt ! She, a
young, fragile girl, dared to do it, and I firmly believe a miracle
assisted her ! And this is the way you repay her !"
" 'This is the way I repay her!' Yes, this is the way I re-
pay her ! and a very good way, too i none better ! What the
Send would you have ? I give her a large fortune, and a good
268 MI HI AM, THE AVENGER; OR,
husband to take care of it for her, and to keep her om of mis
chief, and make her behave herself!"
" I assure you, Commodore Waugh, that I shall dc all I can
to prevent this great wrong. And if it is to go on, I will have
no hand whatever in it. I will not make the slightest prepara-
tions for it, nor countenance the atrocity by my presence at the
mockery of the marriage rites 1"
" Then, by all the demons, ma'am, you are quite welcome to
keep away 1 Your room will be just as agreeable as your com-
pany !" said the Commodore, brutally.
"And more, I tell you, Commodore Waugh! if you do com-
mit the heinous crime of forcing the child into this hated mar-
riage, a curse will follow it! an awful punishment will fall
upon it ! a fatal catastrophe will end it! Be warned in time !"
" D n ! ma'am, silence with your croaking ! Do you think
I'm to be scared from my purpose by the voice of an old raven ?"
Mrs. Waugh's next essay was with Doctor Grimshaw him-
self. She seized the opportunity when he occupied the parlor
alone. She went up to him, and saying that she wished to
have a few moments of private conversation with him, she Bat
down by his side, and delicately approached the subject. She
then spoke of the general unsuitability of a marriage between
himself and her niece.
Doctor Grimshaw interrupted her by politely suggesting that
he himself might be considered the best judge of that.
Mrs. Waugh persisted in expressing her doubts upon that
very point. She spoke of the glaring disaparity of their re-
spective ages and characters her merry thoughts. Jacquelina,
she eaid, could never make a proper and suitable companies
for the grave and learned Professor Grimshaw.
Doctor Grimshaw smiled, and thanking her for the question*
able ?ompliment, begged her to understand that he did not
even expect or wish to find in Miss L'Oiseau an intellectual
companion that in his library and among his brother pro
feasors, he found sufficient of intellectual sympathy that he
*ather disliked intellectual women, and never should dream of
THE MISSING BRIDE. 269
electing one for his \dfe that in Miss L'Oiseau's delightful
beauty and refreshing wit he sought only the necessary relaxa-
tion from graver thoughts and studies.
" And she is no more intended for a pedant's toy than a sul
tan's slave 1" exclaimed Henrietta, indignantly. "Dr. Grim-
shaw you have been intimate enough with this family, and
deep enough in the Commodore's counsels to know exactly how
this matter stands. You know Jacquelina's unconquerable repug
nance to this union., and you know the motives and influences
that have been brought to bear upon the child to compel her to
receive you as a suitor. And knowing this, if you are the
man of honor that I hope to find you, you will never permit
yourself to be forced upon her acceptance !"
"Madam, being sincerely attached to Miss L'Oiseau, and
having her uncle's, your husband's, sanction for addressing her,
you cannot very severely blame me for seeking to overcome the
obstacles of the young lady's prejudices and dislike, and to win
her regard."
" Dr. Grimshaw, your specious words deceive you no more
than they do myself. You are perfectly well aware that your
suit to Jacquelina is unwelcome and distressing to the last de-
gree and if you have any manhood, not to say humanity, or
dignity, or delicacy of character, you will immediately with-
draw it."
"Mrs. Waugh's words are severe! and yet I am sorry I can-
not oblige her in this particular matter !" answered the Professor,
bowing.
" And in that case, I shall be compelled to withdraw my con-
fidence and esteem from Doctor Grimshaw!"
"I shall be extremely grieved and mortified to lose Mrs
Waugh's good opinion," said the Professor, rising and bowing
ironically ; " there is indeed but one thing to console me for
the want of it, and that is, the fair hand of her charming
Viece !"
It was with difficulty Henrietta could abstain from saying,
"Tn future, when Dr. Grimshaw honors this house with hii
270 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
presence, he will do me a favor by not addressing one word of
his conversation to me I"
But she did restrain herself, and passed from the room to
seek tne presence of Mrs. L'Oiseau, in whom her last hope of
saving Jacquelina rested.
She found her in her chamber, where, even when not confined
by weakness, she chose to remain, to keep out of sight and
hearing of that terrible bug-bear, the Commodore.
" Mary," said Mrs. Waugh, seating herself beside her, "1
come to you to tell you that you must save your child from this
hideous injustice ! Only you can do it, and you must!"
" Oh, dear ! oh, blessed saints ! what can I do ? I'm sure
my uncle frightens me almost to death with his threats ?"
" You must not, through any fear of consequences to your-
self, permit this great wrong to be done to your child! If you
do, mind I tell you it will meet with a terrible retribution.
You are her mother, and you can interpose to save her. You
can do it with authority. Only you can do it ! Rouse your-
self ! Stand by her in her trouble, Mary, and God will sustain
you ! The very birds of the air and beasts of the field defend
their young ! be up to their level, for Heaven's sake, and defend
yours!"
" Defend her from what ? Dear me, it seems as if a good
match were not such a bad thipg. I believe you're all out of
vour senses, and you want to Kill me with your scenes ! What
cat /do poor, feeble, dependent creature that I am !"
1 What can you do!" exclaimed Henrietta, indignantly;
"you can teach her by your example by your courage and
patience, to brave any fate rather than barter the integrity
of her soul for ease and wealth! You can take her by the
baud and go forth into the wide world if necessary, to seek a
home with strangers, or from charity ! You can encourage her,
protect her, defend her ; you can suffer with her, and for her-
as God knows, if she were my child, /would, rather than see he(
BO bitterly wronged 1"
" Oh ! ' whined the sufferer, " it is easy for you to talk you.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 271
who haven't got it to do. We can all of us be patient or con.
rageous or anything by proxy."
" I would I stood in your place ! I would do more than 1
have said ! I would die with and for my child, rather than see
her left to so much misery !"
"Oh, do go away! You make me nervous and feverish 1
It is bad enough to have Uncle Nick's abuse for not making
her marry Grim', without having yours for not preventing her
doing it. I am just between two fires. I do believe you mean
to drive me crazy, between you 1"
Once more upon this day an indignant scathing reply arose
to Mrs. Waugh's lips, and they burned to say, " Of all the
cowardice and meanness in this world, that which hinders &
mother from being just to her daughter certainly is the most
loathly ! There is no such thing in the brute creation ! it is
only to be found in lost human nature !" But again she bit her
lips in silence, and arose and left the room. She found Jacque-
lina in the passage, on her way to her mother's room. Mrs.
Waugh motioned her in silence to go in. Now Henrietta cer-
tainly thought she was entitled to the willful girl's gratitude for
the interest she had taken, and the rebuffs she had received in
her cause. Judge then of the good woman's surprise when, in
the course of the evening, Jacquelina came in and roundly took
her to task for lecturing her " Mimmy" into a fever.
" She can't stand it, aunty! And if you waked and watched
with her as / do every night, you'd know how bad her nights
are!"
" Oh ! child " begun Henrietta ; but whatever she was
about to say was drowned in tears, as she covered her face and
wept.
In ati instant Jacquelina's arms were around her neck.
"Aunty! aunty! dear, good aunty! don't cry! what ar
you crying about ? Have I hurt your feelings ? I nevei
meant to !"
" No ! no ! little Lapwing ! you didn't hurt my feelings "
" What are you crying about then, aun y ? Don't cry I"
272 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"About the way they treat you, Lapwing!" scbled
Henrietta.
"Don't they, thought Never mind! I'll pay them with
compound interest ! Now look here, aunty ! stop this ! if you
keep on so, I shall go ramping mad ! I know I shall ! What
do you cry about me for ? / don't cry for myself ? Catch me
at it 1 For wont I lead him a life ? Instead of breaking my
own heart about it, I mean to break his! I vow to ' Sam,' that
I'll drive him frantic, and make him run his head against a wall,
and butt his brains out before the honeymoon is over ! Oh !
Pll trwn him ! You shall see fun alive at Locust Hill ! So
cheer up, aunty ! or if you must cry ; just cry for poor Grim' !
it wii; be a charity 1"
As tiie decisive day approached, Jacquelina certainly acted
like one distraught now in wild defiance, now in paleness and
tear?, and anon in fitful mirth, or taunting threats. She rapidly
lost flesh and color, and in hysterical laughter accounted for it
by saying that she believed in her soul Grim' was a spiritual
vampire, who preyed upon her life ! She avoided him as much
as she could. And if sometimes, when she was about to escape
from him, he would seize her wrist and detain her, she would
suddenly lose her breath, and turn so pale, that in the fear of
her fainting, he would release her. So he got no opportunity
to press his claims.
One morning, however it was about a week before Christ-
mas she voluntarily sought his presence. She entered the
parlor where he sat alone. Excitement had flushed her cheeks
with a vivid crimson, and lighted her eyes with sparkling fire
she did not know that her beauty was enhanced a thousand fold
she did not know that never in her life had her presence
kindled such a flame in the heart of her lover as it did at that
aioment. And if he restrained himself from going to meet her,
it was the dread lest she should fade away from him, as he had
seen her do so often. But she advanced and stood before him.
"Dr. Grimshaw!" she said, "I have come to make a last
appeal to you ! I have come to beg, to supplicate you, for my
THE MISSING BRIDE. 273
sake, for honor, for truth and for mercy's sake, yes ! for heaven's
sake, to withdraw your pretensions to my poor hand 1 For, sir, T
do not and I can not like you ! I do not say but that you are far
too good and wise, and every way too worthy for such a girl as
1 am and that you do me the very greatest honor by your
preference, but still no one can account for tastes and, sir, I
rannot like you pray, pardon me ! indeed, I cannot help it."
Although her words were so humble, her color was still
heightened, and her eyes had a threatening defiant sparkle in
them, so contradictory, so piquant and fascinating in contrast
with the little fragile, graceful, helpless form, that his head was
almost turned. It was with difficulty he could keep from
snatching the fluttering, half defiant, half frightened, bird-like
creature to his bosom. But he contented himself with saying,
" My fairy ! we are commanded to love those that hate us ;
and should you hate me more than ever, I should only continue
to love you!"
" Love me at a distance, then ! and the greater the distance,
the more grateful I shall be!"
He could no longer quite restrain himself. He seized her
hani and drew her towards him, exclaiming, in an eager,
breathless, half whisper,
" No ! closer and closer shall my love draw us, beautiful one !
until it compasses your hate and unites us forever !"
With a half suppressed cry, she wrung her hand from his
grasp, and answered wildly,
"I sought your presence, to entreat you and to warn you!
I have supplicated you, and you have turned a deaf ear to my
prayer 1 !N ow I warn you 1 and disregard my warning, if you
dare ! despise it at your peril 1 I am going out of my wits, 1
think ! I warn you that I may consent to become your wife 1
] have no persevering resistance in my nature. I cannot hold
out forever agairst those I love. But I warn you, that if ever
I consent, it will oe under the undue influence of others 1"
"Put your consent upon any ground you please, you de-
lightful, you enchanting little creature. We will spare youi
17
274 MIEIAM, THE AVENGEE; OB,
blushes, charming as they are !" he exclaimed, surprised out of
self-control, and seizing both her hands.
Angrily she snatched them from* him.
"What have I said? Oh! what have I said? I believe I
am going crazy! I tell you, Doctor Grimshaw, that if I ever
yield, it will be only to the overwhelming force brought to bear
upon me ; and even then it will be only during a temporary fit
of insanity ! And I warn you I warn you, not to dare to
take me at my word !"
"Will I not? You bewitching little sprite ! do you do this
to make me love you ten thousand times more than I do ?"
Passionately she broke forth in reply
" You do not believe me ! You do not see that I am in ter-
rible earnest ! I tell you, Doctor Grimshaw, that were I in-
duced to consent to be your wife, you had better not take ad-
vantage of such a consent 1 It would be the most fatal day's
work you ever did for yourself in this world ! You think I'm
only a spoiled, petulant child ! You do not know me ! I do
not know myself! I am full of evil! I feel it sensibly, when
I am near you ! You develope the worst of me ! Should you
marry me, the very demon would rise in my bosom ! I should
drive you to distraction !"
" You drive me to distraction noio, you intoxicating little
witch !" he exclaimed, laughing, and darting towards her.
She started and escaped his hand, crying,
" Saints in Heaven ! What infatuation ! What madness !
It must be fate ! Avert the fate, man ! Avert it ! while there
is yet time ! Go get a mill-stone and tie it around your neck,
'and cast yourself into the uttermost depths of the sea, before
ever you dare to marry me!" Her cheeks were blazing with
color, and her eyes with light ! He saw only her transcendatl
beauty.
" Why, you little tragi-comic enchantress, you ! %what do
you mean ? Come to my arms ! Come, wild, bright bird 1
come to my bosom !" he said, stepping towards her, and throw
MIS' IP arms around lv-r
THE MISSING BRIDE. 275
" Yampire 1" she exclaimed, struggling to free herself for a
moment ; and then as his lips sought hers the color faded from
her face : and the light died in her eyes, and he hastily released
hr and set her in a chair lest she should swoon in his hated
wms.
" Xow how am I expected to live with such a wife as this
pirl would make me ? If it were not for the estate I should
be tempted to give her up, and travel to forget her ! How shall
I overcome her repugnance ? Not by courting her, that's de-
monstrated ! Only by being kind to her, and letting her alone."
Such was the tenor of his thoughts as he stood a little behind
her chair out of her sight.
But Jacquelina, when she found herself free, soon recovered,
and arose and left the room.
Why prolong the struggle ? the sorrowful, ineffectual strug-
gle of a captured bird against the net drawing around it. Grief
and fear and anxiety were new experience to Sans Souci's
sunny, buoyant nature, and most strange and startling was the
effect upon her. Defying, sinking, threatening, yielding so
alternately she passed the time.
And now in laughter now in tears,
And madly still in each extreme
She strove.
Until a day or two before Christmas, when, in the evening, she
glided in to her uncle's room and sunk down by his side so
unlike herself so like a spirit that the old sinner impulsively
shrank away from her, and put out his hand to ring for lights.
" No ! don't send for candles, uncle ! Such a wretch as I am
should tell her errand in the dark."
" What do you mean now, Minx ?"
" Uncle ! in all your voyages round the world did you ever
stop at Constantinople ? and did you ever visit a slave mart
there ?"
" Yes of course I have ! what then ? what the deuce
re you dreaming of ?"
" How much would such a girl as myself bring in the slavt
market of the Sudan's city '"
276 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Are you crazy ?" asked the Commodore, opening Ms eyes
to their widest extent.
" I don't know 1 If I am it can make little difference in yonr
plans. But as there is method in my madness, please to answer
my question. How much would I sell for in Constantinople ?"
"You are mad, that's certain! How do I know whera
beauties sell for from five hundred to many thousand zechins.
But you wouldn't sell for much, you're too small and too thin."
" Beauty sells by the weight, does it ? Well, uncle ! I see
that you have been accustomed to the mart, for you know how
to cheapen the merchandize ! Save yourself the trouble, uncle 1
I shall not live long, and therefore I shall not have the con-
science to ask a high price for myself ?"
'Mad ! Mad as a March hare ! as sure as shooting she is !"
said the Commodore in dismay, starting at her until his great
fat eyes seemed bursting from their sockets.
" Not so mad as you think, uncle, either. I have come to
make a bargain with you !"
" What the foul fiend do you mean now ? Do you want me
to send you to Constantinople, pray ?"
Jacquelina laughed, something like her old silvery laugh, as
she answered,
" No, uncle ! though if it were not for Mimmy, I really should
prefer it to marrying Grim' 1"
" What do you mean then ? Speak 1"
" This then, uncle. By what I have heard, and what I have
aeen, and what I have surmised, I am already as deep in your
secrets respecting Grim' as you are yourself!"
" You speak falsely, you little 1 No one knows any-
ihing about it but myself?" exclaimed the Commodore, betray-
ing himself through astonishment and indignation.
Without heeding the contradiction, except by a sly smile,
Jacquelina went calmly on
" And I know that you wish to make me a stalking-horse, to
convey the estate to Grimshaw, only because you cannot give it
to him in any other way but through his wife."
THE MISSING BEIDE. 277
" What do you meai, you little diabolical I It is my own
- -why cau I not give it to whom I please, I should like to
know ?
" You can give it to any one in the world, uncle, except Dr.
Grimshaw, or to one who bears the same relationship to yon
that he does for to such a one you may not legally bequeath
your lauded estate or "
" You shocking, impudent little vixen ! how dare you talk so ?"
" Hear me out, uncle ! I say, knowing such to be the case
I also know my own importance as a 'stalking-horse,' or sump-
ter-mule, or something of the sort, to bear upon my own
shoulders the burden of this estate, which you wish to give by
me to Dr. Grimshaw. Therefore, I shall not give myself away
for nothing. I intend to sell myself for a price ! Nothing on
earth would induce me to consent to marry Dr. Grimshaw, were
it not to secure peace and comfort to my mother's latter days.
Your threat of turning me out of doors would not compel rno
into such a marriage, for well I know that you would not ven-
ture to put that threat into execution. But I cannot bear to
see my poor mother suffer so much as she does while here, de-
pendent upon your uncertain protection. You terrify and dis-
tress her beyond her powers of endurance. You make the
bread of dependence very, very bitter to her, indeed 1 And well
I know that she will certainly die, if she remains subjected to
your powers of tormenting. I speak plainly to you, uncle,
naving nothing to conceal ; to proceed, I assure you I will not
meet your views in marrying Dr. Grimshaw, unless it be to pur-
chase for my poor mother a deliverance from bondage, and an
independence for life. Therefore, I demand that you shall buy
this place, ' Locust Hill,' which I hear can be bought for five
thousand dollars, and settle it upon my mother in return for
which, I will bestow my hand in marriage upon Dr. Grimshaw !
And mind ! I do not promise with it either love, or esteem, or
service only my hand in civil marriage, and the estate it hag
the power of carrying with it ! And the documents that shall
make my mother independent of the world, must be drawn uj
278 M I E I A M , THE A. V E N G E R ; OR,
or examined by a lawyer that she shall appoint, and must bo
placed in her hands on the same hour that gives my hand to
Dr. Grimshaw. Do you understand ? Now, uncle 1 that is my
ultimatum! For, please the heavens above us! come *vhat
may ! do what you will ', turn me and my mother out of doors,
to freeze and starve ! I will die, and see her die, before I will
Bell my hand for a less price than will make her independent
and at ease for life ! For, look you I would rather see her
dead, than leave her in your power ! Think of this, uncle !
There is time enough to-morrow and next day to make all the
arrangements, only be sure I am in earnest ! Look in my face 1
Am I not in earnest ?"
" I think you are, you little wretch ! I could shake the life
out of you I"
"That would be easy, uncle! There is not much to shake
out ! Only, in that case, you would have no stalking-horse to
take the estate over to Dr. Grimshaw." And so saying, Jac-
quelina arose to leave the room.
" Come back here, you little vixen, you 1"
Sans Souci returned.
" It's well to ' strike white the iron's hot,' and to bind you
while you're willing to be bound for you are an uncertain
little villain 1 Though I don't believe you'd break a solemn
pledge once given hey I"
" No, sir !"
" Pledge me your word of honor, now, that if I buy this littlo
farm of Locust Hill, and settle it upon your mother, you will
marry Doctor Grimshaw on this coming Christmas Eve ?"
" I pledge you my word of honor that I will."
" Without mental reservation ?"
"Without mental reservation !"
" Stop ! it is safer to seal such a pledge ! Climb up on tho
Bland, and hand me that Bible down off the top shelf. Brush
the cobwebs off it, and don't let the spiders come with it."
Jacqnelina did as she was bid, with a half indifferent, half
Kful air.
THE MISSING BE IDE. 279
" There ! Now lay your hand upon tnis oook, and swear by
the Holy Evangelists of Almighty God, that you will do as you
have pledged yourself to do."
"I swear!" said Jacquelina
" Very well ! Now, confound you, you may put the book
back again, and go about your business."
Sans Souci very willingly complied. And then, as she left
tne room and closed the door after her, her quick ear caught the
sound of the Commodore's voice, chuckling,
"So! I've trapped you ! Ten minutes more, and it would
have been impossible."
Full of wonder as to what his words might mean, doubting
also whether she had heard them aright, Jacquelina was hasting
on towards her mother's room, when she met her aunt Henrietta,
hurrying towards hex*, and speaking impetuously,
" Oh, my little Lapwing, where have you been ? I have
been looking for you all over the house ! Good news, dear
Lapwing ! Good news ! Deliverance is at hand for you I
Who do you think has come ?"
" Who ? who ?" questioned Sans Souci, eagerly.
" CLOUDY !"
"Lost! lost!" cried the wretched girl, and, with a wild
shriek that rang through all the house, she threw up her arms
and fell forward to the ground.
280 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
CHAPTER XXI.
A GRIM WED DIX G.
Oh! mother, mother, after this fell marriage,
Let vultures wed with larks, and wolves with kids,
And every creature with its mortal foe." New Drama.
WHEN Jacqnelina recovered her senses, she found herself in
her night-dress, lying upon her own white draperied bed. A
dim fire was burning on the little hearth, and, by its fitful light,
the room looked strange and ghostly there was something
weird even in the fat form of good Henrietta, as she stood by
the bed holding the bottle of cologne water, and the saturated
cambric handkerchief, with which she had just been bathing the
poor girl's face and head.
" What what is all this about, aunty ? Is anything the
matter ?" asked Jacquelina, in a faint, uncertain voice.
"Nothing but a little fainting fit you've had, Lapwing 1
They're not dangerous. Aunty's had more than one in her own
time, strong as she looks now, and you are getting over it al-
ready. Come 1 smell this."
"Oh! I know I know now," said Sans Souci, as memory
slowly returned.
" Aunty, will you go and send mother to me ?"
" I would rather not, my dear, She doesn't know that you
fainted."
" Don't tell her, then. Only say I'm tired and have gone
to bed, and ask her to come,"
" I would much rather not, my dear. I want to have you all to
myself to-night, to take care of you, and then to talk to you."
" Oh ! no, don't talk to me, aunty. Dear, best aunty that
ever was in the world ! Don't talk to me they've all talked t
me too much ; my head can't bear it, I believe."
" Jloney 1 about Cloudy."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 281
" Oh ! don't I know ! oh 1 never, again," she said, inco-
herently, and beginning to tremble.
Henrietta poured the cologne on the handkerchief, and
doused her forehead and temples.
"That will do thank you, dear aunty ask mother to
tome."
Mrs. Waugh got up unwillingly, and left the room to do as
*he was requested. And presently the door opened, and Mrs.
L'Oiseau came in. Jacquelina's eyes were wide open, and, in
the shadow of her festooned curtains, seemed to shine like
phosphorous.
" Are you sick, my dear ?" asked Mary, sitting down by her
side.
" No, mother, I don't know what I'm lying here for oh, yes,
I did what you told me and where was I ?"
" What makes you tremble so, child ? Collect your thoughts ;
you mentioned the purchase of Locust Hill to your uncle ; now,
what did he say ?"
" Oh, yes ! he will do it, Mimmy ! and I will pay the price
ha! ha! ha! Oh, strange!"
"What is strange, Jacquelina ? You really frighten me!
What makes you go on so ?"
" Life is ! how queer ! isn't it ?"
Her eyes were shining like two stars, and the burning in-
tensity of their gaze seemed to transfix the bosom of the weak
woman, who had then urged her child to the very brink of mad-
ness. She started up, and moving more quickly than she wag
accustomed to do, hastened to her own chamber, and brought
back a restorative, which she forced her daughter to swallow,
The cordial soon took effect, and the girl became quiet, and
spoke collectedly.
' Mother, I am afraid I'm not in my right mind something
tingles through all my nerves and veins, and leaps to the top
of my head ; and everything looks strange and grotesque to me ;
and serious things provoke laughter, and nothing looks real.
Mother am I mad?"
282 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"You are hysterical, I am afraid, child. But that is nothing,
you will soon get over it."
"Mother! Cloudy has come. His ship is at Norfolk. And
he will be here soon."
" Well, my dear what of that ?"
" Oh, I don't know. My head is very weak very weak. I
am a very fragile creature, mother. But I am not unhappy ; that
is a good thing, sure enough. I am nothing but a fay, mother ;
not half good enough for dearest Cloudy."
"Now what do you talk about Cloudesley Mornington for?
What has he to do with the subject on hand ?"
" Oh ! I don't know, I'm sure ; if I ever did, it has gone from
my mind now."
" Try to compose yourself, my dear, and go to sleep."
" Sleep ? Oh ! I'm not sleepy ! You are going to be inde-
pendent, Mimmy, and I am going to be whirled away and away
like a leaf on a stream, no matter where."
Mrs. L'Oiseau thought it now best to keep silence, so she
sat watching Jacquelina, as the poor, half-conscious girl lay
there, letting her hand wander over the quilted figures on the
Marseilles counterpane. Mrs. L'Oiseau said to herself,
" This is only hysterical ; this is the worst pass, the crisis ;
let us be firm here let her be pushed through this, and all
the rest will be smooth ; her life will settle down to the ordinary
level of other lives ; not happy, not miserable will she be, but
as others. Only one thing is certain, Cloudesley must not be
permitted to come home to this house, and I must see my uncle
about that directly."
And so, while the poor girl lay only half conscious, her mother
went out and sought the presence of the Commodore, and gave
Lim the warning.
" Oh ! I know," he said. " Who do yo.u think is a fool ? I
wrote to him this very night to stay away."
Vain was that letter ! for the very hour that saw it start from
Ihe post-office at B , saw Cloudy, full of hope and joy, leave
Norfolk for home.
THE MISSTXG BRIDE. 283
TKj next day Jacqnelma was lying in bed, too weak to rise,
when she heard a little bustle as of some sudden arrival below
stairs rising on her elbow she listened eagerly Yes, it was
CloLdesley's voice, and she heard him ask eagerly,
" Where is Lina ?"
" Here ! here ! dear Cloudy I Run up here ! Quick ! Quick,
Cloudy," she cried vehemently,impetuously rising from the tloud
of drapery around her, pale, wan, spiritual ; not like Venua
rising from the sea foam. And she heard his impatient, hasty
step upon the stairs, as he ran up, and hurried in, and hurried
to her bedside, exclaiming,
" Sick.. Lina ?"
But she rose up and threw herself upon his bosom, even as
she used to do in infancy, and clasped her arms around his neck
and burst into a passion of tears, clinging and sobbing, clinging
and sobbing.
" Jacquelina, my dear child, you must not do so ! that is very
wrong. My conscience! what will Doctor Grimshaw say?
And your uncle ? Jacquelina, don't do so !" said Mrs. L'Oiseau,
coming around from the other side of the bed.
But Jacquelina clung and wept, and felt Cloudesley's heart
swelling, throbbing against her own.
"What what is the matter?" asked Cloudy, in great per-
plexity and trouble.
" W T hy, she's engaged to be married to Doctor Grimshaw
to-morrow morning, and she ought not to do so !" said Mrs.
L'Oiseau.
Cloudy grew very pale and compressed his lips, and tried to
unclasp Jacquelina's arms, and force her off. But she clung
and wept ; crying between her sobs,
''Oh, Cloudy! let me ! let me! only this once! I'll soon
get done ! and then, and then, never come again, Cloudy.
Good-bye ! Good-bye forever !" and her hands released their
hold, and she sunk back. And, without a word, Cloudy turned
and left the room, and walked down stairs and took his hat, and,
without saying good-bye to a single soul, left the house forever.
284 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Jacquelina wildly stretched her arms towards her mother.
" Oh, Mimmy, Mimmy ! it was for your sake I did it
yours ! Oh, Mimmy, hold me, hold me to keep my heart from
breaking."
Mrs. L'Oiseau came and sat down by her and took her hand,
and began to talk to her, telling her that she was a good, duti-
ful child, that she had acted nobly and disinterestedly, and that
God would bless and prosper her. But Jacquelina shook her
head.
" No, mother, no ; what you say is not so. I have not done
well ; God will not bless me. But oh, Mimmy, love me, love
me a great deal or my heart will break ; swathe it, bind it all
around with your love, Mimmy, and keep it from breaking.
But that's so selfish in me, too, for what will he do poor
fellow, who has no mother ?"
"Who, child, Grim'?"
" ' Grim' !' ha, ha, ha ! no ; had Grim' ever a mother ?"
" How you act, child. Here, take your rosary and say your
prayers, it will compose your mind "
" This heart! this heart /"
" What are you talking of, child ?"
" To find out one has a heart first by its aching, Mimmy ?"
" It will go off soon, dear."
" Yes ! Will it ?"
And so sometimes weeping, sometimes rambling in her
mind, but never laughing, or defying, or threatening as before,
Jacquelina passed the day and night.
" This is the worst ; push her through, rub her through this
crisis, and she will then calm down and be resigned ; people
can't be happy in this sad world, bat let them learn content-
ment as soon as they can," said Mary L'Oiseau to herself. And,
" Only let her be once married to Grim', and d dif I care,"
said the Commodore to himself.
The struggle was over. Sans Souci felt it to be over, yet
nothing like the quietude of despair fell npon her.
The marriage was appointed to take place after matins, at
nine o'clock, Christmas day, in the Catholic chapeL
THE MISSING BRIDE. 285
That morning Jacquelina arose at eight from her restless
couch, and suffered her mother to dress her in bridal array, to
let the wreath of orange flowers on her golden ringlets, to
ar/ange the lace veil at the back of her head, to draw on her
liny white gloves, all in silence.
" You don't speak a word to me, Jacquelina."
" Because I'm so tired, Mimmy. Do you remember the man
who swore he wouldn't get up and be hanged because he hadn't
got his nap out ? Well 1 now if I had not to get up and be
married, I had rather lie down and go to rest again."
" You talk such nonsense, child ! but then you always did.
You haven't even asked who were to be your bridesmaids and
groomsmen."
"I had forgotten such attendants were necessary, Mimmy."
"Yes, and /suppose if / had been as thoughtless as you
there would have been none provided. However, they are
down stairs, waiting to attend you to the altar. Come, my
child. You are ready now, I believe, and the carriage is
waiting shall we go down ?"
" Yes, Mimmy."
" Mrs. L'Oiseau opened the door, and held it open in a
ficlgetty, impatient manner, but still Jacquelina lingered.
" Come, my dear, come, what are you waiting for?"
" Mother, not one blessing not one ' God speed' to me be-
fore I go 1 Even the ghastly old judge says ' God have mercy
on your soul' to the. felon he sends out to be executed, though
I never knew any one to thrive after such a benediction ! But,
mother, ' I have great need of blessing.'"
" You are a little goose, Jacquelina! of course I mean the
' Lord bless you,' certainly T do ! You might have known it
without my saying it!"
" Ha, ha, ha! Well, mother, I accept it!" said the bride,
massing out and descending the stairs.
Doctor Grimshaw was waiting for her in the hall, looking
well, if he ever looked well in his life. He was dressed in a
suit of speckless black broadcloth, with a white brocade vest
286 MIRIAM, THEAVENGER; OK,
and stock, and white kid gloves ; his tall, straight figure and
Wellington profile, standing him in good stead for dignity.
As soon as she reached the foot of the stairs, he took he*'
hand, and pressing it, whispered,
t; Sweet girl, forgive me this persistence 1"
May God never forgive me if I do !" she fiercely exclaimed,
transfixing him with a flashing glance !
"But that is impious 1 I love you so much, Jacquelina.
I shall devote my life to you 1 I will do anything or earth tP
make you happy !"
"Will you, though?"
" Only try me, dearest?'-
" Give me up, then ? Take the responsibility upon yourself,
and tell uncle that you will not marry me ! Reject me at the
very church 1"
" Ah, beautiful one ! you have set a snare for me ! I meant
to say that after we are married when you are my own, then I
will devote my life to your happiness 1"
"You will?"
"Yes."
" You are sure ?"
" Certain, my angel I"
" Yery well, I accept the offering of your life in atonement
for this wrong and immediately after the marriage ceremony,
I request that you go out and shoot, or drown yourself it
does not matter which, so that it is done quickly 1"
" Jacquelina, that is very wicked !"
" Dr. Grimshaw, I believe you expect to go to Heaven 1"
" I humbly hope so !"
" Yery well, then! now understand why it is that I choose
to be wicked / don't icant to go to Heaven with you. I trust
in the next life at least, a deep gulf as that which separates
Lazarus and Dives may keep us apart !"
" Shall I never be able to win your heart?"
" Satan shall win my soul sooner 1"
Xever lover uttered a deeper sigh than that which Dr
THE MISSING BEIDE. 287
Grirashaw gave forth as he led his unwilling bride to the car-
riage. The groomsman followed with the bridesmaid. Tht
Commodore and Mary L'Oiseau accompanied the party in a
gig. Henrietta, true to her word, refused to be present at the
marriage.
When the wedding party arrived at the chapel, all the pews
were filled to suffocation with the crowd that the rumor of the
approaching marriage had drawn together. And the bridal
party were the cynosure of many hundred eyes as they passed
up the aisle and stood before the altar.
The bride and bridegroom knelt, as is the custom in a
Catholic solemnization of marriage. Jacquelina kept her eyea
fixed upon the ground, and her lips firmly compressed.
The ceremony proceeded, and only once, when* the usual
question was put, whether any one there present knew any
cause why these two should not be joined in holy wedlock, the
bride slowly raised her head, and looked fixedly in succession
upon each member of her party, as wondering how, in God's
awful presence, they dared to meet and disregard that solemn
adjuration. The ceremony proceeded. But not one response,
either verbally or mentally, did Jacquelina make. The priest
passed over her silence, naturally ascribing it to bashfuluess,
and honestly taking her consent for granted.
The rites were finished, the benediction bestowed, and
friends and acquaintances left their pews, and crowded around
with congratulations.
Among the foremost was Thurston Willcoxen, whose suave
and stately courtesy, and graceful bearing, and gracious words,
so pleased Commodore Waugh that, knowing Jacquelina to be
married and safe, he invited and urged the accomplished young
" Parisian," as he was often called, to return and partake of
the Christmas wedding breakfast.
"Xacel do you take your bride home in the gig, as you
will want her company to yourself, and we will go in the car-
riage/' said the Commodore, good naturedly. In fact, the old
oaon had not been in such a fine humor for many a dav-
288 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Dr. Grimshaw, " nothing loth," led his fair bride to the gig,
handed her in, and took the place beside her.
" Now then, fairest and dearest, you are at last, indeed, my
own !" he said, seeking her eyes.
"Thank Heaven, I am not; I never foreswore myself I 1
never opened my lips, or formed a vow in my head. I never
promised you anything," said Jacquelina, turning away.
" Your love will be very hard to win ! but little, petulant
creature, I shall not distress you. Come now, turn around
and give me a smile I will not even ask you for a kiss just
now but do not, while I am forming resolutions for your
peace, treat me as if I were Satan."
" I don't," replied she, with ineffable scorn curling her beau-
tiful lip, " for I am sure that I have some sort of respect for
Satan, whereas I have none whatever for you. To marry a
girl against her will ! Oh! shame!"
His cheek suddenly blanched, his teeth snapped with that
spasmodic catch habitual to him when suddenly enraged he
spoke in a husky tone.
" Jacquelina, take care I It would not be well or wise to
make an enemy of ine 1"
"And what do you suppose I care if you are an enemy ? Be
an enemy ! Do your worst. Be as wicked as you please I Then,
maybe, I shall have a chance to go to Heaven, for I don't want
to go where you go when I die !"
"Are you insane ?"
"I don't know maybe! but while I have some memory and
understanding left, I wish to remind you that I only consented
to be married in accordance with a bargain made with uncle,
of this kind Uncle wished to leave you Luckenough, but for a
reason you doubtless know better than I do, he could not do so
he could only confer it upon you through your wife there-
fore, to endow you with Luckenough, I consented to a form of
marriage, on condition that uncle should buy Locust Hill, and
make it over to mother. All this has been done this day.
Early in the spring, Luckenough will be ready for the reception
THE MISSING BRIDE. 289
ot the family. Aunt and uncle, and yourself, as their successor,
will remove thither. Mother will be left in possession of her
farm at Locust Hill. And I shall remain with my mother.
And in the meantime, Dr. Grimshaw, you will please to leave me
alone!"
"That is a beautiful arrangement ! Have you the least idea
that I shall agree to it?"
"Yes, indeed! because uncle promised in your name."
Dr. Grimshaw now stopped the horse for a moment, and said,
" Jacquelina! look around here ! Tour uncle made that pro-
mise in my name ?"
"Yes, indeed, he did! it was the only condition upon whicU
he cauld obtain my consent !"
"He promised that, and you believed him?"
"Why certainly I did, as I said before."
"And you really think that I shall consent to this nominal
marriage ?"
" Yes, I do because this marriage will answer your purpose ;
it is formal, legal, and when uncle gives me Luckenough, the laio
will give you a life possession of the estate of which noth-
ing can deprive you and mother has the deeds of Locust Hill,
of which nothing can deprive her. Thus all the conditions are
fulfilled. I promised nothing more either to uncle, to you, or to
God in the church!"
"And you thought me base enough to consent to such a mar-
ri' e for such a purpose !"
" Yes. When you wished to marry me, whether I would or no,
thought you base enough for anything!"
"Take care, girl!"
"Take care of what? I'm not afraid of you, Dr. Grimshaw 1
tfow that mother is independent of the world, I am not afraid of
inything!"
"T am your husband, however, which gives me some power,
?id I please to use it !"
"You arc not! You never shall be," she said, with flashing
Y<JS, " while there remains an escape for me by death 1"
18
290 MIKIAM, THE AVENGEKJ OK,
" I have noticed that those who make such deadly threats
never put them in execution. Yon have not courage enough to
kill yourself, my girl. You would suffer a great deal before you
would dare to die ! And you are not called upon to suffer at
all. I wish to love you, if you will let me !"
" That was not in the bond !"
" We shall see ! But, here we are at home, Jacquelina. And
here are the good folks all waiting to greet 'the happy pair,'"
he said, with a sardonic smile, as he pulled up the horse, sprang
from the gig, and offered his hand to assist her to alight.
She tossed her head and curled her lip, and merely touched
his hand witn the tip of her white glove as she sprang down and
passed on. He threw the reins to a groom in attendance, and
followed her. He overtook her, drew her reluctant arm in his,
and led her into the house. And there we must leave them for
the present.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 291
1"
Drie
PART FOUBTH.
CHAPTER XXII.
DEL L-D BLIGHT.
"It is a chosen spot of fertile land,
As if it had by nature's cunning hand
Bene choycely picked out from all the rest,
And laid forth for ensample of the best." Spenser.
IT should have been an enchanting home to which Thurston
Willcoxen returned after his long sojourn iu Europe. A few
essary words must introduce you to the place and its pro-
prietor. The place, Dell-Delight, might once have deserved its
euphonious and charming name ; now, however, its delightful-
ness was as purely traditional as the royal lineage claimed by
its owners. Yet it was a perfect piece of nature's handiwork :
A long, narrow dell, bounded on three sides by gently un-
dulating hills, and sloping down to the bay on the fourth.
The mansion-house, a square, massive edifice of white stone,
with verandas running before every story, stood at the upper
end of the dell.
From the portico, you looked down a long vista, between
the wooded hills that ended in two bold bluffs, between which,
as through a portal, you caught sight of the flashing, glancing
waters of the bay. From the second story the view was still
more extensive.
And p rom the balustraded walk on the roof, you could com
292 MIEIAM, THE AVENGEE; OE,
mand the whole circumference of land and water, from the cen-
tre to the horizon, and could feel that you really lived upon the
Burface of the great earth, in the immensity of space.
Such is the effect in some positions of a little difference in
elevation. And in different moods of mind you might prefer
the grand, inspiring view from the top, or the sweet, secluded,
home-like, almost caressing aspect of the gentle hills, and the
smile of the water caught between them. To the confined and
wearied citizens both had been delightful.
In its palmy days the grounds of Dell-Delight had been
beautifully laid out and adorned, and carefully kept up.
But since coming into the hands of the present proprietor,
Cloudesley Willcoxen, everything not strictly useful in making
or in saving money had been permitted to fall to decay, rather
than preserved at the expense of a few hundred dollars.
Yet old Mr. Willcoxen was not a miser, in the most repulsive
sense of the word ; he was only an excessively parsimonious
utilitarian.
Time, money and labor, was the trinity he believed in and
worshipped. And not a moment of time, a dollar of money, or a
stroke of labor that could be devoted to the increase of crops
of tobacco for exportation, would he consent to see "thrown
away" upon ornamental or landscape gardening. Nay, even the
culture of fruit trees, flowers, and kitchen vegetables, were
neglected as things of minor importance.
And Dell-Delight, in his hands, gradually assumed the most
mournful and inharmonious of all aspects, that of prematurely
ruined beauty.
Mr. Willcoxen was one of those whose God is Mammon.
lie had inherited money, married a half-sister of Commodore
Waugh for money, and made money. Year by year, from youth
to age, adding thousands to thousands, acres to acres, until now,
ut the age of ninety-five, he was the master of incalculable riches.
4nd all this wealth was strictly his own, to dispose of as he
pleased. There was not even a foot of his landed estate entailed.
He could devise the whole of it to whomsoever reason or ca-
price might select as his heir.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 293
He had outlived his wife and their three children ; and his
nearest of kin were Thurston Willcoxen, the son of his eldest
son ; Cloudeslcy Mornington, the son of his eldest daughter, and
poor Fanny Laurie, the child of his youngest daughter.
Thurston and Fanny had each inherited a small property in
dependent of their grandfather.
But poor Cloudy had been left an orphan in the worst sense
of the word destitute and dependent on the " cold charity of
the world," or the colder and bitterer alms of unloving rich
relatives.
The oldest and nearest kinsman and natural guardian of the
boys old Mr. Willcoxen had of course received them into his
house to be reared and educated ; but no education would he
afford the lads beyond that dispensed by the village schoolmas-
ter, who could very well teach them that ten dimes make a dol-
lar, and ten dollars an eagle ; and who could also instruct them
how to write their own names for instance, at the foot of re-
ceipts of so many hundred dollars for so many hogsheads of
tobacco ; or to read other men's signatures, to wit, upon the
backs of notes of hand payable at such a time, or on such a
day. This was just knowledge enough, he said, to teach the
boys how to make and save money, yet not enough to tempt
them to spend it foolishly in travel, libraries, pictures, statues,
arbors, fountains, and such costly trumpery and expensive tom-
foolery.
To Thux'ston, who was his favorite, probably because he bore
the family name and inherited some independent property, Mr.
Willcexen would, however, have afforded a more liberal and
gentlemanly education, could he have done so and at the
same time decently withheld from going to some expense in
giving his penniless grandson, Cloudy, the same privilege.
As it was, he sought to veil his parsimony by conservative
principle.
It was a great humiliation to the boys to see that, while all
the youths of their own rank and neighborhood were entered
pensiopers at the local college, they two alone were taken from
. 294 MIKIAM, THE AVENGEK; OR,
the little day-school to be put to agricultural labor a thing
nnprp.cedented in that locality at that time.
When this matter was brought to the knowledge of Com-
modore Waugh, as he strode up and down his hall, the in-
dignant old sailor thumped his heavy stick upon the ground,
thrust forward his great head, and swore furiously by the whole
Pandemonial Hierarchy that his grandnephews should not S>e
brought up like clodhoppers.
And straightway he ordered his carriage, threw himself into
it, and rode over to Charlotte Hall, where he entered the names
of his two young relatives as pensioners at his own proper cost.
This done, he ordered his coachman to take the road to Dell-
Delight, where he had an interview with Mr. Willcoxen.
And as he met little opposition from the old man, who
seemed to think that it was no more than fair that the boys'
ancle should share the expense of educating them he sought
out the youths, whom he found in the field, and bade them leave
the plough, and go and prepare themselves to go to C and
get educated, as befitted the grandnephews of a gentleman !
The lads were at that time far too simple-minded and too
clannish to feel their pride piqued at this offer, or to take of-
fence at the rude manner in which it was made. Commodore
Waugh was their granduncle, and therefore had a right to edu-
cate them, and to be short with them, too, if he pleased. That
was the way in which they also looked at the matter. And
very much delighted and very grateful they were for the opening
for education thus made for them.
And very zealously they entered upon their academical stu-
dies. They boarded at the college and roomed together. But
their vacations were spent apart, Thurston spending his at
Dell-Delight, and Cloudy his at Luckenough.
When the academical course was completed, Commodore
Waugb, as has been seen, was at some pains to give Cloudy a
fair start in life, and for the first time condescended to use his
influence with "the Department" to procure a favor in the
shape of a midshipman' warrant foi Cloudesley Mornington.
THE MISSING BEIDE. 295
In the meantime, old Mr. "Willcoxen was very gradually
sinking into the imbecility natural to his advanced age ; and
his fascinating grandson was gaining some ascendancy over his
mind. Year by year this influence increased, though it must
be admitted that Thurston's conquest over his grandfather's
whims, was as slow as that of the Hollanders in winning the
land from the sea.
However, the old man now that Cloudy was provided for
and off his hands, lent a more willing ear to the petition of
Thurston to be permitted to continue his education by a course
of studies at a German university, and afterwards by a tour of
the Eastern continent.
Thurston's absence was prolonged much beyond the original
intention, as has been related he spent two years at the uni-
^ersity, two in travel, and nearly two in the city of Paris.
His grandfather would certainly never have consented to this
prolonged absence, had it been at his own cost ; but the ex-
penses were met by advances upon Thurston's own small pa
trim-ony.
And in fact, when at last the young gentleman returned to
his native country, it was because his property was nearly ex-
hausted, and his remittances were small, few, and far between,
grudgingly sent, and about to be stopped. Therefore nearly
penniless, but perfectly free from the smallest debt or degrada-
tion elegant, accomplished, fastidious yet truthful, generous,
gallant and aspiring, Thurston left the elegant saloon and ex-
citing scenes of Paris, for the comparative dullness and dreari-
ness of his native place and his grandfather's house.
He had reached his legal majority just before leaving Paris.
And soon after his arrival at home, he was appointed trustee
of poor Fanny Laurie's property.
His first act was to visit Fanny in the distant asyium in
which she was -^nfined, and ascertain her real condition. And
naving heard her pronounced incurable, though perfectly harm-
less, he determined to release her from the confinement of the
asylum, and to bring her home to her native county, where
296 MIRIAM, THE AVENGEE; OE,
among the woods and hills and streams, she might lind at once
that freedom, space and solitude so desired by the heart-sick
or brain-sick, and where also his own care might avail her.
Old Mr. Willcoxen, far from offering opposition to this plan,
actually favored it though from the less worthy motive of
economy. What was the use of spending money to pay her
board, and nursing, and medical attendance, in the asylum,
when she might be boarded and nursed and doctored so much
cheaper at home ? For the old man confidently looked forward
to the time when the poor, fragile, failing creature would sink
into the grave, and Thurston would become her heir. And he
calculated that every dollar they could save of her income,
would be so much added to the inheritance when Thurston
should come into it.
Very soon after Thurston's return home, his grandfather
gave him to understand the conditions upon which he intended
to make him his heir they were two in number viz., first,
that Thurston should never leave him again while he lived
and secondly, that he should never marry without his consent.
For I don't wish to be left alone in my old age, my dear boy
nor do I wish to see you throw yourself away upon any girl
whose fortune is less than the estate I intend to bequeath entire
to yourself."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 297
CHAPTER XXIII.
MARIAN, THE INSPIRES.
Oh I she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of love but to her neighbor,
How will she IOTO when the rich golden shaft
Hath killed the flock of all affections else
That live in her! when bosom, brain and heart,
Those sovereign thrones, are all supplied and filled-
Her sweet perfections with but one self-king." Shakspeart,
IT was not fortunate for old Mr. Willcoxen's plans, that his
grandson should have met Marian Mayfield. For, on the mcrn-
ing of Thurston's first meeting with the charming girl, when he
turned his horse's head from the arched gateway of Old Field
Cottage and galloped off, "a haunting shape and image gay"
attended him.
It was that of beautiful Marian, with her blooming face and
sunny hair, and rounded roseate neck and bosom and arms, all
softly, delicately flushed with the pure glow of rich, luxuriant
vitality, as she stood in the sunlight, under the arch of azure
morning-glories, with her graceful arms raised in the act of
binding up the vines.
That was the enchanting picture ! And no slightest beauty
of it was lost or dimmed in memory no glisten of the sun ray
in the ripples of her golden bronze hair ; no shadow of the eye-
lashes on her blushing cheeks ; no curve of the fresh ripe lips :
no rise and fall of the rounded, glowing bosom; no motion cf
the rosy arms, that was not like a breathing life before him.
At first this "image fair" was almost unthought of he was
scarcely conscious of the haunting presence, or the life and light
it gradually diffused through his whole being. And when the
revelation dawned upon his intellect, he smiled to himself, and
wondered if, for the first time, he was falling in love ; and then
ne cjrew grave, and trie** to banish the dangerous thought. But
298 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
when, day after day, amid all the business and the pleasures oi
his life, the "shape" still pursued him, instead of getting angry
with it or growing weary of it, he opened his heart and took *t
in, and made it at home, and set it upon a throne, where it
reigned supreme, diffusing delight over all his nature. But
soon, too soon, this bosom's sovereign became the despot, and
stung, goaded and urged him to see again its living, breathing,
glowing, most beautiful original ! To seek her ? for what ?
He did not even try to answer the question.
Thus passed one week.
And then, had he been disposed to forget the beautiful girl,
he could not have done so. For everywhere where the busi-
ness of his grandfather took him, around among the neighbor-
ing planters, to the villages of B or of C , everywhere
he heard of Marian, and frequently he saw her, though at a
distance, or under circumstances that made it impossible for
mm, without rudeness, to address her. He both saw and heard
of her in scenes and society where he could hardly have ex-
pected to find a young girl of her insignificant position.
He made some very discreet and seemingly indifferent little
inquiries about her, and adroitly led on others to speak of her
And from all he heard of her goodness, her disinterestedness,
and her young wisdom blended with sweet and gracious joy-
ousness.
And, in truth, it is seldom that a creature so nearly faultless
appears, or that in a world so given to envy and detraction aa
this, a young girl so beautiful and gifted as Marian wins such
niiiversal suffrages in her favor. The reasons might have been
partly these : A stranger and a foreigner, without the advan-
tages of wealth, family, or social position, in the most conser-
vative and exclusive of all neighborhoods, her personal excel-
lencies, without worldly distinctions, could not stand in the way
of any one. She lived a very cheerful, busy, beneficent, and
unexacting life, seldom leaving her little home except at the call
of duty or benevolence. Truly those errands often drew her
forth, foz Marian was eminently social and sympathetic. She
THE MISSING BRIDE. 299
was the friend of everybody. Her sweetest earthly pleasure
was the pure one of doing good, relieving pain, supplying
want, comforting affliction, conferring benefits, and her highest
earthly joy, approaching that of Heaven, was the delight of
delighting others ! Both queen and priestess she should have
been, by right of these instincts and capacities. These consti-
tuted her happiness, these gave her power and influence far
beyond the sphere of her rank and sex and circumstances, and
these, alas ! finally contributed to work her lasting, bitter woe !
And how much of her young life, her spirit's strength, she
contrived to infuse into the apathetic community around her.
There were several notable improvements commenced within
the last few years in the two villages and in the county. These
were day-schools for the children of the poor, and night-schools
for young men otherwise employed during the day. There
were Sunday-schools. There were societies for relieving and
improving the condition of the poor. And, finally, there was
an annual fair for stimulating the enterprize and emulation of
farmers and housewives, and for rewarding excellence in agri-
culture, floriculture, gardening, and domestic economy in all its
branches.
And when Thurston learned the origin and history of these
new agents of progress that were gradually quickening the old,
torpid community into life, and preparing its perfect resurrec-
tion from the dead, he discovered also that the beautiful and
gifted Marian had been the Inspirer 1
Strange, and passing strange, that a young girl, without for-
tune, without family, without social distinction of any sort
should, by the mere strength of heart and brain, the faculty of
much loving and great thinking, have attained such a spell over
hearts and minds, a power that she used, as she used all her
advantages, for the good of humanity.
. And Thurston marvelled that one of such humble fortunes
should have gained such an influence, and moved in such en-
erprizes.
" Humble fortunes 1" Had Marian been a " crowned queen''
300 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
she could not have felt or revealed a more natural, serene and
unobtrusive consciousness of personal power a more habitual
self-possession, self-reliance, and self-respect; and all this "self"
was without selfishness, as every act of her life proved, and this
air and manner inspired perfect faith in those whom she wished
to influence.
When Thurston heard her spoken of, it was not with the
mere admiration bestowed upon a beautiful girl, but with a cer
tain esteem, deference, or enthusiastic encomium, according to
the age or temperament of the speakers.
She was scarcely twenty years of age, yet in the last three oi
four years had refused more eligible offers of marriage than any
heiress in the county. Far the least notable among the rejected
being Doctor Weismann, who, unknown to Miss Nancy, who
kept hin? tied to her apron string, had made the offer of hia
heart, hand, and professional prospects to the portionless girl.
And the most important among them was the judge of the
county court, a grave, handsome man of middle age and con-
siderable property, who sought to win the beautiful Marian
through what he mis-judged to be her ruling passions, the love
of power, and the power of patronage. He urged upon her the
argument of how widely the sphere of her influence and useful-
ness would be increased, when she should become the wife of a
man of property and extensive connections. But,
"No," was Marian's laughing rejoinder; "I have observed
that in this country, when a woman becomes the sole property
of one man, she loses her influence with all the rest."
" Then," said the judge, "for the sake of general usefulness,
you purpose to live a single life."
"Well, yes, I think so," answered Marian, "though I have
taken no vows."
Sound virgin heart was hers, that had never been trifled with,
never breathed upon by man's love all declarations and pro-
testations of the sort reached no farther than her ear.
And Thurston knew that this rich, large heart, though often
wooed, was still unwon. Did the dream of attempting its con-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 301
quest enter his mind ? Scarcely certainly not, to be willingly
entertained there ; for however he might admire the enchanting
girl, he durst not marry her. Any other young man in ths
county, might now, without much opposition from his friends,
hare won, if he could, the hand of Marian ; but not the heir
apparently of gold-worshiping old Willcoxen. Yet Thurston
was glad to know that her heart was untouched, and he longed
to see once more this lovely nonpareil.
The opportunity was not long in presenting itself.
Marian was a regular attendant of the Protestant church at
Benedict, where, before the morning service, she taught in the
Sunday school and before the afternoon service, she received
a class of colored children.
And Thurston, who had been a very careless and desultory
attendant, sometimes upon the Catholic chapel, sometimes upon
the Protestant church, now became a very regular frequenter
of the latter place of worship ; the object of his worship being
not the Creator, but the creature ! whom, if he missed from
her accustomed seat, the singing, and praying, and preaching
for him lost all of its meaning, power and spirituality ! In the
church-yard he sometimes tried to catch her eye and bow to
her but was always completely baffled in his aspirations after
a nearer communion. She was always attended from the
church, and assisted into her saddle by Judge Provost, Colonel
Thornton, or some other "potent, grave and reverend seig-
niors," who " hedged her about with a divinity" that it was im-
possible, without rudeness and intrusion, to br.eak through.
The more he was baffled and perplexed, the more eager be-
came his desire to cultivate her acquaintance. Had his course
been clear to woo her for his wife it would have been easy to
ask permission of Edith to visit her at her house ; but such
Was not the case and Thurston, tampering with his own inte-
grity of purpose, rather wished that this much coveted acquaint-
ance should be incidental, and their interviews sseem occi-
dental, so that he should not commit himself, or in any way
lead her to form expectations which he had no surety of being
302 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
able to meet. How long this cool and cautious foresight mighi
avail him, if once he were brought in close companionship with
Marian, remains to be seen. It happened one Sunday after-
noon in October, that he saw Marian take leave of her vener-
able escort, Colonel Thornton, at the church-yard gate, and
gayly and alone turn into the forest road that led to her own
home. He immediately threw himself into his saddle and followed
her, with the assumed air of an indifferent gentleman pursuing
his own path. He overtook her near one of those gates that
frequently intersect the road. Bowing, he passed her, opened
the gate and held it open for her passage. Marian smiled, and
nodded with a pleasant,
" Good afternoon, Mr. Willcoxen," as she went through.
Thurston closed the gate and rode on after her.
*' This is glorious weather, Miss Mayfield."
" Glorious, indeed !" replied Marian, turning her eyes from
the gorgeous coloring of the autumn woods to the western sky,
" where the rich sunset burned."
" And the country, too, is perfectly beautiful at this season.
I never could sympathize with the poets who call autumnal
days 'the melancholy days the saddest of the year.'"
"Nor I," said Marian ; "for to me, autumn, with its reful-
gent skies and gorgeous woods and rich harvest and its pros-
pect of Christmas cheer and wintry repose has ever seemed a
gay and festive season. The year's great work is done, the
harvest is gathered, enjoyment is present, and repose at hand."
"In the w.orld of society," said Thurston, " it is in the even
ing, after the labor or the business of the day is over, that the
gayest scenes of festivity occur, just preceding the repose of
sleep. So I receive your thought of the autumn the evening
of the year, preceding the rest of winter. Nature's year'a
work is done she puts on her most gorgeous robes, and holds
a festival before she sinks to her winter's sleep."
Marian smiled brightly upon him.
" Yes ! my meaning, I believe, only more pointedly expressed."
That smile 1 that smile ! It lightened through all his natura
THE MISSING BRIDE. 303
with electric, life-giving, spirit-realizing power elevating and
inspiring his whole being his face, too, was radiant with life
as he answered the maiden's smile.
But something in his eyes caused Marian's glances to fall,
and the rosy clouds to roll up over her cheeks and brow.
Then Thurston governed his countenance let no ardent ol
admiring glance escape, and when he spoke again, his manuef
and words were more deferential.
" We spoke of the world of nature, Miss Mayfield, but how
is it with the world of man ? To many, nay, to most of -tha
human race, autumn is the herald of a season, not of festivity
and repose, but of continued labor, and increased want and
privation and suffering."
" That is because society is not in harmony with nature
man has wandered as far from nature as from God," said
Marian.
" And as much needs a Saviour to lead him back to the one
as to the other," replied Thurston.
" You know that you feel it," said Marian, turning upon
him one of her soul-thrilling glances.
Thurston trembled with delicious pleasure through all his
frame, but guarding his eyes, lest again they should frighten
off her inspiring glances, he answered, fervently,
" I know and feel it most profoundly."
And Thurston thought he spoke the very truth, though in
sober fact he had never thought or felt anything about the sub-
ject until now that Marian, his inspirer, poured her life-giving
spirit into his soul.
She spoke again, earnestly, ardently.
" You know and feel it most profoundly ! That deep know
ledge and that deep feeling, is the chrism oil that has anointed
you a messenger and a laborer in the cause of humanity.
' Called and chosen,' be thou also faithful. There are many in-
spired, many anointed, but few are faithful 1"
" Thou, then, art the high priestess that hast poured the con-
secrated oil on my head. I will be faithful I"
S04 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
He spoke with such sudden enthusiasm, such abandon, that
it had the effect of bringing Marian back to the moderation
and retenue of her usual manner. He saw it in the changed
expression of her countenance and what light or shade of feel-
ing passed over that beautiful face unmarked of him ? When
he spoke again it was composedly.
" You speak as the preachers and teachers preach and teach
in general terms ; be explicit ; what would you have me to
do, Miss Mayfield ? Only indicate my work, and tell me how
to set about the accomplishment of it, and never knight served
liege lady as I will serve you !"
Marian smiled.
" Nay, women can more readily set tasks to men, than in-
Btruct them in the execution of the work. Yet, it seems to me
that I can at least point out the scene of your labors "
" And that is"
"Here!"
11 Here !"
" Aye, here, in your native place. No spot needs y \i so
much as this, to which you were given."
" Pardon me, Miss Mayfield," he said, smiling in his turn,
" but this place is so effete, so dead, so hopeless !"
" Do you find it so ? Why should that be ? The earth
here, as elsewhere, looks to-day as young, as fresb, and as
vigorous as if just turned from the hand of its Creator finished,
perfect. And, in truth, every day is a new creation !"
" Yes ! in the world of nature thou glorious child of nature !
but in the world of man, as I asked before, how is it in the
world of man ? groveling, weariness, sloth, torpor! Hopeless
materials to work upon 1"
" Yet, in the world of man, here, as elsewhere, there is an
ever-springing fountain of new life and promise, and an ever
new day of creation it is in childhood and youth, to whom
the earth is all alive as upon the morning of the divine Dirth,
who are ever susceptible to new inspirations and new truths.
Children, at least, are alive and impressible, and the children
THE MISSING BRIDE. 305
of this generation, remember, will be the law-givers of the
next. I would have all reformers and philanthropists, while
preaching to grown people, not to forget the children, bat to
bring their truths to bear upon them as the seed of promise."
Marian ceased, and Thurston remained in thought for a few
miiiites; then he said,
" I confess that, when I have dreamed of a useful and honor-
able career, the scene of my visions has not ever been this
obscure county."
" You dreamed, perhaps, of acting in some of the world's
great thoroughfares?"
" Yes."
" And why ? Our Divine Master commenced his labors, not
among the great nations of the earth, but in His birth-place, an
obscure province. The Great Messiah appeared not at Rome
at that day the great nucleus of the world's life and business
but in remote, effete, deadened Galilee. His humble fol-
lower of to-day need not go to Washington, or New- York, to
London, or Paris, or upon any of the world's great platforms.
Let him light his lamp in his native place for the people
among whom he was born to whom he was sent and, if the
light be the true light, its rays will spread never doubt it."
Thurston smiled again ; a curious, doubtful sort of smile,
which, had Marian seen it, would not have inspired her with
confidence.
" So," he said, " the scene of my labor being fixed, now for
the manner of it."
" Oh I" said Marian, laughing, and parodying the words of
*ortia, ' I could easier teach twenty what were good to be
)ne, than show one of the twenty how to follow my own teach-
ig.' But, first, I think you should endeavor to purify and
levate the tone of thought and feeling in the community."
" Oh ! in this way : men here, as elsewhere, have brains and
hearts, intelligence and loves, apathetic as they are. Seek to
stimulate and quicken those dormant faculties act upon their
19
306 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
intellects and their affections act upon their passions, if neces-
sary, for even they were given for good purposes, though BO
cften turned to evil ones."
" Again how ?"
" How? Oh! you must make yourself a position from which
to influence them, I do not know that I can advise you how
but you will find a way! As were /a man, /should !"
"Being a woman, you have done wonders."
" For a woman," said Marian, with a glance full of archness
ar d merriment.
" No, no, for any one, man or woman. But your method,
Marian ? I beg your pardon, Miss Mayfield," he added, with a
blush of ingenuous embarrassment.
"Nay, now," said the frank girl, "do call me Marian if that
name springs more readily to your lips than the other. Almost
all persons call me Marian, and I like it."
A rush of pleasure thrilled all through his veins -he gave
her words a meaning and a value for himself, that they did not
certainly possess ; he forgot that the grace extended to him was
extended to all nay, that she had even said as much in the
very words that gave it. He answered,
" And if I do, fairest Marian, shall I too, heai my own Chris-
tian name in music from your lips ?"
" Oh ! I do not know," said the beautiful girl, laughing and
blushing, " if it ever comes naturally, perhaps, certainly not
now. Why, the venerable Colonel Thornton calls me ' Marian,'
but it never comes to me to call him 'John !' "
Thurston's rapture suddenly fell to zero. He rode on it
silence.
" Come," said Marian, gayly, "let us return to what we were
talking of you were inquiring "
" What your method your system of action has bee^i, in
gaining and wielding an influence tnat has resulted in so much
good, Miss Mayfield ?" He would not now call her " Marian,"
he would noc accept that privilege when shared by Colonel
Thornton, 01 any Hhe" man alive.
THE MISSING BEIDE. 307
" My method my system ? I had nont," said Marian, "but
the history of what has been done is briefly this : The evils of
your community are perhaps much more apparent in a, stranger,
espeuially to a European coming here with exaggerated ideas
of what the ' model republic ' is, or ought to be, than to a
native resident. And, therefore, I confess that I was astonished,
shocked, to find in any part of democratic America, a preva-
lence and tyranny of rank so absolute and offensive as that
which exists here greater, I take it upon me to say, than can
be found in any part of England. No less was I grieved and
disappointed to find a class of poor white people, living in a
semi-barbarous state, in mean and miserable huts, no better
than wigwams, supporting themselves by hunting, fishing, thiev-
ing, and working a little in harvest time ; so ignorant as to be
unable to read, and so degraded as to be despised and con-
temned even by the negro slaves. Their condition touched my
heart, and weighed upon my mind. I spoke of it when, and
where, and how, and to whom, the Spirit dictated. I obeyed
my inspirations, nothing more ! My daily life brought me into
close and favorable relations with the country people. I often,
when I least expected it, found myself in the position of nurse,
friend, sympathiser, and even counsellor. What I had to say
was spoken in homes where I had been useful, and so earned a
hearing, or by the sick beds of convalescents, whom I had
nursed back to life. And so, my words were listened to with
great kindness and indulgence, and, after much perseverance on
my part, with effect."
" I do not wonder, Miss Mayfield, at your power over minda
and hearts."
They had now reached the verge of tl e forest, and came out
into the open country that lay between that and the coast.
And here their roads naturally separated Old Field Cottage
standing about a quarter of a mile up, and Dell-Delight four or
five miles down the bay.
And here Marian gayly bade Mm good evening, and turned
her horse's head
308 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Thurston hesitated he wished to ask permission to attend
her home, but durst not ; he returned her parting salutaliou
with a smile and a deep bow, and passed on his way.
Marian, in a few minutes, reached Old Field Cottage, where
Mrs. Shields and Miriam were waiting tea, and they noticed the
new life in Marian's countenance, that flushed her cheeks with
a higher crimson, and seemed to fill out and lift with light her
wide and snowy eyelids.
And an hour's slow ride brought Thurston to Dell-Delight.
That evening he had little patience with his miserly grand-
father's " poor Richard " prosing, or with hapless Fanny'a
snatches of song and poesy until,
" You're in love !" said the latter, suddenly ceasing her play,
and coming and peering in his face.
" Yes," he said, blushing with consciousness, " I am in love
with you, belle Fannie, ' will you live with me and be my love ?' "
" Nay," said the maniac, breaking into song
" My heart is in the dark grave,
My heart is not here
My heart is in the damp grave,
Interred with my dear!"
He wished to escape ; to get away from all company, to lay
his head upon his pillow in the darkness of his own chamber,
where, with the world shut out, he might live over again in
memory, the scene just passed with Marian ; and in imagina-
tion, many, many charming scenes of their future lives. I am
afraid that night not many thoughts were given to the cause of
humanity at large. A restless, passion-troubled, half blissful,
half painful night he passed. Her eyes 1 her smile ! every timp
they rose before his mind's eye, thrilled him as intensely as at
first.
He arose on Monday morning unrefreshcd, devising ways and
means by which he might see Marian during the day. No bet-
ter way occurred to him, than to go into the woods, bag a brace
of par^idges or rabbits, carry them past Old Field Cottage
THE MISSING BRIDE. 309
and drop in, impromptu-like, and make a present of the game to
Edith, with the chance of being invited to breakfast.
Forthwith he put this plan in execution.
But though he stayed and stayed and breakfast was pre-
pared and eaten, and the service cleared away and his excuse
for staying ceased, and his continued presence seemed like intru-
sion, still the object of his visit was not obtained beautiful
Marian did not appear.
' I hope Miss Mayfield is quite well," he said, at iast, as re-
luc.antly he arose to go.
"Oh, yes, quite well, Marian is never otherwise, but she went
last night to sit up with a sick neighbor, and I scarcely expect
to see her home to-day."
This was a heart-sickening disappointment especially as ho
felt that this game manoeuvre could not be resorted to again
its air of inddentalily would thus be lost. And he knew that
Old Field Cottage was a place at once so well known, and so
little frequented, that his visits there, upon any pretext, would,
in that gossipping neighborhood, occasion remarks and specu-
lations that would assuredly be carried to the knowledge of his
>alous, watchful, argus-eyed grandfather, and be likely not
>nly to interfere with even his accidental interviews with the
beautiful, penniless girl, but also very seriously with his future
prospects.
He bade adieu to Edith, with an anxious heart and a busy
brain, all alive with eagerness to contrive accidental meetings
with Marian.
But though fertile in expedients, he was not fortunate in re-
sults.
Tt was in vain that he frequented B and C , and the
roads between those villages and Old Field Cottage. He
never, by any chance, caught sight of Marian.
And so, in fruitless and disheartening endeavor, the week
passed away.
However he was reasonably sure of seeing her at church, on
Sunday ; and so, for the first time in his life, he hailed the ap-
proaching Sabbath v'th joy I
310 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
CHAPTER XXIV
LOVE.
" All thoughts, all passions, ail delights,
Whatever stir this mortal frame
Are but the ministers of love,
And feed his sacred flame." Coleridge.
THURSTON WILLCOXEN'S usual road from Dell-Delight to the
village church, brought him nowhere within miles of Marian
Mayfield's forest path from Old Field Cottage to the same
point.
But upon this particular Sunday, Thurston chose to make an
early start from home, and ride full five miles up the shore to
the cross roads, on the edge of the forest, where he had parted
from Marian the Sabbath previous.
He reached the spot while the early autumnal frost yet
embossed the earth and the trees with pearls and the latest
lingering summer birds twittered their morning carols.
It was but nine o'clock when he entered the forest it was
but an hour's ride to church, and he fully believed himself to
be a half or three-quarters of an hour in advance of the young
girl Therefore he rode slowly up and down the forest path,
frequently turning upon his course, until about thirty minutes
had passed. Then he began to grow vigilant in eye and ear to
catch the sight or sound of her distant approach. But nothing
was heard save the twitter of the robins, the gurgle of low
rills, the rustle of dried leaves driven by the breeze, o the fali
of a solitary nut as it dropped to the ground, besides tne lonely
step of his own steed. And he might have paced to and fro for
a whole day, for many days, and heard no other sound but these,
jr the wind and the rain so lonely was this forest walk.
Three quarters of an hour passed, and he began to grow very
impatient, and wonder v.6 her non-appearance, ard the 'cage*
THE MISSING BRIDE. 311
tne delayed appearing, the surer he grew of seeing her the very
next instant it must be so, for Marian was never absent from
church, and never late in attendance, and she never went by any
other road than this therefore, of course, she must now sud-
denly come in sight.
She came not, however. And vexed and sick at heart with
frequent disappointments, Thurston galloped back on his road
quite to the verge of the forest, and looked upon the country
and the heaving sea, now all glorious in the morning light, and
his eye roved for miles up and down the coast, but no human
being or even beast of burden was in sight upon the lonely
scene. The only sign of human habitation, in fact, was "the
smoke that so gracefully curled" from the grove of trees that
surrounded- Old Field Cottage in the far distance.
Half-past ten o'clock ! He now knew that Marian would not
come. What could be the reason ? Was she sick ? No ! Ma-
rian was never sick !
Suddenly it occurred to him that she must have stayed the
whole week at the house of the neighbor whom she went to
nurse. That would also account for his missing her all the
week. And doubtless from that neighbor's house she had gone
to church by another road.
No sooner had this explanation of her non-appearance occurred
to him than he turned and spurred on his horse towards the
church, hoping to see her there. He knew that he should be
very late, but that would be nothing, if only he could see that
one longed-for face.
He galloped on at the top of his speed and reached the vil-
lage, and entered the church just before the preacher took his
text.
He did not hear the text his whole attention was fixed upon
Marian. Yes! there she sat! With her beautiful blooming
face turned up towards the preacher, in devout attention and
seeming unconsciousness of the presence of another soul in the
church
T^e sermon oroceeded, and n t one moment did her atten-
312 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
tion wander, and not one word of the discourse did Thurston
hear, his eyes, his thoughts being completely occupied by the
beautiful object of his love.
The sermon came to an end the closing prayer, the hymn
and the benediction followed, and the congregation began to
disperse, nnd pour down the aisles.
MariaL was taken up and whirled away from him in the
crowd.
He could not, without rudeness, elbow his way among a mass
made up so largely of women and children, and so he had to
wait his time and follow on slowly in the rear.
He got out and reached the open churchyard and the fresh air.
But then he had the mortification of seeing Marian placed in
her saddle by a very handsome young man, who instantly threw
himself into another s.addle, and rode on to attend her.
Devouring his own heart in chagrin, Thurston stood looking
after them as they rode on towards the forest path ; one minute
swearing mentally that he did not care a cent to make a third
in such a party, and the next feeling the dog-in-the-manger im-
pulse, since he himself could not woo, to mar the wooing of
another. But then how could he, without worse than Vandalic
barbarism, force himself into their company? Well, at \auy
rate, he would, he resolved, ride down that path, and bow to
them as he passed. He could tell, by their faces, he thought,
what the meaning of the escort might be. That he had a right
to do a right that could be exercised with perfect propriety.
No sooner thought of than done.
He sprung into his saddle and galloped after them. He
overtook them a short distance in the forest. One keen glance
,n passing he shot into their faces; the countenance of the
young man was flushed, eager, impassionate, and bent towards
Marian. The exrvession of the young girl was blushing, down-
cast, distressed, embarrassed. Those mutual looks set Thurs-
ton's blood boiling with jealousy. He could have hurled his
rival from the saddle, and trampled him under foot 1 It was
with the greatest difficulty that he could restrain his passiou
THE MISSING BRIDE. 313
and govern himself. But he did so effectually, bowing haugh-
tily as he passed them.
But Marian's voice recalled him.
" Mr. Willcoxen."
He turned around and looked.
Marian's face was full of blushing embarrassment and bashful
or.treaty her companion's was clouded with disappointment
and vexation.
Thurston rode back.
"Well, Miss Mayfield, I am at your orders."
" I have a number of things to say to you, Mr. Willcoxen,
and a number of questions to ask. But first, you are acquainted
with Mr. Barnwell?"
"Yes," bowing coldly.
"Ride neat, then."
Thurston now smiled, and went on the right side of Marian,
where he continued to ride, in silence, waiting for the young
girl to speak. But Marian either had forgotten what she wished
to say, or else was taking a long time to arrange it.
They rode on in moody silence until they reached a gate,
which Thurston opened for Marian to pass through.
Here Mr. Barnwell suddenly stopped, lifted his hat, and say-
ing, gloomily and angrily, that he feared he had trespassed tot
long upon Miss Mayfield's society and indulgence, begged leav^
to apologize for his intrusion, and to wish her a very good
morning. And so saying, he bowed, turned, and rode back to
the village.
When they were left alone, the embarrassment on either side
increased.
" You were very early at church to-day, Miss Mayfield," said
Thurston, by way of saying something.
'"Yes," smiled Marian, "but I could not well be otherwise
than early, since I was there from eight o'clock in the morning."
" So soon !"
" You know or perhaps you do not know that I have a
ciass in the Sunday school."
314 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Idiot that I was to forget that !" thought Thurston, as th,,
sudden light broke on him, showing that while he was cooling
his feet and warming his temper by pacing up and down St.
Mary's forest, in expectation of seeing her, she was already
safely housed with her class in the Sunday school. No matter 1
He secretly swore to be more alert on the next Sabbath morning.
" But I cannot compliment you upon the same ground, Mr.
Willcoxen," said Marian, both gravely and sweetly; "you were
late at Divine service."
A thrill of delight electrified Thurston's nerves. He was
" late" she had noticed it she, whose attention seldom wan-
dered from her prayer-book or her minister's face she had no-
ticed his absence she had waited for his appearance, perhaps
impatiently, longingly as he had waited for her in the woods.
So with love's sophistry he reasoned as he heard her words,
and an impetuous tide of emotion rushed through all his veins
a,nd flushed his face ! Forgetting his discreet caution, forget-
ting that their meetings were to seem incidental or not caring
to use that subterfuge with her alone losing his usual self-
possession, he pressed towards her, exclaiming, passionately,
and half reproachfully,
" Marian, I have much to say to you I have lived over
many times the scene of last Sabbath evening. I have sought
you everywhere, during the whole week, with no other result
than heart-sickening disappointment from day to day ! Marian,
why did you inspire and then avoid me ?"
Surprised at his words, and confused by his manner, Marian
averted her eyes, as a vivid blush rose mantling cheek and brow.
" I have offended you," said the young man, sorrowfully.
" No," said the maiden, " only astonished me."
" Wherefore, Marian ? wherefore ? That I should have sought
you again with my whole heart and soul in the search ?" he
asked earnestly, ardently pressing towards her. Her spirited
little horse shied angrily, throwing up its head. She became
nore an 1 more confused and embarrassed. Her face was still
averted and the blush burned like fire on her cheek.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 315
" Marian," he said, dropping his voice to the very depths of
tenderness; "Marian, gi\ T e me your hand, in token of forgive-
ness. I know that I have been rash and presumptuous ; that
I have no right so suddenly to speak of feelings that have not,
however, arisen suddenly, fairest girl, but have had possession
of my whole nature, heart, soul and spirit, for months past
that have filled and fired and consumed me like a fever or a
madness I Forgive me, Marian ; I will control myself I will
not shock or wound you again give me your hand in token
V)f pardon, and tell me you will not avoid me."
With her face still averted, and her cheek still burning, the
maiden held out her hand, saying softly,
"I was not offended, as I told you before, only surprised that
you should have imagined I had avoided you ; when there was
no earthly reason to do so, that I know of."
He carried her hand respectfully to his lips. He felt the un-
intentional reproach of her candor and honesty. He covered
his feelings of compunction by saying,
'Strange most strange, that I could not find you, when I
sought you so eagerly."
" I was at home all the week," said Marian, " except OD
Monday."
" I called at Old Field Cottage upon that very day, unfortu -
nately."
" So Edith told me, but she did not tell me that the visit was
to me she thought your coming partly accidental."
" Well," said Thurston, as a blush of -honest shame mantled
his brow "it was partly so I had been out shooting, and
passing close to Old Field Cottage, saw Mrs. Shields at the
door thought my morning's spoils might not be unacceptable,
wad tired and hungry, accepted her invitation to breakfast.
Still, Marian, still the strongest feeling in my heart on entering,
was the hope of seeing you. The consequent disappointment
was very grievous to be borne, followed as it was by daily and
heart-sickening failures. Marian ?" he suddenly said, changing
his manner and leaning towards her.
316 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Her skittish little horse shied again. She withdrew her hand
and turned away her head, though without anger.
" Let us speak," she said, " of the subject we were discussing
last Sabbath evening."
"As you will, fairest Marian; I have already taken sorno
steps towards entering upon your service, my liege lady," he
answered, with a manner perfectly respectful, but so pointed that
the maiden, dropping her eyes, said
" Not my humble service, good sir, but the higher one of you!
fellow citizens." There was a pause.
"You do not ask me, Marian, what these first steps have
been. You are perhaps no longer interested in them."
"It is not considered polite to ask questions," said Marian,
archly; " nevertheless, I am waiting anxiously to hear."
" It is not much that I have accomplished. When one feels
within oneself, inspirations and energies capable of accomplish-
ing great things, it is disheartening to see what poor tools wo
have to work with, and what poor materials to operate upon
with what small, slow steps we approach our object."
" The river is filled from small springs, and the mountain
grows by accretion. All reforms have started with one man,
and its victories have been single converts, few and far
between."
How difficult to gaze upon the beautiful, eloquent face, the
clear, blue eye, soft with feeling and radiant with light, the
roseate cheek and sunny, rippling hair, the glowing lips,
smiling and speaking ; and not bow down before her beauty ;
and not give utterance to the passion, throbbing, burning in
his bosom I How hard to keep down the rising heart ! How
hard to ride and talk of social ethics when he only wished to
fold that glowing form to his bosom ! He did not care a
farthing for her young inspired wisdom ; he adored her enchant-
ing beauty, not thinking that that beauty owed its greatest
fascination to the informing spirit within.
He grew impatient of their mode of travelling those shying
horses thr d^estable beasts kept them so far apart. Ho
THE MISSING BEIDE. 317
Fished that the fair girl and himself had been only walking, or
sitting down somewhere on some bank or fallen tree. He
longed to throw himself at her feet, to clasp her hands, to pour
out before her the flood of passion that was swelling in hia
bosom ! To entreat her to forget her wisdom, and her philoso-
phy, and influence, and to remember that she was a beautiful
girl, the most charming and the most beloved in the world, and
to beseech her to hear him, to bless him, to let him lead her
into the Eden of love. Gazing on her enchanting beauty, ho
was, in imagination, far away in that Eden already.
She recalled him, her calm, sweet voice coming coolly across
all that heat and turbulence of passion and' imagination.
" You have not yet told me, Mr. Willcoxen, of the nature of
the steps you have taken towards a commencement."
Thurston frowned and smiled slightly as he said,
" They are so trifling, so inefficient, that I hesitate to tell you."
" They may seem trifling, but of their efficiency we must take
time to judge."
" Well, you shall hear, and then you shall judge," said
Thurston, guarding his offending glances as well as he could.
" I have offered myself to the Board of Directors to give a free
course of lectures at C Academy. A lecture is to be deliv-
ered every Monday evening, and the lecture room to be thrown
open to the public. The course will embrace a review of history,
political economy, social philosophy, education, the progress of
society, and lastly a comparative view of the present state of
civilized nations."
" Excellent !" exclaimed Marian, smiling upon him. " And
you call this trivial ? Pray, sir, were you thinking of doing
something superhuman, that you depreciate this ?"
Thurston gayly answered her smile, and then said,
" I have sketched out quite a wide field of labor, which will
take me the whole winter to cover ; but my doubt is, whether
I can do anything like justice to the subjects, or whether, if I
do, I shall find any sort of favor with my audience, or any sor*
of goc 1 fruit* will come of the seed thus sown."
318 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" ' Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we
might attain, by fearing the attempt,'" quoted Marian. Then
she added, " Your plan is very good your course, if you do it
justice, will be a complete course of instruction and enlighten-
*nent for these people ; and under one or another of your heads,
you can speak any new thought, teach any new truth, that you
please to utter, or they need to hear. But when do these
lectures begin ?
" To-morrow evening the introductory discourse, a retrospect
of history, is to be delivered. If you had been anywhere else
than shut up in Old Field Cottage, you would have seen the
affair announced. And yet, fair inspirer ! so debarred have I
been from your presence, and so anxious have I felt to find you,
that not one preparatory note have I made for that lecture to
be given to-morrow."
" No matter," said Marian, "if you have thought and felt
a great deal in your life if you have a warm heart and an
active brain, 'it will be given you in that hour what to say.'"
" Be you only there, beautiful Marian be you only there
before me, with your eloquent face, that I may draw strength
and fire from those inspiring eyes, and I shall not fail. I shall
be, at best, your medium, Marian, and if your spirit speaks by
my lips, I shall not fail to speak 'as man never spake,' save
one !" said Thurston, with enthusiasm, pressing towards her.
But her willful and spirited pony threw up its elegant little
head, and shying aside, trotted on before. Marian's face, too,
was averted, and her cheeks dyed with blushes, and her eyes
fixed upon the path before her.
Thurston did not curse the wanton little beastie, any more
than he did its mistress ; but he mentally swore that wooing a
maiden on horseback, was to a lover the most exasperating
manner of courtship on earth.
"I wish to Heaven she had to walk to and from church,"
was his charitable aspiration as he overtook her.
Marian saw the chagrin of his countenance ; and she sa'd
though with her flushed cheek <*till averted.
THE MISSING BEIDE. 319
'' I shall not fail to be present at your lecture ; not certainly
in the vain hope of being able to give you countenance, but for
the pleasure it will give me to hear you."
"Not give me countenance!" he exclaimed, vehemently;
44 T tell you, fair Marian, that your clear eyes, for me, radiate
inspiration, power."
" Pray, do not say such things to me," said the maiden,
veiling her eyes with their pure white lids ; " believe me, flattery
is always most distasteful from one whom we wish to esteem."
" Flattery ! Good Heaven, Marian ! I cannot flatter you !
"Words are too worn and weak, to express the truth of what you
seem to me, much less to exceed it."
"Our roads separate here," said the young girl, as at that
moment they emerged from the forest into the open country,
that stretched to the bay in the distance.
" And must we part here, fair one ?"
" I believe so, as our homes lie in opposite directions."
" Heaven grant that it may not long be so!" fervently ejacu-
lated the young gentleman.
" Good day to you, Mr. Willcoxen," said the maiden, turning
her pony's head.
" Stay, fairest Marian, one moment!"
She paused and looked around, while her little pony showed
his disapprobation by pawing the ground, and champing the
bi*-, and shaking and tossing his willful little head.
" Shall we not meet again this week ?" he entreated.
"I shall be at the lecture, to-morrow evening."
" Heaven speed the hours ! And after that, Marian ?"
" Sufficient unto the day, is the evil thereof?" she said softly
smiling and olushing, and veiling her eyes.
" Nay, now, do not tantalize me ; how shall I see you this
week as often as I wish to do so ?" he pleaded, attempting to
take her hand, a freedom that her capricious little pony would
in nowise permit. " Tell me, fairest tell me how, and where,
shall 1 be able to find you this week ?"
"At home," said the young girl, with a slight surprise in he!
320 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
tone ; " Edith will be glad to see her old school-mate, at the
cottage."
" And you, dearest Marian ?"
" I shall be very happy to see, and converse with one who
has the heart to labor earnestly and gratuitously, in the cause
of education and reform ;" said the maiden, in a low, soft voice.
" Thank you, fairest and dearest ; I shall find my way to Old
Fields."
" Once more good day, Mr. Willcoxen," she said turning
once again to ride homeward.
" ' Good day' good night, say rather for my day star is
about to set," said Thurston, gazing after her.
Then he called
"Miss May field!"
She looked back.
" Subjugate the willfulness of that wicked little beastie of
yours."
Marian laughed.
" Good-bye, Mr. Willcoxen."
" Good-bye, till to-morrow, most beautiful Marian !" said
Thurston, turning reluctuantly down the road that led to Dell-
Delight, and thinking that all "delight" lay in the opposite
direction.
Marian rode ou her countenance radiant with a new in-
spiring joy that seemed to elevate it into glorious supernal
beauty. She rode on the celestial smile still shining in her
eyes, soon reached Old Field Cottage, where the neat table was
set for dinner and Edith was awaiting her.
" Why, Marian," said Edith, as the blooming girl took her
place at the table, " I am not used to paying compliments, but
really you must have received a baptism of beauty ! living
beauty ! I never saw a face so radiant !"
In the meanwhile Thurston quickened his horse's steps, and in
half an hour reached Dell-Delight in good time for the miser's
dinner.
"Humph! you're getting to be some sort of a saint here,
THE MISSING BRIDE. 321
ateiy, aren't you, young man ? Quite regular in your attend-
ance upon Divine Worship. Now holiness don't run in out
family!"
" He's in love !" said Fanny.
" ' From the glance of her eye
Shun danger and fly,
For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney.' "
"Kate Kearney'? Who is she? Who is' she!" quicklj
questioned the little old man, piercing his keen littie black eyes
like needles into the eyes of the youth. " Some Irish beggar,
whose blowzy face you have fallen in love with ? Take care,
my young ape ! You know the terms, and you know me ! I
give no gold to gild love in a cottage ! No, no ! No, no !
And you ought to know what love in a cottage means just
hereabouts a low hut, with a mud floor, clay and pitch walls,
a leaking roof, a smoky hearth and nothing to cook on it, a
wife starved into a lingering consumption, and ten children
with bare legs, matted hair and dirty faces who don't starve
because it is a great deal more natural to steal !"
Thurston shuddered then shook off the creepy feeling, and
laughing, said,
" Believe me, sir, you may be at ease upon my account. I
have no more taste for love in a cottage than you have !"
" Don't believe him ! He's in love !" said Fanny, exultingly.
"' Lore rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below and saints above,
For love is heaven, and heaven is love !' "
" Peace, you singing fool ! I'll not be deceived, my young
gentleman I BSK you again, who is Catherine Kearney, and
wnerc does she live ?"
" ' Oh. did you ne'er meet this Kate Kearneyl
She lives on the banks of Killarny.
Beware of her gmile for many a wile
Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearnayl'"
20
322 MIRIAM, THE A V E N O T! 77 ; O T? . ,
" SILENCE, Fanny, I say. Now, sir, will you answer mj
question, Mr. Jackanapes?"
Thurston laughed.
" She has just told you, sir ! The lady was a celebrated Irish
beauty, who lived some years ago upon the shores of the lak
of Killarny, and whom some rhyming fellow has made im
mortal."
"Humph! no one can tell when that singing idiot is chant
ing truth or falsehood."
"Pray, sir, leave poor Fanny in peace don't scold her."
" Don't believe him 1 He's in love," said Fanny.
" ' In peace love tunes the shepherd's reed,
In war he mounts the warrior's steed,
In halls in gay attire is seen,
In hamlets dances on the green.' "
" Aye I I shouldn't wonder the least if there was a petticoat
in the case. Well 1 I have no objection, if it be heavily em-
bossed with gold bullion! You know my conditions, Sir
Dandy ! She must be a six-figured heiress !"
"' And what 5s your fortune, my pretty maid?
And what is your fortune, my pretty maid f
' My face is my fortune, sir,' she said,
' My face is my fortune, sir,' she said !"
sung Fanny, archly nodding her head, and changing her face
and her tone to suit the two voices.
"Peace, idiot, I say! Eh! now, Thurston? You under-
stand ? A six-figured fortune ! Though, where you are to find
such an heiress. I don't know, unless you could take the iittle
ape, Jacquelina, from Nace Grimshaw! Eh! you handsome
dog ?"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 320
CHAPTER XXT.
FOREST WALKS.
" The still green places where they met
The moonlit branches dewy wet,
The greeting and the parting word,
The smile, the embrace, the tone that mad*
An Eden of the forest shade." Whittier.
T**E next evening the lecture-room at the academy wau filled
at a very early hour, by a crowd the greater part of which,
alas ! were drawn thither, not so much from the desire of intel-
lectual gratification, as from the idleness and vain curiosity thai
would have led them to prefer a traveling circus as -an evening
entertainment, had such a thing stopped at their village.
Marian was present, under the care of Colonel Thornton.
She was very simply dressed, as usual, and seated near the cen-
tre of the assembly where, nevertheless, her beauty shone, faJr
as the moon from the clouds.
And the young lecturer, to whom her clear eyes were often
raised in hope and expectancy ? Thurston Willcdxen was one
upon whom Nature had lavished all her rarest gifts of mental
and personal beauty and grace. And never had he appeared so
fascinating as this evening, when commencing his discourse iu a
quiet, modest manner, and gradually warming with his subject,
his fine face grew radiant with spirit-light, and eloquence glowed
like fire on his lips.
Many a young maiden's heart throbbed under that soul-lit
eye and soul-thrilling tone.
And Marian, his own beloved, recognized a heart and brain
and spirit, higher, greater than her own recognized them without
jealousy, without a single wish to rival or excel them recog-
nized them with a woman's fervent, ~<Tdial, enthusiastic, whole-
Btrukd homage
324 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Ah ! beautiful Marian ! greatness of heart and brain and spirit
are not enough ! Satan was great in these things great in the
passions of his soul, the power of his intellect, and the infitity
of his spirit ! yet Le fell !
One single comprehensive grace is worth them all ! A slave
may have it the conqueror of the world may lack it ! It is the
child's simplest gift it is the hero's crowning glory 1
The lecturer ceased. The impression that he made was deep
and lasting.
As he descended from the stand, friends and acquaintances
crowded around him with congratulations. He received and
acknowledged them all with graceful courtesies, but his eyes
wandering, sought her for whom he had taken all this trouble.
And espying her at last, quietly waiting in the centre of the
crowd, he escaped as soon as he could, and made his way towards
her
She met him. He took her hand within his own, deferentially
pressed it, and seeking to meet her eyes, deprecatingly whis-
pered his doubts whether his effort that evening had met her
approbation.
"It would be presumptuous in me to praise it!" she answered
fervently, Avith a pressure of his hand, and a glance into his eyes,
that sent an electric shock of joy through every nerve and vein
to his heart's core.
" Marian ! If you are disengaged, and will be at home to-
morrow, I will call at your house in the morning."
" I will wait you there, and until then, good-bye," she said,
smiling.
" Good night, my day-star ! I shall dream of you till then ! a
ne murmured, in a tone audible only to her, as he gave her back
'n charge of her deaf, poor, blind, old escort.
The next morning, when the red, autumnal sun was but an
hour or two above the horizon, and the pearly frost still lay on
the brown and burnished meadow lands, Thurston rode from
Dell-Delight to Old Field Cottage.
When he reached the little arched gate, over which the lovely
tizure morning-glories bio ^med amid the frost, he alighted, tied
THE MISSING BRIDE. 325
his horse, and passed up the little flower-bordered walk to the
door, and rapped.
It was opened by Marian, who, the first instant she saw him,
colored vividly, and the next smiled and invited him to enter.
There never was such a home-like little palace as that cottage
parlor. It was so clean and quiet, the hearth was so bright,
and the fire so clear, and the outlook from the windows so frea
and wide !
Edith was sitting by the back window making a child's apron.
She arose and greeted her visitor, handed him a chair to the
fire, and resumed her seat and occupation.
Marian took up a little crimson hood that she was quilting,
and with a smiling reference to the lecture of the preceding
evening, sat down and pursued her work.
The quiet, domestic air of the little place soon influenced
him, and he speedily felt at home, and chatted freely and gavly
with the two young women.
Marian told him that his friend and admirer, aunt Jenny, had
taken little Miriam and gone into the woods to gather walnuts,
a thing which she did every fine morning, in order to amass a
Christmas hoard ; but that she would be very much disappointed
and grieved at having missed him.
After prolonging his call a? far as good manners would sanc-
tion, Thurston arose and took a reluctant leave.
Marian attended him to the gate.
" Marian," he said, lingering before he mounted his horse,
"there does not bloom a flower at Dell-Delight!"
She smiled, and gathered a rich scented white tea-rose and
handed him. He touched it lightly with his lips, sprang into
his saddle, bowed deeply and rode off And Marian returned
tc her quilting, humming a song as she sewed.
The visit had been very pleasant, yet not altogether satisfac-
tory to Thurston. It was very tantalizing to sit there and seo
and speak to his beloved only in the presence of Edith. In
fact, so unsatisfying had been this call, that he had little desirl
to repeat it, even had such a course been prudent
S26 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OH,
Though the few days were helped onward by his preparation
of the second discourse with which he secretly hoped to please
her even more than he had done with the first one, and though
his labor was lightened by anticipation of the Sunday's meet-
ing, and the Monday's \pcture, yet the time lagged heavily. Ho
counted the days and the hours. He had no hope of seeing
her before the Sabbath. What then was his surprise and joy
when riding through the forest on Friday morning, to meet
Marian returning from the village and on foot. She was ra-
diant with health and beauty, and blushing and smiling with
joy, as she met him. A little basket hung upon her arm. To
dismount and join her, to take the basket from her arm, and
look in her face and declare in broken exclamations his delight
at seeing her, were the words and the work of an instant.
"And whither away, this morning, fairest Marian?" he in-
quired, when unrebuked he had pressed her hand to his lips, and
drawn it through his arm.
" I have been to the village, and am now going home," said
the maiden.
"It is a long walk through the forest."
"Yes, but my pony has cast a shoe and lamed himself
slightly, and I fear I shall have to dispense with his services for
a few days !"
" Thank God!" fervently ejaculated Thurston to himself.
" But it is beautiful weather, and I enjoy walking, 5 ' said the
young girl.
" Marian dearest Marian, will you let me attend you home !
The walk is lonely, and it may not be quite safe for a fair woman
to take it unattended."
"I have no fears of interruption," said Marian.
"Yet, you will not refuse to let me attend you? Do not,
Marian 1" he pleaded, earnestly, fervently, clasping her hand,
and pouring the whole strength of his soul in the gaze that he
fastened on her face.
" I thank you but you were riding the other way."
" It was merely ai idle saunter, to help to kill the time be-
THE MISSING BRJDE. 327
tweeii this and Sunday, dearest girl ! Now rest you, my queeu
my queen 1 upon this mossy rock, as on a throne, while ]
ride forward and leave my horse. I will be with you again in
fifteen minutes ; in the meantime here is something for you to
IOOK at," he said, drawing from his pocket an elegant little
volume bound in purple and gold, and laying it in her lap. He
then smiled, sprang into his saddle, bowed, and galloped away
--leaving Marian to examine her book. It was a London copy
of Spenser's Fairy Queen, superbly illustrated; one of the
rarest books to be found in the whole country, at that day.
On the fly-leaf, the name of Marian was written, in the hand of
Thurston.
Some minutes passed in the pleasing examination of the
volume and Marian was still turning the leaves with unmixed
pleasure pleasure in the gift, and pleasure in the giver when
Thurston, even before the appointed time, suddenly rejoined her.
" So absorbed in Spenser, that you did not even hear or see
me!" said the young man, half reproachfully.
" I was indeed far gone in Fairy Land I Oh 1 I thank you
so much for your beautiful present. It is, indeed, a treasure.
I shall prize it greatly," said Marian, in unfeigned delight.
"Do you know that Fairy Land is not obsolete, dearest
Marian ?" he said, fixing his eyes upon her charming face, with
an ardor and earnestness that caused hers to sink.
" Come," she said, in a low voice and rising from the rock
" let us leave this place and go forward."
They walked on, speaking softly of many things, of the lec-
tures, of the beautiful autumnal weather, of Spenser, of any-
thing except the one interest that now occupied both hearts.
The fear of startling her bashful trust, and banishing those be-
witching glances that sometimes lightened on his face, made
him cautious, and restrained his eagerness ; while excessive
consciousness kept her cheeks dyed with blushes, and her nerves
vibrating sweet, wild music, like the strings of some seoliau
arp when swept by the swift south wind.
He determined, d'lring the walk, to plead his love, and ascer-
328 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
tain its fate. Aye ! but how approach the subject, when, at
every ardent, glance or tone, her face, her heart, shrunk and
closed up, like the leaves of the sensitive plant.
So they rambled on, discovei'ing new beauties in nature ; now
it would be merely an oak leaf of rare richness of coloring ;
now some tiny insect with finished elegance of form; now a
piece of the dried branch of a tree that Thurston picked up,
to bid her note the delicately blending shades in its gray hue,
or the curves and lines of grace in its twisted form the beauty
of its slow return to dust ; and now perhaps it would be the
mingled colors in the heaps of dried leaves drifted at the foot
of some great tree.
And then from the minute loveliness of nature's sweet, small
things, their eyes would wander to the great glory of the au-
tumnal sky, or the variegated array of the gorgeous forest.
Thurston knew a beautiful glade, not far distant, to the left
of their path, from which there was a very fine view that he
wished to show his companion. And he led Marian thither by
a little moss bordered, descending path.
It was a natural opening in the forest, from which, down a
still, descending vista, between the trees, could be seen the dis-
tant bay, and the open country near it, all glowing under a
refulgent sky, and hazy with the golden mist of Indian Summer.
Before them the upper branches of the nearest trees formed a
natural arch above the picture.
Marian stood and gazed upon the wondrous beauty of the
scene with soft, steady eyes, with lips breathlessly severed, in
perfect silence and growing emotion.
"This pleases you," said Thurston.
She nodded, without removing her gaze.
"You find it charming?"
She nodded again, and smiled.
"You were never here before."
"^ever."
Marian, you are a lover of nature."
"I do not know," she said, softly, "whether it be ov. 01
THE MISSING BRIDE. 329
worship, or bott ; but some pictures spell-bind me I stand
amidst a scene like this enchanted, until my soul has absorbed
as much of its beauty and glory and wisdom as it can give.
A s the Ancient Mariner held with his ' glittering eye' the wed-
ding guest, so such a picture holds me enthralled until I have
heard the story and learned the lesson it has to tell and teach
me I Did you ever, in the midst of nature's liberal ministra-
tions, feel your spirit absorbing, assimilating, growing? or is it
only a fantastic notion of mine that beauty is the food of soul ?"
She turned her eloquent eyes full upon him.
He forgot his prudence, forgot her claims, forgot everything,
and caught and strained her to his bosom, pressing passionate
kisses upon her lips, and the next instant he was kneeling at
her feet, imploring her to forgive him to hear him !
Marian stood with her face bowed and hidden in her hands,
but above the tips of her fingers, her forehead, crimsoned,
might be seen. One half her auburn hair had escaped and
rippled down upon her bosom in glittering disorder. And so
she stood a few moments. But soon, removing her hands and
turning away, she said, in a troubled tone,
"Rise. Never kneel to any creature that homage is due
the Creator alone oh ! rise."
" First pardon me, first hear me, beloved girl."
" Oh ! rise rise, I beg you. I cannot bear to see a man on
his knee, except in prayer to God," she said, walking away.
He sprang up and followed her, took her hand, and with
gentle compulsion, made her sit down upon a bank, and then
he sank beside her, exclaiming eagerly, vehemently, yet in a
low, half smothered tone,
'' Marian, I love you. I never spoke these words to woman
before; for I never loved before. Marian, the first moment
that I saw you I loved you, without knowing what new lift? it
was that had kindled in my nature. I have loved more and
more every day ! I love you more than words can tell or heart
conceive ! I only live in your presence Marian ! not one
wo-d or glance f ^r me ? Oh ! speak turn your dear fer-e
330 MIRIAM, THE A V E X G E R ; OR,
towards me," he said, putting his hand gently around her
head, " speak to me, Marian, for I adore, I worship you." -
" I do not deserve to be loved in that way, I do not wish it,
for it is wrong idolatrous," she said, in a low, trembling voice.
" Oh, what do you mean ! Is the love upon which my
life seems to hang so offensive to you ? Say, Marian I Oh !
you are compassionate by nature how can you keep me in
the torture of suspense ?"
" I do not keep you so."
" You will let me love you?"
Marian slipped her hand in his that was her reply.
" You will love me?"
For all answer she gently pressed his fingers. He pressed
her hand to his heart to his lips covering it with kisses.
" Yet, oh ! speak to me, dearest ; let me hear from you lipa
that you love me a little but better than I deserve. Will
you ? Say, Marian. Speak, dearest girl."
" I cannot tell you now," she said, in a low, thrilling tone.
" I am disturbed wish to grow quiet and must go home.
Let us return."
One more passionate kiss of the hand he clasped, and then
he helped her to her feet, drew her arm within his own, and
led her up the moss-covered rocks that formed the natural
Bteps of the ascent that led to the homeward path.
They were now near the verge of the forest, which, when
they reached, Marian drew her arm from his, and extending
her hand, said,
" This is the place our roads part."
" But you will let me attend you home ?"
" No it wo'ild make the return walk too long."
" That can be no consideration. I beg you will let me go
with you, Marian."
" No it would not be convenient to Edith to-day," said
Marian, quickly drawing her hand from his detaining grasp,
iravmg him adieu, and walking swiftly away across the meadow.
Thurston gazed after ^r; strongly tempted to follow her;
THE MISSING BRIDE. 331
yet withal admitting that it was best that she had declined
his escort to the cottage ; and thanking Heaven that the op-
portunity would again be afforded to take an " incidental"
stroll with her, as she should walk to church on Sunday morn>
ing; and so forming the resolution to haunt the forest-path
from seven o'clock that next Sabbath looming until he should
see her, Thurston hurried home.
And how was it with Marian ? She hastened to the cottage,
laid off her bonuet and shawl, and set herself at work as dili-
gently as usual ; but a higher bloom glowed on ner cheek, a
softer, brighter light beamed in her eye, a warmer, sweeter
smile hovered around her lips, a deeper, richer tone thrilled in
her voice. " A dream was on her soul." A feeling of infinite
content a sense of being at home on this earth of being
satisfied of being at rest such as she had never felt since in
childhood she had reposed on her mother's bosom. She felt,
herself no longer as before, a stranger and a pilgrim upon
earth, (going about doing good, loving all, it was true, but,)
unloved of any. She was no longer alone she was beloved
she had heard it ; she felt it ; she knew it ! Not words alone
had told her so those thrilling arms that had clasped her
form most earnest and truthful eveu in their rashness and
quivering with great emotion even in their strength ; that
heart that had throbbed so wildly against her own ; those eyes
that had gazed so fondly, passionately, prayerfully in hers,
pleading for her love ; all these eloquent exponents had im-
pressed and filled her soul with the blessed truth that she was
beloved beloved to her heart's infinite content beioved by
one around whom softly be it whispered her own maiden
fancies had hovered in pure enthusiasm, ever since the morning
upon which she had seen him before Old Field Cottage, and
had heard from the mouths of others the relation of his noblo
and generous deeds the high eulogium of his exalted charac-
ter. He might not have merited such unqualified encomium
but with her it stood as truth. And up to the time cf his first
meeting with Marian, Thurston Willcoxen in thought and
332 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
deed bad been perfectly blameless. His praises wero still th
theme of the aged as well as the youthful. In the wealth of
golden opinions he was fully Marian's equal.
On Sunday morning the lovers " chanced" to meet again
for so Thurston would still have had it appear as he permitted
Marian to overtake him in the forest on her way to the Sunday-
school.
She was blooming and beautiful as the morning itself as she
approached. He turned with a radiant smile to greet her.
" Welcome 1 thrice welcome, dearest one ! your coming is
more joyous than that of day. Welcome my own, dear Marian !
May I now call you mine ! Have I read that angel-smile
aright ? Is it the blessed herald of a happy answer to my
prayer ?" he whispered, as he took her hand and passed his
arm around her head, and brought it down upon his bosom.
" Speak, my Marian ! Speak, my beloved ! Are you my
own, as I am yours ?"
Her answer was so low-toned that he had to bend his head
down close to her lips to hear her .murmur
" I love you dearly. But I love too well to ruin your pros-
pects. You must not bind yourself to me just yet, dear Thurs-
ton," and meekly and gently she sought to slip? from his
embrace.
But he slid his arm around her lightly, bending his head
and whispering eagerly,
" What mean you, Marian ? Your words are incomprehen-
sible."
" Dear Thurston," she answered, in a tremulous and thrilling
voice ; " I have known your grandfather long by report, and 1
am well aware of his character and disposition and habits.
But only yesterday I chanced to learn from one who was well
informed, that old Mr. Willcoxen had sworn to make you his
heir only upon condition of your finding a bride of equal or
superior fortunes. If now you were to engage yourself to me,
your grandfather would disinherit you. I love vou too well,''
she murmm'ed very low, " to ruin your fortunes. You must
not bind yourself to me just now, Thurs+m."
THE MISSIXG BRIDE. 333
And this 'loving, frank, and generous creature was the wo
can, he thought, whose good name he would have periled in a
clandestine courtship, in preference to losing his inheritance by
an open betrothal. A stab of compunction pierced his bosom ;
lie fr't that he loved her more than ever, but passion was
stronger than affection, stronger than conscience, stronger
than anything in nature, except pride and ambition. He
tightened his clasp about her waist he bent and whispered,
" Beloved Marian, is it to bind me only that you hesitate ?"
" Only that," she answered softly.
" Now hear me, Marian. I swear before Heaven, and in
thy sight that as I have never loved woman before you
that as I love you only of all women I will be faithful to
you while I live upon this earth ! as your husband, if you will,
accept me ; as your exclusive lover whether you will or not !
I hold myself pledged to you as long as we both shall live I
There, Marian ! I am bound to you as tight as vows can bind !
I am pledged to you whether you accept my pledge or not.
You cannot even release, for I am pledged to Heaven as well.
There, Marian, you see I am bound, while you only are free.
Come ! be generous ! You have said that you loved me !
pledge youj*self to me in like manner. We are both young,
dear Marian, and we can wait. Only let me have your promise
to be my wife only let me have that blessed assurance for the
future, and I can endure the present. Speak, dear Marian."
"Your grandfather "
" He has no grudge against you, personally, sweet girl ; he
knows nothing, suspects nothing of my preferences how
should he ? No, dearest girl his notion that I must have a
monied bride, is the merest whim of dotage ; we must forgive
the whims of ninety-five. That great age also augurs for us a
short engagement, and a speedy union I"
" Oh ! never let us dream of that ! It would be sinful, and
draw down upon us the displeasure of Heaven. Long may the
old man yet live to prepare for a better life.
*' Amen ; so be it ; God forbid that I should grudge the aged
834 MIRIAM, THE A V E N O E ft ; OP.,
patriarch his few remaining days opon earth days, too,
which his soul's immortal welfare may depend," said Thurston,
" But, dearest girl, it is more difficult to get a reply from you,
than from a prime minister. Answer, now, once for all, sweet
girl ! since I am forever bound to you ; will you pledge yourself
to become my own dear wife ?"
"Yes," whispered Marian, very lowly.
"And will you," he asked, gathering her form closer to his
bosom, " will you redeem that pledge when I demand it ?"
"Yes, "she murmured sweetly, "so that it is not to harm
you, or bring you into trouble or poverty ; for that I would not
consent to do !"
" God bless you ; you are an angel I Oh ! Marian ! I find it
in my heart to sigh because I am so unworthy of you 1"
And this was spoken most sincerely.
You think too well of me. I fear I fear for the conse-
quences."
"Why, dearest Marian ?"
" Oh, I fear that when you know me better you may love me
,ss," she answered, in a trembling voice.
" Why should I ?"
" Oh ! because your love may have been attracted by ideal
qualities, with which you yourself have invested me ; and wheu
your eyes are opened you may love me less."
" May my soul forever perish the day that I cease to lovo
vou !" said Thurston, passionately pressing her to his heart,
and sealing his fearful oath upon her pure brow and guileless
lips. And now, beloved ! this compact is sealed ! Our fates
are united forever ! Henceforth nothing shall dissever us 1"
They were now drawing near the village.
Marian suddenly stopped.
"Dear Thurston," she said, "if you are seen waiting jpoo
me to church, do you know what the people will say ? They
will say that Marian has a new admirer in Mr. Willcoxen and
that will reach your grandfather's ears, and give you trouble.' 1
" And wherefore should we care ? I should be a wretch
THE MISSING BRIDE. 335
Marian," he said, with a sense of bitter self-scorning "I
should be a wretch to weigh your claims in the scale with my
interest with that o'.d man 1"
" It is 1 who weigh them for you," said Marian ; " I am re-
solved that you shall not risk your interest for my sake."
" Nay, I will lay them at your feet or lose them altogether
for you !"
"A truce to vain words, dear Thurston. I myself, then, if I
must say it, prefer that there should be no ground for idle
gossip about us. I confess, that I am very sensitive to those
things so sensitive, that had I known you would have been
in the woods to-day, I should have taken some other road to
church."
"You would?"
"Yes, indeed, I would!"
" I shall remember that!" thought he.
" I must hasten onward, to be in time for my class in the
Sunday school. You have time to follow on at your leisure,
since you have no duties awaiting you. Good-morning, dear
Thurston."
"Stay! one moment, beautiful Marian! When shall we
meet again ?"
"When Heaven wills."
" And when will that be, fairest ?"
"I do not know; but do not visit me at the cottage, dear
Thurston, it w<%ild be indiscreet."
" Marian ! I must see you often. Will you meet me on the
beach to-morrow afternoon ?"
Marian's eyes had been fixed upon the ground she now
raised them, and with an expression of surprise and trouble,
looked in his face.
" Have* you so misapprehended me !" she said, sadly. " Listen
to me, dear Thurston. I have consented to this secret engage-
ment because it appears to me, under the exceptional circum-
stances, to be at least not wrong. I have neither parent no*
guardian, patron *iy benefactor, to whom I might be supposed
336 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
to owe the duty of obedience. I have no authority over me save
that of God. And therefore I have the perfect right to do as I
please, always supposing that I ' please to do right.' And as
for yourself, you are of age, and should have the same freedom,
under the same condition of right doing. Your grandfather's
attempt to compel your choice of a wealthy bride before a
loved one, I consider an unjustifiable stretch of authority. He
has unfortunately the legal power of disinheriting you, though
he certainly has not the moral right of doing so. The lauded
estate especially, which he inherited from his forefathers, he
should transmit to his children it is their right it is your
right. So I have considered this matter, dear Thurston, and
therefore I have consented to this secret engagement ; that you
may not lose your inheritance, and may rest assured of the love
of your betrothed, who will wait for you years if necessary.
Dear Thurston, do you now understand the motives of my con-
duct ? And do you see that I would do no wrong ?"
" Would it be wrong to give a little of your company, in a
seaside stroll, to me, to whom you have just plighted your
faith ?"
"Yes," said Marian, gravely, "it would be wrong."
" Which of the, commandments of God, fair saint, would it
break ?"
"None, perhaps, from beginning to end, yet my conscience
assures me that it would be wrong. 'All things are lawful for
aie, but all things are not expedient,' says St. Paul."
" Aye, beautiful theologian ! but hear what Paul's Master
said ' Be not righteous over much.' 'Now are you righteous
over much ?"
Thurston was certainly the best logician of the two, and
Marian felt it. Yet tapping her hand upon her bosom thought-
fully she said :
"If there is any discrepancy between the teachings of
Christ and His servant Paul, I have not observed it, and I do
not believe it really to exist. I believe Christ would endorse the
words of Paul, ' All things are lawful unto me, but all things
THE M I S S T X O R JJ T I> E . 337
edify not.' Now, dear Thurston, I do not think it wonld
' edify ' the young girls of my Sunday school to discover that I
held secret meetings, and took solitary strolls with a gentleman
not known to be betrothed to me. And hear me farther, dear-
est Thurston, and do not look so displeased. It has pleased
Heaven to make me useful in this neighborhood. And to
lighten my labors and make them pleasant to me, nature ha*
given me some love of approbation, and some general, social
affections and enjoyments. And to increase my usefulness to
His creatures, the Lord has caused me to find much favor in
the sight of men. Now were I to take these lonely stroll
with you, pleasant and harmless in themselves though they
might be, I should endanger the confidence of the community in
me, and my own usefulness to them. Therefore, dearest Thurston,
though it would give me the sweetest pleasure to stroll with
you on the sea-shore to-morrow evening, and frequently after-
wards ; yet I must not do so, neither to-morrow nor ever, until
our engagement can be admitted."
Thurstou looked deeply mortified and angry.
" When I heard you lauded to the very sky, I asked myself
how was it possible that a human creature could be so fault-
less as you were represented. I find now that they were mis-
taken. You are not faultless ; you have pride and worldliness !
Yes, sweet saint ! You love the good word of the world, as
well as the most frivolous woman of society, or the most phari-
saical priest of the synagogue !" he exclaimed, bitterly.
Marian paused in thought.
"It may be true," she answered, meekly; "no one ever told
me so before ; but it may be that I do set too high a value upon
the opi lion of society. If I do, God cleanse me of the sin !"
" Cleanse thou thyself of worldliness ! Do not fear to fol-
low the dictates of your affections, when they transgress no law
of God's. Do not shun me like a self-righteous, worldly-wise,
professor ; but meet me like a really religious and loving wo-
man," said Thurstou, earnestly, taking her hand, and gazing
into her eyes
21
338 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"No," answered Marian, gravely, "in this single instance, I
must not meet you, though my heart pleads like a sick child
with me, to do it Thurston, dear Thurston."
She raised her eyes to his as she spoke, and giving way to a
sudden impulse, dropped her head upon his shoulder, put her
arms around his neck, and embraced him. And then his better
nugel rose above the storm of passion that was surging through
his veins, and calmed the tumult, and spoke through his lips.
" You are right, Marian fairest and dearest, you are right.
And I not only love you best of all women, but honor you
more than all men. It shall be as you have said. I will not
seek you anywhere. As the mother, dying of plague, de-
nies herself the parting embrace of her 'unstricken' child
so, for your sake, will I refrain from the heaven of your pre-
"And, dear Thurston," she said, raising her head, "it will
not be so hard to bear, as you now think. We shall see each
other every Sunday, in the church, and every Monday in the
lecture-room. We shall often be of the same invited company
at neighbor's houses. Remember, also, that Christmas is
coming, with its protracted festivities, when we shall see each
other almost every evening, at some little neighborhood gather-
ing. And now I must really hurry ; oh ! how late I am this
morning ! Good-bye, dearest Thurston !"
"Good-bye, my own Marian."
Blushingly she received his parting kiss, and hurried along
the little foot-path leading to the village.
He had no farther opportunity of speaking with Marian that
day. And when the afternoon service was over, Miss Thorn-
ton, the sister of Colonel Thornton, having discovered that
Marian had walked to church, offered her a seat in her oarriage,
and made a little detour on her way home, in order to set her
down at Old Field Cottage, The next evening, at the lecture-
room, Thurston saw Marian again, and again drew strength and
inspiration from her presence. But when the lecture was closed,
she was among the first to depart. And he failed in his en-
deavor to get near and speak to her
THE MISSING BRIDE. 339
Thurstou had been perfectly sincere in his resolution not to
peek a private interview with Marian ; and he kept it faithfully
all the week, with less temptation to break it, because he did
not know where to watch for her.
Bu* Sunday came again and Thurston, with a little bit of
Unman self-deception and finesse, avoided the forest path, where
he had met her the preceding Sabbath, and saying to himself,
that he would not waylay her, took the river road, refusing to
confess even to himself that he acted upon the calculation that
she also would take the same road, in order to avoid meeting
him in the forest.
His "calculus of probabilities" had not failed him. He had
not walked far upon the forest shaded banks of the river, before
he saw Marian walking before him. He hastened and over-
took her.
At first seeing him, her face flushed radiant with surprise and
joy. She seemed to think that nothing short of necromancy
could have conjured him to that spot. She had no reproaches
for him, because she had no suspicion that he had trifled with
his promise not to seek her. But she expressed her astonish
ment.
" I did not know you ever came this way," she said.
" Nor did I ever before, love ; but I remembered my pledge,
not to follow or to seek you, and so I avoided the woodland
path where we met last Sunday," said Thurston, persuading
himself that he spoke the precise truth.
It is not necessary to pursue with them this walk ; lovera
scarcely thank us for such intrusions. It is sufficient to say,
that this was not the last one.
Blinded by passion and self-deception, and acting upon the
Baine astute calculus of probabilities, Thurston often contrived
to meet Marian in places where his presence might be least ex-
pected, and most often in paths that she had taken for the ex-
press purpose of keeping out of his wuj.
Thus it fell, that many forest walks and seashore strolls were
taken, all through the lovely Indian Summer weather. And
340 MIRIAM, THE AVEXGER; OR,
these seemed so much the result of pure accident, that Marian
never dreamed of complaining that his pledge had been tarn-
pered with.
But Thurston began to urge her consent to a private mar-
riage.
From a secret engagement to a secret marriage, the transition
seemed to him very easy.
"And, dearest Marian, we are both of age, both free wo
should neither displease God nor wrong man, by such a step
while it would at the same time secure our union, and save us
/rom injustice and oppression ! do you not see ?"
Such was his argument, which he pleaded and enforced with
all the powers of passion and eloquence. In vain. Though
every interview increased his power over the maiden though
her affections and her will were both subjected, the domain of
conscience was uncouquered. And Marian still answered,
" Though a secret marriage would break no law of God or
man, nor positively wrong any human creature, yet it might be
the cause of misunderstanding and suspicion and perhaps
calumny, causing much distress to those who love and respect
me. Therefore it would be wrong. And I must do no wrong,
even for your dear sake."
Alas, Marian! The only way to have prevented all the
wrong and misery, would have been to break off at once. If
there is any reason on earth why two who love as lovers cannot
marry, let the wrench come that parts them forever ; it may be
passing bitter terrible but it is better than the long heart-
wasting of any other course.
So, through all the glorious autumnal weather, and through
ill the golden, hazy Indian Summer, their walks were continued
through the deep forest, by the lonely sea-shore, over the
sunny hills, down the shady dells the woods, the streams, the
fields, their only confidants.
At last the weather changed the gloomy skies and heavy
tains of eat'y winter came on, and the same inclement season
that confined Commodore Waugh's obstreperous violence within
THE MISSING BRIDE. 341
the four walls of his bed-chamber, and put a temporary stop to
the works at Luckenough, also interrupted the perilous pleasure
of those woodland and water-side rambles.
Even the lectures failed to draw people through the raiu and
mud of December, and the church itself was thinly attended.
Thurston was faithfully at his post each Monday evening,
though there might be no one but the professors, college boys,
and villagers for his audience. He was also an indefatigable
attendant upon church, in the hope of seeing Marian. But she
did not appear either at church or lecture, and Thurston in-
veighed against the continued bad weather, and fell into gloom
and despondency, from which neither the quaint pranks ant?
wild caroling of Fanny, nor the near approach of Merry
Christmas could for a moment arouse him. As Christmas ap-
proached, the weather became still worse from inclement it
became tempestuous. The rain changed to snow and the
snow-storm raged three days.
CHAPTER XXVI
CLOUDY.
u Oh! my cousin, shallow-hearted! Oh ! my ' Lina," mine no morel
Oh! the dreary, dreary moorland! Oh! the barren, barren shore I
Falser than all fancy fathoms! falser than all songs have sung'
Puppet to a guardian's threat, and Beryile to a shrewish tongue 1" Tennyson.
IT was Christmas Eve, and the ground lay two feet deep
under the snow, and the snow-storm was still raging.
Old Mr. Willcoxen saL half doubled up in his leather-covered
elbow chair, in the chimney corner of his bed-room, occupied
with smoking his clay pipe, and thinking about his money bags.
Fanny was in the ccJd, bleak upper rooms of the house, look-
o I- M I "R I A M , THE AVENGER; OR,
ing- out of the windows upon the wide desolation of winter, the
waste of snow, the bare forest, the cold, dark waters of the bay
listening to the driving tempest, and singing, full of glee as
she always was, when the elements were in an uproar.
Thurston was the sole and surly occupant of the sitting-room,
where he had thrown himself at full length upon the sofa, to lie
and yawn over the newspaper, which he vowed was as stale as
last year's almanac.
Suddenly the front door was thrown open, and some oae
came, followed by the driving wind and snow, into the hall.
Thurston threw' aside his paper, started up, and went out.
What was his surprise to see Gloudesley Mornington standing
there, with a face so haggard, with eyes so wild and despairing,
that, in alarm, he exclaimed,
"Good Heaven, Cloudesley. What is the matter? Has
anything happened at home ?"
" Home 1 home ! What home ? I have no home upon this
earth now, and never shall have !" exclaimed the poor youth
distractedly.
" My dear fellow, never speak so despondently. What is it
now ? a difficulty with the Commodore ?"
" God's judgment light upon him !" cried Cloudy, pushing
past and hurrying up the stairs.
" ' I never was a favorite my uncle never smiled on me with
half the fondness that blessed the other child,' yet I would not
have cursed him so," said Thurston, as he returned to the
sitting-room, threw himself down upon the settee and took up
his newspaper.
But he could not resume his former composure ; something
in Cloudy's face had left a feeling of uneasiness in his mind,
and the oftener he recalled the expression the more troubled ho
became.
Until at length he could bear the anxiety no longer, and
quietly leaving his room, he went up stairs in search of the
youth, and paused before the bov's door. By the clicking,
metaUic sounds within, he suspected him to be engaged in load-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 343
Ing a pistol ; for what purpose ! Not an instant was to be
risked in rapping or questioning.
With one vigorous blow of his heel, Thurston burst open the
door, and sprung forward and dashed the fatal weapon from his
hand, and then confronted him, exclaiming,
" Good God, Cloudy ! What does this mean ?"
Cloudy looked at him wildly for a minute, and when
Thurston repeated the question, he answered with a hollow
laugh,
" That I am crazy, I guess ! don't you think so ?"
" Cloudy, my dear fellow, we have been like brothers all our
lives; now wont you tell me what has brought you to this
pass ? What troubles you so much ? Perhaps I can aid you
in some way. Come, what is it now ?"
" And you really don't know what it is ? Don't you know-
that there is a wedding on hand ?"
" A wedding !"
" Aye, man alive ! A wedding ! They are going to marry
the child Jacquelina, who is scarcely out of her short frocks and
pantalettes, to old Grirashaw."
"Oh, yes, I know that; but, my dear boy, what of it?
Surely you were never in love with little Jacko ?"
" In love with her ! ha ! ha ! no, not as you understand it !
who take it to be that fantastical passion that may be inspired
by the first sight of a pretty face. No ! I am not in love with
her, unless I could be in love with myself. For Liiia was my
other self. Oh, you who can talk so glibly of being ' in love,'
little know that strength of attachment when two hearts have
grown together from childhood."
" It is like a brother's and a sister's."
" Never ! brothers and sisters cannot love so. What brother
ever loved a sister as I have loved Lina from our infancy.
What brother ever would have done and suffered as much for
His sister as I have for Lina ?"
" You ! done and suffered for Lina!" said Thurston, begin-
ning to think he was really mad.
344 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Yes ! how many faults as a boy I have shouldered for her.
How many floggings I have taken. How many shames I hav
borne for her, which she never knew. Yes ! faults that in a
little, tiny girl were almost excusable, but in a boy were mean
and dishonorable, I have a thousand times allowed to be laid to
my charge, and borne the pain and the shame of the punish-
ment, rather than have her so much as slightly blamed ; and
she never knew it. How I loved her. That was in our school
days. Oh, even then ! when I would go to school in the morn-
ing, the first one I would seek out in the play-ground would be
her. But most of the time I was late, because grandfather kept
me at work like a slave in the morning, just allowing rne time
to get to school. And if the school was in, the first thing I'd
do when I'd get into the passage, would 'be to look up at the
row of girls' bonnets hanging there, to see if her little hood
was among them. If it was, my heart bounded like a barque
if it were not, it sank like a plummet. And when I went in
and missed her from her little bench, I looked oftener at the
door than at the page of my book, until she came. Poor Lina.
Thurston, the little wild thing was almost always at the foot of
the class, and if I happened to be at the head, I would let three
or four boys and girls get above me, that I might fall next to
her. For two reasons, Thurston ! to keep any other boy from
standing next to her, and also to keep her in countenance. And
Since the school-days, all my thoughts, all my dreams, all my
ambitions, have been for her her society, her pleasure, her
good ! Oh 1 how I have spent my night watches at sea, dream-
ing of her. For years I have been saving up all my money to
buy a pretty cottage for her and her mother that she loves so
well. I meant to have bought or built one this very year.
And after having made the pretty nest, to have wooed my
pretty bird to come and occupy it. I meant to have been such
H good boy to her mother, too ! I pleased myself with fancy-
ing how the poor little timorous woman would rest in so much
peace and confidence in our home with me and Lina. I have
saved so much that I am richer than any one knows, and I meant
THE MISSING BRIDE. 345
to have accomplished all that this very time of coming home.
I hurried home. I reached the house. I ran in like a wild boy
as I was. Her voice called me. I followed its sound ran up
stairs to her room. I found her in bed. I thought she was
sick. But she sprang up, and threw herself upon my bosom,
and with her arms clasped about my neck, wept as if her heart
would break. And while I wondered what the matter could
be, her mother interfered and told me. God's judgment light
upon them all, I say I Oh ! it was worse than murder It
was a horrid, horrid crime, that has no name because there is
none heinous enough for it ! Thurston I I acted like a very
brute ! God help me, I was both stunned and maddened, as it
seems to me now. For I could not speak. I tore her little,
fragile, clinging arms from off my neck, and thrust her from me.
And here I am."
" Were you engaged ?"
" Engaged ? Yes ! that is to say, I thought we were ! but it
appears that /was engaged, and she was not ! ha 1 ha 1"
" You engaged, and she not ?"
"Yes! It was a funny engagement ! quite a unique one!
I daresay you never heard of such a one in your life," exclaimed
Cloudy, laughing in a wild, insane manner. " You shall hear,"
he continued, seeing that Thurston's countenance expressed
doubt and perplexity. " Oh, you shall hear ! Yes, it was a
funny betrothal 1 And the proposal came from the other party ? *
ba I ha ! curious, wasn't it ?"
Thurston regarded him with painful sympathy.
Cloudy pushed up the hair from his burning forehead, and
related the story.
" There ! that was our engagement ! Don't ask me how I
loved her! I have no words to tell you 1"
346 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
CHAPTER XXYII.
THE FAIRY BRIDE
" And the little lady grew silent and thin,
Paling, and ever paling,
As is the way with a hid chagrin,
And they all perceived she was ailing." Brooming.
SINCE the morning of her ill-starred marriage, Sans Souci
had waned like a waning moon ; and the bridegroom saw, with
dismay, his fairy bride slowly fading, passing, vanishing from
his sight. There was no very marked disorder, no visible or
tangible symptoms to guide the physicians, who were in suc-
cession summoned to her relief. Very obscure is the pathology
of a wasting heart, very occult the scientific knowledge that can
search out the secret sickness, which, the farther it is sought,
shrinks the deeper from sight.
Once, indeed, while she was sitting with her aunt and uncle,
the latter suddenly and rudely mentioned Cloudy's name, say-
ing that " the fool " was sulking over at Dell-Delight ; that he
believed he would have blown his brains out if it had not been
for Thurston, and for his own part, he almost wished that he
had been permitted to do so, because he thought none but a
fool would ever commit suicide, and the fewer fools there were
in the world the better, &c. &c. His monologue was suddenly
arrested by Henrietta's rushing forward to lift up Sans Souci,
who had turned very pale, and dropped from her seat to the
floor, where she lay silently quivering and gasping, like some
poor wounded and dying bird.
They tacitly resolved, from this time forth, never to name
Cloudy in her presence again.
And the Commodore struck his heavy stick upon the floor,
and emphatically thanked God that Nace Grimshaw had not
been present to witness her agitation and its cause.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 347
And Jacquelina waned and waned. And the physicians,
wearied out with her case, prescribed " Change of air and
scene pleasant company cheerful amusement excitement,"
&c. A winter in Washington was suggested. And the little
invalid was consulted as to her wishes upon the subject. "Yes."
Jacquelina said she would go anywhere, if only her aunty and
Marian would go with her she wanted Marian.
Mrs. Waugh readily consented to accompany her favorite,
and also to try to induce " Hebe," as she called blooming
Marian, to make one of their party.
And the very first day that the weather and the roads would
admit of traveling, Mrs. Waugh rode over to Old Fields to
see Marian, and talk with her about the contemplated journey.
The proposition took the young lady by surprise ; there were
several little lets and hindrances to her immediate acceptance
of the invitation, which might, however, be disposed of; and
finally, Marian begged a day to consider of it. With this
answer, Mrs. Waugh was forced to be content, and she took
her leave, saying,
" Remember, Hebe ! that I think your society and conver
sation more needful, and likely to be more beneficial to poor
Lapwing, than anything else we can procure for her ; therefore,
pray decide to go with us, if possible."
Marian deprecated such reliance upon her imperfect abilities,
but expressed her strong desire to do all the good she possibly,
could effect for the invalid, and made little doubt but that she
should at the least be able to attend ner. So, with this hope,
Mrs. Waugh kissed her and departed.
The very truth was, that Marian wished to see and consult
hor betrothed before consenting to leave home for what seemed
to her to be so long a journey, and for so long a period. In fact,
Marian was not now a free agent ; she had suffered her free
will to slip from her own possession into that of Thurston.
She had not seen him all the wretched weather, and her heart
now yearned for his presence. And that very afternoon Mariau
had a most pressing errand to Charlotte Hall, to purchase gro-
348 MIKIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
ceries, which the little family had got entirely out of, during the
continuance of the snow.
There was no certainty that she should see Thurston ; still
she hoped to do so, nor was her hope disappointed.
He overtook her a short distance from the village, on hel
road home.
Their meeting was a very glad one heart sprang to heart
o.nd hand to hand and neither affected to conceal the pleasure
that it gave them. After the first joyous greetings, and the
first earnest and affectionate inquiries about each other's health
and welfare, both became grave and silent for a little while.
Marian was reflecting how to propose to leave him for a three
months' visit to the gay capitol, little thinking that Thurston
himself was perplexed with the question of how to break to
her the news of the necessity of his own immediate departure
to England for an absence of at least six or eight months.
Marian spoke first.
" Dear Thurston, I have something to propose to you, that I
fear you will not like very well ; but if you do not, speak freely ;
for I am not bound."
" I I do not understand you, love ! Pray explain at once,"
said he, quick to take alarm where she was concerned.
"You know poor little Jacquelina has fallen into very bad
health and spirits ? Well, her physicians recommend change of
air and scene, and her friends have decided to take her to
AVashington to pass the remainder of the winter. And the
little creature has set her sickly fancy upon having me to go
with her. Now, I think it in some sort a duty to go, and I
would not willingly refuse. Nevertheless, dear Thurston, I
dread to leave you, and if you think you will be very lonesome
this winter without me if you are likely to miss me one-half
as much as I have missed you these last three weeks, I will not
leave you at all."
He put his hand out and took hers, and pressed it, and woultf
bave carried it to his lips, but her wicked little pony suddenly
jerkrd way.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 349
"My own dearest Marian," he said, "my frank, generous
love ! if I were going to remain in this neighborhood this win-
ter, no consideration, I fear, for others' good, would induce me
to consent to part with you."
It was now Marian's turn to change color, and falter in her
tones, as she asked,
''You you are not going away ?"
' Sweet Marian, yes ! A duty a necessity too imperative to
bfc denied, summons me."
She kept her eyes fixed on his face in painful anxiety.
" I will explain. You have heard, dear Marian, that after
my father's death my mother married a second time ?"
" No I never heard of it."
" She did, however her second husband was a Scotchman.
She lived with him seven years, and then died, leaving him one
child, a boy six years of age. After my mother's death, my
stepfather returned to Scotland, taking with him my half-bro-
ther, and leaving me with my grandfather. And all communi-
cation gradually ceased between, us. Within this week, however,
I have received letters from Edinburg, informing me of. the
death of my stepfather, and the perfect destitution of my half-
brother, now a lad of twelve years of age. He is at present
staying with the clergyman who attended his father in his last
illness, and who has written me the letters giving me the infor-
mation that I now give you. Thus you see, my dearest love,
how urgent the duty is that takes me from your side. Yet
What ! tears, my Marian ! Ah, if so ! let my dearest one but
say the word, and I will not leave her. I will send money over
to the lad instead."
" No, no ! Ah ! no, never trust your mother's orphan boy
to strangers, or to his own guidance. Go for the poor, deso-
late lad, and never leave him, or suffer him to leave you. I
ki-ow what orphanage in childhood is, dear Thurston, and so
dinst you. Bring the boy home. And if he lives with yon, I
will do all I can to supply his mother's place."
"Dear girl ! dear, dear Marian, my heart so longs to press
350 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
you to itself. A plague upon these horses that keep us so far
apart! I wish we were on foot !"
"Do you?" smiled Marian, directing his attention to the
sloppy path down -vhich they were riding.
Thurstcn smiled ruefully, and then sighed.
" When do you set out on your long journey, dear Thurston ?"
" I have not fixed the time, my Marian! I have not the
courage to name the day that shall part us for so long."
He looked at her with a heavy sigh, and then added,
"I shrink from appointing the time of going, as a criminal
might shrink from giving the signal for his own execution."
" Then let some other agent do it," said Marian, smiling at
his earnestness. Then she added "I shall go to Washington
with Jacquelina. Her party will set out on Wednesday next.
And, dear Thurston, I shall not like to leave you here, at all.
I shall go with more content, if I know that you set out the
same day for your journey."
"But, fairest Marian, never believe but that if you go to
Washington, I shall take that city in my way. There is a vessel
to sail on the first of February, from Baltimore, for Liverpool.
I shall probably go by her. I shall pass through Washington
City on my way to Baltimore. Nay indeed ! what should hin-
der me from joining your party and traveling with you, since
we are friends and neighbors, and go at the same time, from the
same neighborhood, by the same road, to the same place ?" he
asked, eagerly.
A smile of joy illumined Marian's face,
" Truly," she answered, after a short pause, " I see no objec
lion to that plan. And, oh ! Thurston," she said, holding ouc
her hand, and looking at him with her face holy and beaming
with affection, " do you know what fullness of life and coniio/t
what sweetness of rest and contentment I feel in your pre-
sence, when I can have that rightly ?"
" My own dear Marian ! Heaven hasten the day when we
uhall be forever united."
A.nd he suddenly sprang from his horse lifted her from her
THE MISSING BRIDE. 351
saddle, and holding her carefully above the sloppy path, folded
her fondly to his bosom, pressed kisses on her lips, and then
replaced her, saying,
"Dear Marian, forgive me! My heart was half breaking
with its need to press you to itself! ]Sow then, dearest, I shall
consider it settled that I join your party to Washington. I
shall call at Locust Hill and see Mrs. Waugh, inform her of my
destination, and ask her permission to accompany her. By the
way when do you give your answer to that lady ?"
"I shall ride over to the Hill to-morrow morning, for that
purpose."
"Very well, dearest. In that case I will also appoint the
morning as my time of calling ; so that I may have the joy of
meeting you there."
They had by this time reached the verge of the forest and
the cross-road where their paths divided. And here they bade
a loving, lingering adieu to each other, and separated.
Tnat evening Marian announced to Edith her decision to
accompany Jacquelina to Washington City.
Edith approved the plan.
The next morning, Marian left the house to go to Locust
Hill, where, besides the family, she found Thurston already
awaiting her.
Thurston was seated by Jacquelina, endeavoring, by his gay
and brilliant sallies of wit and humor, to charm away the sullen
sadness of the pale and petulant little beauty.
And, truth to tell, soon fitful, fleeting smiles broke over the
little wan face smiles that grew brighter and more frequent as
she noticed the surly anxiety they gave to Doctor Grimshuw,
who sat, like the dog in the manger, watching Thurston sunning
himself in the light of eyes that never by any chance shone
upon him, their rightful proprietor!
Never ! for though Jacquelina had paled and waned, failed
and faded, until she seemed more like a moonlight phantom
than a form of flesh and blood her spirit was unbowed, un-
broken, and she ^ad kept her oath of uncompromising enmitj
352 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
with fearful perseverance. Petitions, expostulations, prayers,
threats, had been all in vain to procure one smile, one word, one
glance of compliance or forgiveness. And the fate of Doctor
Grimshaw, with his unwon bride, was like that of Tantalus.
And now the inconceivable tortures of jealousy were about to
be added to his other torments, for this man now sitting by his
Bide, and basking in the sunshine of her smiles, was the all-
praised Adonis who had won her maiden admiration months ago,
But Thurston soon put an end to his sufferings not in con-
sideration of his feelings, but because the young gentleman,
could not afford to lose or risk the chance of making one of the
party which was to number Marian among its members. There-
fore, with a light smile and careless bow, he left the side of
Jacquelina and crossed over to Mrs. Waugh, with v/hom, also,
he entered into a gay and bantering conversation, in the course
of which, Mrs. Waugh mentioned to him their purpose of
going to Washington for a month or two.
It was then that, with an air of impromptu, Thurston in-
formed her of his own contemplated journey and voyage, and
of his intention to go to Baltimore by way of Washington.
"And when do you leave here ?" asked Mrs. Waugh.
" I thought of starting on Wednesday morning."
" The very day that we shall set out why can't we travel in
company?" asked Henrietta, socially.
" I should be charmed indeed delighted ! And nothing
shall prevent me having that honor and pleasure, if Mrs. Waugh
will permit my attendance."
"Why, my dear Thurston, to be sure I will but don't waste
fine speeches on your uncle's old wife. How do you travel ?"
"As far as Washington I shall go on horseback, with a mounted
groom to bring back the horses, when I proceed on my journey
by i?tage to Baltimore."
" On horseback 1 Now that is excellent that is really pro
ridential, as it falls out for here is my Hebe, whom I have
coaxed to be of the party, and who will have to perform the
journey also on horseback, and you will make an admirable
aval ; er for herl"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 353
Thurston turned and bowed to Marian, and expressed, in
courtly terms, the honor she would confer, and the pleasure she
would give, in permitting him to serve her. And no one, to
have seen him, would have dreamed that the subject had ever
before been mentioned between them.
Marian blushed and smiled, and expressing ner thanks, ac-
cepted his offered escort.
These preliminaries being settled, Thurston soon after arose
and took leave.
Marian remained some time longer to arrange some little pre-
paratory matters with Mrs. Waugh, and then bade them good-
bye, and hastened homeward.
But she saw Thurston walking his horse up and down the
forest-path, and impatiently waiting for her.
Doctor Grimshaw was very much dissatisfied ; and no sooner
had Marian left the house, and left him alone with Mrs. Waugh
and Jacquelina, than he turned to the elder lady, and said, with
some asperity,
" I think it would have been well, Mrs. Waugh, if you had
consulted the other members of your party before making so
important an addition to it.
"And I think it would be better, Doctor Grimshaw, if you
would occupy your "aluable time and attention with affairs that
fall more immediately within your own province," said Henrietta,
loftily, as she would sometimes speak.
Doctor Grimsbaw deigned no reply. He closed his mouth
with a spasmodic snap, and sat ruminating the very picture of
wretchedness. He was indeed to be pitied ! For no patience,
no kindness, no wooing could win from his bride one smile.
That very afternoon, under the combined goadings of exasperated
self-lovt and poignant jealousy, Doctor Grimshaw sought an
interview with Mrs. L'Oiseau, and urged her in the most
strenuous manner to exert her maternal influence in bringing
her daughter to terms.
And Mrs. L'Oiseau sent for Jacquelina, to have a talk with
22
354 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
ner. But not all her arguments, entreaties, or even tears, could
prevail with the obstinate bride to relax one single degree of
her unforgiving antagonism to her detested bridegroom.
"Mother," she said, with sorrowful bitterness, "you are well
now; indeed you never was so ill as I was led to believe : and
you are independent. I parted with my cnly hope of happi-
ness in life to render you so ; I sold myself, in a formal marriage,
to be the legal medium of endowing Doctor Grimshaw with a
certain landed estate. Even into that measure I was deceived
no more of that ! it crazes me 1 The conditions are all fulfilled :
he will have the property, and you are independent. And now
he has no further claim upon me, and no power over me 1"
"He has, Jacquelina; and it is only Doctor Grimshaw's for.
bearance that permits you to indulge in this wicked whim."
" His forbearance ! Oh 1 hasn't he been forbearing though !"
she exclaimed, with a mocking laugh.
" Yes ! he has, little as you are disposed to acknowledge it.
You do not seem to know that he can compel your submission !"
"Can he!" she hissed, drawing her breath sharply through
her clenched teeth, and clutching her fingers convulsively, while
a white ring gleamed around the blue iris of her dilated eyes.
" Let him try ! let him drive me to desperation, and then learn
how spirits dare to escape ! But he will not do that, Mimmy !
he reads me better than you do ; be knows that he must not urge
me beyond my powers of endurance. No, mother ! Let him
take my uncle into his counsels again, if he pleases ; ,let them
combine all their ingenuity, and wickedness, and power, and
bring them all to bear on me at once ; let them dp their worst
they shall not gain one concession from nvj ; not one smile,
not one word, not one single look of tolerance so help me
Heaven ! And they know it, mother ! they know it ! And
why ? You are secured from their malice : now they can turn
no screws upon my heart-strings! and I am free ! They kno
It, mother they know it, if you do not."
"But, Jacquelina, this is a very, very wicked life to lead!
Ton are living U a state of mortal sin while you persist in this
THE MISSING BRIDE. 355
shocking rebellion against the authority and just rights of you?
husband.''
" He is not my husband ! that I utterly deny ! I have never
made him such ! There was nothing in our nominal marriage
to give him that claim. It was a mere legal form, for a mer-
cenary purpose. It was a wicked and shameful subterfuge ; a
sacrilegious desecration of God's holy altar! but in its wicked-
ness Heaven knows I had little will 1 I was deluded and dis-
turbed : facts were misrepresented to me, threats were made
that could never have been executed ; my fears were excited foi
your life ; my affections were wrought upon ; I was driven out
of my senses even before I did consent to be his nominal wife
the legal sumpter-mule to carry him an estate. I promised
nothing more, and I have kept all my promises. It is over ! it is
over ! it is done ! and it cannot be undone ! But I never never
will forgive that man for the part he played in the drama !"
" Ave Maria, Mater Dolorosa ! Was ever a mother so sor-
rowful as I ? Holy saints and angels ! how you shock me !
Don't you know, wretched child, that you are committing deadly
sin ? Don't you know, alas ! the holy church would refuse you
its communion ?"
" Let it 1 I will be excommunicated before I will give Doctor
Grimshaw one tolerant glance ! I will risk the eternal rather
than fall into the nearer perdition!"
"Holy Mary save her! Don't you know, most miserable
child ! that such is your condition, that if you were to die now
your soul would go to burning flames?"
" Ha ! ha ! Where do you think it is now, Miinmy ?"
"You are mad ! You don't know what you're talking about !
And, alas ! you are half an infidel, I know, for you don't be-
lieve in hell!"
" Yes, I do, Mimmy ! Oh ! yes, indeed I do ! If ever my
faith was shaken in that article of belief, it is firm enough now !
It is more than re-established, for, look you, Mimmy ! I believa
in Heaven, but I know of hell!"
" I'm very glad you do, my dear. And I h ipe yon will me-
356 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
ditatc much upon it, and that it may lead you to change your
jourse in regard to Doctor Grimshaw."
"Mimmy!" she said, with a wild laugh, "is there a deeper
pit in perdition than that to which you urge me now ?"
Fortune certainly favored the lovers that day ; for when
Thurston reached home in the evening, his grandfather said to
him,
" Well, Mr. Jackanapes, since you are to sail from the port
of Baltimore, I think it altogether best that you should take a
private conveyance, and go by way of Washington."
"That will be a very lonesome manner of traveling, sir," an-
swered the young man, demurely.
" It will be a very cheap one, you mean, and therefore will
not befit you, Sir Millionaire ! It will cost nothing, and there-
fore lose its only charm for you, my Lord Spendthrift," cried
thb miser, sharply.
" On the contrary, sir, I only object to the loneliness of the
long journey."
"]So one to chatter to, eh, Mr. Magpie! Well it need not
be so 1 There's Nace Grimshaw, and his set extravagant
fools ! going up to the city to flaunt among the fashionables.
You can go as they go, and chatter to the other monkey, Jac-
quelina and make Old Nace mad with jealousy, so that he
shall go and hang himself, and leave you the widow and her
fortune 1 Come ! is there mischief enough to amuse you ? But
I know you wont do it! I know it! I know it! I know it! just
because I wish you to!"
"What, sir? drive Doctor Grimshaw to hang himself?"
"No, sir! I mean you wont join the party."
"You mistake, sir. I will certainly do so, if you wish it,"
Stud Thurston, gravely.
"'Humph! Well, that is something better than I expected.
You can take the new gig, you know, and take Melchisedek to
drive you, and to bring it back."
"Just as you say, sir," said the young gentleman, with filial
compliance.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 357
" And mind, take care that y DU are not led into any waste of
money."
"I shall take care, sir."
And here Thurston's heart was gladdened within him. Ha
profoundly thanked his stars. The new gig ! What an oppor-
tunity to save Marian the fatigue of an equestrian journey-
offer her an easy seat, and have the blessing of her near com-
panionship for the whole trip ! While his servant, Mclchisedek,
could ride Marian's pony. And this arrangement would be so
natural, so necessary, so inevitable, that not even the jealous,
suspicious miser, could make the least question of its perfect
propriety. For, under the circumstances, what gentleman could
leave a lady of his party to travel wearily on horseback, while
himself and his servant rode cosily at ease in a gig ? What
gentleman would not rather give the lady his seat in the gig
take the reins himself and drive her, while his servant took her
saddle-horse? So thought Thurston. Yefc he did not hint
the subject to his grandfather the method of their traveling
should seem the impromptu effect of chance. The next morning
being Sunday, he threw himself in Marian's path, waited for her,
and rode with her a part of the way to church. And while
they were in company, he told her of the new arrangement in
the manner of traveling, that good fortune had enabled him to
make that if she would so honor and delight him, he should
have her in the gig by his side for the whole journey. He was
so happy, so very happy in the thought, he said.
"And so am I, dearest Thurston ! very, very happy in the
idea of being with you. Thank God !" said the warm-hearted
girl, offering her hand, which he took and covered with kisses.
Thurston's good fortune was not over. His star was still in
the ascendant, for after the morning service, while the congre-
gation were leaving the church, he saw Mrs. Waugh beckon
aim to he" side. He quickly obeyed the summons. And then
the lady said,
" I may not see you again soon, Thurston, and therefore I
tell you now tha; if you intend to join our party to Washing
358 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Son, yon must make all your arrangements to come over to
Lecust Hill on Tuesday evening, and spend the night with us ;
as we start at a very early hour on Wednesday morning, and
should not like to be kept waiting. My Hebe is also coming
on Tuesday evening, to stay all night. Now, not a word,
Thurston. I know what dilatory folks young people arc. And
f know very well that if I don't make sure of you on Tuesday
evening, you will keep us a full hour beyond our time on
Wednesday morning you know you will."
Thurston was secretly delighted. To spend the evening with
Marian ! to spend the night under the same roof with her
preparatory to their social journey in the morning. Thurston
began to think that he was born under a lucky planet. He
laughingly assured Mrs. Waugh that he had not the slightest
intention or wish to dispute her commands; and that on Tues-
day evening he should present himself punctually at the supper-
table at Locust Hill. He further informed her that as his
grandfather had most arbitrarily forced upon him the use of his
new gig, he should bring it, and offer Miss Mayfield a seat.
It was now Mrs. Waugh's turn to be delighted, and to
declare that she was very glad that it would be so much easier
and pleasanter to her Hebe, than the cold, exposed, and
fatiguing equestrian manner of traveling. " But mind, young
gentleman, you are not to make love to my Hebe I for we
all think her far too good for mortal man !" laughed Mrs.
Waugh.
Thurston gravely promised that he would not if he could
help it. And s>, with mutual good feeling, they shook handa
and separated.
On Monday evening, at his farewell lecture, Thurston met
Marian again, and joyfully announced to her the invitation that
Mrs. Waugh had extended to him. And the maiden's delight-
ful smile assured him of her full sympathy with his gladness.
And on Tuesday evening, the whole party for Washington
uras assembled around the tea-table at Locust Hill. The even-
ing passed very cheerily. The Commodore, Mrs. Waugh,
THE MISSING BRIDE. 359
Marian, and Thnrston, were all in excellent spirits. And
Thurston, out of pure good nature, sought to cheer and enliven
the pretty, peevish bride, Jacquelina, who, out of caprice,
affected a pleasure in his attentions that she was very far from
feeling. This gave so much umbrage to Doctor Grimshaw,
that Mrs. Waugh really feared some unpleasant demonstration
from the grim bridegroom, and seized the first quiet opportu-
nity of saying to the young gentleman,
" Do, Thurston, leave Lapwing alone ! Don't you see that
that maniac is as jealous as a Turk ?"
"Oh! he is!" thought Thurston, benevolently. "Very
well ! in that case his jealousy shall not starve for want of
aliment;" and he devoted himself to the capricious bride with
more impressement than before consoling himself for his dis-
creet neglect of Marian, by reflecting on the blessed morrow
that should place her at his side for the whole day.
And so the evening passed ; and at an early hour the party
separated to get a good long night's rest, preparatory to their
early start in the morning.
But Thurston, for one, was too happy to sleep for some time :
too happy in the novel blessedness of resting under the same
roof with his own beautiful and dearest Marian.
CHAPTER XXYIII.
THE BRIDE OP AN HOUR.
He calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And breathed her vows with virgin pride.
And so he won his Marian,
His bright and beauteous bride." Altered from OdUridge,
IT was a clear, cold, sharp, invigorating winter morning.
Tho snow was crusted over with hoar frost, and the bare forest
360 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
trees were hung with icicles. The cunning fox, the 'possum
and the 'coon, crept shivering from their dens ; but the shy,
gray rabbit, and the tiny, brown wood-mouse, still nestled in
their holes. And none of nature's small children ventured from
their nests, save the hardy and courageous little snow birds
that came to seek their food even at the very threshold of then
natural enemy man.
The approaching sun had scarcely as yet reddened the
eastern horizon, or flushed the snow, when at Locust Hill out
travelers assembled in the dinning-room, to partake of their
last meal previous to setting forth.
Commodore Waugh, and Mrs. L'Oiseau, who were fated to
remain at home and keep house, were also there to see the
travelers off.
The fine vitalizing air of the winter morning, the cheerful
bustle preparatory to their departure, the novelty of the break-
fast eaten by candle-light, all combined to raise and exhilarate
the spirits of the party.
After the merry, hasty meal was over, Mrs. Waugh, in her
voluminous cloth cloak, fur tippet, muff, and wadded hood ;
Jacquelina, enveloped in several fine, soft shawls, and wearing a
warm, chinchilla bonnet; and Dr. Grimshaw, in his dread-
naught overcoat and cloak, and long-eared fur cap, all entered
the large family carriage, where, with the additional provision
of foot-stoves and hot bricks, they had every prospect of a com-
fortable mode of conveyance.
Old Oliver, in his many-caped drab overcoat, and fox-skin
cap and gloves, sat upon the coachman's box with the proud
air of a king upon his throne. And why not It was
Oliver's very first visit to the city, and the suit of clothes he
wore was bran new !
Thurston's new gig was furnished with two fine buffalo robes
one laid down on the seats and the floor as a carpet, and -the
other laid over as a coverlet. His forethought had also pro-
vided a foot-stove for Marian. And never was a happier man
thfy he when he handed his smiling companion into the eri?
THE MISSING BKIDE. 361
settled her comfortably in her seat, placed the foot-stove under
her feet, sprang in and seated himself beside her, tucked the
buffalo robe carefully in, and took the reins, and waited the
signal to move on.
Melchisedek, or as he was commonly called, Cheesy, mounted
sipon Marian's pony, rode on in advance, to open the gates for
the party. Mrs. Waugh's carriage followed. And Thurston's
gig brought up the rear. And thus the travelers set forth.
The sun had now risen in cloudless splendor, and was strik-
ing long lines of crimson light across the snow, and piercing
through the forest aisles. Flocks of saucy little snow-birds
alighted fearlessly in their path ; but the cunning little gray
rabbits just peeped with their round bright eyes, and then
quickly hopped away.
I need not describe their merry journey at length. My
readers will readily imagine how delightful was the trip to at
least two of the party. And those two were not Dr. Grimshaw
and Jacquelina.
Never in all his life had Thurston felt so joyous! And
never had his Marian seemed so lovely. There are some
beautiful faces which the cold mars. Of such was not bloom-
ing Marian's. Her warm rich blood and fine elastic tempera-
ment glowed and rebounded against the chilling and depressing
action of the frost. And the only effect of the sharp, fresh,
winter morning air upon her splendid organization was highly
vitalizing and exhilarating, kindling a more vivid glow on her
cheeks and lips, and a more splendid light in her clear blue
eyes. Thurston was positively more in love than ever, though
that could scarcely seem possible. And he used the oppor
tunity thus afforded him to press his suit for a private marriage.
He prayed and entreated with all the power that passion can
give to eloquence. In vain ! Marian was firm, " firm as an
iceberg," Thurston said, reproachfully. He used the same ar-
guments that she had answered before.
" Dearest Marian, you are of age. You have neither parent
lit*- guardian, nor even patron or benefactor, to whom you owe
862 MI HI AM, THE AVENGER; OR,
the slightest obedience. In giving me this dear haud in pri
vate marriage, while making me inexpressibly happy, you will
transgress no law of God's nor of man's, nor do any Tong to
any human being !"
Specious arguments and well nigh unanswerable, but to
Which Marian would reply,
"What you propose to me, dear Thurston, may not be
ibsolutely wrong, yet in a secret marriage there is an appear-
ance of evil which I am unwilling that you or I should assume.
Dear Thurston, I do not like a mystery, I like our lives to be
as open to the inspection of man as to God as open as the
blessed daylight !"
" Or as your own fair, clear, radiant beauty, my Marian !
But, oh ! my darling girl, how willful, how arbitrary, how cruel
and despotic you are with your likes and dislikes !"
" Dearest Thurston, if you only knew how much pain it gives
me, how unnatural it feels to me to refuse you anything, you
would not press me so. But, dearest Thurston, be patient for
a little while, and reflect that the time shall come when your
will shall be the law of your Marian's life, when there'll be nc
(rish your heart can form but shall govern all her actions."
" Ah 1 dear, cruel girl ! how do I know that ? Who shall
assure me of that ? I am going far away you will be left
here. Life is changeable, youth inconstant ; and though I
know the truth of my own heart, know that I am bound to you
forever and forever how do I know yours who shall assure
me of its constancy ?"
" I will," said Marian, earnestly. " /will. Were I bound
to you in marriage, as fast as priests and legislators could bind
fta, I could not be truer to you than I am now, and shall ever
fre. Take my hand in yours, and receive my oath of fealty
ttat henceforth, in my heart of hearts, I will consider you aa
my husband, and the arbiter of my earthly fate ; that I will
never turn my thoughts for an instant to the contemplation of
any other possible destiny than that of your wife! Are you
satisfied now, dearest Thurston ?" she murmured softly, letting
txer face fall gently on his shoulder.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 363
Satisfied ! no, he was not ! Never, in the whole course of
jis life, had he felt so rmsatisfied. Never, even since he had
known Marian, had his passions been so deeply moved as now
they were by the beauty, grace, and charm the ineffable fas-
cination of her looks and words and manners. Swiftly passing
his arm around her waist, he whispered, in tones scarcely
audible from excess of feeling,
"Marian! Marian! Marian! Oh, give yourself to me ! Give
yourself to me when we get to Washington, or I shall ne^p.r go
from there. I can never leave you, Marian ; never ! Nor can.
I wait for you. Be mine, Marian ! let all else go ! wealth, po-
sition, prospects, all all but you ! Come poverty, struggle,
trial, any and every form of suffering, rather than a parting
from you ! See ! now I implore not for a secret marriage, but
for a public one ! Oh, I should be proud to claim this pearl
above price as my own in the sight of heaven and earth ! Speak,
Marian, speak ! Will you give me your hand in the presence of
our friends, as soon as we get to Washington ?"
" No, dearest Thurston, I must not. I dare not. I will not
bring you to poverty. I refused a secret marriage, and still
more absolutely do I reject the public one."
"And why? And why ? Heaven and earth! was ever a
man so cruelly treated so stretched upon, the rack ? Why ? I
ask you, Marian ?"
" Because I will not consent that you shall sacrifice all your
prospects for love of me 1"
" Is that it ? Then I will do it whether you will or not ! As
BOOL as I have taken you to Washington, I will turn about and
go down to Dell-Delight, and say to the old man there ' Sir,
make your will an I leave your large estate to whom you please,
for I will marry no other woman except Miss Mayfield, and I
will marry her as soon as I can win her consent.' And then,
when the old man has turned me adrift, and I have nothing to
lose then, Marian, you will accept me !" said Thurston, pas-
lionately, vehemently.
"No," she vswered, gently. " No, dearest, still less would
.364 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OB,
I do so then. If you had nothing to hope from your untie
if you had your own way to make in the world I would never
consent to oe a clog upon your steps !"
"Then, Marian, you do intend to drive me mad."
"Thurston," she said, " I intend to be your true, faithful,
patient maiden, until I can be your happy wife."
A passionate reply arose to his lips ; but before he could give
i* utterance, his attention was suddenly arrested by the sight of
Mrs. Waugh's carriage stopping and filling up the way. Before
them was a narrow, guttered, dangerous road, winding between
the trees, up a steep and difficult hill. And old Oliver had got
down to lead the horses.
Within the carriage, Mrs. Waugh's voice was heard laugh-
ing and speaking. She seemed to be the life of her own little
party, and, alas ! the only life there ; but still she laughed and
jested, partly from the abundance of her own good health, and
the overflowing of her own good nature, and partly with the
wish to arouse and amuse the pensive, peevish little bride and
her morose bridegroom. And now she let down her window
and put out her head, and good-humoredly hailed Thurston.,
and warned him to mind his horse's head, and not grow senti-
mental, and upset the gig and break her Hebe's neck, while
pouring soft nonsense into her ear.
When they got up the steep, winding hill, the carriages fell
into their former order, and proceeded as before. Thurston
renewed his former earnest importunities, but with no better
success than formerly, until at length for the time being he de-
sisted. And still, in places where their road was steep, narrow,
guttered, or otherwise difficult, and their carriages had to pro-
ceed slowly, Mrs. Waugh would let down her window, put out
her head, and open the little battery with her small shot of
badinage.
And so pleasantly they traveled on until three o'clock, when
they reached Horsehead, where they stopped to dine, and where,
upon account of Jacquelina's extreme fatigue, they concluded
to spond the night.
THE MISSING- BRIDE. 365.
The next morning, after an early breakfast, they resumed
their journey, traveling in the same manner and order, until
about noon, when they reached Washington City.
At that time, the principal hotel in Washington was the
Mansion House, near the end of the city. To this house our
party of travelers immediately proceeded. And having the good
fortune to find excellent apartments vacant, they secured them at
once, and settled themselves down for the winter.
Mrs. Waugh had several friends and acquaintances among
the old substantial citizens of Washington families whose fore-
fathers had owned the soil, and lived upon it, long before the
city itself was laid out ; and she lost no time in advising them
of her presence. And Doctor Grimshaw also, besides being an
intimate friend of the representative from their own Congres-
sional district, and a political partizan of their state's senators,
was also well acquainted with some of the leading men of the
administration, and had brought letters of presentation to
others, which he did not delay to forward.
Thurston Willcoxen was intimate with the family of the resi-
dent French Minister, having formed their acquaintance in
Paris. And thus, with all these facilities of introduction, our
rustic friends soon found an easy and pleasant entrance into the
best society of Washington.
But of all the party, the poor little, half-crazed, half-broken-
hearted bride, Jacquelina, was the only one who threw herself
with perfect abandon into the whirl of fashionable society. She
accepted every invitation, and made a point of being present at
every possible place of amusement or festivity. Thus, no mat-
ter what the state of the weather might be, night after night
would she drag Doctor Grimshaw into scenes and companies
opposed to his tastes and habits, and where, besides, he was
not in the least fitted to shine.
But Jacquelina was. In those scenes of gayety she seemed
quite a different being from the pale, feverish invalid that she
was at home. There was a brilliant glow upon her cheeks, a
splendid light in her eyes, a flow of spirits, and a flash of wit
368 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
as startling, as wondrous, as fascinating as it was unreal, illu
sive, and bewildering. She was excessively admired and sought
for, and seemed not in the least degree disposed to reserve
herself.
Thus evening after evening was passed in the whirl of fashion-
able society. Nor was Sunday an exception to the rule, for
up DM that evening, rather than stay at home, she would insist
upon going to some church or some lecture-room to hear some
discourse upon home or foreign missions, Sunday schools, tem-
perance, colonization, or some other kindred subject in which
she took not the slightest interest, and of which she heard not
one single word, while she sat with her little, fair, transparent
face as still, as lifeless as a picture, and her unresting spirit fai
away far away !
So night after night, and nearly all night long, would she
keep Doctor Gfrimshaw out. Not that she in the least desired
his ''comfortable presence." But, inasmuch as he could not
prevent her from going out, and could not banish the handsome
and fascinating Thurston Willcoxen from the same party, he
was resolved always to attend his "wife," as he delighted to
call Sans Souci, in spite of her indignant and frenzied repudia-
tion of the title. And to Doctor Grimshaw's inexpressible annoy-
ance and vexation, strangers invariably and naturally mistook
Jacquelina and Thurston for the bridal pair, and the professor
for the papa of the bridegroom. And, really, there seemed a
family likeness between Doctor Grimshaw and Thurston Will-
coxen ; for though the one was fair and the other dark ; the
one illumined by the sunshine of enlightened thought, and the
other darkened by the shadows of fanaticism ; the one joyous
with love and hope, and the other morose with disappointment
and jealousy ; there was a certain general resemblance in form
und features, in air and manner, in expression and tone of voice,
and above all, a certain high, imposing distinction of presence
peculiar to both, that might not strike you at first, but which
might readily lead you, in a shaded room, or a twilight walk, oj
in any doubtful light, to mistake the one for the other.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 367
But Thurston Willcoxen, in carrying out his threat to give
the jealous bridegroom an abundance of cause for his jealousy,
really and in sober fact only rendered the childish bride such
general and unexceptionable attentions as any gentleman might
blamelessly pay to any young married lady of his own rank and
circle. Yet under the circumstances, this was quite food enough
for Doctor Grimshaw's "green-eyed monster," who thrived and
grew so rampant upon it, that Mrs. Waugh became anxious,
and again spoke to Thurston upon the subject.
" Don't you see that the miserable lunatic is half frantic with
jealousy ? And positively, I am afraid he will grow quite so,
and do himself or some of us some mortal harm. Now do,
Thurston, keep out of poor Lapwing's company ; don't look
at her; don't speak to her; forget that she is in the room;
neglect her !"
"But I cannot do that without absolute rudeness."
" Well, then, be absolutely rude, rather than let your polite-
ness cause so much misery. Don't even see Lapwing ! Turn
your eyes somewhere else ! Now there's my Hebe ! Seems to
me unaccountable that you should live in the same house, sit at
the same table, arid be so utterly blind to the charms of my
Hebe ! Seems to me if / were a young gentleman, / should not
be so indifferent, nor leave a perfect rose of beauty to droop in
a close drawing-room, when I might be taking her out into the
sunshine, and showing her all over the city. Seems to me so '
But then young men are not now as they used to be when /
was young 1 Then there was some gallantry, some chivalry,
some loyal devotion to the royal claims of beauty ; now, any
ugly heiress, with a cheek as yellow as her own gold, can buy
away the subjects of the very queen of beauty 1 Yet it is not
go in my Hebe's case, either, sir! She could be followed,
served, and worshiped, I am sure, sir, if she were not so c'wice
in her satellites! I fancy you would think so, if you only
opened your eyes to see how the gentlemen adore her from a
distance ! But you a young gentleman of our own party .
your indifference to my Hebe, is perfectly unaccountable and
highly exasperating to my feelings 1"
368 M I n I A M , THE A V E N G E II ; OR,
Thurston laughed, complimented the good lady upon hei
perspicacity, and promised to mend his manners in those ob
jectionable points of which she had complained. And he kept
his word.
Hitherto he had, with pain and reluctance, yet as a matter of
discretion, and at Marian's own earnest desire, avoided paying
her any attentions whatever. His few interviews with the beau-
tiful girl had been stolen, short and sweet ; had been snatched
by himself in the intervals of other company, when Marian
really "chanced" to be alone. Now, however, having Mrs.
Waugh 's amusing complaints upon the score of his neglect, to
report to the maiden, he might be able to persuade her to give
him a little more of her society, in rides, walks, and sight-see-
ings about the capital.
Up to this time Marian had gone very little into society ; the
reason was plainly this Marian had no wardrobe proper for
festive scenes. Her usual morning dress was a fine French
gray merino, and Mrs. Waugh had presented her with a pale
blue satin, for evening costume ; but that one dress could not be
worn everywhere ; nor could Marian be persuaded to accept
another such a present. Therefore, while Jacquelina, Doctor
Grimshaw, and Thurston Willcoxen, went every morning to the
Senate or the House of Representatives, or to some other
place of public gathering, and every evening to some ball,
party, concert, or play, Marian, the "flower of the flock," re-
mained at home to keep Mrs. Waugh company; happy in
doing so too, was the maiden, for there was a bond of real re-
spect and affection between the blooming girl and the elderly
woman. This voluntary seclusion did not prevent Marian being
included in all the invitations extended to her party. And
notwithstanding her plain dress, simple manners, and retired
habits, Marian was greatly admired. And her declining to mix
freely wit:, gay and fashionable society was ascribed by some
to austere piety, by others to excessive pride, by none to
poverty ! For in Marian's aspect, there was a certain unob-
trusive dignity and self-esteem a certain unconscious queenli-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 369
ness of presence as one whose superiority had been too long
a matter of nature and of habit, to be that of thought or as-
sertion ; and in truth, in all personal attributes Marian was
superior to almost every one she met; and in her intercourse
with others there was a certain involuntary condescension, even
as from a princess taught from her birth graciousness as a grace
-a certain quiet air of reserved power that impressed all who
came within its influence, and which worldly and superficial
thinkers believed only great wealth and social importance could
confer. And meanwhile, never dreaming of the fortune and
rank that had been ascribed to her, Marian passed her morn-
ings and her evenings quietly in Mrs. Waugh's apartments.
But between Mrs. Waugh's good-humored raillery and ex-
postulations, and Thurston's entreaties and persuasions, Marian
was at length induced to emerge from her retirement and go
out with her lover. And now she was happy to be free to give
him her company, so happy that her countenance beamed with
calm delight, and her beauty grew brighter every day so much
brighter, that it became a subject of remark to Mrs. Waugh,
who vowed that Marian had been fairy-favored in some way.
And one morning after breakfast, when Mrs. Waugh had
waddled wearily up the stairs to the room occupied by herself
and Marian, and dropped down heavily into her chair and re-
covered breath, she said,
"Well, Hebe! half the gentlemen in our dining-room are in
love with you 1"
"Xonsense, Mrs. Waugh!" said Marian, blushing ingenu-
ously
"No 'nonsense' in the case! I tell you their coffee grows
sold while they look up at you ! or at least while they sit and
gaze, or cast sidelong furtive glances up at our corner of the
table. So it must be that they are smitten with you or me.
And I hope, for the sake of good taste and sound morality,
it is not with me, a woman of fifty-five, who weighs one hun-
died and eighty pounds, and has a husband besides ; but since
ou disclaim a^ scornfully, perhaps it is me now, and they take
23
370 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
me for a widow, and value good looks by size, age and weight
I shall put you on the other side of the table to test the matter
And then if I find it 's I, I shall write to the Commodore, that'a
all."
Marian laughed, and was glad to escape Mrs. "Waugh's rail-
ery by putting on her bonnet and shawl and going down to
seek Thurston, with whom she had an appointment to go to the
Senate that morning. She found him waiting for her in the
drawing-room. There were other ladies and gentlemen present,
BO merely greeting her with a slight bow, he said that the car
riage was already in waiting below, and conducted her down.
When they had entered the carriage, Thurston took her hand,
and pressing it within his own, held it a long time in silence,
gazing mournfully in her eyes the while.
"What is it now, dear Thurston ?" she said, gently.
But he sighed deeply, pressed her hand, and let it go, saying,
"I cannot tell you now."
And indeed the rattling of carriages, and the mingled deaf-
ening noises of the Avenue effectually prevented a sustained
conversation ; but when after a ride of fifteen minutes they
reached the Capitol, in handing her out, Thurston whispered,
" Dearest Marian, will you come into the library with me for
a few minutes ? It is quite deserted at this time, all the world
having left it to flock to the Senate Chamber, to secure good
places to hear the squeaking voice of John Randolph."
"But had we not better 'go and do likewise,' if we wish to
get a seat and hear the speech ?"
" My dearest one, his speeches are pleasanter to read than to
listen to. And I must have a private interview with you this
morning ."
Marian then assented, and he led her up the broad steps,
terrace aftor terrace, and into the portico, and through the
great hall, and up another broad flight of stairs, and into the
splendid saloon the library of Congress. It was, indeed,
quite deserted, a thing never occurring, except, as now, when
some threat star of th. forum was expected to rise in the
THE MISSING BRIDE. 371
or the House. So silent and deserted was this hall, that even
the closing of the baize-covered doors, and the soft fall of their
steps upon the carpet woke a sort of slumberous echo. He
led her up the whole length of the saloon to an obscure and
shadowy alcove where there were two chairs and a small stand.
They sat down.
"Marian," said Thurston, leaning across the little table that
divided them, and looking earnestly in her eyes "Marian, do
you recollect what day this is ?"
"Xo, dear Thurston, not exactly."
" It is the thirtieth of January, Marian, and on the first of
February I sail for Liverpool."
"Oh, no! No, no!" she exclaimed, starting as if suddenly
hurt "so soon? I had thought, I had fancied, I had hoped
that you would not go so soon !"
" Then I really will not, dearest Marian ! dearest mistress of
my fate, I will not leave you till you send me away."
" No, no ! I would not detain you from duty, Heaven knows.
How selfish and inconsiderate I am ! Do not mind my tears,
dear Thurston ! It is only because I am unprepared. You
have not lately talked of going."
" I did not like to talk of it. I did not wish to fling a shadow
on my Marian's bright brow one hour before it was necessary.
But did not my dear one know that I had purposed to sail on
the first of the month?"
" Ah ! yes, I knew ; but I was beguiled by the sweet passage
of the time, and by your silence on the subject, into the hopo
that you were not going quite so soon."
" And was the time sweet to you, dear girl ?"
" Very, very sweet to me," marmured Marian, in low, musiea*
tones "I have always been happy, dearest Thurston but
never, never so happy as in these few weeks that we have been
60 much together."
"My own heart's darling ! is it so ?" he said, earnestly, mov-
ing his chair around to her side of the stand, and taking he?
hard, and look ; ng Beseechingly in her eyes as he prayed '-Mj
372 MI HI AM, THE AVENGERjOR,
own dearest Marian, my heart's dearest queen, I have one part-
ing petition to make ! Will you grant it ? Oh ! beloved ! wiU
you grant it ?"
" What is it, dear Thurston ?" she inquired, in a low, tremu-
lous, misgiving voice.
" Will you give me this fair hand in marriage before I go ?
You turn away your head your eyes are full of tears. Ah,
Marian, what does this augur ?"
" Dear Thurston, I thought this subject was closed between
us until it could be opened under happier auspices."
"But I reopen it under a new aspect. My best and dearest
one, hear me ; this evening at five o'clock I leave here in the
night coach for Baltimore. Observe that I stay with you till
the latest moment, Marian. At four o'clock give me your hand
in marriage, and I leave you from the altar. What difference
can it make to you, Marian ? It is but sealing, legalizing the
betrothal already passed between us. Just on the eve of a long
voyage as I am, just asking for the ceremony as I do, what
difference, now, if you are in earnest, can it make to you ?"
Marian did not reply her hand was trembling in his clasp,
and her eyes had drooped beneath his gaze.
" If you love me as I know you do, my own ! if you are sincere
in your wish to be mine 1 if you are sincere in your intention to
keep your maiden vow of betrothal, as I am sure you are, my
beloved! why object to this marriage ceremony now passing
between us, since it will be but a more solemn and binding
mode of betrothal, and we can wait as before ?" he said, and
when his tongue ceased to plead, his eyes took up the burden of
.he prayer.
Never in her life had Marian been so profoundly agitated
with conflicting emotions. The color kindled and died on ner
cheek her bosom rose and fell as with an inward sterna. He
saw his advantage, and pursued it.
"You yourself ackowledged, dearest girl, that as you were
of legai age, and had neither parents, guardians, nor patrons to
whom you owed observance, yur giving yourself to me in
THE MISSIXG BRIDE. 373
Carriage, would transgress no law of God or man, nor wrong
one human creature ! Did you not, now ?"
" Yes, dear Thurston," she said, in a tremulous voice, " but
I said, at the same time, that though our secret marriage did
break no law, human or divine, nor wrong any fellow being, yet
it would not be right, because it might expose us to miscon-
struction and slander that would give much pain, not only *,o
us, but to those who love and respect us, and whom we also
equally esteem."
" Yes, sweetest saint ! but don't you perceive that in the case
I now present, your last objection is quite obviated? Our
private marriage cannot expose you to any evil construction,
since immediately after the ceremony I depart depart but
with the blessed certainty that you are mine mine forever my
own dearest, dearest wife, of whom no vicissitudes, no misfor-
tunes, no calamity short of death itself can ever deprive me.
When I should think of you as when should I not think of you ?
it would be as my wife sweet and dear and blessed name !
the thought of it would brighten even the days of absence. And
you, dearest girl " he murmured, stealing his arm over her
shoulder, and drawing her tenderly towards him " how would
it be with you ? "Would not the thought that we were bound
together forever by the loveliest and holiest bond that you
were mine and I yours forever say, would it not make the hour
of parting and the months of absence less painful ?"
Her face was hidden on his shoulder her form was trem
bling very much. She did not, or could not reply, and he pro-
ceeded
" Say, darling girl ! You love me, I know you do, scarcely
less than I love you speak tell me would not the thought that
I was your husband, with a right to yourself that no power
could contest, and that you were my own adored wife the
tcarest creature and the dearest interest of my life, with the first
claim upon my heart forever would it not sweeten even the
days of absence ?"
"It would dear Thurston, it would," she whispered, in a low
374 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
and thrilling vcice "I have no dearer wish than to be yours
yours only yours entirely and forever."
" Then why not, my blessed one ? why not give me the great
joy, and yourself the sweet content of knowing that we belong
_o each other ? Love ! love ! it is my parting prayer do not
reject it! for, Marian, how know you but it maybe my last one?
There are remember ! such events in life as illness, storms,
fires, shipwrecks. Those who go to sea may never return again
those who part may never meet. And were my dearest
Marian destined never to see my living face again, how bitter
would be the thought that she had refused my last prayer "
" Oh ! Thurston, do not think of such calamities tney will
not befall us ! You will return in safety. We shall meet next
summer in renewed joy."
" Heaven grant it, sweetest Marian ! But now what answer to
my prayer ? Will my Marian grant it ? Oh ! speak, dearest
girl 1 Will you let me depart since I must do so as your
husband ? Will you let me have the comfort of thinking of you,
of looking forward to returning to you as my wife ? And then,
indeed, dear Marian, our meeting shall be in deep joy ; for then,
in all human probability, I shall be free to publish our marriage,
and proud to claim you as my own."
His arm still clasped her waist, her face was still hidden on
his shoulder, her form was quivering with emotion. She did
not or could not reply. Then
" Remember, Marian, it is likely to be as I say that when I
return I shall be able to take you proudly to my heart, for he is
ninety-five."
" Oh, do not speculate upon such a fact, dearest Thurston !
it is worse than all the rest, for it is really sinful, and will draw
down upon us the righteous judgment of Heaven ! There is,
oesides, something dreadful and repellant in a scheme of life
and happiness that must rise upon a grave I"
"And why, fair saint ? All the life, happiness and prosperity
in the living world, have risen over the graves of the dead 1
The nresput is the heir of the past, as the future will be the heir
THE MISSING BRIDE. 375
of ihe present. The living are the heirs of the dead, and why
regret that, since the dead if while in life they lived aright
have passed to a still richer inheritance ?"
"Then let MS. be sure to live aright, dear Thurston, that it
we miss the inheritance in this world, we may find the more
glorious one in the next !"
"Agreed ! but there is nothing I am so little disposed to do
just now, as to discuss philosophy with you, sweet theologian I
I wish, in fact, that you could forget it all it may make you
more attractive in the eyes of the grave fathers of the church,
though even that I question but it cannot make you lovelier in
my eyes, fair girl. As for the patriarch, let him vegetate on to
the age of Methuselah, and I shall be content, if only you will
now consent to let the marriage rites be solemnized between us
before I leave you. Come, now 1 What says my Marian, since
her last argument is overthown, and it cannot expose her to
misconstruction, because I depart immediately? Come, come,
what says my dearest girl cannot she answer at all?" he
pleaded, with gentle, constraining force ; " will she not answer
my parting prayer?"
Marian lifted up her head an instant, and placed both her
hands in his, and then dropped her face upon his shoulder again.
" And this is your answer. Ten thousand blessings on you
for it, my own dear bride. Bless, bless you, Marian ! bless
these sunny tresses 1" he said, dropping his face caressingly
upon her head; "bless this pure, fair brow! and these clear
eyes ! and those sweet, closed lips, though they would not speak
iny happiness ! and bless these dear hands that came to mine
and spoke for them. Oh, God 1 love and bless my Marian for-
ever ! and God banish me from His Heaven eternally, if ever I
cause her one sigh or tear 1" he exclaimed, in all the fervor and
earnestness of a passion as strong and sincere as it was (uncon-
sciously) selfish and exacting.
And so, in the overflowing of his gratitude and joy, he con-
tinued to talk to her and caress her, while the time slipped
unheeded by, until the adjournment of the Senate sent people
itraying into the library. Then he arose.
376 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" My dearest love, I have been bewitched. How late it is I
and we have so mnch to accomplish before evening. Come, I
must take a carriage and go to the county clerk's office before
it is closed. You must go with me, dear Marian ; I cannot
lose sight of you to-day our last day."
And carefully arranging her shawl upon her graceful
shoulders, he drew her arm within his own, and conducted hei
from the library and down stairs into the open court-yard.
Thurston gave orders to be driven immediately to the court
house, which they reached in about ten minutes. Leaving
Marian in the carnage, he hastened into the building ; found
the county clers just in the hurry of closing up his office, pro-
cured the marriage license, and hastened back to Marian.
He directed the coachman to drive to the Navy Yard Hill,
and there, in the remotest and quietest suburb of the city, he
hunted up a pastor of a small Methodist society, in whose little
chapel, without witnesses, Thurston and Marian were married.
From the humble chapel he led her to the hack, and gave
orders to be driven back to the Mansion House, where they
arrived just before the ringing of the second dinner-bell.
Marian went to her room to layoff her bonnet and shawl and
arrange her hair for dinner. Mrs. Waugh had already left the
apartment, and Marian was glad for once to find it empty, that
she might kneel down beside her bed and pour forth the fullness
of her heart in thanksgiving and prayer thanking God for the
deep joy that was filling and overflowing her soul, and praying
His blessing on her husband her husband, she lingered in
fond devotion upon the adored name her husband and his
voyage.
Then she arose, and in the blessed dream of love she went
mechanically through her simple toilet, and passed down staira
to the dining-room, where the guests were already assembled at
the table.
Thurston was awaiting her near the entrance. Natural ag
that act was she had not anticipated it, and her heart bounded
when she saw bine. He led her to her seat by Mrs. Waugh,
And then went to his own.
THE M I S S I X G R R I D E . 377
" You see now the soup is cold, Hebe," said Mrs. Waugb.
"Where in the world have yon been ? It is astonishing to me
(he indifference of young people to good living. Now the best
speech I have heard this season was not half so good as this
turtle soup, when it was hot, but maybe they have got some
hot in the kitchen. I don't believe you're listening to a word 1
say to you, Hebe."
" Ma'am !" said Marian, startled out of her dream.
" Oh ! you hear now. Well, Hebe," continued the good
lady, in a low tone, audible only to her companion. " I believe
after all it is / whom the men admire, for they have been look-
ing up at this corner just as much as ever, with this inconsid-
erable difference, that their eyes have wandered continually
from your empty chair to the door ; but that was nothing, you
know. So hide your blooming face, Hebe, for my greater
proportions overshadow it," concluded Mrs. Waugb, as she
turned her attention to the plate of boiled rockfish and egg sauce
that the waiter just laid before her.
It was nearly six o'clock when the guests left the dining-
room. Mrs. Waugh went up to her room to take her afternoon
nap, having previously received the adieus of Thurston. Jac-
quelina went up to hers to lie down and rest before dressing to
go to the theatre. Doctor Grimshaw strayed into the reading-
room to sulk over the newspapers.
Thurston and Marian found an opportunity to be alone in
the drawing-room for the few moments preceding his departure.
In those last moments she could not find it in her heart to
withhold one word whose utterance would cheer his soul, and
give him hope and joy and confidence in departing. Marian
had naturally a fine, healthful, high-toned organization a
happy, hopeful, joyous temperament, an inclination always
to look upon the sunny side of life and events. And sc
when he drew her gently and tenderly to his besom, and
whispering,
" You have made me the happiest and most grateful man on
earth, dear lovely Marian ! dear, lovely wife ! but are you
878 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
satisfied, beloved oh ! are you satisfied ? do I leave you
at ease ?"
She spoke the very truth, when she confessed to him her
head being on his shoulder, and her low tones flowing softly to
his listening ear
" More than satisfied, Thurston more than satisfied. I am
inexpressibly happy now. Yes, though you are going away ;
for, see ! the pain of parting for a few months, is lost in the joy
of knowing that we are united, though separated and in antici-
pating the time not long hence, when we shall meet again.
God bles;, you, dearest Thurston."
" God forever bless and love you, sweet wife."
And so they parted.
Marian had said that she was " inexpressibly happy." And
so she was, as long as his arms were around her, and words of
mutual endearment, hope and promise were breathed between
them. But when he was really gone when the last glimpse of
the stage-coach was cut off, Marian turned away, and she wan-
dered lonely and restless through the halls and drawing-rooms
of the great hotel how empty, though full of tenants how
desolate, though full of social life,' they seemed. At last she
went to her own room, and gave way to a burst of tears ; not
very bitter it was only the breaking up of the passing cloud
of sorrow that naturally overshadowed the hour after parting.
And when this shower was over, the sun shone out again in
her bright nature and all was love, and hope, and joy in her
buoyant heart.
So that when the sound of the supper-bell aroused Mrs.
Waugh from her deep sleep not a trace of sorrow shaded
Marian's sunny brow.
"Yaw-w!" gaped the good woman, only half awake "is
that the first bell ? I'm getting tired of this worthless life ;
nothing but dressing and eating, and undressing and sleeping,
and waking up and dressing and eating again. Yaw-w-w.
Oh! at least for old people. I want to get back to St. Mary's
I know very well everything is going on wrong there and
THE MISSING BRIDE. 379
Mary L'Oiseau will never have the sense to prevent the hen-
turkeys going to setting, as ours are sure to do in February if
they're not hindered, and then all the young turkeys will be
killed by the cold. Yaw-w-w! Yes I beneve I have got the
gaps." She finished with an awful yawn.
" Yaw-w-w oh-h-h ! And I don't believe it is doing Lap-
wing the least good, poor, willful, unhappy child 1 I've a great
mind to propose going home. What do you think about it,
Hebe ? I don't believe she hears a word I say Hebe 1"
" Ma'am 1" exclaimed Marian, starting out of her reverie, and
blushing deeply.
" What do you say to our going home next week ?"
. "I shall be very glad to go, Mrs. Waugh."
" Well, child, I'll name it to the Professor, and I think we'll
go," said Henrietta, rising and preparing to make her plain,
evening toilet.
In a happy dream, Marian helped her to finish dressing,
went down with her to the supper-table, and thence accompa-
nied her to the drawing-room. But there, as Marian was very
much admired, and her company and conversation very much
sought, her blissful reverie was so dispersed that she longed for
the hour of withdrawing, that she might escape to her room,
nnd there, with the visible world shut out, live her inner life.
Ten o'clock, Mrs. Waugh's bed time, came at last and the
lady, with Marian, retired to their apartment. Good Henrietta
was soon asleep. And Marian sought her pillow, to close her
eyes and think of her happiness, and dream her beautiful dreams
in peace. And there she lay, with her blooming cheek and
bright auburn hair lightly pressed upon the downy pillow the
heavenly smile of loving and devoted thoughts curving her
ruby lips, and kindling under her dark eye-lashes. " He is my
husband," she murmured, softly, smiling to herself " dear
name, sweet thought it is no dream from which I shall awake
it is the blessed, blessed reality. Yes ! my husband. And oh 1
I will be so good and lovely yes I will, dearest, dearest Thurs-
lon I will be s ich a Measure to you. You will think there
380 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
is no other woman like your wife in the world," she murmured
over many times, like the refrain of some sweet melody, " I am
his wife thank God! bless God! I ask no happier earthlj
fate!" And thus she lay, with the holy smile of love half part-
ing the fresh and dewy lips, half raising the snowy eyelids from
the melting dreamy eyes, in beautiful visions warm as earth-
bora passion, yet pure as Heaven's love.
The next morning Mrs. Waugh broached the subject of re-
turning home to Doctor Grimshaw. The Professor was willing,
nay anxious to accede to the proposition. But when the plan
was named to Jacquelina, she put her instant veto upon it.
"Those might go who liked St. Mary's! She didn't and
she should stay where she was !"
It was of no use to contend with the willful one still she
answered, " Those might go who wished" she put no con-
straint upon any one's actions, nor would she suffer any con-
straint upon hers! She should remain.
They had no hold upon her conscience or her affections, and
so they had no means of constraining her ; therefore the journey
home had for the time to be deferred. And thenceforth the very
demon of perversity seemed to enter the child. She gadded
about continually, flirted desperately, lavished money wantonly.
She kept Doctor Grimshaw on the qui vive every instant of his
life, tormenting him day and night with the most extravagant
eccentricities, going into hysterics on the slightest possible pro-
vocation, and at the shortest notice, and afterwards screaming
with laughter at "Grim's" dismay acd terror. Grinding his
teeth in bitter rage, he would declare that it was all because
that " puppy Willcoxen" was gone, and he grew more acrimo-
niously jealous than before. So great was the excitability and
dis-rrder of her nervous system, that serious fears were enter-
tained by her friends for the stability of her reason. But when
any such fears chanced to be betrayed to her knowledge, she
would laugh her Wild, shrill, elfish laugh, and declare that her
senses were safe that she did not mean to go mad uiuil she
had first driven " Grirt '' so then maybe 1
THE MISSING BRIDE. 381
Marian was the only being from whom she would bear one
word of expostulation, and Marian, in her grave, sweet way,
reasoned with her.
" The life you lead, dear Lina, makes all your friends very
miserable."
"Ha, ha! Well, they made me miserable first! miserable
forever ! I have suffered the greatest wrong a girl could ever
receive !"
" Your present course does not make you happier, nor right
that wrong, poor child."
" I know it doesn't, but it worries Grim', though !"
" And why should you pursue it for that reason ?"
" Why ? you ask me why ? I hate him ! Oh, how I hate him !"
"Listen to me, dear Lina, for I love you, and I will not
wrong you by any vain words or false consolations. You are
not happy, I know under these circumstances you can never
be so in this world. I will not mock you by pretending that
you can ! No, you cannot be happy, but you can be more
than that, higher than that, you can be GOOD. Christ, our Ex-
emplar, was not ' happy ;' He was a 'man of sorrows,' but Ho
was the perfectly good. Take up the cross of life, and follow
Him. Ask Him, and He will give you strength to lift the bur
den, and make it easy to your shoulders. You will never fine,
peace nor rest till you do. If you have lost earthly happiness
do not therefore forsake duty, and cast away eternal joys. Oui
mortal life, at longest and at best, is but a transient struggle
compared to eternity, and no scheme of life and happiness in
this world is so valuable and so sublime, as that of the de-
velopment and perfection of our own spirits. As for Doctor
Grimshaw, he has done wrong, but that is past and cannot be
indone. He is unhappy, and much to be pitied ; judge him
leniently as yoi can try to speak kindly to him."
If Marian's words produced little present effect, they never-
theless sunk iutc the unhappy girl's heart, as the words of no
other ever did.
And it was Marian who finally prevailed upon the perverst
mature to consent *.o return home.
382 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
And so, about the middle of February, the party, taking ad
vantage of a very fine spell of weather, set out on their journey
to St. Mary's, and upon the evening of the second day reached
Locust Hill.
CHAPTER XXIX.
GOLDEN OPINIONS.
" ' They' have honored me of late ; and I have bought
Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
'Which should be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon." Shakspeare.
MARIAN'S return home was an ovation. Had she ever doubted
her sovereignty over hearts, she must have been reassured by
her reception. Not only did Edith weep for joy at her com-
ing, and little Miriam follow and wait upon her with idolatroup
devotion, which was natural and to be expected ; but when it
was generally known that she had returned to the neighbor-
hood, many friends and acquaintances, who had never been at
the cottage before, now called to see her ; and tea-driukings
and other iittle parties were given in her honor.
And on Sunday at church, after the morning service, not only
her female companions, but also the grave deacons and elders
of the church, thronged around her to welcome her home.
Colonel Thornton and his maiden sister were especially kind
and polite. Colonel Thornton informed her that, if she should
be disengaged the next morning, his sister and himself would
call at Old Fields, to propose a plan for her consideration that
required more time for thought and discussion than could be
given to it just then at church. Marian readily promised to
remain at home the next day to receive her visitors. And with
THE MISSING B K 1 1> E. 383
mutual expressions of friendship and good wishes they sepa
rsted.
On Monday morning the Colonel and Miss Thornton called
a,. Old Fields, and the object of their visit was briefly this
During Marian's absence in the city, several of the principal
planters of the neighborhood had met to discuss the propriety
of establishing in the village an academy for young ladies, upon
a par with the C Academy for young gentlemen. In that,
and in two subsequent meetings, the whole preliminaries had
been arranged, the money subscribed, the site of the school
chosen, the trustees elected, the teacher appointed, and hei
very liberal salary fixed. And now Colonel Thornton and hit
sister had come as a committee to inform Marian of her ap-
pointment, and to solicit her acceptance of the post.
It was with smiles of heartfelt joy, that Marian clasped the
hands of her friends, and assured them of the pleasure she felt
in receiving the situation they had done her the honor to offer.
The Colonel and Miss Thornton seemed very much pleased
by her prompt, frank and joyous acceptance of the post, and
arose to depart. And again the friends bade adieu to each
other with mutual and cordial expressions of affection and re-
spect.
Marian was pleased, deeply pleased with the proof of confi-
dence she had received, and the prospect of occupation and of
independence that it offered. Her school duties were expected
to commence upon the first Monday in March.
T?i or twelve days only intervened before that day, and in
the course of their passage, Marian received two letters from
Thnrston the first written upon the eve of his sailing from
Baltimore, and the second written from the sea, and sent by a
homeward bound vessel. These letters were long and elo-
quent, filled with "thoughts that breathe, and words that burn,"
overflowing with devoted affection and ardent aspirations,
And oh ! how they were read, and re-read, and treasured by
Marian ! She, in the new blindness of her idolatry, did not
ocind *hat they were subscribed in an assumed name Thomcu
384 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Trwnan to which address she was also requested to direct hci
answers. With the treasured letters iu her bosom, lying upon
her loving heart, she went about in the golden mist of her own
happy and devoted thoughts.
The first Monday in March came, and Marian repaired to
the village to meet the trustees of her school, and to be inaugu-
rated into her new office. Her school-room was new, well built,
well aired, well furnished, and in every respect very pleasant.
Her pupils comprised twelve or fourteen young ladies, who had
already in the Sunday-school received the benefit of Marian's
instructions, and who were now prepared with loving reverence
to accept her as their teacher. To her everything was made
agreeable and attractive. The high respect and confidence in
which she was held by the trustees, the veneration and affection
with which she was honored by her pupils, even ih\ pleasant
locality, arrangement, and appointments of her school-room
all were subjects of congratulation to herself, and of thankful-
ness to Heaven.
And not the least among the generous girl's reasons for plea-
sure and gratitude, was the thought that her position would
enable her to systematize the education of little Miriam, whom
she at once resolved to take daily with her to the school ; while
her salary would afford her the means of adding many comforts
to the home and daily life of Edith.
Marian's school was soon brought into beautiful order, and
her days now passed in serene happiness. Every month in-
creased her usefulness and social importance, and gained her
new friends and new honors. The school under her charge
prospered so greatly, and increased so rapidly, that it soon be-
come necessary to advertise for assistants. And when they
were found and engaged, Marian was at once relieved from the
drudgery of details, and advanced to the post of principal.
In the meantime she continued to receive letters from
"Thomas Truman," who had reached Edinburgh, and had seen
his younger brother, and was then making arrangements for a
ipeedy return to the United States, which he hoped and ex-
THE MISSING BEIDE. 385
pected to reach about the first of June. Marian had written
a full account of the new academy for young ladies, and her own
appointment as its principal. It was of course very long, even
uear the last of May, before she received an answer, in which
he expressed his regret tnat his Marian should be called upon
to labor his grief that it was not in his power at once to re-
Htve her, and withal his unqualified approbation of any stej
she might have thought proper to take, as everything she du.
was necessarily certain to be right. The same letter conveyeo
to her the joyful news that he was just on the eve of ernbarka
tion for the United States, where he expected to arrive in
very few days after her receipt of his letter. It was Fridaj
evening, on her way from school, that she received this letter,
and from the moment of finishing its perusal, Marian lived and
moved in a happy dream. It was well for her pupils that her
school duties were over for the week it was well for herself
that her ride back to Old Fields was a long, solitary one. Het
trance was unbroken until she reached home, whe*re she found
Mrs. Waugh waiting for her.
" I have come over, Hebe, to invite you and Edith to a
house-warming at Luckenough on the first of June next Mon-
day, you know ! And, mind, I will take no refusal," said the
good lady cheerfully, as Marian greeted her.
Luckenough was now completed, the mansion-house having
been rebuilt and newly furnished in the most elegant manner.
The family had been settled in their ancient home now about a
week, and were, according to custom, about to give a large
party.
"Tell me about Jacquelina,'^said Marian, anxiously, as sh
laid off her bonnet and sat down.
"What about Lapwing, my dear? Oh, you refer tc the poor
child's resolution to remain with her mother at Locust Hill.
Ah, my dear, what chance has she, with all her self-will, to save
her soul alive, between her mother on one side, and the Commo-
dore and old Grimshaw on the other ? Now, what do you think ?
Marv L'Oiseau has actually let Locust Hill, and accepted a
24
386 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
home at Luckenough, for the purpose of .defeating J acquelina'i
wish to remain with her at that farm !"
"No, no!"
" Yes, yes, she has done that very thing ! She has actually
had the wicked heart to rent out the very home that her poor
child sacrificed herself to buy for her, rather than let that home
afford a shelter to that child in her extremity I"
" I can scarcely credit it 1"
" My dear, never doubt that superstition and fanaticism are
capable of any degree of wickedness! Lapwing is with us.
I shall do all I can to make the poor thing happy, even to the
extent of trying to reconcile her to Doctor Grimshaw, though
that will be a difficult and delicate matter, for the very mention
of the subject throws her into fits, and as for Grim' himself, he
certainly is going crazy. He is, indeed, Hebe ! And if a
change don't come soon, he'll be a raving maniac ! He will,
indeed, Hebe ! And no wonder ! he has just the gloomy tem-
per and nervous bilious temperament, and is placed in just the
circumstances, that make men mad. This party, too ! The
most indiscreet thing that could be imagined under the circum-
stances. But the Commodore will have it so, and it is not,
after all, a thing of sufficient importance for me to make a quar-
rel about."
" I do not know, Mr. Waugh, how, in the midst of all this,
you maintain such good humor and good health."
" My dear, I have a happy temperament ; when things can
be remedied, instead of repining I set about remedying them,
and when they are beyond remedy, they are with me beyond
regret. Lor, Hebe ! if I had chosen to fret myself ' because of
evil doers,' I might have been* as thin as a broomstick by this
time!"
"Yet, after all, Mrs. Waugh, I suppose it does not lie so
much in the choice of your will as in the ' happy temperament'
you spoke of?"
" Yes. Well, Hebe, I must go. You will be sure to come
on Monday evening, fof Lapwing's sake?"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 387
"I will be sure to come, Mrs. Waugh."
"And try to bring Edith along. I have brought her he*
uncle's invitation with my own. But Edith is proud and stub-
born. She will not be entreated. You must try to persuade her."
"Xo, Aunt Henrietta," said Edith; "I am not so, but I
could not bring myself to enter Luckenough, unless my undo
were tirst to come here and be reconciled to me."
"What do you call that but pride and stubbornness from a
young person to an old one? I declare there never was an
honest, well-meaning woman surrounded by such a set of kins-
folks as / am 1 Indeed, Hebe, I'm not self-righteous, but it
does seem to me that there's not one in the whole party worth
saving but you and me," said Mrs. Waugh, as she arose, half-
laughing, and wrapping her ample net shawl about her, pre-
pared to take leave.
It had long been the desire of Marian to make peace with
Edith and her uncle, and the most favorable opportunity had
occurred. And as soon as Mrs. Waugh had gone, she opened
the subject.
She begged her to reflect that notwithstanding all that had
occurred, he was still her uncle ; that he had been her first and
greatest benefactor; that he had filled a father's post towards
her ; that when he had cast her off, it was because she had, by
her marriage, disappointed him in his most cherished wish ;
that now he was an aged man, whose remaining days were few,
uncertain, and full of troubles; that though he had been, and
still continued to be violent, unreasonable and oppressive, yet
it better became his young relatives who called themselves
Christians, to seek, by kindness, by tolerance, by readiness to
forgive and forget, and by exhibiting the loveliness of an oppo-
site character, to ameliorate the faults of his own ; that there
were no half-measures in Christianity, which includes a perfect
faith, hope and charity, a perfect willingness to forgive, to be
lieve in, to hope for, to work for, to love, to redeem, and to
save our enemies or is not Christianity. And all this was
spoken and enforced with an eloquence, truthfulness, earnest-
388 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
ness and momentum characteristic of Marian, and carrying
conviction with it. The beautiful girl had the true " spell o'er
hearts" great moral power. She had seldom failed in her
efforts to influence any one; never in her attempts to affect
Edith ; nor did she intend to do so now. She succeeded in
persuading her to forget her past injuries, and to meet more
than half-way her uncle's advances towards a reconciliation, by
accepting his invitation to the house-warming. It was decided
that little Miriam also should accompany them.
And this matter being arranged, Marian, with her usual
cheerful promptitude, went briskly to work with the prepara-
tions. All that evening, and all the next day, she busied her-
self with altering and modernizing Edith's black Italian crape
robe, and in getting up her own and Miriam's dresses. Yet,
busily as Marian worked, swiftly as her fingers flew, quickly
and neatly as her various tasks were finished, all was done me-
chanically; her thoughts were not in her labors they were
far away at sea, seeking out, hovering around the " homeward
bound."
By Saturday night, all the preparations were completed,
and the care for them troubled Marian no more, either at
church on Sunday, or at her school-room on Monday. And in
part, as far as her own costume was concerned, she needed not
have troubled herself at any time, for on her return from school
on Monday afternoon, she found, waiting for her at home, a
large bandbox, directed "To MY HEBE," which, when opened,
was found to contain a light and elegant evening dress, of
lilac-colored crape, finished with blonde lace. There were also
white kid gloves, white satin slippers, an embroidered hand-
kerchief and a beautiful wreath of white jessamine flowers,
Marian surmised that Mrs. Waugh had certainly stolen her
Iress patterns and her shoe and glove measures, to have pro-
cured such perfect fits as the articles composing this costume
proved to be. There was no possibility of refusing this dress
now that it was purchased, made up and sent home, and so,
probablj Mrs. Waugh had reasoned. At all events, Marian
THE MISSING BRIDE. 389
felt obliged, though half unwillingly, to accept the present.
She, therefore, smilingly arrayed her beautiful form in these
gay festive robes, and as she gazed upon the reflection in the
glass, could but think that never had any dress so enhanced
her beauty as this one did the delicate, yet brilliant, lilac hue,
heightened by contrast the fairness of her arms and bosom, the
vivid bloom of her cheeks and lips, the azure blue of her eyes,
and the warm, rich, auburn tint of her tresses while its light and
floating texture flowed in harmony with all her graceful motions.
Mrs. Waugh's carriage was waiting below to take them to
Luckenough, and she hurried down to join Edith nd Miriam,
who were both quite ready.
Edith also looked very pretty, with her fair, pearly faco
relieved by the slight, silky, black ringlets, and the floating,
shadowy, black crape dress.
Little Miriam wore a black gauze, embroidered with a deep
border of crimson lamma work around the full, double skirts,
and a narrower one around the short sleeves and the low bod-
dice. A slight wreath of crimson cypress flowers was twined
around her jet black hair, her shining black ringlets hung down
to her waist, and her splendid Syrian eyes shone like two stars.
Marian smiled with pleasure at the sight of her resplendent
beauty, stooped and caressed her, and told her that she looked
like some bright tropical bird alighted down there in a Mary-
land cottage.
Throwing light veils over their heads, and fight shawls
around their shoulders, they entered the carriage and departed,
leaving the cottage in the sole charge of old Jenny, who, by
the way, too thoroughly mistrusted and disapprpved the whole
proceeding, to utter one word of comment upon their going,
until the carriage had rolled out of sight, then she lifted up
both arms, and gave vent to her feelings by exclaiming,
41 Well, Lord ! I nebber thought how arter all as had cornea
an' goed, she'd gone to Old Nick agin 1 But it's all wanity
all wanity and wexation o' de spirit an' so she'll find it--
Meed she I"
390 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
In the meantime they were driven rapidly towards Lack-
enough, which they reached at the usual hour of country even-
ing receptions early candle-light.
The new mansion-house had been built in exactly the style
of the old one of red stone, with three front gables. And
the scene presented the usual appearance of country premises
upon the occasion of a large evening party; that is to say, the
lawn was covered, and the avenues choked up with carriages
and conveyances of all sorts, from the capacioas family car-
riage of Colonel Thornton and others, down to the saddle-
mules of Miss Nancy Skamp and her learned nephew. The
mansion was blazing with light, and thundering with music,
and all the entries and passages were crowded with coachmen,
waiting-maids, grooms and footmen who belonged to the house,
or had come in attendance upon some of the company.
They alighted from the carriage, and made their way through
this unpleasant crowd to a room on the ground floor, CJITCS-
ponding to that which had once been Edith's, and tthere a
serving-woman stood to admit and wait upon them.
There were already a crowd of ladies in the room, all en-
gaged in re-arranging their toilets. Edith soon settled her
simple widow's dress, and Miriam's little fiery costume. And
Marian had only to shake out the light falls of her skirts, settle
the fragrant jessamine wreath upon her hair, draw on her
gloves, and they were ready.
And just as Marian was about io send a servant into the
saloon to ask Mrs. Waugh to send some gentlemen to take
them in, Doctor Brightwell and Solomon Weismann appeared
at the door to offer their services. ^ And Edith accepted the
arm of the former, and Marian that of the latter, while she led
little Miriam by the hand. And so they entered the saloon.
It presented just the appearance that all other country saloons
do in the like circumstances it was redundantly ornamented
with flowers and green vines, brilliantly illuminated witn hang-
Ing chandeliers, and furnished with seats running around the
room for the ace "mtnodation of the old people, the tired
THE MISSING BEIDE. 391
lancers, and the neglected wall-flowers. The floors were tm
earpetod, but highly polished with wax, and chalked for the
quadrilles.
Mrs. Waugh, in a new, brown satin dress, and a white gause
turban, stood near the door to receive her guests. She has-
tened forward to welcome her friends, and conduct them to
a pleasant seat up at the farther end of the room, and after
walking a little while with Edith, and telling her how glad she
felt to see her, she excused herself, and left them to go and meet
some other guests who were just entering.
Marian took a survey of the room. There were about four
cotillions on the floor. And at the head of one she saw stand-
ing Jacquelina and young Barn well her own rejected suitor.
Jacquelina was even more fair and fragile than ever she looked
like some beautiful transparency. She wore a dress of gossa-
mer blond over pale, green silk, and around her golden hair
was bound a string of small pearls, clasped above the brow,
with a single emerald. Few complexions could have borne such
a dress, but there was a vivid glow upon her cheeks and lips,
and a streaming light from her two briliant eyes, that were, if
possible, heightened by the cool, pale shades of her costume
Marian sighed deeply and sent up a prayer for her peace.
But little time had Marian to look about her, before Mrs
Waugh returned, bringing with her a young gentleman whom
she presented to the young girl, and who immediately solicited
the honor of her hand in the cotillion that was then forming.
Marian assented and gave her hand with a smile that turned
the young man's he*d at once.
But little did MariarfJ^hink or care, either then, or afterwards ;
for whether she sat, or stood, or danced, or talked, or listened,
it was done mechanically ; her thoughts and cares were absent
from the passing scene, seeking and hovering around the
"homeward-bound." At last it almost seemed as if she had
won him spiritually to her side, for he seemed to be with her
amid the lighted saloon, amid the sounding music and the
thronging revelers, and with the thought f him now cauie
392 MIBIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
shock after shock of joy, galvanizing her nerves and heart, and
sending the brilliant vital fire kindling upon her cheek and lip,
and flashing under her drooping eyelid.
Yes ! he seemed there in presence with her, and yet she
could scarcely suppress a scream of joy, when lifting her eyes
she saw Thurston Willcoxen standing in the room ! Her heart
sprang and throbbed fast, the color ebbed and flowed on her
cheeks her eyes smouldered and flashed under their lids.
He was standing talking to Mrs. Waugh and the Commo-
dore, yet restlessly sending his glances roving over the room,
in search of Marian knew whom ! At last his eyes found her,
met hers in joyous recognition, a smile of rapture lighted up
his face, and bowing hastily to his companions, he came hurry-
ing through the crowd to the sofa where she sat with other
ladies and some gentlemen. Oh ! that such a meeting should
happen in such a place and under such circumstances !
He came up, and bowed, and shook hands w'ith several of the
persons near Marian, and who were old acquaintances of his
own. And when he greeted Marian, there was nothing but
the crushing pressure of his hand, and the brief intense gaze of
his eyes that betrayed how much of feeling he wisely had sup-
pressed.
As he stood there, he was immediately surrounded by friends
and acquaintances, who came to welcome him back, and to
chatter to him, asking him a score of questions about the length
of his voyage, the weather he had at sea, the time of his arrival,
etc., etc., etc. Thurston answered them with as much good
humor as he could assume, while heartily wishing them all at
the antipodes.
Marian was also surrounded. Colonel Thornton, Mr. Barn
well and Doctor Weismann had in turn found out her seat, and
approached her, and now they lingered near her, each with the
secret determination of ^-lingering the others.
" Impertinent puppies ! I wonder how Miss Mayfield can
tolerate them for a moment," quoth Colonel Thornton in Lia
neart, while he cs\"t a sidelong, scornful glance at the iwc
voung gentlemen.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 393
" Miserable old beau ! I wonder be is so ridiculous as to
presume to address a young lady," sneered Messrs. Barnweli
and Weismann.
Marian blushed to see the look of animosity that passed be-
tween them, and to know herself the object of their ill-concealed
rivalry, and being no longer willing to endure a position she
felt to be humiliating, she arose, and giving her hand to Thurs-
ton, said,
"Mr. Willcoxen, will you please to assist me in finding Mrs.
Grimshaw ?"
With a glad smile of surprise Thurston bowed, drew her
hand within his arm, and they began to thread their waj
through the crowd.
" Thank you, dearest, dearest Marian sweet wife ! thank
you !" he whispered in a thrilling voice, as they went.
But the people pressed so closely, that it was nearly impos-
sible to speak a confidential word that would not be heard by
others. He did manage to say to her, in answer to her fond
inquiries
"Dearest, I reached home only this afternoon. I made an
errand over to Old Fields for the purpose of seeing you.
There I learned that you were here, and hither I instantly
hurried, an uninvited, but I trust not an unwelcome guest.
Oh ! the demon ! Here comes Doctor Brightwell, elbowing
his way through the crowd to speak to me ! How provoking 1
Dear Marian 1 I must see you alone !
Before Marian could reply, Doctor Brightwell joined them,
and, grasping Thurston's hand with a cordial grip, and smiling
in his face with the sincerest joy, began to pour forth a stream
of weh-ome, in return for which, Thurston sincerely wished him
at Jericho. And before the Doctor had done talking, Edith
came along in search of Marian, and joined her. As she had
seen Thurston once before that evening, she only nodded and
smiled before entering into the conversation. They all talked
together a little while, and then Thurston pressed Marian'3
fingers, with a meaning which she must have understood, for she
miled and said,
394 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Now, Mrs. Shields, pray excuse me, and take care of onr
dear Doctor, while I go to hunt up Mrs. Grimshaw, who has
been dancing so continuously that I have had no opportunity
of speaking to her. And now she is sitting down somewhere,
and I must find her."
" You will not find her, ray dear ; she has left the room she
has probably gone in to supper, where all the company are
going now. Come, Doctor ! Mr. Willcoxen, give your arm to
Miss Mayfield, and precede us to the supper room."
There was no remedy ; the company were all going one way ',
Thurston knew very well that if he and Marian remained be-
hind, they would excite remark , so with a suppressed groan,,
he drew her hand through his arm and led the way. At the
supper-table it was as bad as ever for the lovers. If the vianda
stopped the people's mouths, that circumstance only left their
ears the more at liberty to hear all that passed. And Thurstoo
could speak no loving word to Marian. He had no means of
relieving his heart, but by occasional sly pressures of her hand
and, forgetting that he must not express the strength of his
love by the strength of his hand, he so clasped and crushed to-
gether her fair, roseate fingers, that Marian had other cause
than pleasure to remember it.
After supper it was worse than ever. The little, incorri-
gible imp, Jacquelina, whom they had set out to seek, was
found then too soon ; for as soon as she saw Thurston and
Marian together, she shook off Doctor Grimshaw's arm, re-
quested him to keep his hateful figure out of her sight, and
leaving him to digest his mortification and jealousy as he could,
hurried forward to join them, and to welcome Thurston with
an assumed eagerness and delight, that none but a mad man, or
what is the same thing, a jealous man, could ever mistake for
the "love that doth make cowards of us all." And to Doctor
Grimshaw's rage and despair, and to Thurston's ill concealed
vexation, the unhappy elf passed her little thin hand through
his idle arm, and remained with the lovers the whole of the
evening. In a neighborhood where the most stringent and ar
THE MISSING BEIDE. 395
bitrary social laws govern the conduct of women, Sans Soaci
was laying herself open to the severest censure, and she knew
it, and was glad to know it and she seemed to delight in
taking more pains to make people think and speak evil of her.
than any sinner had ever taken to conceal his sins, and make
the world think well of him. But she did not succeed any bet-
ter than the opposite sort of hypocrites do. No one thought
or spoke ill of her. The translucent purity of the poor fairy's
nature was too clear to all except to the passion-blinded Grim-
shaw and she could do or say any extravagant thing that she
pleased, and have no severer comment made upon her, than
"How peculiar," " How eccentric," or "That is just exactly like
Jacquelina ! Xo one else could do so with impunity."
Doctor Grimshaw's blood boiled with rage. It was with
difficulty he restrained himself from going and taking Jacque-
lina by the arm, and leading her from the room. But he knew
very well that if he should do such a tiling as that, Jacquelina
would fall into one of her violent and really dangerous hysteric
fits, and create a scene in which his dignity would be sure to
suffer. How long his jealousy and his self-respect might have
struggled for the mastery, and which might have finally con-
quered, is uncertain ; for the company soon began to break up
and disperse, and Thurston Willcoxen, vexed, worn out, and
bored half to death by the pretended favor of the willful elf.
arose and excused himself, and left her and Marian sitting
together.
Edith now came up, and told Marian that her Aunt Waugh
had insisted that they should stay all night; that little Miriam
was already in bed ; and that Mrs. Waugh had promised
that the carriage should take them back early in the morn-
ing. Jacquelina, now that there was no more mischief to be
done, let her head gradually sink upon her hand, closed her
eyes, and went off into one of those long, long reveries, apa
thies, or trances, whichever they might be called, into which she
now so frequently fell. The rooms were now nearly empty, the
Company having nearly all departed. Thurston Willcoxen still
396 MIRIAM, THE AVENGEEj OK,
lingered about the halls and entries, until he saw Edith roust
Jacquelina, and with much tenderness coax and assist the ex-
nausted girl to leave the room and retire to bed. Then seeing
Marian left alone for a few minutes, he seized the precious op-
portunity, re-entered the saloon, and hurried to her side, drew
her hastily to his bosom, pressed a kiss upon her lips, and say-
ing, " Good night, sweetest and dearest I will see you again
to-morrow," hastened away in time to escape the observation
of Mrs. Waugh, who came to look for Marian, and to show her
to her room. The chamber to which Mrs. Waugh conducted
her guest, adjoined that occupied by Edith, and the door of
communication was open between them. When Mrs. Waugh
had bidden her good night, and left her to repose, Marian drew
aside her curtains, and missed Miriam from the bed. Miriam,
ever since her birth, had slept in Marian's arms ; this night, the
maid, Maria, had, naturally enough, put the little girl in her
mother's bed, but when Marian missed her, she went immedi-
ately into Edith's room, and, smilingly announcing that she had
cpme for her baby, lifted the child, and carried her and laid her
in her own bed. This, late as was the hour, opened a conver-
sation between the friends, in the course of which they discussed
the most, striking events of the evening, the sudden arrival of
Thurston, the strange behavior of Jacquelina, the great degree
of adulation lavished upon Marian, and lastly, the meeting be-
tween Edith and her long-estranged uncle.
" My dear Marian," said Edith, " his conciliatory demon-
strations were coarse, rude and offensive to me, and insulting
to the memory of my husband. He excused his former harsh-
ness, by reflecting severely upon my marriage, and by implica-
tion upon my martyred husband, which was very hard to bear,
and it made me regret that I had entered the house.
" Do not say so, dear Edith ! his reflections cannot hurt the
saint in Heaven, and need not offend you. You were right in
coming. And now you must remember that the old man, with
all his years, is ignorant and blind, and you must bear with jie
faults; pity him, pray for him, and love him,," said Marian;
kissing Edith's cheek, and bidding her good night.
THE MISSING BEIDE. 397
When she re-entered her own chamber, what was her sur-
prise to see Jacquclina in her white night-gown, with her
yellow hair streaming around her, standing in the room.
" My dear Lina ! what is the matter? I thought you were
asleep long ago."
"I never sleep, Marian."
Marian took her hand and made her sit down upon a
sofa and took a seat by her side, aqd began, with a sort of
instinctive mesmerism, to stroke her temples and smooth her
hair.
" How did you get in, Lina ?" she asked ; " my door leading
into the passage was locked."
" But look there," replied Jacko, pointing to another door
directly opposite to that leading into Edith's room. " You
did not notice that, it communicates with my room. These
three rooms are en suite, and were intended ha! ha ! ha 1 ha !
ha! for Professor and Mrs. Grimshaw. He sleeps in the other
wing of the building, Marian. If they had so much as put the
Ogre in the same side of the house with me, I should have
taken the clothes line, gone out, climbed the nearest tree, made
a noose of one end of the cord, slipped it over my head, fast-
ened the other end to a strong branch and jumped off."
Marian still calmly smoothed her hair, and betrayed no
horror at her wild words, but answered gently,
" They would not have driven you to such extremity, nor
Vould you have committed such an act. Your lips betray the
real goodness of your heart, Lina."
" Don't call me ' Lina,' I can't bear it. Call me Jacko,
Elf, Monkey, Imp anything to remind me that I am a fairy
without a heart ! and I really have no heart to speak of. If I
ever had one it was fragile as a porcelain vase ; and such as it
wc*v it is broken now though as the careless kitchen maids
say ' it was cracked before.' Ha! ha! ha!"
" No it is only your brain that is cracked, poor Jacko.
Your heart is good and sound. I should be sorry to believe
othe-wise," said Marian, laying the little golden head against
398 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
her bosom, and stooping till her lips softly touched the fair>
round forehead.
" I always feel a little less wild and wicked when I am with
you, Marian ; but, oh ! at other times ! at other times ! the
very demon seems to take possession of me. Did you ever see
anybody try so hard to get rid of a good name as I did this
evening? Ha! ha I ha! If any other woman in that room
had behaved as I did, whew ! she would not have had a thread
of reputation left. There I was flirting as desperately as ever
I could with Thurston Willcoxen the whole time, pretending to
be so infatuated with him as to forget how to behave myself,
and yet did you ever see anything so contrary as calumny ?
There I was doing everything I could think of to get myself
slandered, to mortify Grim', and nobody took the least notice,
or said the least word about it. And I really do believe if I
was to run away with Thurston Willcoxen to-morrow, they
would only say it was ' one of Jack's whims,' and wonder what
I'd do next. And sometimes /wonder, too ! for I feel as if a
fate I have no power to resist were pressing me on and on to
I dread to think what !"
" Dear girl, there is this that you must do -justify the faith
people have in your natural goodness and purity," said Marian,
caressing her.
" Oh ! you don't know, Marian. You don't know how nearly
wild I am driven at times. I do so hate and fear the Ogre.
Yes, both hate and fear him. And so I am single-handed at
war with them all, and sometimes wildly tempted to turn
and fly."
" But, my dear Jacquelina. will you suffer me to tell you that
you yourself are wrong in his. Doctor Grimshaw doubtless
acted ill when he took advantage of your position, to marry you
against youi inclination. But you consented to become his wife,
therefore you gave him claims and rights that it is your duty to
regard."
"No, I dian't! No, no! I took care of that. I merely
gave him my hand in a nominal marriage, to secure him at
THE MISSING BEIDE. 399
estate, and ray poor sick mother an independent living. No
more nor less than just that."
' But, my dear, Doctor Grimshaw also, you see, has much to
complain of, and that should make you at least forgiving and
charitable, my dear child."
" Ha, ha, ha ! Yes, he has something to complain of 1 that
is the best of it ! that is excellent ! He is outwitted, isn't he ?
The lawyer cheated the demon, and a girl cheated the lawyer.
Ha, ha, ha ! You needn't talk to me, Marian ! they have driven
me wild among them ! And now it is a death-struggle between
the fairy and the Ogre ! Yes, Marian, a death-struggle 1 Look
at me !" she said, suddenly stripping up her loose sleeve, and
showing an arm so thin, fair and transparent, that Marian's eyes
filled to see it. "Yes! lookl" said Jacquelina, "all the flesh
on my bones is dissolving away as under an evil charm I It is
his evil eye that does it ! His eye, that shines like a wolf's in
the dark ! His eye, that fastened upon me, even in a lighted
and crowded room, seems to devour me ! I feel myself wither-
ing under its burning and consuming glare ! And I declare to
you, that if I happen to find myself inadvertently shut up in a
parlor with him, those eyes begin to kindle and glow, till he
looks just like a panther about to spring upon his prey. And
1 1 a panic grips my heart, and deprives me of the power of
jumping and leaping from the window, else I should do it, and
break my neck. But these excitements, dreads, terrors and
panics are wearing me out, and the Ogre will kill me that is
all. But I wont kill you by keeping you up forever, dear
Marian, so good-night !" And throwing her arms around
Marian's neck, she kissed her, and then disappeared as suddenly
as she had entered.
And Marian, forgetting herself, Thurston, and everything
except Jaequelina's wretchedness and danger, sank down on
her knees, and prayed Heaven's protection, light and grace for
the poor, half crazed, half broken-hearted, blind and misguided
girl.
400 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR
CHAPTER XXX.
SPRING AND LOVE.
"In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast,
In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnished dove ;
In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." Tennyxn.
EARLY in the morning the carriage was brought to the door
to take Edith and her party home. And after a hearty break-
last, prepared by the orders of Mrs. Waugh for them alone,
they took leave of that lady and departed. They drove first to
the village and left Marian at her school, and then towards Old
Fields.
To Marian, how slowly passed that summer's morning.
Thurston had promised to see her during the day ; he had fixed
no time nor place for doing so, so hastily had the appointment
been made; but he knew where to find her school-room, and
she half hoped, half feared, that despite the impolicy of the
step, he might seek her there. And so she could not refrain
from watching through the windows the foot-path that led to
the door. Through all the forenoon, through all the recess,
and through the afternoon, she watched. But he came not.
The longest day comes sometime or another to an end. And
at last Marian's work was finished, and her school dismissed.
Not having her pony, Marian was obliged to walk home.
She did not regret the circumstance, for the afternoon was
lovely, and the walk home promised to be as delightful as clear
June weather, evening skies, south breezes, and forest-paths
could combine to make it. And more than all was the hope
and the fear of meeting Thurston. Yes, the hope and the fear,
for though she desired above all things now to meet him, she
by no means wished that the woodland and water-side walks of
the preceding autumn should be renewed. And in Marian's
THE MISSING BRIDE. 401
once serene bosom, two principles, love and prudence, were
a 1 ready at war with each other.
She had not long to listen to the debate they kept up in her
mind ; for she had not walked many yards down the lonely forest
footpath, leading from the village to Old Fields, before Thurs-
ton suddenly emerged from the trees and joined her.
She started and blushed deeply, but he joyfully caught her to
his bosom, and kissed her till she dropped her head and hid her
flushed cheek upon his shoulder. Then he began to speak
" My Marian, my own Marian, my darling, my treasure-
sweet wife, sweet life," and many fond epithets besides. " Look
up let me see your dear face don't turn it away it has been
so long absent from my eyes, though never from my heart.
Loe'k up now."
Marian raised her head and glanced at the face hanging ovet
hers with so much love. That face had never seemed so in
stinct with life and light; so glorious with manly beauty as now.
Involuntarily, pride, fondness, joy flowed to her countenance
also, as she lifted her eyes to his for a brief instant ; but then
a sudden panic of cowardice overcame her, and down dropped
her head again upon its resting place. He pressed her closer
to his heart, and pushed back her bonnet, and bent his face
upon her soft and shining tresses.
"I want to sit and talk to you so much. Come now. Let
us go and find the mossy dell, from which I showed you, through
the vista, that beautiful view of the bay. I do not care for the
view now, though never looked it lovelier. I care tor no beauty
but this which I hold to my heart. Come, sweet ! let us go to
the mossy dell it is carpeted with violets now, blue as your
eyes, and fragrant as your lips come, sweet !" He drew her
arm within his own and led her on.
A walk of about a quarter of a mile through the bushes
brought them to the spot which has been described before. They
descended by the natural staircase of moss-covered rocks, and
eat down together upon a bed of violets at its foot.
"Before them, through the canopy of over-arching trees, wan
25
402 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
ecen, like a picture in its frame of fcliage, a fine view of thto
open country and the bay now bathed in the purple haze of
evening.
But the fairest prospect that ever opened had no more attrac-
tion for Thurston than if it had been a view of chimney tops
from a back attic window. He passed his right hand ai,)und
Marian's shoulders, and drew h&r closer to his side, and with
the other hand began to untie her bonnet strings.
' ' Lay off this little bonnet. Let me see your beauteoua
head uncovered. There !" he said, putting it aside, and smooth-
ing her bright locks. " Oh, Marian I my love ! my queen !
when I see only the top of your head, I think your rippling,
sunny tresses your chief beauty ; but soon my eyes fall to the
blooming cheek there never was such a cheek BO vivid, ye$
so delicate, so glowing, yet so cool and fresh like a damask
rose bathed in morning dew so when I gaze on it I think the
blushing cheek your sweetest charm ah ! but near by breathe
the rich, ripe lips, fragrant as nectarines ; and which I should
swear to be the very buds of love, were not my gaze caught up
to meet your eyes stars ! and then I kno.w that I have found
the very soul of beauty 1 Oh ! priceless pearl 1 By what rare
fortune was it that I ever found you in these Maryland
woods? Love! angel! Marian! for that means all!" he ex-
claimed, in a sort of ecstasy, straining her to his side.
And Marian dropped her blushing face upon his shoulder
she was blushing not from bashful love alone with it mingled
a feeling of shame, regret, and mistrust, because he praised so
much her form and face ; because he seemed to love her only
for her superficial good looks. She would have spoken if she
uould have done so ; she would have said what was on her heart
as earnest as a prayer to say,
" Oh, do not think so much of this perishable, outward
beauty ; accident may ruin it, sickness may injure it, time will
certainly impair it. Do not love me for that which I have no
power over, and which may be taken from me at any time
which I shall be sure to lose at last love me for something
THE MISSING BRIDE. 403
Oettsr and more lasting than that. I have a heart in this
bosom worth all the rest, a heart that in itself is an inner world
a kingdom worthy of your rule a heart that neither time,
fortune, nor casualty can ever change a heart that loves you
now in your strong and beautiful youth, and will love you when
you are old and gray, and when you are one of the redeemed
in Heaven. Love me for this heart."
But to have saved her own soul or his, Marian could not then
have spoken those words.
So he continued to caress her every moment growing more
and more enchanted with her loveliness. There was more of
passion than affection in his manner, and Marian felt and re-
gretted this, though her feeling was not a very clearly defined
one it was rather an instinct than a thought, and it was latent,
and quite subservient to her love for him.
" Love ! angel ! how enchanting you are," he exclaimed,
catching her in his arms and pressing kisses on her cheek and
lips and neck.
Glowing with color, Marian strove to release herself. "Let
me go let us leave this place, dear Thurston," she pleaded,
attempting to rise.
" Why ? Why are you in such a hurry ? Why do you wish
to leave me ?" he asked, without releasing his hold.
"It is late! Dear Thurston, it is late," she said, in vague
alarm.
"That does not matter /am with you."
' They will be anxious about me, pray let us go ! They will
be so anxious!" she said, with increasing distress, trying to get
away. "Thurston! Thurston ! You distress me beyond mea
e:ire," she exclaimed in great trouble.
But he stopped her breath with kisses.
Marian sudden 1 ? ceased to struggle, and by a strong effort
of will she became perfectly calm. And looking in his eyes,
with her clear, steady gaze, she said,
" Thurston, I have ceased to strive. But if you are a man
nf honor, you will release me "
404 M I Tl I A M , THE A V E N G E IS ; O E ,
His arms dropped from around her as if he had been struck
dead.
Glad to be free, Marian arose to depart Thurston sat still
his fine countenance overclouded with mortification and anger
Marian hesitated ; she knew not how to proceed. He did not
offer to rise aud attend her. At length she spoke.
" Will you see me safely through the woods, Thurston ?' r
He did not answer.
" Thurston, it is nearly dark there are several runaway
negroes in the forest now, and the road will not be safe for me."
Thurston was silent and sullen.
" Good-night, then," she said.
"Good-night, Marian."
She turned away and ascended the steps with her heart filled
nearly to bursting with grief, indignation, and fear. That he
should let her take that long, dark, dangerous walk alone I it
was incredible ! she could scarcely realize it, or believe it ! Her
unusually excited feelings lent wings to her feet, and she walked
swiftly for about a quarter of a mile, and then was forced to
pause and take breath. And then every feeling of indignation
and fear was lost in that of sorrow, that she had wounded his
feelings, and left him in anger. And Marian dropped her face
into her open hands and wept. A step breaking through the
brushwood made her start and tremble. She raised her head
with the attitude of one prepared for a spring and flight. It
was so dark she could scarcely see her hands before her, but as
the step approached, a voice said,
" Fear nothing, Marian, I have not lost sight of you since
you left me," and Thurston came up to her side.
With a glad smile of surprise Marian turned to greet him,
holding out her hand, expecting him to draw it through his
arm and lead her on. But no, he would not touch her hand
Lifting his hat slightly, he said,
" Go forward if you please to do so, Marian. I attend you."
Marian went on, and he followed closely. They proceeded
in silence for some time. Now that she knew that he had noi
THE MISSING BRIDE. 405
left her a moment alone in the woods, she felt more deeply
grieved at having so mortified and offended him. At last she
spoke.
"Pray, do not be angry with me, dear Thurston."
" I am not angry that I know of, fair one ; and you do rat
too much honor to care about my mood. Understand me once
for all. I am not a Doctor Grimshaw, in any phase of that
gentleman's character. I am neither the tyrant who will perse-
cute you to exact your attention, nor yet the slave who will
follow and coax and whine and whee'dle for your favor. In
either character I should despise myself too much," he answered
coolly.
"Thurston, you are deeply displeased, or you would not
speak so, and I am very, very sorry," said Marian in a tremu-
lous voice.
"Do not distress yourself about me, fair saint ! I shall trouble
you no more after this evening!"
What did he mean ? What could Thurston mean ? Trouble
her no more after this evening ! She did not understand the
words, but they went through her bosom like a sword. She did
not reply she could not. She wished to say,
"Oh, Thurston, if you could read my heart how singly it is
devoted to you how its thoughts by day, and dreams by night
are filled with histories and images of what I would be, and do
or suffer for you of how faithfully I mean to love and serve
you in all our coming years you would not mistake me, and
get angry, because you would know my heart." But these
words Marian could not have uttered had her life depended
on it.
" Go on, Marian, the moor is no safer than the forest ; I shall
attend you across it."
And they went on until the light from Old Field Cottage tvas
visible. Then Marian said,
" You had better leave me now. They are sitting up ana
watching forme."
"N:! Go on ; the night is very dark. I must see you to th
gate."
406 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER, 4 OR,
They walked rapidly, and just as they approached the
Marian saw a little figure wandering about on the moor, and
which suddenly sprang towards her with an articulate cry of
joy ! It was Miriam, who threw herself upon Marian with
such earnestness of welcome, that she did not notice Thurston,
who now raised his hat slightly from his head, with a slight nod,
and walked rapidly away.
" Here she is, mother ! Oh ! here she is !" cried Miriam,
pulling at Marian's dress, and drawing her in the house.
" Oh ! Marian, how anxious you have made us ! Where hare
you been ?" asked Edith, in a tone half of love, half of vexation.
" I have been detained," said Marian, in a low voice.
The cottage room was very inviting. The evening was just
chilly enough to make the bright little wood fire agreeable. On
the clean hearth before it sat the tea-pot and a covered plate of
toast waiting for Marian. And old Jenny got up and sat out
a little stand, covered it with a white napkin, and put the tea
and toast, with the addition of a piece of cold chicken and a
saucer of preserves upon it. And Marian laid off her straw
bonnet and muslin scarf, and sat down and tried to eat, for
affectionate eyes had already noticed the trouble of her counte-
nance, and were watching her now with anxiety.
"You do not seem to have an appetite, dear; what is the
matter?" asked Edith.
"I am not very well," said Marian, rising and leaving the
table, and refraining with difficulty from bursting into tears.
"It's dat ar cussed infunnelly party at Lockemup clat'a
what it is !" said Jenny, as she cleared away the tea service;
4 a-screwin' up tight in cusseds an' ball-dresses! an'a-danciu' all
night till broad daylight ! 'sides heavin' of ever so much un-
wholesome 'fectionary trash down her t'roat de constitution ob
do United States hisself couldn't stan' sich! murh less a ddicy
jruung gall! I 'vises ov you, honey, to go to bed."
" Indeed, Marian, it was too much for you to lose your rest
all night, and then have to get up early to go to school. You
utould have had a good sleep this morning. And then to be
THE MISSING BRIDE. 407
detained so late this evening. Did you have to keep any of the
girls in, or was it a visit from the trustees that detained you?"
"Neither," said Marian, nervously, "but I think I must take
Jenny's advice and go to bed."
Marian arose and lighted a candle, and bidding all good-night,
went up stairs, followed by Miriam. She undressed the child
ind put her to bed, and then went to bed herself. She had
been in the habit of drawing the little girl up to her bosom, and
going to sleep with her in her arms. But this night she kissed
the child and turned over away from her, to be alone with her
own thoughts to review what had passed that evening, and see
what it was that she had done wrong to leave behind this dread-
ful, dreadful aching of the heart this insufferable sense of loneli-
ness and desolation. She thought over all that had occurred, but
could not find herself guilty of any evil act or word that should
have entailed this insupportable suffering. She knew that she
had done right. Yet saying this over to herself, any number
of times, did not tend to allay the heart-ache. She had so much
longed for his return. Well ! he had returned, and what was the
result to her ? Why, that they were more estranged than when
the Atlantic had divided them, and she was more unhappy than
she had ever been in all her life before. . Their parting, and the
months of separation, had never grieved her as this estrange-
ment did oh! nothing like it! "After this evening I will
trouble you no more," he had said. Ah I what did he mean by
that ? What was the extent of his meaning ? Sigh after sigh
agitated her bosom tear after tear swelled under her eyelids,
and slid down her cheeks, until the pillow under 'her face was wet
with them. So engrossed was she by her own grief, that she
did not notice that her sighs were echoed from the little boson:
of the child by her side. She did not even know that Miriam
was awake, until at last she felt a little hand pass softly over her
face and feel her eyes, and a little sad voice say,
" What is the matter, Marian ? Please don't cry. I love you
10 much."
Then Marian suddenly turned over, and gathered the child to
ap usual, ba f . saying,
408 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" My darling how selfish in me to turn away from my loving
child. And have you been lying awake, watching with me,
little one ? Couldn't you sleep out of Marian's arms ? Well,
then, now close your dark eyes, and go to sleep."
" But will you go to sleep, too, Marian ?"
"Yes, love, I will try. Never mind my tears something
troubled me, this evening, but it is nothing that should vex you,
or that you can help at all, so go to sleep."
Miriam was an obedient little creature, and never dreamed of
disputing Marian's directions, so she closed her eyes, and lay
perfectly still, while Marian put a strict guard upon herself,
that no tear or sigh should escape her, and disturb the child.
But, oh, how she longed to go and weep in some solitary
place, where her tears might fall without dropping upon and
blistering another heart.
At last the blessing " God givethhis beloved, "fell upon both
maiden and child. So that when Edith came up to bed, and ap-
proached them with a shaded candle, she found them fast asleep,
still locked in each other's arms. She did not look closely
enough to see that Marian's face was pale, and the tear-drops
were hanging on her eyelashes, nor did she stay long enough to
note the frequent shuddering sighs that shook her bosom.
Marian's grief had followed her into the land of dreams. And
when she awoke in the morning, it was the first thing that met
her in the world of reality. It was with a heavy and an anxious
heart that she arose and dressed herself, partook of a slight
breakfast and set out for school.
Miriam, who had stayed home the day before, to rest herself
after the party, now accompanied her. They rode the pony
Miriam sitting upon the crupper, behind. As they reached
the cross-roads, at the entrance of the woods, Marian's eager
gaze went in all directions, in the vain hope of seeing Thurston
near their old trjsting place. He was nowhere in sight, and
with a heart that grew every moment heavier, Marian rode on,
looking wistfully up the path, longing for his appearance.
Yesterday afternoon, coming along this very path, she had
THE MISSING BRIDE. 409
both hoped and feared to meet him. But now the instinct of
prudence was entirely lost in the anxiety she felt to see him.,
and be friends with him again. They rode the whole distance,
and reached the school-roDm without having met one single
being. It were tedious to tell how heavily passed that day to
Marian, But one faint hope sustained her that of seeing
Thurston on her way home again. At last the school was dis-
missed, and she and Miriam set out for the cottage. She rodo
very slowly, frequently looking before, and turning to look be-
hind, but there was no one to be seen. So slowly she rode,
that it was after sunset when they reached Old Fields. And
Edith said,
" Indeed I would not make a slave of myself, and keep thp
school in so late, Marian. If the pupils didn't know their les-
sons, they might go home without saying them, for me."
But Marian turned away in mournful silence, more heart-sick
than before wishing more than ever for some solitary place,
where she might weep unnoticed and unquestioned.
As passed this day, so passed the next one beginning in
the same feverish anxiety ending in the same heavy disap-
pointment.
Friday came.
" Surely, surely Thurston will see me to-day," she said, as
she set out for the school " he knows that it is Friday, and
that to-morrow there will be no opportunity."
She said this over so many times, that she persuaded herself
it must be as she wished. And never had the hours seemed to
drag so wearily as upon this last day. And when she set out
to walk home, leading little Miriam, it was with the vigilant
impatience of one certain yet in anxious haste to meet him
whom she sought. But every mile that brought her nearer
home, weighed down her heart, and when, at last, without
having seen him, she reached Old Fields, she entered tho
house, and without stopping to speak to Edith, passed up
stairs, sank on her knees by the bed, buried her face in the
coverlet, and gave wav to a convulsive fit of grief. The gust
410 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
of tears and sobs relieved her overcharged bosom, and then she
sat down and tried to reason with herself.
" What is this that has come over my life, and taken from
me the control of my own fate and peace of mind ? A little
while ago I did not know Thurston my life was perfect in
itself without him. I stood upon my own feet strong, happy,
calm, self-possessed and self-reliant supporting myself and
supporting others needing no comfort, yet able to comfort
others lone but free! now, heart and soul and spirit all
that is best of me have gone out of my own possession, and
into another's and peace that nothing could disturb before, is
now at the mercy of another's smile or frown. Should this be
PO? Is this worthy of an intellectual an immortal being?
No, no ! no, no ! it must not be ! I who have done no wrong,
must indulge no vain regrets. I who have lectured others,
must now ' reck my own rede.' "
It was very easy so to reflect and so to resolve, just after her
heart had been relieved and exhausted by a hearty fit of weep-
ing and acting in the new strength, Marian arose, bathed her
face, smoothed her hair, arranged her dress, and went below
stairs, where, in the keeping-room, the tea-table was just set,
while the tea-kettle sung upon the hearth.
It was a comfortable, cheering scene, and Marian resolved
to enjoy it as she had been accustomed to do. And during
the pleasant little bustle of the tea-table, she succeeded well
enough, but when that was all over, and she took her needle,
work to sit down by the little stand and sew, the tide of love
and grief began to flow back upon her heart, filling her bosom
with longings impossible to silence. And she bent lower and
lower over her work, and turned farther and farther from the
light, as tear after tear gathered under her white lids and stole
down her cheeks. At last, unable longer to suppress an out-
break of sorrow, she arose hastily, folded up her work, and
with a brief good-night to Edith, hurried up the stairs.
Edith look 3d after her in anxiety.
" I wonder what is the matter with Marian ?" she said
THE MISSING BRIDE. 411
" Dem ar wexatious, aggroawokin' school galls ! deins urn 1
I wish how sne nebber tetched to de funnelly school-keepin'.
School galls is honey-coolers, chile ! dey is. I knows. Lors !
when I lib lay-sister long o' de nuns, at der school, dem are
school galls a'most driv me rampin' mad ! I had to lebe, 'deed
me ! I broke de wows an' run away ! 'deed me ! I jes tell ole
marse, sell me to Georgy ; put me out in de fiel', unnerneaf of
an oberseer ; but for Lord sake don't put me unnerneaf of a
passel of 'stractin' school galls don't! else I jes heave myself
right away dar ! He hear me good ! an' if he didn't like it,
he might jes lump it. He t'rowed his 'fernal ole crutch at ray
head I dodged, an' it smashed right trew de winder glass
an' sarve him right, too ! Lord knows what de forsook oU
sinner would a done nex', if ole mist' hadn't o' come in
/ didn't care I 'deed me ! I wa'nt half as feared o' him as I
was o' dem ar tarrifyin', rip-stavin' school galls dar!"
Edith did not seem to be satisfied with Jenny's explanation
of Marian's distress, and before the old woman's wandering
discourse was finished, she had left the room and gone up stairs.
Marian heard her coming and hastily stilled her sobs, wiped
away her tears, and assumed a calmness she was very far from
realizing. Edith approached, and put her arms around her.
" My dear Marian, what is the matter? What is this that
has troubled you these three or four days ? Are you in any
difficulty with your patrons ? Please tell me."
" No, no, my relations with my pupils and their parents are
of the pleasantest character, I should be sorry if any one should
think otherwise."
" What is it then that troubles you, Marian ?
" I am out of spirits, Edith. But I have one favor to beg
cf you will you grant it to me ?"
" Of course I will, Marian. I promise you blindly before
ou teii me what it is."
" It is that you will never question me as to the cause of my
moods."
Ed : til looked ? iurt so much so that Marian quickly added.
412 M I R I A M , THE AVENGER; OR,
" Dear Edith, forgive me, but you know one has sometimes
variable spirits, imaginary troubles, if you please to call thenc,
so fantastical ones, if you like that term better but which
they are half ashamed to own, and cannot brook to display. I
hape you understand me, and are not offended with me, Edith "
" She has permitted herself to form an unhappy attachment,"
thought Edith, stumbling very near the truth. And from that
time forth for many weeks Edith forbore to question Marian.
The next day, Saturday, Marian busied her hands with many
domestic duties, and reasoned with her heart and struggled for
composure and cheerfulness. But all the philosophy she could
bring to her aid failed to comfort her as much as one little hope
. that of seeing him at church the next day.
" I shall be sure to see him there, and then I shall know what
all this means. Yes, then I shall know my fate. And any-
thing is better than this suspense. Oh, that to-morrow were
come!"
The Sabbath dawned at last a beautiful, a glorious day, the
first Sunday in June. Neither Edith nor Miriam went from
home that morning, but Marian sat out early for the village.
She walked rapidly until she reached the cross-roads, where
Thurston had so often waited to join her then she slackened
her pace, and looked around still expecting to see him some-
where near. But he was nowhere visible. She walked slowly
through the woods, still hoping to be overtaken ; but in vain.
" Well ! no matter I shall see him at church I know I
shall see him at church," said she, quickening her walk. Sho
soon reached the village, and hastened to the chapel, where she
arrived barely in time to meet her Sunday school class. She still
felt sure of seeing Thurston at church, and her impatience made
the morning session of the Sunday school the longest two hours
Bhe had ever spent in her life. At length it was over, and the
pupils were dismissed, and the teachers went into their pews
Marian sought her own, and sat down and opened her prayer-
book to mark the lessons and psalms and collects for the day ;
but her eyes would wander from her book to the doors through
which the congregation was continuously pouring into the aisles.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 413
But Thurston appeared not among them. Still still she
watched and hoped. The church was at length filled the
organ played the prelude the minister appeared in the aisle-
walked slowly up, ascended the steps leading into the pulpit <
opened the book and commenced the services by giving out the
opening hymn. The sacred song was sung the first prayer
followed, and still the watched-for came not. The second hymn
and the litany succeeded, and yet he came not. The Bible was
opened, the text taken, and the sermon commenced, and Marian
resigned all hope of seeing him that day either. And oh!
who can conceive the soul-sickness that prevented her from
hearing one word of the discourse that followed.
The morning service was at last over; but Marian could not
have told the subject of the sermon if she had been asked.
While the congregation was dispersing, Miss Thornton ap-
proached Marian.
" You walked here, I believe, my dear Miss Mayfield ?" ,
" Yes," said Marian. " It was a lovely morning, and I pre-
ferred to walk."
" Will you do us the pleasure, my dear, to go home with us
and dine ! It will give my brother and myself the greatest de-
light if you will. We shall return to church in the afternoon,
so that you need not miss the evening services."
"I thank you sincerely for your kindness, Miss Thornton,
but I have a class of colored children that I meet at noon,"
said Marian, pressing the lady's hand.
"But you should not do that, my dear. You really over-
work yourself. Marian, you are losing the roses from your
cheeks. Even you, incredible as it seems. That will not do,
jny dear," said Miss Thornton, looking with anxious affection
in Marian's face ; " no, that will not do. Really, Miss Nancy
Skarnp, should take that class of little negroe-s off your hands.
It would just suit such an old body as herself, and I think she
ought to offer to do it. I really wonder the useless old crea-
ture is not afraid of being cut down as a 'cumberer of the
ground ' "
414 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" I do not think Miss Nancy quite fitted for the task, and a*
for me, work, even hard, continuous work, agrees with me.
But you are very kind, Miss Thornton, and the interest you are
good enough to take in me, helps to make out my sum of hap-
piness," said the young girl, warmly.
"Ah, Marian, if you would but make such an answer to my
brother if you would but let the interest he takes in you make
you happy ! If you would but listen to him."
"Your brother does me unmerited honor, Miss Thornton."
Here the approach of the lady's carriage put an end to the
conversation. She kissed Marian and entered her coach.
Before the lady's carriage had rolled away, Marian re-entered
the church to assemble her little class. She felt a strong temp-
tation to leave them, and walk about the village, to breathe the
fresh air, and possibly to catch a, glimpse of Thurston some-
where. But she resisted the desire, and gave herself up to the
duties in hand. And if there had been a time that week when
the weight and pain were lightened from her heart, it was while,
she was engaged in this work of charity. Her class was dis-
missed half-an-hour before the time for afternoon service to
commence. And that half-hour was occupied by friends and
acquaintances who came to shake hands, chat and laugh before
going in to take their seats in church. At last Marian was
free, and with her eyes cast sadly down to the floor, walked up
the aisle and entered her pew and kneeled down for her private
prayer, as is the custom among Episcopalians. When she arose
to turn and sit down, her eyes fell upon Thurston, seated in a
pew opposite. She started, and could scarcely repress an ex-
clamation of joy as she saw him She sat down, and kept her
eyes a moment on him. He did not raise his to look towards
her; he sat with his fine head a little thrown back, and his eyes
fixed 1 upon the minister. Marian heard scarcely one word the
holy man said ; she glanced from time to time at Thurston, but he
seemed totally unconscious of her presence handsome, cheer
ful, nonchalant, and turning his careless glance from the minis-
ter's "ace to rest a niomer t upon some pretty girl, or quaintly
THE MISSING BRIDE. 415
dressed old woman, or some other object of trivial, passing in.
terest or curiosity, but never by any chance towards Marian'*
pew.
Her mental distress was beginning to make itself felt in phy
sical suffering in the filling and rising of her heart, the chok
ing sensation in her throat, the fullness and throbbing of hel
head the dimness of he* eyes the dizziness of her brain, that
made the whole scene swim before her the faintness, that
caused her nearly to drop. All these things she had to strag-
gle against, during the whole of that afternoon service.
At last, while the congregation were on their knees for the
final prayer, Marian arose softly, and silently withdrew from the
church. She could not bear that any one should see or speak
to her in her present state as would have been the case had
she waited the dismissal of the congregation. She drew he"
veil over her face and left the church door.
A little while she stopped, and leaned against the wall to
gather strength, and then hearing the people in the church be-
ginning to move, and fearing they were coming out, she hurried
away anywhere anywhere where solitude would give her the
liberty to weep unnoticed and unquestioned. He had known
that she was in the church, and had not once looked towards
her she thought oh ! he really meant it then meant what he
had said meant not to see her again after that first evening.
The thought had the sting of death in it for her anything,
anything, rather than such an estrangement. There could be
no such bitter suffering in any other lot of sorrow. Nearly in-
sane with grief, and blind with tears, and fainting with weari-
ness, she tottered on through the forest-path. Unwilling to go
home and be seen and inevitably questioned by some one, and
needing some secluded spot to sit down and rest her wearied
frame, and weep unnoticed, Marian stopped, and turned to look
drearily and sadly around her.
She had reached the spot where the little by-path led to the
aiossj dell a fond fascination drew her down that path. It
would be some comfort to sit there upon the mossy rocks, among
416 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
the sweet violets, under the dear old trees, doubly beloved uow
as the confidants of their love. She reached the spot, stepped
down the mossy stairs, and seated herself at the foot. ,
A picture, matchless in beauty and glory, was spread out
before her the rolling country, green with the brilliant -verdure
of June. The distant bay, clear and blue as molten sapphire
the western horizon, with the sun setting behind a bank of
clouds, like a range of golden mountains, whose peaks were all
ablaze with his last rays.
But Marian saw nothing of this dropping her weary head
upon her hands, she gave way to the burden of grief that had
been bowing her down all this time, and burst into a fit of tears
and sobs that shook her whole frame. She wept long and
heartily, but the tears did not seem to relieve her as usual they
left the aching, aching sorrow still at the bottom of her heart.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THAT NIGHT.
"How goes the night in the widow's cot?
Are the blinds safe closed ? Does the hearth shine clear J
Are they jesting together, while site, forgot;
Links every thought with a falling tear."
MEANWHILE, Edith sat by her cottage window, musing and
gazing out upon the rolling, open country, the calm bay, and
the range of golden cloud mountains, whose peaks were all ablaze
with the setting sun. Old Jenny came in with an armful of light-
wood, to kindle the fire.
" I tell yer all what!" she said, dropping her load upon the
hearth, and taking breath, "Sam's gwine to be let loose to-
night, 'deed he ! Sich anudder cloud arisin' 1 Lord 1 I pity de
THE MISSING BRIDE. 41 7
crafts as 'ill be out on de water dis night 'deed me ! Misa
Edif ! is yer a lookin' at dat der arisin' off in de Wes' ?"
" Yes but I don't think we shall have a storm for two or
three hours yet ; but, Jenny, it is nearly time for Miss Marian's
return. I want you to get a nice tea for her ; make some of
those light biscuits that she likes the girl has eaten nothing
lately."
" Berry well. I dunno as she'll thank me, dough, for break-
ing de Sabberdy on her 'count, nudder, 'deed me 1"
" Miriam, why are you moping so ? Poor child ! it is lone-
some for you these Sundays at home, without playmates, or
books, or anything to help the time on pleasantly," said Edith,
to the little girl, who stood gazing sadly from the window.
" It is not that, mother. Marian walked to church to-day,
and I am looking at that cloud."
" True, child, it does rise very fast. I wish she were safe
home."
Old Jenny had hung the kettle over the blazing fire, and laid
the spider and spider-lid up against the front to get heated,
and she now stood at the table with her hands wrist-deep in
the dough, and while she kneaded and worked up and twisted
off and formed the mass into biscuits, and while Edith sat and
mused, and Miriam stood and gazed from the window, the
cloud arose higher and blacker and overspread the whole sky.
" Miss Mirie, honey, jest you light me a candle, will yer ?
it's a gittin' mos' as dark as midnight," said Jenny, looking
around from her work.
Miriam went and did as she was requested, and then began
tc set the table, while her mother closed the blinds, and old
Jenny put the biscuits in the spider.
"Oh, where can she be? Oh, I wish she would come," said
Miriam.
" She will be here very soon, now, my dear. Church has
been out at least three hours, and though the distance is kng,
Marian is a rapid walker."
" Then don't close the front shutter, mother let her see the
light as she comes across the fields.
26
418 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
And the little girl went and opened the blind.
But just then an awful peal of thunder broke, rolling, crasli
ing, and vibrating through the sky, accompanied by a flash of
blinding lightning, and followed by a deluge of rain. With a
suppressed scream Miriam started from the window, old Jenny
sprang away from the fire-place, and Edith rose to her feet with
clasped hands. For a moment the three stood gazing in silence
at each other.
Then came another blinding glare of lightning, another deaf-
ening crash of thunder, and then Miriam sprang to the door to
open it.
" What are you doing, child ? Has the storm put you out
of your wits ?" asked Edith, starting to her side and catching
her arm.
" Oh ! I must / must go see where Marian is, I can't /
can't stay here while she is out," cried the child.
Another blaze of lightning another peal of thunder, and
Edith shuddering, locked the door and withdrew the key, doubt-
ing her moral power to keep the half-delirious child from flying
out in search of her friend.
"Oh, you've locked her out in the storm !" cried Miriam,
wringing her hands.
" No, dear. I have no idea that Marian is out in the storm
now. Heaven forbid. Seeing the cloud arising, she probably
went home with Miss Thornton to spend the night. She "
A glare of light as if all the heavens had suddenly burst
into flame, accompanied by an explosion, whose tremendous
shock seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth, and
followed by a fall of water as if the fountains of the great
deep had been broken up, and the windows of heaven opened
for another flood I
Edith sank down upon a low chair and drew Miriam close to
her bosom. Jenny was crouched upon a stool in the middle of
the floor, muttering her prayers.
" Mother, oh, mother, are you sure she is safe ?" whis-
pered Miriam, upon her mother's bosom.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 419
" Yes, sure, my dear she would else have been here long ago."
The thunder still rolled the lightning still glared the rain
still poured through many hours.
At last, towards midnight, the storm began to abate, and the
frightened inmates of the cottage ventured to look up and speak
to each other.
" Jes' tell you what heap o' dammidge done dis er' night^
Miss Edif. Well ! thank Marster."
Miriam raised her head from her mother's breast, and looked
at Jenny in so much astonishment, that the old woman hastened
to say,
" Not as der wer so much dammidge done, honey, but a-caze
we-dem's safe. Now, den, as it's done lightenin' I'll jes' go an'
see inter de state o' dese biscuits," and she went to the fire-
place, took up the tongs and lifted the lid off the spider, but
immediately dropped it with an ejaculation of terror as another
flash of lightning blazed into the room, and another peal of
thunder rolled over the roof.
" Dar ! Lord a massy upon me, what anybody t'ink o' dat ?
Sam trought he done hab dis chile dat time, 'deed he! Sam
done made me go up to dat ar chimly and take holten dem yer
iron 'cerns, to fetch de lightenin', deed he! Ah ! nobody knows
de 'ceivin art o' he; but bress patience, I done 'scape him dis
time thank Marster!" said Jenny, as she took a seat at a safe
distance from the fire-place.
The storm continued to subside. Muttering in low thunder,
and glaring in distant lightning, the " prince of the powers of
air " drew off his hosts. And the moon, like a goddess of peace,
emerged from the clouds, and all was calm.
"Now, I think -you may go to the fire-place without danger,
Jenny," said her mistress.
And the old woman again approached the hearth to inves-
tigate the condition of their supper. The biscuits were baked
Hard, and had grown nearly cold, as had also the water in the
tea-kettle, for the fire was almost out. However, Jenny raked
the brands together, and soon kindled a bright blaze, and soon
after had the tea smoking on the table.
4-20 MIEIAM, THE AVENGEEJ OE,
Bui the little family had been too much disturbed and fa
tigued to eat ; the supper was little better than a mere form,
and it was soon dispatched, and the service cleared away.
They fastened the doors and windows, and went up staira
tc bed. But long after Edith was asleep, little Miriam lay
a\\ake watching and listening. The full moon shone brightly
into the chamber.
The head of Miriam's bed was against the wall, one side of
Ihe window looking out upon the bay; but the foot was towards
the opposite window that looked landward, and commanded the
old fields and the belt of forest and the cross roads. And the
child, as she lay, kept her eyes open and strained through that
window, as though it were possible to discern a figure approach-
ing from that distance, or as though it were likely that Marian
would come home at that late hour. Miriam did not certainly
think she would, though, with strange inconsistency, she watched
and listened for her coming, and could not close her eyes in
sleep.
At last her ear caught the sound of a light step, near the
front door, and then she heard a gentle rap, and a soft voice,
saying,
" It is I, Jenny."
" Miss Marian ! Marster !" said Jenny, getting up from her
pallet on the kitchen floor, and fumbling at the door-lock until
she had it open, and admitted Marian.
" Marster's dear sake, chile ! who come home wid yer ?
Where is yer been ? Is yer wet ? Did yer get ketched in de
storm ? Marster 'Deemer ! how pale yer does look, chile ! Come,
sit down to de fire, while I rakes up de chunks, an' makes you
Bummat hot."
" Hush no, I'm not chilled, and don't wish anything, thank
?ou," said Marian, passing through the room, where she left
Jenny standing in her amazement, and going quietly up stairs.
There sne found Miriam awake and waiting for her. The
child had raised up on her elbow, and her large, dark, melan-
choly eyes were fixed in surprise, grief, and anxiety upon her
friend
THE MISSING BRIDE. 421
11 Marian, were you out in the storm ?" she asked.
''No, love, I was under shelter, and now I am sale at home,
but it is too late for your sweet eyes to be open. Go to sleep,
love,' ; said Marian, approaching the bed and kissing the little
girl, and laying her down upon the pillow. Then she quicklj
prepared herself and lay down beside her ; but the child, who
had kept her eyes upon her all the while, said now, in a voice
of surprise,
" Marian, you forgot to say your prayers 1"
With something like a shiver, Marian arose and knelt down.
So long she remained upon her knees that the watchful child
at last began to suspect, that, overcome with weariness, she had
fallen asleep.
She crept closer to her and put out her hand, and then she
found Marian's face and hands wet with tears. She wiped and
'dssed away those tears, and whispered softly the best words of
jomfort she could think of:
" I love you, Marian. I love you so much."
And Marian, shocked and repentant that her grief should so
overshadow this child's young life, made a desperate effort to
conquer the weakness, dashed away her tears, and smiling said,
" Never mind me, love. I have been low spirited and tired
out all persons are at times but it will wear off it shall it
must," she added, mentally, as once more she lay down and drew
the child's head upon her bosom.
But Marian found it a severe struggle. Many nights suc-
ceeding this, little Miriam, lying awake, would put up her hand
to feel if Marian's eyes were sleeping or weeping, and, finding
them wet with tears, would kiss those tears away. And many
days Edith's anxious glance would follow Marian through the
house, and her earnest questioning harrass and embarrass her
uot a little. But Marian had been too long the ruling spirit of
that house, not to command respect and observance when she
wished it. And Edith had too long been accustomed to look
up to the young girl, to depend upon her, to be guided by her,
to nviv intrude upcu her confidence when she had once said
422 MIRIAM, THE AVENGES; OK,
" No." And so, after Marian had answered her anxious in-
quiries with " You cannot understand nor help me, dear Edith.
You must perforce leave me to myself," Edith desisted forever.
But Miriam, with the instinct of devoted love, watched over '
her friend. Have you ever had occasion to notice the helpless
piteous dismay with which children look upon the grief of grown
people, whom they vainly try to comfort, yet despair of comfort-
ing ? Such was Miriam's sympathy for her young nurse, as
she watched her paling cheeks and fading eyes, and failing step,
and could find no other way of consoling than by caressing
and assuring her.
" I love you, Marian, I love you dearly 1"
From that miserable night, Marian saw no more of Thurston,
except occasionally at church, when he came at irregular inter-
vals, and maintained the same coolness and distance of manner
towards her, and with matchless self-command, too, since often
his heart yearned towards her with almost irresistible force.
Cold and calm as was his exterior, he was suffering not less
than Marian ; self-tossed with passion, the strong currents and
counter-currents of his soul whirled as a moral maelstrom, in
which both reason and conscience threatened to be engulfed.
And in these mental conflicts judgment and understanding
were often obscured and bewildered, and the very boundaries
of right and wrong lost.
His appreciation of Marian wavered with his mood*.
When very angry he would mentally denounce her as a cold,
prudent, calculating woman, who had entrapped him into a
secret marriage, and having secured his hand, would now risk
nothing for his love, and himself as a weak, fond fool, the tool
of the beautiful, proud diplomate, whom it would be justifiable
to circumvent, to defeat, and to humble in some way.
At such times he felt a desire, amounting to a strong temp-
tation, to abduct her to get, her into his power, and make her
feel that power. No law could protect her or punish him for
they were married.
But here was the extreme poir.': at which reaction generally
THE MISSING BRIDE. 423
commenced, for Thurston could not contemplate himself in that
rUaracter play-Ing such a part, for an instant.
,And then when a furtive glance would show him Marian's
angel face, fairer and paler and more pensive than ever before
a strong counter-current of love and admiration approaching
to worship, would set in, and he would look upon her as a fair
saint worthy of translation to Heaven, and upon himself as a
designing but foiled conspirator, scarcely one degree above the
most atrocious villain. "Currents and counter-currents" of
stormy passion, where is the pilot thai shall guide the under-
standing safely through them ? It is no wonder, that once in a
while, a mind is wrecked.
Marian, sitting in her, pew saw nothing in his face or manner
to indicate that inward storm. She only saw the sullen, freez-
ing exterior. Even in his softened moods of penitence, Thurs-
ton dared not seek her society.
For Marian had begun to recover from the first abject pros-
tration of her sorrow, and her fair resolute brow and sad firm
lips mutely assured him, that she never would consent to be his
own, until their marriage could be proclaimed.
And he durst not trust himself in her tempting presence,
lest there should be a renewal of those humiliating scenes lie
had endured.
Thus passing a greater portion of the summer ; during which
Thurston gradually dropped off from the church, and from all
other haunts where he was likely to encounter Marian, and as
gradually began to frequent the Catholic chapel, and to visit
Luckenough, and to throw himself as much as possible into the
distracting company of the pretty elf Jacquelina. But this
while it threw Doctor Grimshaw almost into frenzy, did not
help Thurston to forget the good and beautiful Marian. Indeed
by contrast it seemed to make her more excellent and lovely.
And thus, while Jacquelina fancied she had a new admirer,
Dr. Grimshaw feared that he had a new rival, and the holy
fathers hoped they had a new convert Thurston laughed at
the ^anity of the elf, the jealousy of the Ogre, and the guili-
424 MIKIAM, THE A.VENGER; OE,
bility of the priests and sought only escape from the haunting
memory of Marian, and found it not. And finally, bored and
ennuied beyond endurance, he cast about for a plan by which
to hasten his union with Marian. Perhaps it was only that
neighborhood she was afraid of, he thought perhaps in some
other place she would be less scrupulous. Satan had no sooner
whispered this thought to Thurston's ear, than he conceived
the design of spending the ensuing autumn in Paris and of
making Marian his companion while there. Fired with this
new idea and this new hope, he sat down and wrote her a few
lines without address or signature as follows :
" Dearest, forgive all the past. I was mad and blind. I have
a plan to secure at once our happpiness. Meet me in the
Mossy dell, this evening, and let me explain it at your feet."
Having written this note, Thurston scarcely knew how to
get it, at once, into Marian's hands. To put it into the village
post-office was to expose it to the -prying eyes of Miss Nancy
Skamp. To send it to Old Fields, by a messenger, was still
more hazardous. To slip it into Marian's own hand, he would
have to wait the whole week until Sunday and then might
not be able to do so unobserved.
Finally, after much thought, he determined, without admit-
ting the elf into his full confidence, to entrust the delivery of
the note to Jacquelina.
He therefore copied it into the smallest space, rolled it up
tightly, and took it with him when he went to Luckenough.
He spent the whole afternoon at the mansion house, without
having an opportunity to slip it into the hands of Jacquelina.
It is true that Mrs. Waugh was not present, that good
woman being in the back parlor, sitting at one end of the sofa
and making a pillow of her lap for the Commodore's head,
which she combed soporiQcally, while, stretched at full length,
he took his afternoon nap. But Mary L'Oiseau was there,
quietly knotting a toilet cover, and Professor Grimshaw was
there, scowling behind a book that he was pretending to read,
*nd losing no word or look or tone or gesture of Thrurston or
THE MISSING.BKIDE. 425
Tacquelina, who talked and laughed and flirted and jested, a
if there was no one else in the world but themselves.
At last a little negro appeared at the door, to summon Mrs.
L'Oiseau to give out supper, and Mary arose and left the
room,
The Professor scowled at Jacquelina from over the top of his
book for a little while, and then, muttering an excuse, got up
and went out, and left them alone togethei.
That was a very common trick of the doctor's lately, and no
one could imagine why he did it.
" It is a ruse, a trap, the grim idiot ! to see what we will say
to each other behind his back. Oh, Pd dose him 1 I just
wish Thurston would kiss me ! I do so 1" thought Jacquelina.
" Thurston," and the elf leaned towards her companion, and
began to be as bewitching as she knew how.
But Thurston was not thinking of Jacquelina's mischief,
though without intending it he played directly into her hands.
Rising, he took his hat, and saying that his witching little
cousin had beguiled him into breaking one engagement already,
advanced to take leave of her.
" Jacqueliua," he said, lowering his voice, and slipping the
note for Marian into her hand, " may I ask you to deliver this
to Miss Mayfield, when no one is by ?"
A look of surprise and perplexity, followed by a nod of in-
telligence was her answer.
And Thurston, with a grateful smile, raised her hand to his
lips, took leave and departed.
" I wonder what it is all about ? I could easily untwist and
read it, but I would not do so for a kingdom !" said Jacko to
Lersclf as she turned the tiny note about in her fingers.
''Hand me that note, madam!" said Doctor Grimshaw, in
Curt and husky tones, as, with a stern brow, he stood before her.
" No, sir ! it was not intended for you," she said, mockingly
"By the demons, I know that! Hand it here 1"
" Don't swear nor get angry ! Both are unbecoming a Pro-
fessor !'' saH the elf, with mocking gravity.
426 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"Perdition! will you give it up?" stamped the doctor,
in a fury.
" 'Perdition,' no;" mocked the fairy.
"Hand it here, I command you, madam!" cried the Pro-
fessor, trying to compose himself and recover his dignity.
" Command away I like to hear you. Command a regiment
if you like!" said the elf.
" Give it up !" thundered the Professor, losing his slight hold
upon self-control.
" Couldn't do it, sir," said Jacko, gravely.
" It is an appointment, you impudent ! Hand it here."
" Not as you know of!" laughed Jacko, tauntingly shaking it
over her head.
He made a rush to catch it.
She sprang nimbly away, and clapped the paper into her
mouth.
He overtook and caught her by the arm, and shaking her
roughly, exclaimed, under his breath,
"Where is it? What have you done with it? You exas-
perating, unprincipled little wretch, where is it ?"
"'Echo aufers fere ?' " mumbled the imp, chewing up the
paper, and keeping her lips tight.
" Give it me ! give it me ! or I'll be the death of you, you
diabolical little !" he exclaimed, hoarsely, shaking her as
if he would have shaken her breath out.
But Jacko had finished chewing up the paper, and she swal-
lowed the pulp with an effort that nearly choked her, and then
opening her mouth, and inflating her chest, gave voice in a
succession of piercing shrieks, that brought the whole family
rushing into the room, and obliged the Professor to relax his
hold, and stand like a detected culprit.
For there was the Commodore roused up from his sleep, with
his gray hair and beard standing out all ways, like the picture
of the sun in an almanac. And there was Mrs. Waugh, with
the great tooth comb in her hand. And Mary L'Oiseau, with
the pantry keys. And the maid, Maria, with the wooden tray
THE MISSING BRIDE. 427
of flour on her head. And Festus, with a bag of meal in his
bauds. And all with their eyes and ears aid mouths agape with
amazement and inquiry.
" In the fiend's name, what's the matter ? What the d V?.
broke loose ? Is the house on fire again ?" vociferated the
Commodore, seeing that no one else spoke; "what's all this
about, Xace Grirushaw ?"
" Ask your pretty niece, sir !" said the Professor, sternly,
turning away.
" Oh, it's you, is it, you little termagant you ? Oh, you're a
honey-cooler. What have you been doing now, Imp ?" cried
the old man, turning fiercely to Jacquelina. " Answer me, you
little vixen ! what does all this mean ?"
"Better ask 'the gentlemanly Professor' why he seized and
nearly shook the head off my shoulders and the breath out of
my bosom !" said Jacquelina, half-crying, half-laughing.
The Commodore turned furiously towards Grim'. Shaking
a woman's head off her shoulders, and breath out of her body,
in his house, did not suit his ideas of gallantry at all, rough as
he was.
" By heaven ! are you mad, sir ? What have you been doing ?
I never laid the weight of my hand on Jacquelina in all my life,
wild as she has driven me at times. Explain your bru-
tality, sir."
" It was to force from her hand a paper which she has swal-
lowed," said Doctor Grimshaw, with stern coldness regarding
the group.
" Swallowed ! swallowed !" shrieked Mre. Waugh, rushing
towards Jacquelina, and seizing one of her arms, and
gazing in her face, thinking cmy of poisons, and of Jacko'a
frequent threats of suicide. " Swallowed ! swallowed ! Where
din sne get it ? Who procured it for her ? What was it ?
Oh run for the doctr- , somebody. What are you all stanuing
like you were thunderstruck for ? Doctor Grimshaw, start a
boy on horseback immediately for a physician. Tell him to
tell the doctor to bring a stomach pump with him. You nad
428 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
better go yourself. Oh, hasten ! not a single moment is to b*
lost. Jacquelina, my dear, do you begin to feel sick ? Do you
feel a burning in your throat an-d stomach ? Oh, my dear
child ! how came you to do such a rash act ?' ;
Jacko broke into a loud laugh.
" Oh ! crazy I crazy 1 it is something that affects her brain
she has taken. Oh ! Dr. Grimshaw, how can you have the
heart to stand there and not go ? probably opium."
Jacko laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks never,
since her marriage, had Jacko laughed so much.
"Oh, Dr. Grimshaw! Don't you see she is getting worse
and worse. How can you have the heart to stand there and
not go for a physician ?" said Mrs. Waugh, while Mary
L'Oiseau looked on mute with terror, and the Commodore stood
with his fat eyes protruded nearly to bursting.
" Go, oh, go, Dr. Grimshaw !" insisted Mrs. Waugh.
" I assure you it is not necessary, madam," said the Professor,
with stern scorn.
" There is no danger, aunty. I haven't taken any poison
since I took a dose of Grim' before the altar !" said Jacko
through her tears and laughter.
" What have you taken then, unfortunate child ?"
" I have swallowed an assignation," said the elf, as grave aa
a judge.
"A WHAT 1" exclaimed all, in a breath.
" An assignation," repeated Jacko, with owl-like calmness
and solemnity.
"What in the name of common sense do you mean, my
dear ?" inquired Mrs. Waugh, while the Commodore and Mary
L'Oiseau looked the astonishment they did not speak, " .Pray,
explain yourself, my love."
" He says I swallowed an assignation whole /" re-
peated Jacquelina, with distinct emphasis. Her auditors looked
from one to another in perplexity.
" I see that I shall have to explain the disagreeable affair, ' ;
aid the Professor, comic or forward, and addressing himself to
THE MISSING BKIDE. 429
the Commodore. " Mr. Thurston Willcoxen was here thia
afternoon on a visit to your niece, sir. In taking leave be
zlipped into her hand a small note, which, when I demanded,
she refused to let me see."
" And very properly, too. "What right had you to make
such a 'demand ?'" said Mrs. Waugh, indignantly.
<; I was not addressing my remarks to you, madam," retorted
the Professor,
" That will not keep me from making a running commentary
upon them, however," responded the lady.
" Hold your tongue, Henrietta. Go on, Nace. I swear you
are enough to drive a peaceable man mad between you," said
the Commodore, bringing his stick down emphatically. " Well,
what next ?"
" On my attempting to take it from her she put it in ner
mouth and swallowed it."
" Yes ! and then he seized me and shook me, as if I had been
a- fine bearing little plum tree in harvest time." ,
" And served you right, I begin to think, you little limb you.
What was it you had, you little hussy ?"
" An assignation he says, and he ought to know being a
Professor."
" Don't mock us, Minx ! tell us instantly what were the con-
tents of that note ?"
" As if I would tell you even if I could. But I couldn't tell
you even if I would. Haven't the least idea what sort of a note
it was, from a note of music to a ' note of hand,' because I had
to swallow it as I swallowed the Ogre at the church without
looking at it. And it is just as indigestible I I feel it like a
bullet in my throat jet 1" And that was all the satisfaction
they could get out of Jacko.
" I should not wonder if you had been making a fooi of your-
self, Nace," said the Commodore, who seemed inclined to blow
tip both parties.
"I hope, sir," said the Profb3sor, with great assumption of
dignity, '"that you now see the necessity of forbidding that im-
pertinent young coxcomb the house."
430 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Shall do nothing of the sort, Grim'. Thurston has no
more idea of falling in love with little Jacko than he has with
her mother or Henrietta, not a bit more." And then the Com-
modore happening to turn his attention to the two gaping ne-
groes, with a flourish of his stick sent them about their business,
and left the room.
The next evening Thurston repaired to the mossy dell in the
expectation of seeing Marian, who of course did not make her
appearance.
The morning after, filled with disappointment and mortifying
conjecture as to the cause of her non-appearance, Thurston
presented himself before Jacquelina at Luckenough. He hap-
pened to find her alone. With all her playfulness of character,
the poor fairy had too much self-respect to relate the scene to
which she had been exposed the day before. So she contented
herself with saying,
" I found no opportunity of delivering your note, Thurston,
and so I thought it best to destroy it."
" I thank you. Under the circumstances that was best," re-
plied the young man, much relieved. He then arose, bade her
good-day, and departed with the resolution of writing to Marian,
and placing the letter in her own hands at church. He reached
home, set down and wrote a long and eloquent epistle, implor-
ing her forgiveness for his rashness and folly, assuring her of
his continued love and admiration ; speaking of the impossibility
of living longer without her society informing her of his in-
tention to go to Paris, and proposing that she should either
precede or follow him thither, and join him in that city. It
was her duty, he urged, to follow her husband. This was the
main point of his argument, and he did not fail to enforce it
with all the plausibility and power and eloquence that love and
logic could inspire and teach, nor fail to wrest many texts of
Scripture from their spiritual truth, and lug them in to support
ais cause. When Thurston had finished and read over his let-
ter, he was marvelously well pleased with his work.
" She Cannot resist this appeal ! No, she cannot do it 1 If
THE MISSING BKIDE. 431
she is the Christian woman she professes to be, she canuot re-
fuse to go with me," he said triumphantly, as he folded and
eealed the letter, and put it in his pocket to take with hkn to
church. He felt perfectly confident of its success, as he con-
trived to approach Marian in the crowd and slip it unobserved
iu her hand. Marian's mind had recovered its wonted tone of
strength and calmness, yet this letter shook all her nature again,
and for a time nearly threw into chaos her notions of right and
wrong upon this subject. It was several days before she felt
sufficiently calm and collected to trust herself to answer it. She
saw nothing of Thurston during the week. But on Sunday
after church she placed her answer in his hands. He hurried
to the inn and found a room to read it. He broke the seal and
commenced. The letter was characteristic of Marian clear,
firm, frank and truthful. It concluded thus :
"I will noo speak of what I have suffered, dear Thurston
you must have seen how long none but the Searcher of hearts
knew how deeply. Enough that I accepted the sorrow in aL
humility. Enough that that miserable and abject weakness hag
passed, and my mind has recovered its tone. I feel stronger,
more patient, more hopeful and more trustful for you and my-
self, and for our future lives. You say, dear Thurston and
you quote many passages of Scripture to enforce your words
that having given you my hand in marriage, I should now be
willing to intrust my fate in your hands, and yield my will to
yours iii all things. Well I have no controversy with you
upon that point. All my affections and instincts, as well as
reason and religion, teach me the same sweet lesson and I will
do so, dearest Thurston, in all things that are right. .But
this step that you have hastily proposed for me to take, would
not be right, as a little reflection will convince yourself. Were
I to do as you desire me leave home clandestinely, precede or
follow you to Paris and join you there, suspicion and calumny
would pursue me obloquy would rest upon my memory. All
t\ese things I could bear, were it necessary in a good cause ;
but here it : s not necessary, and would be wrong. But I speak
432 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
not of myself I ought not indeed, to do so nor of Edith,
whose head would be bowed in humiliation and sorrow nor of
little Miriam, whose passionate heart would be half broken by
such a desertion But I speak for the cause of morality and
religion here in this neighborhood, where we find ourselves
placed by Heaven, and where we must exercise much influence
for good or evil. It has pleased Heaven to make me instru-
mental for good in this community. Thurston, I trust that I
am an humble follower of the 'meek and lowly' Nazarene, and
that there is no self-righteousness, nor spiritual pride in what
I have just said, and am about to say viz : that should ' Marian
listen to the pleadings of her own human heart, and suffer it to
draw her into any act of weakness or folly all faith in good
ness and righteousness would perish out of many youthful hearts
whom she has taught and guided from infancy up to young girl-
hood. Do not urge me to the commission of so great a wrong.
You charge me with great pride and self-will. In the long,
happy years that we shall yet pass together, dear Thurston, you
will discover how little of pride or self-will your Marian really
has how much she has been actuated by conscientious regard
to principle and duty. Wait patiently for those happy years,
that the flying days are speeding on towards us those happy
years, when you shall look back to this trying time, and thank
God for trials and temptations passed safely through, and bless
Him that no slightest shade of suspicion was ever suffered to
fall upon your Marian's head, or weigh upon her heart. Wait
for those happy years, dear Thurston. And do not urge me
again upon this subject. Be excellent, Thurston be noble, be
god-like, as you can be, if you will ; it is in you. Be true to
your highest ideal, and you will be all these. Oh ! if you knew
how your Marian's heart craves to bow itself before true god-
like excellence !"
The letter dropped from his hand.
Oh ! the sudden fall from hope from certainty ! Oh ! the
bitter, bitter disappointment and mortification! He had been
THE MISSING BRIDE. 433
so sure that he had her now. That letter of his had been such
an overwhelming piece of eloquence and logic he had been so
Euro of its conquering her! Had he not attacked her principles
with her own weapons ? Had he not "searched the Scriptures"
for the first time in his life, and marshaled more texts against
her than ever she could be able to meet, he thought ? Had he
not appealed to her every sense of love and, duty and magna-
nimity, with unanswerable logic and eloquence ?
And now, in the very moment of confidently expected triumpn,
to have his letter coolly, and gently, and firmly set aside, and
himself bidden to stand off and wait !
To wait ! How long ? Years on years, perhaps, while she,
the cool, collected, passionless girl ! would pass on with her sweet
smile and pure eyes mocking and maddening him with her
calm beauty ! Oh ! the strong currents and counter-currents of
emotion and of thought ! how they warred upon each other
how they set in, and dashed and roared against each other,
whelming his reason in a whirlpool of passion ! Many voices
spoke, but their tones could be scarcely heard amid the chaos.
' Listen to her she is wise and right. This beautiful woman
is the angel of your life ! She came to draw you up to heights
of moral glory undreamed of by you," whispered the pure spirit
of true love.
"She is not! She is selfish, cold and calculating without
ardor, without enthusiasm, without abandon, without any
womanly quality, except the beauty that has driven me mad I
She is full of pride all sorts of pride personal pride, social
pride, spiritual pride ! And by my tortures ! that pride should
be humbled ! A haughty, self-righteous, she-pharisee !" growled
the demon of selfish passion.
And Thurston started up, and paced the room with rapid
strides and then fin'ding the apartment too small to contain the
storm of passion he had raised, he burst out of the room,
mounted his horse, and rode home as for life. Then he hurried
to his own chamber and seized his pen, and sat down and
dashed off page after page of a long, interminable letter to
27
434 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Marian. And then, having so far relieved his excitement, he
sat back in his chair and smiled scornfully at himself and her
mattering
" What is the use ? This will not alter the case in the least
Were I to send it, she would reply as coolly as before and
still pass me with her calm lips and calm eyes as unruffled aa
, ever. I am a fool ! A duplicate Doctor Grimshaw ! Actions,
not words, should be my course ! Am I not her husband ? Have
I not a right to this beautiful rebel ? I will hesitate no longer !
I will carry her off!" And Thurston tore up his long letter,
and sat down, with his elbows on his writing-desk and his fore-
head in his hands, to organize a plan.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS THE INTERCEPTEB
LETTER.
Let us see
Leave gentle wax! and manners blame us not,
To know our enemies' minds we rip their hearts ;
Their paper is more lawful." Shakspeare.
" No 1 The mail isn't come yet ! leastways it isn't openea
yet 1 Fan that fire, you little black imp, you 1 and make that
kittle bile, if you don't, I shall never git this wafer soft ! and
then I'll turn you up, and give you sich a switching as ye never
had in your born days ! for I wont be trampled on by you any
longer! you little black willyan, you ! 'Scat! you hussy! get
out o' my way, before I twist your neck for you !"
The first part of this oration was delivered by Miss Nancy
Skamp, to some half-dozen negro grooms who were cooling
their shins while waiting for the mail, before she closed the
doors and windows :f the post-office; the second part was
THE MISSING BRIDE, 435
addressed to Chizzle, her little negro waiter and the third
concluding sentence, emphasized by a smart kick, was bestowed
upon poor Molly, the mottled cat. The village post-office was
kept iii the lower front room of the little lonely house on the
hill, occupied by the solitary spinster. The village post-offico
establishment consisted principally of three important officials-
namely, Miss Nancy Skamp, post- master ; Chizzle, first assistant
post-master ; and Pussy, the second assistant. The obligatory
duty of the head of the department was to open the mails the
voluntarily assumed one was to open the letters also. The duty
of the first assistant was to keep the fire burning and the water
boiling, and to hold the letters with the wafers to the steaming
spout until they were soft enough to be opened without fracture.
The office of the second assistant was a sinecure her labors
being seldom extended beyond the clawing off the envelope of
some newspaper during a fit of absent-minded purring.
It is no wonder that Miss Nancy Skamp's temper was un-
usually tried upon this occasion. There had been for several
weeks past, an unusual dearth of piquant or mysterious letters,
consequently a plentiful scarcity of scandalous news. The
mails upon this day were also unusually late, the day was bit-
terly cold, and the waiters outside uncommonly impatient and
clamorous. The mail-bags were stuffed remarkably full, and
there were several wonderful letters, that she felt it her duty to
open and read before sending to their owners. In addition to
all this (everybody knows that petty vexations always come
in swarms) the fire of green bass wood would not burn the
kettle would not boil the " little black willyan " vainly fanned
great clouds of smoke and ashes all over her head, into her
face, and down her throat ; and the negroes outside grew every
moment more vociferous stamping on the piazza to keep their
feet warm, rapping with the ends of riding whips on the door
to hurry the post-mistress, and calling out to know if the mail
were n opened yet.
" Will ye take your letters now, or will ye wait till ye get
'era hey ?' ; asked the worthy post-mistress, as she shuffled said
436 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
letters in her hand, laying carefully aside those suspended for
her private reading, and muttering in a low voice alternately
to herself and to Chizzle.
"Le'see now, what's this? oh! a double letter for Colone*
Thornton pshaw! that's all about political stuff ! Who cares
about reading that ? I don't ! He may have it to-night if he
wants it ! Stop ! what's this ? Lors 1 it's a thribble letter for
for Marian Mayfield ! And from furrin parts, too ! Now I won-
der (Can't you stop that caterwauling out there ?" she said
raising her voice. "Sposen you niggers were to wait till I
open the office. I reckon you'd get your letters just as soon.)
Who can be writing from furrin parts to Marian Mayfield ?
Taint the hand-writin' of that Thomas Truman that used to
write to her in Hebrew or Greek, or some other ungodly
lingo, as I couldn't make head nor tail of leastways, yes 1
could make head and tail of it, too, caze the head was ' Chere
Marian,' which I spose meant Cherry Marian, in compliment to
her lips ; and the tail was Yotre Thomas Truman, which I
s'pose was ' Yote for Thomas Truman,' which might o' bin his
way of popping' the question for aught / know, or ever shall
know as long as> the world stands, I do s'pose ! But I couldn't
wake any wore of it ! and never shall as long as I live, I do
reckon ! I 'clares to man, it makes me mad every time I think
o' the fr?M as was put upon me ! Shameful ! for people to be
wiutm' ifl Hebrew and Greek, and sich unchristian language as
people can't make nothin' of ! Where there's anything to be
hidden and disguised it's something evil where there's secresy
there's guilt I know that myself. Hish-ish-ish ! Lors ! I do
Vlie-^c I was talkiri 1 loud. An' I shouldn't wonder if some o'
them creeturs wa'nt a-peeping through the keyhole. I wouldn't
have 'em do it for the whole world it would ruin me. Say !
you little black imp! Hish-ish-ish! did you stuff wool tight in
that keyhole ?"
"Yes, Mis'."
"Very well, that's right! Yes! where there's mystery there's
guilt, that stands to reason! Will you beat the doors and
windows down, then ?>
THE MISSING BRIDE. 437
"Please, Miss Nancy, Colonel Thornton is waiting out here,
Miss, if you please," said a negro's voice.
" Can't help it if two Colonel Thorntons wait twice over !
I reckon I can't open the office till I open the mail! Then
turning to her work and muttering absently she said, " here's
three newspapers for Miss Thornton shant have them till I
read them first, no how. I aint going to be so 'frauded of nay
rights, nuther ! deed aint I ! I spose people think they can
trample on me, cause I'm a poor, lone 'oman. I'll show 'em 1"
" Miss Nancy, here's Dr. Brightwell waiting too."
"Let Dr. Brightwell wait till I send for him."
"Here comes Mr. Thurston Willcoxen in a hurry."
" 'Spose Mr. Thurston Willcoxen stays till his hurry's over !"
"Please, mum, if here don't ride Commodore Waugh."
" Commodore Waugh ! Oh, Lors 1 now the game is ip !"
said Miss Nancy, lowering her tone, "/ shill have to open the
door anyhow, I do s'pose, letters or no letters ! That old will-
yan would batter the walls down, and blow the roof off the
house for a trifle 1 jest as liefs do it as not. The old brute !
Threatened to have me turned out of office ! The old mon-
ster ! To go to parsecute a poor, lone 'oman ! And here he
comes as sure as fate. Stay ! let me hide this here letter of
Marian's, and these three newspapers of Miss Thornton's. I
reckon them are all I shill care 'bout readin' of to-night. And
they may have the rest on 'em, the greedy souls ! how eager
they are to grab ! Well, then, yes !" she said, raising her
voice, "Tell the Commodore yes! the'mail is ready, and here
are two letters from Baltimore for him."
The window shutters and the door were opened, daylight and
the crowd were admitted together, and the letters and papers
(with the exception of those detained by Miss Nancy for her
private reading) were distributed; And in half-an-hour the
office was cleared, and the crowd dispersed.
Colonel Thornton carried disappointment instead of news-
papers home. Miss Thornton passed a heavy evening, for want
of *^li reading. But Marian the most seriously defrauded of
438 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
nil Marian slept in peace, not dreaming of that intercepted
lettei, which, had it reached its destination, would have placed
her upon the pinnacle of fortune, and as firmly as mere wealth
and power can combine to do it upon the pinnacle of hap-
piness also !
"When her unruly visitors had all withdrawn, and when Mis8
Nancy had closed up for the night, discussed her cup of tea and
slice of toast, trimmed the fire, which, after sobbing all the
afternoon, at last burst into a bright flame, swept the hearth
and drawn her little candlestand up before it, she took out the
letter directed to Marian, opened, and began to read it. And
as she read, her eyes and mouth grew wider and wider with as-
tonishment, and her wonder broke forth in frequent exclamations
of " My conscience 1 Well now ! Who'd a' dreamt of it 1
Pity but I'd a let Solomon court her when he wanted to but
Lors ! how did / ever know that she'd M y conscience!"
&c., &c. So great was her wonder, so deep her absorption by
it, that she forgot all about Miss Thornton's papers, and left
them in their envelopes.
Her fit of abstraction was at last broken by a smart rap at
the door.
She started and turned pale, like the guilty creature that she
vas.
The rap was repeated sharply.
She jumped up, hustled the purloined letters and papers out
!>f sight, and stood waiting.
The rap was reiterated loudly and authoritatively.
" Who's that ?" she asked, trembling violentlv.
" It's me, Aunt Nancy ! Do for goodness sake don't keep
fellow out here in the storm till he's nearly perished. It's com-
ing on to hail and snow like the last judgment!"
" Oh ! it's you, is it, Sol ? I didn't know but what it was
i Do for mercy's sake don't be talking about the last judg-
ment, and such awful things I declare to man, you put me all
of a trimble," said Miss Nancy, by way of accounting for her
palpitations, as she unbarred the door, and admitted her learned
THE MISSING BEIDE. 439
nephew. Doctor Solomon Weismann seemed dreadfully down-
hearted as he entered. He slowly stamped the snow from his
boots, shook it off his clothes, took off his hat and his over
coat, and hung them up, and spoke never a word ! Then he
drew his chair right up in front of the fire, placed a foot on
each andiron, stooped over, spread his palms over the kindly
blaze, and still spoke never a word !
"Well! I'd like to know what's the matter with you to-
night," said Miss Nancy, as she went about the room looking
for her knitting.
But the doctor stared silently at the fire.
" It's the latest improvement in politeness I shouldn't won-
der not to ans\ver your elders when they speak to you."
" Were you saying anything to me, aunt Nancy ?"
"'Was I saying anything to you, aunt Nancy?' Yes I
was ! I was asking you what's the matter ?"
"Oh! I never was so dreadfully low-spirited in my life, aunt
Nancy."
" And what should a young man like you have to make him
feel low-spirited, I should like to know ? Moping about Marian,
I shouldn't wonder. Well 1 I aint hard on young people, and
if you must have her, why, I suppose "
"Oh, pshaw! Aunt Nancy, you always think a fellow's in
love. If I were an old lady like you, I wouldn't be always
thinking of that."
" 'Old lady' indeed, you impident puppy you! Let me tell
you, I am in the prime of life, sir!"
" Very well, aunt Nancy ; but falling in love belongs to the
immaturity of life."
" I should like to know what you're talking about, you con
ceited fellow you 1 But ever since you got your diploma, you've
been so much too knowing for me that I can't understand more
than half you say."
"No matter, aunt N"ancy, I am really too dreadfully de-
pressed to quarrel with you !"
"Quarrel! Goodr^ss knows, / doq't want to quarrel J If
440 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
everybody hated quarrelling as I do, it would be a peaceable
world ! Only don't throw out any more slurs about age, if you
please. And now tell me, what makes you so dreadful down in
the mouth ?"
" Oh. don't ask me! By Granny ! I should think you might
know ! This neighborhood is so healthy, it's enough to make
a fellow go out and hang himself 1 There's not three cases of
sickness in the whole district!"
" '7Ys bad !" said Miss Nancy, seriously. "But never mind,
Solomon, trust in Providence. Now this hail-storm will do
something for you. I don't doubt there'll be several cases of
cold, and rheumatism, and pleurisy, 'specially 'mong the nigger
men as has to expose themselves."
"Not a bit of it I They're all so strong they'll stand the
storm," said the doctor, morosely.
" Oh I you're so desponding ! Well, anyhow, here's Christ-
mas and New Year at hand, and folks will gormandize so that
they'll be sure to be ill 1"
"Don't believe it! People are so hearty now, they'll stuff
and digest like anacondas ! Tell me !"
" Oh ! you're down in the cellar now I You're in one of your
hopeless moods. Why can't you have faith and hope as /have?
Consider now how many balls and parties will be given these
holidays, and how the ladies will change their warm, every-day
clothes for ball dresses, and dance till they get heated, and then
go out in the cold air. I'll warrant there'll be a plenty of
catarrhs, and sore throats, and galloping consumptions never
fear keep a stiff upper lip !"
" Aunt Nancy, you're enough to make a fellow shudder ! A
fellow aint the foul fiend, if he is an ambitious young doctor !"
"Why? I don't tell you to make people expose themselves
and get ill ; but if they will do it, you can help them, and thank
Providence for the chance that's all."
"They aint going to expose themselves and get,ill for my
Bake! the world's selfish," said Solomon, bitterly. "I feel put
ttpcn bj fate ! I do so ! Here I haven't had but two patient*
THE MISSING BRIDE. 441
the whole season ! Aiid such patients as tJiey were, too ! On
was old Mr. Willcoxen ! And how do you think he served me ?
Why, after I had tended him four months, for the palsy, and
helped him a great deal, too when I handed him my bill, h*
flew into a passion, called me a humbug, swore I made him
worse, refused to pay, and forbid me the house ! And the othe*
one is Jacquelina who is enough to ruin any doctor ! She
wont get a bit better. And while I am feeling her pulse, sh<j
makes up a look as solemn as an owl's, and stares right into my
eyes in such a way, that it is as much as ever I can do to help
bursting right out laughing in her face ! I have to think of the
hour of death, and the day of judgment, and everlasting perdi-
tion ; and if they wont do I have to think of my board bill, in
order to maintain professional gravity ! She'll ruin me yet, I
know she will ! I know she laughs at me in her sleeve, and
ridicules me behind my back ! And she the only patient I have
got, or am likely to get. All the women take such precious
good care of themselves!"
"Yes, I know that! And do you know who has taught them
All that self-care ! I'll tell you ! It's just Marian Mayfield ! and
it's her fault that the people are so healthy, too 1 With her
' word spoken in season !' and her ' line upon line, and precept
apon precept.' Wonder who sent her as a missionary among
us ? Just see now what a change she's made among the girls !
Time was when young ladies about here, dressed like young
ladles and not like old women. And when they wore nice kid
slippers, and fine clock stockings, instead of the thick worsted
hose and seal-skin boots. And when they wore pretty bare
arms and necks, instead of being covered up like their grand
mothers. Time was when they used to drink tea and coffee
like Christians ; not new milk, like young calves. But it's no
use talking, they're all Marian-mad Look at that old noodle,
Colonel Thornton ! anybody'd think it was a Queen he was
bending to 1"
" There's not a pulpit in this county disseminates as strong
an influence as Marian's school chair!" said the young doctor,
emphatically.
442 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Well I aint denying that And the girl is a good girl
enough, if she'd only mind her own business, and not let people
spoil her. And, as I was saying before, if you do like her, and
must have her, why I shan't make no further objections."
Here the young doctor, who had been gazing moodily into
the fire, turned shortly around and stared at his aunt in unmea-
sured astonishment !
" Hem !" said Miss Nancy, looking confused, " well, yes, /
did oppose it once, certainly, but that was because you were
both poor."
" And we are both poor still, for aught that I can see, and
likely to continue so."
"Hish-ish! no you're not! leastways, she's not. I've got
something very strange to tell you," said Miss Nancy, myste-
riously drawing her chair up close to her nephew, and putting
her lips to his ear, and whispering "Hish-ish!"
" ' Hish-ish!' What are you ' hish-ish'ing for, Aunt Nancy,
Dm not saying anything, and your breath spins into a fellow's
ear enough to give him an ear-ache !" said Doctor Solomon,
jerking his head away.
"Don't talk so loud ? You make me scarey as anything 1"
" Pm not talking loud, Aunt Nancy ! I wonder what you're
up to !"
"Hish-ish!"
" Now there's ' hish-ish !' again right into my ear like a gim-
Het ! I declare I'd rather be out in the storm I"
" ffish-ish! don't talk."
"Fm not talking!"
" You are you keep on talking ! put a seal upon your lips,
and listen to me ! but are you sure you wont tell !"
" Tell ! no! what am / to tell !"
" There now you're talking again ! Hish-ish-ish /"
With a spring and a groan, Doctor Solomon clapped one
band to his afflicted ear, and the other over his lips, with the
desperate resolution to seal the one and save the other in per
feet silence.
THE ^riSSTXG BRIDE. 443
" Now then listen Marian Mayfield has got a fortune left to
ner."
Miss Nancy paused to see the effect of this startling pieoe of
news upon her companion.
But the doctor was not sulky, and upon his guard ; so after
an involuntary slight start, he remained perfectly still. Miss
Nancy was disappointed by the calm way in which he took this
marvelous revelation. However, she went on to say :
" Yes ! a fortune left her, by a grand uncle, a bachelor, who
died intestate, in Wiltshire, England. Now, what do you think
of that ! Why don't you speak ? I declare I never saw such
a log ; can't you speak ?"
" You told me not to talk, just now. I declare it's very hard
to please you!"
"ffish-ish!"
"Ugh 1" cried the doctor, starting and clapping his hand to
his ear again.
" I meant you must not talk loud enough for anybody to hear
that might be listening. Now then speak low, and tell me what
you think about Marian's having that fortune left her."
"Why, I think if she wouldn't hwve ae when she was poor,
she wont be apt to do it now she's rich."
" Ah ! but you see, she don't know a word of it !"
" How do you know it then ?"
" Hish-ish! I'll tell you if you will never tell. Oh, Lors
no, you mustn't indeed 1 You wouldn't, I know, 'cause h
would ruin us ! Listen "
" Now, Aunt Nancy, don't be letting me into any of youi
capital crimes and hanging secrets don't! because I don't want
to hear them, and I wont, neither ! I aint used to such ! and
I'm afraid of them, too !"
" 'Fraid 'o what ? Nobody can prove it," answered Misa
Nancy, a little incoherently.
" You know what better than 1 do, Aunt Nancy; and let me
tell you, you'd better be careful j The eyes of the community
re upon you.
444 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Let 'em prove 1 1 Let 'em prove it ! They aint got no
witnesses ! Chizzle and the cat aint no witnesses," said Miss
Nancy, obscurely ; ;< let 'em do their worst ! I reckon / know
something about law as well as they do ! if I am a, lone 'oman 1"
" They can procure your removal from office without proving
a7:ything against you except unpopularity."
" That's Commodore Waugh's plan ! the ugly, wicked, old
buggaboo 1 'Taint such great shakes of an ofiice neither, the
dear knows !"
"Never mind, Aunt Nancy, mend your ways, and maybe
they'll not disturb you. And don't tell mo any of your capita'
secrets, because /might be summoned as a witness against you,
which would not be so agreeable to my feelings you under-
stand ! And now tell me if you are absolutely certain that
Miss Mayfield has had that fortune left her. But stop 1 don't
tell me how you found it out /"
"Well, yes, I am certain sure, she has a great fortune left
her. I have the positive proofs of it. And, moreover, nobody
in this country don't know it but myself and you. And now
I tell you, don't hint the matter to a soul. Be spry ! dress
yourself up jam ! and go a courting before anybody else finds
it out 1"
"But that would scarcely be honorable either," demurred the
doctor.
"You're mighty particular! Yes, it would, too! jest you
listen to me I Now if so be we were to go and publish about
Marian's fortune, we'd have a whole herd of fortune hunters,
who don't care a cent for anything but fortune, running after
and worrying the life out of her, and maybe one of them mar-
rying of her, and spending of her money, and bringing of her to
poverty, and breaking of her heart. Whereas, if we keep the
secret of the estate to ourselves, you, who desarve her, because
you 'counted her all the same when she was poor, and who'd
take good care of her property, and her, too would have her
all to yourself, and nobody to interfere. Don't you see ?"
"Well, to be sure when one looks at the thing in thai
Ugh* " deliberated the sorely tempted lover.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 445
" Of course ! And thats the only light to look at it in ! Don't
oi see ? Why, by gracious 1 it seems to me as if we were doing
Marian the greatest favor."
In the meantime Marian's heart was weighed down by a new
cause of sorrow and anxiety. Thurston never approached her
now either in person, or by letter. She never saw him except at
the church, the lecture room, or in mixed companies, where he
kept himself aloof from her and devoted himself to the beautiful
and accomplished heiress Angelica Le Roy, to whom rumor
gave him as an accepted suitor.
So free was Marian's pure heart from jealousy or suspicion,
that these attentions bestowed by Thurston, and these rumors
circulated in the neighborhood, gave her no uneasiness. For
though she had, for herself, discovered him to be passionate
and impetuous, she believed him to be sound in principle. But
when again and again she saw them together, at church, at lec-
ture, at dinner parties, at evening dances ; when at all the
Christmas and New Year festivities, she saw her escorted by
him ; when she saw him ever at her side with a devotion as
earnest and ardent as it was perfectly respectful ; when she saw
him bend and whisper to the witching girl and hang delighted
on her " low replies," her own confidence was shaken. What
could he mean ? Was it possible, that instead of being merely
impulsive and erring, he was deliberately wicked ? No, no,
never ! Yet, what could be his intentions ? Did he really
wish to win Angelica's heart ? Alas, whether he wished so or
not, it was but too evident to all that he had gained her pre-
ference. In her blushing cheek and downcast eyes, and tremu-
lous voice and embarrassed manner, when he was present
in her abstracted mind, and restless air and wandering glances
when he was absent, the truth was but too clear.
Marian was far too practical to speculate when she should
act. It was clearly her duty to speak to Thurston on the sub-
ject, aod repugnant as the task was, she resolved to perform it
It was so netime before she had the opportunity.
446 MIKIAM, THE AVENGEEj OK,
But at last, one afternoon in February, she chanced to meet
Thurston on the sea beach. After greeting him^ she candidly
opened the subject. She spoke gently and delicately, but
firmly and plainly, more so, perhaps, than another woman in the
same position would have done, for Marian was eminently frank
and fearless, especially where conscience was concerned.
And Thurston met her arguments with a graceful noncha-
lance, as seemingly polite and good humored, as it was really
ironical and insulting.
Marian gave him time she was patient as firm and firm as
sorrowful. And not until every argument and persuasion had
failed, she said
" As a last resort, it may be necessary for me to warn Miss
Le Roy not for my own sake. Were I alone involved, you
know how much I would endure rather than grieve you. But
this young lady must not suffer wrong."
"You will write her an anonymous letter, possibly ?"
" No I never take an indirect road to an object."
" What then can you do, fair saint ?"
"See Miss Le Roy, personally."
" Ha, ha, ha ! What apology could you possibly make for
such an unwarrantable interference ?"
" The Lord knoweth 1 / do not now. But I trust to be
able to save her without revealing you."
" Do you imagine that vague warnings would have any effect
upon her?"
" Coming from me they would."
" Heavens 1 What a self-worshiper ! But selfishness is your
normal state, Marian ! Self-love is your only affection self-
adulation your only enthusiasm self-worship your only reli-
gion 1 You do not desire to be loved you wish only to be
honored ! The love I offered you, you trampled under foot !
You have no heart, you have only a brain ! You cannot love,
you can only think 1 Nor have you any need of love, but only
of power 1 Applause is your vital breath, your native air ! To
hear v our name and praise on every tongue that is your high-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 447
est ambition ! Such a woman should be a gorgon ot uglinesa
that men might not waste their hearts' wealth upon her 1" ex
claimed Thurston bitterly, gazing with murky eyes, that mould-
ered with suppressed passion, upon the beautiful girl before him.
Marian was standing with her eyes fixed abstractedly upon a
distant sail. Now the tears swelled under the large white eye-
His and hung glittering on the level lashes, and l -er lip quivered
and her voice faltered slightly as she answered- -
"You see me through a false medium, dear Thurston, but
the time will come when you will know me as I am."
" I fancy the time has come. It has also come for me to
enlighten you a little. And in the first place, fair queen of
minds, if not of hearts, let me assure you that there is a limit
even to your almost universal influence. And that limit may
be found in Miss Le Boy. You, who know the power of
thought only, cannot weigh nor measure the power of love.
Upon Miss Le Hoy your warnings would have no effect what-
ever. I tell you that in the face of them, (were I so disposed,)
I might lead that girl to the altar to-morrow."
Marian was silent, not deeming an answer called for.
'' And now I ask you how you could prevent it ?"
" I shall not be required to prevent such an act, Thurston, aa
such a one never can take place. You speak so only to try
your Marian's faith or temper both are proof against jests, I
think. Hitherto you have trifled with the young lady's affec-
tions from mere ennui and thoughtlessness, I do believe ! but,
now that some of the evil consequences have been suggested to
your mind, you will abandon such perilous pastime. You are
going to France soon that will be a favorable opportunity of
breaking off the acquaintance."
"And breaking her heart who knows. But suppose now
that I should- prefer to marry her and take her with me ?"
"Nay, of course I cannot for an instant suppose such a
tling.'
" But in spita of all your warnings were such an event about
to take place ?"
448 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" In such an exigency I should divulge our marriage."
" You would ?"
"Assuredly! How can you possibly doubt it? Such an
event would abrogate my obligations to silence, and would im-
pose upon me the opposite duty of speaking."
"I judged you would reason so," he said, bitterly.
" But, dear Thurston, of what are you talking. Of the event
of your doing an unprincipled act ! Impossible, dear Thurston 1
and forever impossible !"
" And equally impossible, fair saint, that you should divulge
our marriage with any chance of proving it. Marian, the
minister that married us has sailed as a missionary to Farther
India. And I only have the certificate of our marriage. You
cannot prove it."
" I shall not need to prove it, Thurston. Now that I have
awakened your thoughts, I know that you will not further risk
the peace of that confiding girl. Come ! take my hand and let
us return. We must hasten, too, for there is rain in that
cloud."
Thurston piqued that he could not trouble her more for
under her calm and unruffled face he could not see the bleeding
heart arose sullenly, drew her hand within his arm and led her
forth.
And as they went the wind arose, and the storm clouds drove
over the sky and lowered and darkened around them.
Marian urged him to walk fast upon the account of the ap-
proaching tempest, and the anxiety the family at the cottage
would feel upon her account.
They hurried onward, but just as they reached the neighbor-
hood of Old Fields a terrible storm of hail and snow burst upon
the earth.
It was as much as they could do to make any progress for
ward, or even to keep themselves upon their feet. While
struggling and plunging blindly through the storm, amid the
rushing of the wind and the rattling of the hail, and the crack
ling and creaking of the dry trees in the forest, and the rush of
THE MISSING BRIDE. 449
waters, and all the din of the tempest, Marian's ear caught the
sound of a child wailing and sobbing. A pang shot through
her heart. She listened breathlessly and then in the pauses
of the storm she heard a child crying " Marian, Marian. Oh!
where are you, Marian ?"
It was Miriam's voice ! It was Miriam wandering in night
and storm in search of her beloved nurse.
Marian dropped Thurston's arm and plunged blindly forward
through the snow, in the direction of the voice, crying "Here
I am my darling, my treasure here I am. What brought my
baby out this bitter night?" she asked, as she found the child
half perishing with cold and wet, and caught and strained her
to her bosom.
" Oh, the hail and snow came down so fast, and the wind
shook the house so hard, and I could not sleep in the warm bed
while you were out in the storm. So I stole softly down to find
you. Don't go again, Marian. I love you so oh! I love
you so!"
At this moment the child caught sight of Thurston standing
with his face half muffled in his cloak. A figure to be strangely
recognized under similar circumstances in after years. Then
ehe did not know him ; but inquired
"Who is that, Marian?"
"A friend, dear, who came home with me. Good night, sir."
And so dismissing Thurston he walked rapidly away. She
hurri -d with Miriam into the house.
28
450 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
CHAPTER XXXIII
OSS OF SANS SOUCI'S TRICKS,
" Of all surprising, strange, affecting thing*
That sorrow meets with in a world of sorrow,
The strangest sure those smiles of merriment,
Those sudden bursts of irrepressible glee,
That like the fountain of some inner gladness
Spring in the heart of childhood mid its grief,
And turn its tears to laughter."
SANS Souci stood before the parlor mirror, gazing Into it,
seeing not the reflected image of her own elfish figure, or
pretty, witching face, with its round, polished forehead, it*
mocking eyes, its sunny, dancing curls, its piquant little nose,
or petulant little lips but contemplating, as through a magic
glass, far down the vista of her childhood childhood scarcely
past, yet in its strong contrast to the present, seeming so
distant, dim, and unreal, that her reminiscence of its days resem-
bled more a vague dream of a pre-existence, than a rational
recollection of a part of her actual life on earth. Poor Jacko
was wondering " If I be I ?"
Grim' sat in a leathern chair, at the farthest extremity of the
room, occupied with holding a book and reading Jacquelina.
Suddenly he broke into her brown study by exclaiming,
" I should like to know what you are doing, and how long
you intend to remain standing before that glass."
" Oh ! indeed ! should you?" mocked Jacko, startled out of
her reverie, yet instantly remembering to be provoking.
" What were you doing, and "
" Looking at myself in the glass, to be sure."
" Don't cut off my question, if you please. I was going on
to inquire of what you were thinking so profoundly. And
Madam, or Miss "
" Madam, if you please ! the dear knows, I paid heavy
enc^gh for my new digi 'ty, and don't intend to abato on*
THE MISSING BRIDE. 451
degree of it. So if you call me Miss again, 111 get some one
who loves me to call you ' oat !' Besides, I'd have you to know J
I'm very proud of it. Aint you, too ? Say, Grim' ! Aint you
a proud and happy man to be married ?" asked Jacko,
tauntingly.
" You jibe ! You do so with a purpose. But it shall not
avail you. I demand to know the subject of your thoughts as
you stood before that mirror."
Now none but a half mad man like Grim' would have gravely
made such a demand, or exposed himself to such a rebuff as it
deserved. Jacko looked at him quizzically.
"Hem!" she answered, demurely. "I'm sure I'm so awe-
stricken, your worship, that I can scarcely find the use of my
tongue to obey your reverence. I hope your excellency wont
be offended with me. But I was wondering in general, whether
the Lord really did make all the people upon earth, and in par-
ticular, whether He made you, and if so, for what inscrutable
reason He did it."
" You are an impertinent minion. But, by the saints, I will
have an answer to my question, and know what you were think,
ing of while gazing in that mirror."
"Sorry the first explanation didn't please your eminence
But now, ' honor bright !' I'll tell you truly what I was think
ing of. I was thinking thinking how excessively pretty I am
Now, tell the truth, and shame the old gentleman. Did you ever t
in all your life, see such a beautiful, bewitching, tantalizing,
ensnaring face as mine is ?"
" I think I never saw such a fool !"
" Really? Then your holiness never looked at yourself in
mirror ! never beheld 'your natural face in a glass!' never saw
' what manner of man' you are."
" By St. Peter 1 I will not be insulted, and dishonored, and
defied in this outrageous manner. I swear I will have yout
thoughts, if I have to pluck them from your heart."
" Whe-ew ! Well, if I didn't always think thought was free,
may I never be an interesting young widow, and captivata
ThuTston Willcoxen."
452 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" You impudent, audacious, abandoned
" Ching a ring a ring chum chool
And a hio ring turn larky!"
Bang the elf, dancing about, seizing the bellows and flourishing
it over her head like a tambourine, as she danced.
" Be still, you termagant. Be still, you lunatic, or I'll
have you put iu a straight jacket!" cried the exasperated Pro-
fessor.
" Poor fellow I" said Jacko, dropping the bellows and sidling
up to him in a wheedling, mock sympathetic manner " P-o-o-r
f-e-1-l-o-w ! don't get excited and go into the high-strikes.
You can't help it if you're ugly and repulsive as Time in the
Primer, any more than Thurston Willcoxen can help being
handsome and attractive as Magnus Apollo."
" It was of HIM, then, you were thinking, minion. I knew it.
I knew it !" exclaimed the professor, starting up, throwing
down his book, and pacing the floor.
"Bear it like a man !" said Jacko, with solemnity.
"You admit it, then. You you you "
" 'Unprincipled female.' There ! I have helped you to the
words. And now, if you will be melo-dramatic, you should grip
up your hair with both hands, and stride up and down the flotfr
and vociferate, ' Confusion 1 distraction ! perdition !' or any
other awful words you can think of. Thafs the way they do it
in the plays."
" Madam, your impertinence is growing beyond sufferance
I cannot endure it."
" That's a mighty great pity, now, for you can't cure it."
" St. Mary ! I will bear this no longer."
" Then I'm afraid you'll have to emigrate !"
" I'll commit suicide."
" That's you \ Do! I should like very well to wear bombazine
this cold weather. Please do it at once, too, if you're going
to, for I should rather be out of deep mourning by midsummer !'
'By Heaven, I \\i\\pay you for this."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 403
"Anytime at your convenience, Doctor Grimshaw ! And
I shall be ready to give you a receipt in full upon the spot 1"
said the elf, rising. "Anything else in my line this morning,
Doctor Grimshaw ? Give me a call when you come my way !
I shall be much obliged for your patronage," she continued,
curtseying and dancing off towards the door. "By the way,
my dear sir, there is a lecture to be delivered this evening, by
our gifted young fellow-citizen, Mr. Thurston Willcoxen. Going
to hear him? I am! Good-day I" she said, and kissed her
hand and vanished.
Grim' was going crazy ! Everybody said it, and what every-
body says, has ever been universally received as indisputable
testimony. Many people, indeed, averred that Grim' never had
been quitG right that he always had been queer, and that since
his mad marriage with that flighty bit of a child, Jacquelina, he
had been queerer than ever.
He would have been glad to prevent Jacquelina from going
to the lecture upon the evening in question ; but there was no
reasonable excuse for doing so. Everybody went to the lec-
tures, which were very popular. Mrs. Waugh made a point
of being punctually present at every one. And she took charge
of Jacquelina, whenever the whim of the latter induced her to
go, which was as often as she secretly wished to " annoy Grim'. "
And, in fact, " to plague the Ogre " was her only motive in
being present, for, truth to tell, the elf cared very little either
for the lecturer or his subjects, and usually spent the whole even-
jag in yawning behind her pocket handkerchief. Upon this
evening, however, the lecture fixed even the flighty fancy of
Jacquelina, as she sat upon the front seat between Mrs. Waugh
and Doctor Grimshaw. The subject of the discourse was,
" The Progress of Civilization." Thurston was in one of hia
most inspired moods, and his lecture was a glorious pano-
rama of history a succession of glowing pictures, each present-
ing, in living form and color, some marked page in the book
of the world some distinct stage in the progress of society.
Under his masterly hand, you saw the tents and herds of th
454 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OB,
patriarchs, the rude architecture and the ruder manners that
succeeded ; next Egypt, in her haughty days ; Greece in her
glory and in her degradation ; Rome in her rise and progress,
and decline and fall ; the feudal times ; the Crusades ; the Re-
formation ; the settlement of the New World ; and through all
these ran that fine, discriminating philosophy that lent the
greatest charm to his discourse. He showed how the radical-
ism of one age became the conservatism of the succeeding one ;
how the martyred of one century became the canonized of the
next. He said that there were many good conservative Chris-
tians in this age, who, had they lived in the days of Christ,
would, from their temperament and disposition, have been very
conservative Jews, and been among the first to cry " Crucify
Him! Crucify Him!"
Jacquelina was magnetised, and scarcely took her eyes from
the speaker during the whole discourse. Mrs. Waugh was also
too much interested to notice her companions. Grim' was
agonized. The result of the whole of which was that after
they all got home, Doctor Grimshaw to use a common but
graphic phrase " put his foot down" upon the resolution to
prevent Jacquelina's future attendance at the lectures. Whether
he would have succeeded in keeping her away is very doubt-
ful, had not a remarkably inclement season of weather set in,
and lasted a fortnight, leaving the roads nearly impassable for
two other weeks. And just as traveling was getting to be pos-
sible, Thurston Willcoxen was called to Baltimore, on his
grandfather's business, and was absent a fortnight. So, alto-
gether, six weeks had passed without Jacquelina's finding an
opportunity to defy Doctor Grimshaw, by attending the lectures
against his consent.
At the end of that time, on Sunday morning, it was an-
nounced in the church that Mr. Willcoxen having returned to
the county, would resume his lectures on the Wednesday even
ing following. Doctor Grimshaw looked at Jacquelina, to note
How she would receive this news. Poor Jacko had been under
Mar<vn's good influences for the week previous, and was, iu her
THE MISSING BRIDE. 455
Stful and uncertain way, " trying to be good." " As an expe-
riment to please you, Marian," she said, " and to see how it will
answer." Poor elf! So she called up no false, provoking smile
of joy, to drive Grim' frantic, but heard the news of Thurston's
arrival with the outward calmness that was perfectly true to the
perfect inward indifference.
" She has grown guarded that is a very bad sign I shall
watch her the closer," muttered Grim' behind his closed teeth.
And when the Professor went home that day, bis keen, pallid
face was frightful to look upon. And many were the comments
made by the dispersing congregation.
" I fell in long o' Doctor Grimsay, to-day at church, Miss
Edif and 'clare to Marster, he look so sharp and wild I was
right 'fraid o' him," said Jenny, that day, as she put dinner on
the table.
"Did you see Professor Grimshaw ? What can be the mat-
ter with that man ?" inquired Miss Thornton, of her brother.
" An ill balanced mind," answered the Colonel, oracularly.
" No man with a head shaped like his, can be perfectly sane."
" Miss Jackeelar, honey, I doesn't want to give no 'fence to
nobody, specially you; but you take my 'vice and don't 'voke
de 'fessor ! Gaze, child, I cotch my eye on him as he come in
an' ef ever I seed a man 'sessed o' Sam, 'tis he, now mine I
tell you," said Old Oliver, putting his head into Jacquelina's
sanctum, and whispering mysteriously.
" My good soul, suppose you mind your turkeys and geese,
and leave family affairs of importance to the proper authori-
ties," replied Jacquelina, impatiently.
The crest-fallen old creature bowed humbly and withdrew,
shutting the door carefully behind him. But scarcely had the
Bound of his slow footsteps died away, when the door opened
again, and Mrs. Waugh entered. She sat down by Jacque-
lina, and asked,
" My 'dear child, did you notice the Professor ? What can
nil him ?"
" My dear aunty, I'M not a thermometer, to record tht
456 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
changes of weather in Doctor Grimshaw's heavenly face I" said
Jacquelina, petulently.
" But, my dear child, the man looks as if the Old Nick were
in him, sure enough !"
" Well, I know he does ! Looks just like the incarnated old
gentleman I! But /can't help it 1 What can /do? 'Impos-
sibilities are not duties.' I promised to worry him to death in
a year ! Well, I did my best ! Yet here he is still ! I vow,
how tenacious of life all venomous creatures are ! Now, that
man's demise has been due these two months, and the debt aint
paid yet ! Never mind it is only accumulating interest ! that's
all 1"
"Lapwing, don't talk so! It is very wicked, child! Not
that I think you mean it, of course, but then you shouldn't say
it ! And as for that wretched man, I am truly afraid he will
do something desperate !"
" I just wish he'd make haste and do it, then. What do you
think it will be when it's done, aunty ? Will he set the Chesa-
peake on fire, and run away by the light of it ?"
" Don't trifle, dear Lapwing, but be circumspect, be cau
tious !"
From that Sunday to the following Wednesday, not one
word was spoken of Thurston Willcoxen or his lecture. But
on Wednesday morning, Dr. Grimshaw entered the parlor,
where Jacquelina lingered alone, gazing out of the window,
and going up to her side, astonished her beyond measure by
speaking in a calm, kind tone, and saying,
" Jacquelina, you have been too much confined to the house
lately. You are languid. You must go out more. Mr. Will-
coxen lectures this evening. Perhaps you would like to heat
him. If so, I withdraw my former prohibition, which was
perhaps, too harsh, and I beg you will follow your own incli
nations, if they lead you to go."
"You should have seen Jacko's eyes and eye-brows! the
former were dilated to their utmost capacity, while the latter
were Jevated to their highest altitude. The professor's eye-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 457
brows were knotted together, and his eyes sought the ground,
as he continued,
" I myself have an engagement at Leonardtown this after-
noon, which will detain me all night, and therefore shall not be
able to escort you ; but Mrs. Waugh, who is going, will doubt-
less take you under her charge. Would you like to go ?"
" I had already intended to go," replied Jacquelina, without
relaxing a muscle of her face.
The Professor nodded and left the room.
Soon after, Jacquelina sought her aunty, whom she found in
the pantry, mixing mince-meat.
" I say, aunty "
"Well, Lapwing?"
" When Satan turns saint, suspicion is safe, is it not?"
" What do you mean, Lapwing?"
" Why, just now the Professor came to me, politely apolo-
gized for his late rudeness, and proposed that I should go with
you to hear Mr. Willcoxen's lecture, while he, the Professor,
goes to Leonardtown, to fulfill an engagement. I say, aunty,
I sniff a plot, don't you?"
" I don't know what to make of it, Lapwing. Are you
going ?"
" Of course I am ; I always intended to."
No more was said at the time.
Immediately after dinner, Dr. Grimshaw ordered his horse,
and saying that he was going to Leonardtown and should not
be back till the next day, set forth.
And after an early tea, Mrs. Waugh and Jacquelina set out
in the family sleigh. A swift run over the hard, frozen snow,
brought them to Old Fields, where they stopped a moment to
pick up Marian, and then shooting forward at the same rate
of speed, they reached the lecture-room in full time.
It was quite crowded, but through the politeness of one of
the professors, the three ladies were conducted up the length
of the room, and seated upon the front bench that had been
for the clergy some of the latter giving way to
458 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
accommodate them The young lecturer was just about to
commence his discourse. I will not weary you by any report
of it but merely remark that as usual, he completely mag-
netized the superior portion of his audience, and that at all the
final passages of his oratory, his eyes were irresistibly fasci-
nated to the bench where sat Mrs. Waugh, Marian, and Jao
quelina. As for the latter, she was perhaps the very least
enchanted of all his hearers she was in fact an exception, and
found the discourse so entirely uninteresting that it was with
difficulty she could refrain from yawning in the face of the
orator. Mrs. Waugh also, perhaps, was but half mesmerized,
for her eyes would cautiously wander from the lecturer's pulpit,
to the side window on her right hand. At length she stooped
and whispered to Jacquelina,
" Child, be cautious ; Dr. Grimshaw is on the ground I
have seen his face rise up to that lower pane of glass at the
corner of that window, several times. He must be crouched
down on the outside."
Jacquelina gave a little start of surprise her face underwent
many phases of expression ; she glanced furtively at the indi-
cated window, and there she saw a pale, wild face gleam for an
instant against the glass, and then drop. She nodded her
head quickly muttering,
"Oh! I'll pay him!"
" Don't, child ! don't do anything imprudent, for gracious
Bake ! That man is crazy any one can see he is !"
" Oh, aunty, I'll be sure to pay him ! He shan't be in my
debt much longer. Soft, aunty! Don't look towards the
window again ! Don't let him perceive that we see him or
suspect him and then, you'll see what you'll see. I have a
counter plot."
This last sentence was muttered to herself by Jacqueliiia,
who thereupon straightened herself up looked the lecturer in
the eyes and gave her undevoted attention to him during the
rest of the evening. There was not a more appreciating and
idm'nng hearer in the room, than Jacquelina affected to be
THE MISSING BRIDE. 459
Her fa^e was radiant, her eyes starry, her cheeks flushed, her
pretry lips glowing breathlessly apart her whole form instinct
with enthusiasm. Any one might have thought the little crea-
ture bewitched. But the fascinating orator need not have flair
tered himself had he but known it Jacquelina neither saw
his face nor heard his words ; she was seeing pictures of Grim's
bitter jealousy, mortification and rage, as he beheld her from
his covert ; she was rehearsing scenes of what she meant to do
to him. And when at last she forgot herself, and clapped her
hand enthusiastically, it was not at the glorious peroration of
the orator but at the perfection of her own little plotl"
When the lecturer had finished, and as usual announced the
subject and the time of the next lecture, Jacquelina, instead of
rising with the mass of the audience, showed a disposition to
retain her seat.
" Come, my dear, I am going," said Mrs. "Waugh.
" Wait, aunty, I don't like to go in a crowd."
Mrs. Waugh waited while the people pressed towards the
outer doors.
" I wonder whether the Professor will wait and join us when
we return home ?" said Mrs. Waugh.
" We shall see," said Jacquelina. " I wish he may. I be-
lieve he will. I am prepared for such an emergency."
In the meantime, Thurston Willcoxen had descended from
the platform, and was shaking hands right and left with the
few people who had lingered to speak to him. Then he ap-
proached Mrs. Waugh's party, bowed, and afterwards shook
hands with each member of it, only retaining Marian's hand
the fraction of a minute longest, and giving it an earnest pres-
sure in relinquishing it. Then he inquired after the health of
the family at Luckenough, commented upon the weather, the
state of the crops, etc., and with a valedictory bow withdrew,
and followed the retreating crowd.
" I think we can also go now," said Mrs. Waugh.
" Yes," said Jacqueliua, rising.
Upon reaching the outside, they found old Oliver, with th
460 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
sleigJs, drawn up to receive them. Jacquelina looked al]
around, to see if she could discover Thurston Willcoxen on tha
grounds ; and not seeing him anywhere, she persuaded herself
that he must have hastened home. But she saw Dr. Grimshaw,
recognised him, and at the same time could but notice the
strong resemblance in form and manner that he bore to Phurs-
ton Willcoxen, when it was too dark to notice the striking
difference in complexion and expression. Doctor Grimshaw
approached her, keeping his cloak partially lifted to his face,
as if to defend it from the wind, but probably to conceal it.
Then the evil spirit entered Jacquelina, and tempted her to
sidle cautiously up to the Professor, slip her arm through his
arm, and whisper,
" Thurston ! Come ! Jump in the sleigh and go home with
us. We shall have such a nice time ! Old Grim' has gone to
Leonardtown, and wont be home till to-morrow 1"
" Has he, minion! By St. Judas! you are discoverd now!
I have now full evidence of your turpitude. By all the saints !
you shall answer for it fearfully," said the Professor, between
his clenched teeth, as he closed his arm upon Jacquelina's arm,
and dragged her towards the sleigh.
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh ! well, I don't care ! If I mistook you
for Thurston, it is not the first mistake I ever made about you 1
I mistook you once before for a man !" said Jacko, defiantly.
He thrust her into the sleigh already occupied by Mrs.
Waugli and Marian, jumped in after her, and took the seat by
her side.
" Why, I thought that you set out for Leonardtown this
afternoon, Doctor Grimshaw !" said Mrs. Waugh, coldly.
" You may have jumped to other conclusions equally false
and dangerous, madam !"
" What do you mean, sir?"
" I mean, madam, that in conniving at the perfidy of this
unprincipled girl, your niece, you imagined that you were safe.
It was an error. You are both discovered 1" said the Pra
*essor, doggedly.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 461
Henrietta was almost enraged.
" Dr. Grimshaw," she said, " nothing but self-respect pre-
rents nie from ordering you from this sleigh 1"
" I advise you to let self-respect, or any other motive you
please, still restrain you, madam. I remain here as the warden
nf this pretty creature's person, until she is safely secured."
" You will at least be kind enough to explain to us the causes of
ycur present words and actions, sir !" said Mrs. Waugh, severely.
"Undoubtedly, madam! Having, as I judged, just reasons
for doubting the integrity of your niece, and more than sus-
pecting her attachment to Mr. Willco.xen, I was determined
to test both. Therefore, instead of going to Leonardtown, to
be absent till to-morrow, I came here, posted myself at a favor-
able point for observation, and took notes. While here, I saw
enough to convince me of Jacquelina's indiscretions. After*
wards leaving the spot with lacerated feelings, I drew near her.
She mistook me for her lover, thrust her arm through mine, and
laid ' Dear Thurston, come home with me ' "
" Oh ! you shocking old fye-for-shame ! I said no such a
thing 1 I said, ' Thurston ! Come ! Jump in the sleigh and go
home with MS.' "
" It makes little difference, madam ! The meaning was the
game. I will not be responsible for a literal report. You are
dis covered."
"What does that mean? If it means you have discovered
that I mistook you for Thurston Willcoxen, you ought to ' walk
on thrones' the rest of your life I You never got such a com-
pliment before, and never will again!"
" Aye ! go on, madam ! You and your conniving aunt "
" Doctor Grimshaw, if you dare to say or hint such imperti-
nence to me again, you shall leave your seat much more quickly
than you took it," said Mrs. Waugh.
"We shall see madam!" said the Professor, and he lapsed
into sullenness for the remainder of the drive.
But, oh ! there was one in that sleigh upon whose heart th
words of wild Jacko had fallen with cruel weight Marian 1
462 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
CHAPTER XXXIV.
BANS SOUCl's LAST FUN.
" A dream is on my soul,
I fee a slumberer crowned with flowers and smiling,
As in delighted visions, on the brink
Of a dread chasm." Jlemans.
WHEN the sulky sleighing party reached Luckenough, thcj
fouEd Commodore Waugh not only up and waiting, but in the
highest state of self-satisfaction, a blessing of which they re-
ceived their full share of benefit, for the old man, in the over-
flowing of his joy, had ordered an oyster-supper, which war
now all ready to be served smoking hot to the chilled and
hungry sleigh-riders.
" I wonder what's out now ?" said Jacquelina, as she threw
off her wrappings, scattering them heedlessly on the chair* and
floor of the hall. " Some awful calamity has overtaken some
of Uncle Nick's enemies. Nothing on earth but that ever puts
him into such a jolly humor. Now we'll see ! I wonder if it
is a 'crowner's 'quest' case ? Wish it was Grim'."
Mis. Henrietta blessed her stars for the good weather,
without inquiring very closely where it came from, as she con-
ducted Marian to a bed-room to lay off her bonnet and mantle.
It was only at the foot of his own table, after ladling out and
serving around the stewed oysters "hot and hot," that the Com
modo^e. rubbing his hands, and smiling until his great face was
as grotesque as a nutcracker's, announced that Miss Nancy
Skamp was turned out of office yea, discrowned, unsceptred,
dethroned, and that Harry Barnwell reigned in her stead . The
news had come in that evening's mail I All present breathed
more freely all felt an inexpressible relief in knowing that the
post-office would henceforth be above suspicion, and their let-
ters and papers safe from desecration. Only Marian said,
THE MISSING BRIDE. 463
"What will become of the poor old creature ?"
"By St. Judas Iscariot, that's her business."
"No, indeed, I think it is ours; some provision should be
made for her, Commodore Waugh."
" I'll recommend her to the trustees of the almshouse, Miss
Mayfield "
Marian thought it best iiot to pursue the subject then, but
resolved to embrace the first opportunity of appealing to the
Commodore's smothered chivalry in behalf of a woman, old,
poor, feeole, and friendless.
During the supper Doctor Grimshaw sat up as stiff and
solemn Jacquelina said "as if he'd swallowed the poker and
couldn't digest it." When they rose from the table, and were
about leaving the dining-room, Dr. Grimshaw glided in a fune-
real manner to the side of the Commodore, and demanded a
private interview with him.
"Not to-night, Nace! Not to-night! I know by your
looks what it is ! It is some new deviltry of Jacquelina's. That
can wait ! I'm as sleepy as a whole cargo of opium ! I would
not stop to talk now to Paul Jones, if he was to rise from the
dead and visit me !"
And the Professor had to be content with that, for almost im-
mediately the family separated for the night.
Marian, attended by the maid Maria, sought the chamber
assigned to herself. When she had changed her tight-fitting
day-dress for a wrapper, she dismissed the girl, locked the door
behind her, and then drew her chair up before the little fire, and
fell into deep thought. Many causes of anxiety pressed heavily
upon Marian. That Thurston had repented his hasty marriage
i&ith herself she had every reason to believe.
She had confidently hoped that her explanation with Thurs-
ton would have resulted in good but, alas ! it seemed to have
had little effect. His attentions to Miss Le Roy were still un-
remitted the young lady's partiality was too evident to all
and people already reported them to be engaged.
A.nd now, as Marian sat by her little wood-fire in her cham
464 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
her at Luckenough, bitter, sorrowful questions, arose in hej
mind. Would he persist in his present course ? No, no, it
could not be ! This was probably done only to pique herself; but
then it was carried too far; it was ruining the peace of a good,
confiding girl. And Jacquelina she had evidently mistaken
Dr. Grimshaw for Thurston, and addressed to him words arguing
a familiarity very improper, to say the least of it. Could he
be trifling with poor Jacquelina too ? Jacko's words when be-
lieving herself addressing Thurston, certainly denoted some
such "foregone conclusion." Marian resolved to see Thurston
once more once more to expostulate with him, if happily it
might have some good effect. And having formed this reso-
lution, she knelt and offered up her evening prayers, and retired
to bed.
The next day being Holy Thursday, there was, by order of
the trustees, a holiday at Miss Mayfield's school. And so
Marian arose with the prospect of spending the day with
Jacquelina. When she descended to the breakfast-room, what
was her surprise to find Thurston Willcoxen, at that early
hour, the sole occupant of the room. He wore a green shoot-
ing jacket, belted around his waist. He stood upon the hearth,
with his back to the fire, his gun leaned against the corner of
ihe mantle-piece, and his game-bag dropped at his feet. Marian's
neart bounded, and her cheek and eye kindled when she. saw
him, and, for the instant, all her doubts vanished she could
not believe that guilt lurked behind a countenance so frank,
noble and calm as his. He stepped forward to meet her,
extending his hand. She placed her own in it, saying,
" I am very glad to see you this morning, dear Thurston, for
I have something to say to you which I hope you will take
kindly from your Marian, who has no dearer interest in the
world than your welfare."
" Marian, if it is anything relating to our old subject of dis-
pute Miss Le Roy let me warn you that I will hear nothing
*bout it."
" Thurston, the subjects of a neighborhood's gossip are always
THE MISSING BRIDE. 465
the very last to hear it ! You do not, perhaps, know that it
is commonly reported that you and Miss Le Roy are engaged
to be married!"
"And you give a ready ear and ready belief to such injurious
slanders !"
" No ! Heaven knows that I do not 1 I will not say that my
noart has not been tortured fully as much as your own would
have been, dear Thurston, had the case been reversed, and had
/stooped to receive from another such attentions as you have
bestowed upon Miss Le Hoy. But, upon calm reflection, I
fully believe that you could never give that young lady my
place in your heart, that having known and loved me "
Marian paused, but the soul rose like a day-star behind her
beautiful face, lighting serenely under her white eyelids, glow-
ing softly on the parted lips and blooming cheeks.
"Aye! 'having known and loved me!' There again spoke
fte very enthusiasm of self-worship 1 But how know you,
Marian, that I do not find such regnant superiority wearisome ?
that I do not find it refreshing to sit down quietly beside a
lower, humbler nature, whose greatest faculty is to love, whose
greatest need to be loved !"
" How do I know it ? By knowing that higher nature of
yours, which you now ignore. Yet it is not of myself that I
wish tc speak, but of her. Thurston, you pursue that girl for
mere pastime, I am sure with no ulterior evil purpose, I am
certain; yet, Thurston!" she said, involuntarily pressing her
hand tightly upon her own bosom, " I know how a woman may
love you, and that may be death or madness to Angelica, which
is only whim and amusement to you. And, Thurston, you
must go no further with this culpable trifling you must pro-
mise me to see her no more !"
" 'Must /' Upon my soul ! you take state upon yourself, fair
queen !"
" Thurston, a higher authority than mine speaks by my lips
it is the voice of Right 1 You will regard it I You will give
me that promise 1"
29
466 MIBIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
" And if I do not--"
" Oh ! there is no time to argue with you longer- -some one .
coming I must be quick. It is two weeks, Thurston, since I
first urged this upon you ; I have hesitated already too long,
and now I tell you, though my heart bleeds to say it, that unless
you promise to see Angelica no more, /will see and ha^e an
explanation with her to-morrow!"
"You will!"
" You can prevent it, dearest Thurston, by yourself doing
what you know to be right."
"And if I do not?"
" I will see Miss Le Roy, to-morrow !"
"By Heaven, then"
His words were suddenly cut short by the entrance of Mrs.
Waugh. In an instant his countenance changed, and taking up
his bag of game, he went to meet the smiling good humored
woman, saying with a gay laugh,
" Good-morning, Mrs. Waugh ! You see I have been shoot-
ing in the woods of Luckenough, this morning, and I could not
leave the premises without offering this tribute to their honored
mistress."
And Thurston gaily laid the trophy at her feet.
"Hebe! will you please to see that a cup of hot coffee is sent
up to Mrs. L'Oiseau ; she is unwell this morning, as I knew she
would be, from her excitement last night ; or go with it your-
self, Hebe ! The presence of the goddess of health at her bed-
side is surely needed."
Marian left the room, and then Mrs. Waugh, turning to the
young gentleman, said,
"Thurston, I am glad to have this opportunity of speaking
to you, for I have something very particular to say, which you
must hear without taking offence at your old aunty!"
" Humph ! I am in for petticoat discipline this morning,
be^nd a doubt," thought the young man ; but he only bowed,
ana placed a chair for Mrs. Waugh.
"I shall speak very plainly, Thurston."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 467
" Oh ! by all means ! As plainly as you please. Mrs. Waugh,"
aid Thurston, with an odd grimace ; "I am growing accustom 3d
to have ladies speak very plainly to me."
" Well ! it wout do you any harm, Thurston. And now ta
the point! I told you before, that you must not sliow any
civility to Jacquelina. And now I repeat it ! And I warn
you, that if you do, you will cause some frightful misfortune
that you will have to repent all the days of your life if it bo
not fatal first of all to yourself. I do assure you that old Grim-
shaw is mad with jealousy. He can no longer be held respon-
sible for his actions. And in short, you must see Jacquelina
no more!"
" Whe-ew ! a second time this morning ! Come ! I'm getting
up quite the reputation of a lady-killer!" thought the young
man. Then with a light laugh, he looked up to Mrs. "Waugh,
and said,
" My dear madam, do you take me for a man who would
willingly disturb the peace or honor of a family ?"
"Pshaw! By no means, my dear Thurston. Of course I
know it's all the most ridiculous nonsense! But what then?
What does Shakspeare say?
u ' Jealous souls will not be answered so,
They are not ever jealous for a cause,
But jealous for they are jealous.' "
"Well ! By the patience of Job, I do think"
Again Thurston's words were suddenly cut short, by the en-
trance of the Commodore, who planted his cane down with his
usual emphatic force and said,
"Oh, sir 5 You here ! I am very glad of it ! There is a little
matter to be discussed between you and me ! Old Hen ! leave us !
vanish ! evaporate."
Henrietta was well pleased to do so. And as she closed the
door, the Commodore turned to Thurston, and with another
emphatic thump of his cane, said,
" WelJ sir ! a small craft is soon rigged, and a short speech
468 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
soon made. In two words, how dare you, sir I make love tc
Jaequelina ?"
" My dear uncle "
"By Neptune, sir; don't 'uncle' me. I ask you how yow
dared to make love to my niece ?"
" Sir, you mistake, she made love to me."
"You impudent, impertinent, unprincipled jackanape."
"Come," said Thurston to himself, "I have got into a
hornet's nest this morning."
"I shall take very good care, sir, to have Major Le Hoy
informed what sort of a gentleman it is who is paying his
addresses to his daughter."
" Miss Le Roy will be likely to form a high opinion of me
before the week is out," said Thurston, laughing.
"You you you graceless villain, you," cried the Commo-
dore in a rage " to think that I had such confidence in you,
sir; defended you upon all occasions, sir; refused to believe
in your villany, sir ; refused to close my doors against you, sir.
Yes, sir ; and should have continued to do so, but for last night's
affair."
" Last night's affair ! I protest, sir, I do not in the least un-
derstand you ?"
" Oh ! you don't. You don't understand that after the lec-
ture last evening, in leaving the place, Jacquelina thrust her
arm through yours no ; I mean through Grim's, mistaking
him for you, and said what she never would have said, had
there not been an understanding between you."
Thurston's face was now the picture of astonishment and
perplexity. The Commodore seemed to mistake it for a look
of consternation and detected guilt, for he continued :
"And now, sir, I suppose you understand what is to follow.
Do you see that door ? It leads straight into the hall, which
leads directly through the front portal out into the lawn, and
n to the highway that is your road, sir. Good morning. '
And the Commodore thumped dowu his stick and left the
room the irr.age of righteous indignation.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 469
Thurston nodded smiled slightly, drew his tablets from his
pocket, tore a leaf out, took his pencil, laid the paper upon tho
corner of the mantle-piece, wrote a few lines, folded the note,
and concealed it in his hand as the door opened, and admitted
Mrs. Waugh, Marian and Jacquelina. There was a telegraphic
glance between the elder lady and the young man.
That of Mrs. Waugh said :
"Do have pity on the fools, and go, Thurston."
That of Thurston, said :
" I am going, Mrs. "Waugh, and without laughing, if I cac
help it."
Then he picked up his shooting cap, bowed to Jacquelina,
shook hands with Mrs. Waugh, and pressing Marian's palm,
left within it the note that he had written, took up his game bag
and gun, and departed.
" The inconceivable idiots !" said Thurston, as he strode on
through the park of Luckenough, " to fancy that any one with
eyes, heart and brain, could possibly fall in love with the
' Will-o'-the-wisp' Jacquelina, or worse, that giglet, Angelica ;
when he sees Marian 1 Marian, whose least sunny tress is dearer
to me, than are all the living creatures in the world besides.
Marian, for whose possession .1 am now about to risk every-
thing, even her own esteem. Yet, she will forgive me ; I will
earn her forgiveness by such devoted love."
He hurried on until he reached an outer gate, through which
old Oliver was driving a cart loaded with wood. As if to dis-
encumber himself, he threw his game bag and valuable fowling
piece to the old man, saying :
'There, uncle; there's a present for you," and without
waiting to hear his thanks, hurried on, leaping hedges and
ditches, until he came to the spot where he had left his horse
tied since the morning. Throwing himself into his saddle, h<j
put spurs to his horse, and galloped away towards the village,
nor drew rein until he reached a little tavern on the water side.
He threw his bridle to an hostler in waiting, and hurrying m,
470 MIRIAM, THE AVENGEEJ OK,
demanded to be shown into a private room The little
parlor was placed at his disposal. Here, for form's sake, he
called for the newspaper, cigars, and a bottle of wine, (none
of which he discussed however,) dismissed the attendant, and sat
waiting.
Presently the avant-courier of mingled fumes of tar, bilge
water, tobacco and rum, warned him that his expected visitor
was approacning. And an instant after the door was opened,
and a short, stout, dark man in a weather-proof jacket, duck
trowsers, cow-hide shoes, and tarpaulin hat entered.
"Well, Miles, I've been waiting for you here more than an
hour," said Thurston, impatiently.
" Aye, aye, sir all right. I've been cruising round, recon-
noitering the enemy's coast," replied the man, removing the
quid of tobacco from his mouth, and reluctantly casting it into
the fire.
"You are sure you know the spot ?"
"Aye, aye, sir the beach just below Old Fields farmhouse."
"And south of the Pine Bluff."
" Aye, aye, sirl I know the port that aint the head wind !"
said Jack Miles, pushing up the side of his hat, and scratching
his head with a look of doubt and hesitation.
"What is, then, you blockhead?" asked Thurston, impa
tiently ; " is your hire insufficient ?"
"N-n-n yes I dunno I You see, Cap'n, if I wer' cock
sure, as that 'ere "ittle craft you want carried off wer' yourn."
"Hush ! don't talk so loud. You're not at sea in a gale,
you fool. Well, go on. Speak quickly and speak lower."
" I wer' gwine to say, if so be I wer' sure you wer' the cap'n
of her, why then it would be plain sailing, with no fog around,
and no breakers ahead."
" Well! I am, you fool. She is mine my wife."
" Well, but, Cap'n," said the speaker, still hesitating, ; It
BO be that's the case, why don't she strike her colors to her
rightful owner ? Why don't you take command in open day-
light, wi'Ji the drums a beating, and the flags a flving ? What
THE MISSING BRIDE. 471
must you board her like a pirate in this a way fur ? I've been
a thinkin' on it, and I think it's dangerous steering along this
coast. You see it's all in a fog ; I can't make out the land
nowhere, and I'm afraid I shall be on the rocks afore I knows
it. You see Cap'n, I never wer' in such a thick mist since I
5rst went to sea. No offence to you, Cap'n !"
" Oh, none in the world ! No skillful pilot will risk his
vessel in a fog. But I have a certain golden telescope of magic
powers. It enables you to see clearly through the thickest
mist, the darkest night that ever fell. I will give it to you.
In other words, I promised you five hundred dollars for this
job. Come, accomplish it to-night, and you shall have a thou-
sand. Is the mist lifting ?"
"I think it is, Cap'n ! I begin to see land."
" Yery well ! now, is your memory as good as your sight.
Do you recollect the plan ?"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Just let me hear you go over it."
" I'm to bring the vessel round, and lay to about a quarter
of a mile o' the coast. At dusk I'm to put off in a skiff and
vow to Pine Bluff, and lay under its shadow till I hear your
signal. Then I'm tc put in to shore and take in the the "
" The cargo."
"Aye, aye, sir, the cargo.' 1 ' 1
Leaving the two conspirators to improve and perfect their
plot, we must return to the breakfast parlor at Luckenough.
The family were assembled around the table. Doctor Grim-
Bhaw's dark, sombre, and lowering looks, enough to have spread
a gloom over any circle, effectually banished cheerfulness from
the board. Marian had nad no opportunity of reading her
note she had slipped it into her pocket. But as soon as
breakfast was over, amid the bustle of rising from the table, Ma-
rian withdrew to a window and glanced over the lines.
" My own dearest one, forgive my haste this morning. I re-
gret the necessity of leaving so abruptly. I earnestly implore
you to sep me orce more uuon the beach, near the Pine Bluffs,
472 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
this evening at dusk. I have something of the utmost import'
ance to say to you."
She hastily crumpled the note, and thrust it into her pocket
just as Jacquelina's quizzical face looked over her shoulder.
" You're going to stay all day with me, Marian ?"
'""Yes, love that is, till after dinner. Then I shall have to
beg of Mrs. Waugh the use of the carriage to go home."
"Well, then, /will ride with you, Marian, and return in the
carriage."
All the company, with the exception oi" Mrs. Waugh, Marian,
and Jacquelina, had left the breakfast-room.
Mrs. Waugh was locking her china closet, and when she
had done, she took her bunch of keys, and turning to Marian,
said,
" Hebe, dear, I want you to go with me and see poor old
Cracked Nell. She is staying in one of our quarters. I think
she has not long to live, and I want you to talk to her."
"Now?"
" Yes, dear, I am going to carry her some breakfast. So,
nome along, and get your mantle," said the good woman, pass-
ing out through the door.
Marian followed, drawing out her pocket handkerchief to tie
over her head ; and as she did so, the note, unperceived by her,
fluttered out, and fell upon the carpet.
Jacquelina impulsively darted upon it, picked it up, opened,
and read it. Had Jacquelina first paused to reflect, she would
never have done so. But when did the elf ever stop to think ?
As she read, her eyes began to twinkle, and her feet to patter
up and down, and her head to sway from side to side, as if she
could scarcely keep from singing and dancing for glee.
"Well, now, who'd a thought it! Thurston making love to
Marian! And keeping the courtship close, too, for fear of the
old miser. Lord! but look here 1 This was not right of me ?
Am I a pocket edition of Miss Nancy Skamp ? Forbid it, Titania,
Queen of the Fairies 1 But I didn't steal it I found it ! And
I mutt, oh ! " must plague Grim' a little with this ! Forgive me,
THE MISSING BEIDE. 473
Maran, but for the life and soul of me, I can't help keeping
this to plague Grim' ! You see, I promised to pay him when he
charged me with swallowing an assignation, and now if I don't
pay him, if I don't make him perspire till he faints, my name
is not Mr- Professor Grirashaw! Let's see! What shall I
do ! Oh ! Why, can't I pretend to lose it, just as Marian lost
it, and drop it where he'll find it ? I have it ! Eureka !" soli-
loquised the dancing elf, as she placed her handkerchief in the
bottom of her pocket, and the note on top of it, and passed on
to the drawing-room to "bide her time."
That soon came. She found the Professor and the Commo-
dore standing in the middle of the room, in an earnest conver-
sation, which, however, seemed near its close, for as she took
her seat, the Commodore said,
" Very well I'll attend to it, Nace," and clapped his hat
upon his head, and went out, while the Professor dropped him-
self into a chair, and took up a book.
" Oh, stop, I want to speak to you a minute, uncle," cried
Jacquelina, starting up and flying after him, and as she flew,
pulling out her handkerchief and letting the note drop upon
the floor. A swift, sly, backward glance showed her that
Grim' had pounced upon it like a panther on its prey.
" What in the d 1's name are you running after me for ?'
burst forth the old mat? as Jacko overtook him.
"Why, uncle, I want to know if you'll please to give ordert
in the stable to have the carriage wheels washed off nicely ?
They neglect it. And I and Marian want to use it this after-
noon." .
" Go to the deuce ! Is that my business ?"
Jacquelina laughed, and, quivering through every fibre of
her frame with mischief, went back into the drawing-room to
3ce the state of Grim'.
To Jacquelina's surprise she found the note lying upon tho
same spot where she had dropped it. Doctor Grimshaw was
standing with his back towards her, looking out of the window.
She could tot see the e-rpression of his countenance. Sh
474 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
stooped and picked up the note, but had scarcely replaced it in
her pocket before Doctor Grimshaw abruptly turned, walked
up and stood before her and looked in her face. Jacquelina
could scarcely suppress a scream it was as if a ghost had come
before her, so blanched was his color, so ghastly his features.
An instant he gazed in her eyes, and then passed out and went
up stairs. Jacquelina turned slowly around, looking after him
like one magnetized. Then recovering herself, with a deep
breath she said,
" Now I ask of all the 'powers that be' generally, what's the
meaning of that ? He picked up the note and he read it, that's
certain ! and he dropped it there again to make me believe he
had never seen it, that's certain, too ! I wonder what he means
to do ! There'll be fun of some sort, anyway ! Stop ! here
aomes Marian from the quarters! I shouldn't wonder if she
^ias missed her note, and hurried back in search of it ! Come !
'11 take a hint from Grim', and drop it where I found it, and
lay nothinp!"
And so soliloquizing, the fairy glided back into the breakfast-
room, let the note fall, and turned away just in time to allow
Marian to enter, glance around, and pick up her lost treasure.
Then joining Marian, she invited her up stairs to look at some
new finerv just come from the city.
The forenoon passed heavily at Luckenough. When the
dinner Lour approached, and the family collected in the dining-
room, Doctor Grimshaw was missing ; and when a messenger
was sent to call him to dinner, an answer was returned that the
Professor was unwell, and preferred to keep^his room.
Jacquelina was quivering between fun and fear vague, un-
accountable fear, that hung over her like a cloud, darkening
her bright frolic spirit with a woful presentiment.
After dinner Marian asked for the carriage, and Mrs.
Waugh gave orders that it should be brought round for her
use. Jacqueliua prepared to accompany Marian home, and in
at hour they wre ready, and set forth.
' You may tell Grim', if he asks after me, that I am gone
THE MISSING BRIDE. 475
home with Marian to Old Fields, and that I am not certain
whether I shall return to-night or not," said Jacquelina, as she
took leave of Mrs. Waugh.
"My dear Lapwing, if you love your old aunty, come im-
mediately back in the carriage. And, by-the-way, my dear, I
wish that you would, either in going or coming, take the post-
office, and get the letters and papers," said Mrs. Waugh.
" Let it be in going, then, Mrs. Waugh, for I have not been
to the post-office for two days, and there may be something
there for us also," said Marian.
"Very well, bright Hebe ! as you please, of course," replied
good Henrietta.
And so they parted. Did either dream how many suns
would rise and set how many seasons come and go how many
years roll by, before they two should meet again ?
The carriage was driven rapidly on to the village, and drawn
up at the post-office. Old Oliver jumped down, and went in
to make the necessary inquiries. They waited impatiently until
he reappeared, bringing one large letter. There was nothing for
Luckenough.
The great double letter was for Marian. She took it, and as
the carriage was started again, and drawn towards Old Fields,
she examined the post-mark and superscription. It was a for-
eign letter, mailed from London, and superscribed in the hand-
writing of her oldest living friend, the pastor who had attended
her brother in his prison and at the scene of his death.
Marian with tearful eyes and eager hands, broke the seal and
read, while Jacquelina watched her. For more than half an
houv Jacko watched her, and then impatience overcame discre-
tion in the bosom of the fairy, and she suddenly exclaimed,
"Well, Marian ! I do wonder what can ail you ? You grow
pale, and then you grow red, your bosom heaves, the tears come
in your eyes, you clasp your hands tightly together as in prayer
i then you smile and raise your eyes as in thanksgiving I Now
I do wonder what it all means ?"
"It means, dear Jacquelina, that I am the most grateful
476 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
creature upon the face of the earth, just now ; and to-morrow,
I will tell you why I am so !" said Marian, with a rosy smile.
And well she might be most grateful and most happy, for that
letter had brought her assurance of fortune beyond her greatest
desires. On reading the news, her very first thought had been
of Thurstou. Now the great objection of the miser to theft
marriage would be removed the great obstacle to their imme>
diate union overcome. Thurston would be delivered from tempta
tion ; she would be saved anxiety and suspense. " Yes ! I will
meet him this evening I cannot keep this blessed news from
him a day longer than necessary ; for this fortune that has come
to me, will all be his own ! Oh ! how rejoiced I am, to be the
means of enriching him ; how much good we can both do ?"
These were the tumultuous, generous thoughts that sent the
flush to Marian's cheeks, the smiles to her lips, and the tears to
her eyes that caused those white fingers to clasp, and those
clear eyes to rise to Heaven in thankfulness, as she folded up
her treasured letter and placed it in her bosom.
An hour's ride brought them to Old Field Cottage. The
sun had not yet set ; but the sky was dark with clouds that
threatened rain or snow and therefore Jacquelina only took
time to jump out and speak to Edith, shake hands with old
Jenny, kiss Miriam, and bid adieu to Marian and then saying
that she believed she would hurry back on her aunty's account,
and that she was afraid she would not get to Luckenough
before ten o'clock, anyhow, she jumped into the carriage and
drove off.
And Marian, guarding her happy secret, entered the cot-
tage to make preparations for keeping her appointment with
Thurston.
Meanwhile, at Luckenough, Doctor Grimshaw kept his room
until late in the afternoon. Then, descending the stairs, an<f
meeting the maid Maria, who almost shrieked aloud at the
ghastly face that confronted her he asked,
" Where is Mrs. Grimshaw?"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 477
" Lord, sir !" cried the girl, half paralyzed by the souud of
ais sepulchral voice " she's done gone home 'long o' Miss
Marian."
"When will she be back do you know?"
" Lord, sir 1" cried Maria, shuddering, " I heerd her tell old
Mis', how she didn't think she'd be back to-night."
"Ah!" said the unhappy man, in a hollow tone, that seemed
to sound from a tomb, as he passed down.
And Maria, glad to escape him, fled up stairs, and never
paused until she had found refuge in Mrs. L'Oiseau's roorn.
One hour after that, Professor Grimshaw, closely enveloped
in an ample cloak, left Luckenough, and took the road to the
beach.
CHAPTER XXXV.
NIGHT AND STORM.
"The night is blind with a double dark,
The rain and hail came down together
Tis good to sit by the fire, and hark
To tho stormy weather." Edith May.
THE heavens were growing very dark, the wind was rising
and driving black clouds athwart the sky, the atmosphere was
becoming piercingly cold, the snow, that during the middle of
*he day had thawed, was freezing hard. Yet Marian hurried
fearlessly and gayly on, over the rugged and slippery stubble
fields that lay between the cottage and the beach. A rapid
walk of fifteen minutes brought her down to the water's edge.
But it was now quite dark. Nothing could be more deserted,
lonely and desolate than the aspect of this place. From her
feet the black waters snread outward, till their utmost boun-
daries were lost among the blacker vapors of the distant hori-
478 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
zon. Afar off, a sail, dimly seen or guessed at, glided ghost-
like through the shadows. Landward, the boundaries of field
and forest, hill and vale, were all blended, fused, in murky ob-
scurity Heavenward, the lowering sky was darkened by wild,
scudding, black clouds, driven by the wind, through which the
young moon seemed plunging and hiding as in terror. The
tide was coming in, and the waves surged heavily with a deep
moan upon the beach. Not a sound was heard, except the dull,
monotonous moan of the sea, and the fitful, hollow wail of the
wind. The character of the scene was in the last degree wild,
dreary, gloomy and fearful. Not so, however, it seemed to
Marian, who, filled with happy, generous, and tumultuous
thoughts, was scarcely conscious of the gathering darkness and
the lowering storm, as she walked up and down upon the beach,
listening and waiting. She wondered that Thurston had not
been there ready to receive her ; but this thought gave her
little uneasiness it was nearly lost as the storm and darkness
also were in the brightness and gladness of her own loving,
generous emotions. There was no room in her heart for doubt
or trouble. If the thought of the morning's conversation and
of Angelica entered her mind, it was only to be soon dismissed
with fair construction and cheerful hope. And then she pic-
tured to herself the surprise, the pleasure of Thurston, wheu
he should hear of the accession of fortune which should set
them both free to pursue their inclinations and plans for their
own happiness and for the benefit of others. And she sought
in her bosom if the letters were safe. Yes ! there they were ;
she felt them ; her happiness had seemed a dream without that
proof of its reality. For once she gave way to imagination,
and allowed that magician to build castles in the air at will.
Thurston and herself must go to England immediately to take
possession of the estate that was certain. Then they must
return. But ere that, she would confide to him her daring
project; one that she had never breathed to any, because to
have done so would have been vain ; one that she had longingly
dreamed of, bu^ never, as now, hoped to realize. And Edith '
THE MISSING BRIDE. 479
she would make Edith so comfortable ! Edith should be again
surrounded with the elegancies and refinements of life. And
Miriam ! Miriam should have every advantage of educatiot
that wealth could possibly secure for her, either in this country
or in Europe. If Edith would spare Miriam, the little girl
should go with her to England. But Thurston ! above all,
Thurston ! A heavy drop of rain struck Marian in the face,
and, for an instant, woke her from her blissful reverie.
She looked up. Why did not Thurston come ? The storm
would soon burst forth upon the earth where was Thurston ?
Were he by her side there would be nothing formidable in the
storm, for he would shelter her with his cloak and umbrella, as
they should scud along over the fields to the cottage, and reach
the fireside before the rain could overtake them. Where was
he ? what could detain him at such a time ? She peered through
the darkness up and down the beach. To her accustomed eye,
the features of the landscape were dimly visible. That black
form looming like a shadowy giant before her, was the headland
of Pine Bluff, with its base washed by the sullen waves. It was
the only object that broke the dark, dull monotony of the
shore. She listened the moan of the sea, the wail of the wind,
were blended in mournful chorus. It was the only sound that
broke the dreary silence of the hour.
Hark 1 No', there was another sound ! Amid the moaning
and the wailing of winds and waves, and the groaning of the
coming storm, was heard the regular fall of oars, soon followed
by the slow, grating sound of a boat pushed up upon the frozen
strand. Marian paused and strained her eyes through the
darkness in the direction of the sound, but could see nothing
save the deeper, denser darkness around Pine Bluff. She
turned, and, under cover of the darkness, moved swiftly and
silently from the locality. The storm was coming on very fast.
The rain was falling and the wind rising and driving it into her
face. She pulled her hood closely about her face, and wrapped
her shawl tightly about her as she met the blast.
Oh I where was Thurston, and why did he not come ? Sht
480 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
blamed herself for having ventured out, yet could she
foreseen this ? No, for she had confidently trusted in his keep-
ing his appointment- She had never known him to fail before.
What could have caused the failure now ? Had he kept his
tryste they would row have been safely housed at Old Field
Cottage. Perhaps Thurston, seeing the clouds, had taken for
granted that she would not come, and he had therefore stayed
away. Yet no she could not for an instant entertain that
thought. Well she knew that had a storm risen, and raced as
never a storm did before, Thurston, upon the bare possibility
of her presence there, would keep his appointment. No !
something beyond his control had delayed him. And, unless
he should now very soon appear, something very serious had
happened to him. The storm was increasing in violence ; her
shawl was already wet ; and she resolved to hurry home.
She had just turned to go, when the sound of a man's heavy
measured footsteps, approaching from the opposite direction,'
fell upon her ear. She looked up half in dread, and strained
her eyes out into the blackness of the night. It was too dark to
see anything but the outline of a man's figure wrapped in a
targe cloak, coming slowly on towards her ; as the man drew
near, she recognized the well-known figure, air and gait she
had no doubt of the identity. She hastened to meet him, ex-
claiming in a low, eager tone,
" Thurston ! dear Thurston."
The man paused, folded his cloak about him, drew up and
stood perfectly still.
Why did he not answer her ? why did he not speak to her ?
why did he stand so motionless, and look so strange ? She could
not have seen the expression of his countenance, even if a flap
of his cloak had not been folded across his face, but his whole
form shook as with an ague fit.
" Thurston, dear Thurston," she exclaimed once more, under
her breath, as she pressed towards him.
But he suddenly stretched out his hand to repulse her gasp-
Ing, as it were, breathlessly. " Not yet not yet;" ar d again hia
THE MISSING BRIDE. 481
whole frame shook with an inward storm. What could be the
reason of his strange behaviour '( Oh! some misfortune had
happened to him that was evident. Would it were only of a
nature that her own good news might be able to cure. And it
might be so Full of this thought, she was again pressing to-
wards him, when a violent flurry of rain and wind whistled
before her and drove into her face, concealing him from her
view. When the sudden gust as suddenly passed, she saw that
he remained in the same spot, his breast heaving, his whole
form shaking. She could bear it no longer. She started for-
ward and put her arms around his neck, and dropped her head
upon his bosom, and whispered in suppressed tones,
" Dearest Thurston, what it the matter ? Tell me, for I love
you more than life."
The man clasped his left arm fiercely around her waist lifted
his right hand, and hissing sharply through his clenched teeth.
"You have drawn on your own doom die, wretched girl;"
plunge'd a dagger in her bosom, and pushed her from him.
One sudden, piercing shriek, and she dropped at his feet,
grasping at the ground, and writhing in agony. Her soul
seemed striving to recover the shock, and recollect its facul-
ties. She half arose upon her elbow, supported her head upon
her hand, and with her other hand drew the steel out from her
bosom, and laid it down. The blood followed, and with the
life-stream her strength flowed away. The hand that supported
her head suddenly dropped, and she fell back. The man had
been standing over her, speechless, motionless, breathless, like
some wretched somnambulist, suddenly awakened in the com
mission of a crime, and gazing in horror, amazement, and un
belief upon the work of his sleep.
Suddenly he dropped upon his knees by her side, put his arm
OLder her h ead and shoulders and raised her up ; bu.t her chin
fell forward upon her bosom, and her eyes fixed and glazed.
He laid her down gently, groaning in a tone of unspeakably
anguish,
' Miss Mayfield ! my God ! what have I done ?" And with
30
482 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
an awful cry between a shriek and a groan, the wretched man
cast himself upon the ground by the side of the fallen body.
The storm was beating wildly upon the assassin and his vie*
tim, but the one felt it no more than the other. At length the
go and of footsteps was heard approaching fast and near. In
the very anguish of remorse the instinct of self-preservation
seized the wretched man, and he started up and fled as from the
face of the avenger of blood.
In the meantime Jacquelina had reached home sooner than
she had expected. It was just dark, and the rain was begin-
ning to fall as she sprang from the carriage and darted into the
house.
Mrs. Waugh met her in the hall, took her hand and said,
"Oh, my dear Lapwing, I'm so glad you have come back,
bad as the weather is, for indeed the Professor gives me a great
deal of anxiety, and if you had stayed away to-night I could
not have been answerable for the consequences. There, now,
hurry up stairs and change your dress, and come down to tea.
It is all ready, and we have a pair of canvass-back ducks
roasted."
"Very well, aunty! But is Grim' in the house?"
"I don't know, my love. You hurry."
Jacquelina tripped up the stairs to her own room, which she
found lighted, warmed, and attended by her maid, Maria. She
took off her bonnet and mantle, and laid them aside, and began
to smooth her hair, dancing all the time, and quivering with
suppressed laughter, in anticipation of her "fun." When she
had arranged her dress, she went down stairs and passed into
the dining-room, where the supper table was set.
"S^e if Nace Grimshaw is in his room, and if he is not, we
will wait no longer 1" said the hungry Commodore, thumping
his heavy stick down upon the floor.
Festus sprang to do his bidding, and after an absence of a
few minutes returned with the information that the Professor
was not there.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 483
Jacquelina shrugged her shoulders, and shook with inward
laughter.
They all sat down, and amid the Commodore's growls at
Grim's irregular hours, and Jacquelina's shrugs and smiles and
sidelong glances and ill-repressed laughter, the meal passed.
And when it was over, the Commodore, leaning on Mrs. Waugh'a
arm, went to his own particular sofa in the back parlor ; Mrs.
L'Oiseau remained, to superintend the clearing away of the
supper-table; and Jacquelina danced on to the front parlor,
where she found no one but the maid, who was mending the fire.
" Say 1 did you see anything of the Professor while I was
gone ?" she inquired.
" Lors, honey, I wish I hadn't ! I knows how de thought
of it will give me 'liriums nex' time I has a fever."
" Why ? what did he do ? when was it ?"
"Why, chile, jes afore sundown, as I was a carryin' an arm-
ful of wood up stairs, for Miss Mary's room, I meets de 'fessoT
a -coniin' down. I like to a' screamed ! I like to a' let de wood
drap! I like to a drapped right down myself! It made my
heart beat in de back o' my head ! he look so awful, horrid
gashly. Arter speakin' in a voice hollow as an empty coffin, an'
skeering me out'n my seventeen sensibles axin arter you, he jes
tuk hisself off summers, an' I aint seen him sence."
" What did he ask you ? what did you tell him ?"
" He jes ax where you was ; I telled him how you wer' gone
home long o' Miss Marian ; he ax when you were coming back ;
I telled him I believed not till to-morrow mornin' ; then his face
turned all sorts of awful dark colors, an' seemed like it crushed
right in, an' he nodded and said, MA." but it sounded jes like a
hollow groan ; and he tuk hisself off, and I aint seen him sence."
The elf danced about the room, unable to restrain her glee.
And the longer Doctor Grimshaw remained away, the more
excited she grew She skipped about like the very sprite of
mischief, exclaiming to herself,
" Oh ! shan't we have fun presently ! Oh, shan't we, though I
The Grim' maniac 1 he has gone to detect ME! And he'll
484 MIRIAM, THE A V E X G E R ; OK,
break in upon Thurston and Marian's interview. Wont thei*
be an explosion! Oh, Jupiter! Oh, Puck! Oh, Mercury! what
fun, what delicious fun ! Wr-r-r-r! I can scarcely contain myself!
Begone, Maria ! vanish ! I want all the space in this room to
myself! Oh, fun alive! What a row there'll be! methinks I
hear the din of battle !
" Oh, clang a rang, a rang, clang, clash!
Whoop!"
sang the elf, springing and dancing, and spinning, and whirling,
around and around the room in the very ecstasy of mischief.
Her dance was brought to a sudden and an awful close.
The hall door was thrown violently open, hurried and irregulat
steps were heard approaching, the parlor door was pushed open,
and Doctor Grimshaw staggered forward and paused befoiv
her!
Yes ! her frolic was brought to an eternal end. She saw at a
glance that something fatal, irreparable, had happened. There
was blood upon his hands and wristbands. Oh, more ! fa
more ! there was the unmistakable mark of Cain upon his writhen
brow ! Before now she had seen him 10ok pale and wild and
haggard, and had known neither fear nor pity for him ! bu*
now! an exhumed corpse galvanized into a horrid semblance
of life, might look as he did ! with just such sunken cheeks anc*
ashen lips, and frozen eyes ! with just such a collapsed anO
shuddering form ! yet, withal, could not have shown that terrific
look of utter, incurable despair! His fingers, talon-like in
their horny paleness and rigidity, clutched his breast, as if to
tear some mortal anguish thence, and his glassy eyes were fixed
in unutterable reproach upon her face ! Thrice he essayed to
speak, but a gurgling noise in his throat was the only result.
With a last great effort to articulate, the blood suddenly filled
his throat and gushed from his mouth! For a moment he
Bought to stay the hemorrhage by pressing a handkerchief to
lis Hps, but soon his hand dropped powerless to his side, h
reeled and fell upon the floor !
Jacquelina gaz-d in horror on her work.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 485
J\nd then her screams of terror filled the house !
The family came rushing in. Foremost entered the Commo-
dore, shaking his stick in a towering passion, and exclaiming,
ftt the top of his ^oice,
"What the d 1 is all this? What's broke loose now?
What are you raising all this row for, you infernal little Hurri-
cane ?"
" Oh, uncle ! aunty ! mother ! look ! look I" exclaimed Jacque-
lina, wringing her pale fingers, and pointing to the fallen man.
The sight arrested all eyes.
The miserable man lay over on his side, ghastly pale, and
breathing laboriously, every breath pumping out the life blood
that had made a little pool beside his face.
Mrs. Waugh and Mary L'Oiseau hastened to stoop and raise
the sufferer. The Commodore drew near, half stupefied, as he
always was in a crisis.
" What what what's all this? Who did it? how did it
happen ?" he asked, with a look of dull amazement.
" Give me a sofa cushion, Maria, to place under his head.
Mary L'Oiseau, hurry as fast as you can, and send a boy for
Doctor Brightwell ; tell him to take the swiftest horse in the
stable, and ride for life and death, and bring the physician
instantly, for Doctor Grimshaw is dying hurry 1
"Dying? eh! whatl what did you say, Henrietta?" inquired
the Commodore, in a sort of stupid, blind anxiety, for he was
unable to comprehend what had happened. " Speak to me,
Henrietta ! What is the matter ? what ails Grim' ?"
"He has ruptured an artery," said Mrs. Waugh, gravely, as
she laid the sufferer gently back upon the carpet, and placed
the sofa pillow under his head.
" Ruptured an artery ! How did it happen ? Grim' ! Nace !
speak to me how do you feel ? Oh, Heaven, he doesn't speak 1
he doesn't hear me 1 Oh, Henrietta, he is very ill ! he is very
ill 1 he must be put to bed at once, and the doctor sent for I
Come here, Maria ! help me to lift your young master," said
tbe old roan, waking up to anxiety.
486 M IE I AM, THE AVENGER; OP,
" Stay ! the doctor has been sent for ; but he mast not be
moved, it would be fatal to him ; indeed, I fear that he is beyond
human help," said Henrietta, as she wiped the gushing stream
from the lips of the dying man.
"Beyond human help ! eh ? what ? Nace ! no, no, no, no, it
can't be !" said the old man, kneeling down, and bending over
him in helpless trouble.
"Attend Doctor Grimshaw, while I hurry out and see what
can be done, Mary," said Mrs. Waugh, resigning her charge,
and then hastening from the room. She soon returned, bring-
ing with her such remedies as her limited knowledge suggested.
And she and Mary L'Oiseau applied them ; but in vain ! every
effort for his relief seemed but to hasten his death. The
hemorrhage was subsiding, so also was his breath. " It is too
late, he is dying," said Henrietta, solemnly.
" Dying ! no, no, Nace ! Nace ! speak to me, Nace ! you're
not dying 1 I've lost more blood than that in my time ! Nace I
Nace! speak to your old speak, Nace! "cried the Commo-
dore, stooping down and raising the sufferer in his arms, and
gazing, half-wildly, half-stupidly, at the congealing face.
He continued thus for some moments, until Mrs. Waugh,
putting her hand upon his shoulder, said gravely and kindly,
"Lay him down, Commodore Waugh he is gone."
"Gone ! Gone !" echoed the old man, in his imbecile distrac-
tion, and dropped his gray head upon the corpse, and groaned
aloud.
Mrs. Waugh came and laid her hand affectionately on his
shoulder. He looked up in such hopeless, helpless trouble, and
cried out,
" Oh, Henrietta, he was my son, my only, only son ! my poor !
unowned boy ! Oh, Henrietta, is he dead ? are you sure ? is he
quite gone ?"
" He is gone, Commodore Waugh ; lay him down ; come away
to your room," said Henrietta, gently taking his hand.
Jacquelina, white wi*h horror, was kneeling with clasped
kanda and dilated e~es, gazing on the ruin. The old mail 'a
THE MISSING BRIDE. 487
glance fell upon her there, and his passion changed from grief
to fury fiercely he broke forth,-
"I* was you! You are the murderess you! Heaven'*
vengeance light upon you !"
" Oh, I never meant it ! I never meant it ! I am very
wretched. I wish I'd never been born 1" cried Jacquelina,
wringing her pale fingers.
" Out of my sight, you Curse ! Out of my sight ! and may
Heaven's wrath pursue you!" thundered the Commodore, shak-
ing with grief and rage.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE BODY ON THE BEACH.
Between th' enacting of a dreadful deed
And the first motion all the interim is
Like the phantasma of a hideous dream." ShaJcspeare.
IN the meanwhile, where was he whose headlong passions had
precipitated this catastrophe ? where was Thurston ? After
having parted with his confederate, he hurried home, for a very
busy day lay before him. To account for his sudden departure,
and long absence, and to cover his retreat, it was necessary to
have some excuse, such as a peremptory summons to Baltimore
npon the most important business. Once in that city, he would
have leisure to find some further apology for proceeding di-
rectly to France without first returning home. Now, strange
hs it may appear, though his purposed treachery to Marino
wrung his bosom with remorse whenever he paused to think of
it yet it was a remorse without humiliation ; for he persuaded
himself that stratagem was fair in love as in war, especially in
his case with Marian, who had already given him her nand ;
488 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OH,
but now the unforeseen necessity of these subterfuges made his
cheek burr.. He hastened to Dell-Delight, and showing tbe
old man a letter he had that morning received from the city,
informed him that he was obliged to depart immediately, upon
affairs of the most urgent moment to him, and then, to escape
the sharp stings of self-scorn, he busied himself with arranging
his papers, packing his trunks and ordering his servants. Hia
baggage was packed into and behind the old family carriage,
and having completed his preparations about one o'clock, he
entered it, and was driven rapidly to the village.
The schooner was already at the wharf and waiting for him.
Thurston met many of his friends in the village, and in an off-
hand manner explained to them the ostensible cause of his jour-
ney. And thus, in open daylight, gayly chatting with his
friends, Thurston superintended the embarkation of his bag-
gage. And it was not until after one by one they had shaken
hands with him, wished him a good voyage and departed, that
Thurston found himself alone with the captain in the cabin.
" Now you know, Miles, that I have not come on board to
remain. When the coast is clear I shall go on shore, get in
the carriage, and return to Dell-Delight. I must meet my wife
on the beach. I must remain with her through all. 1 must
take her on board. You will be off Pine Bluff just at dusk,
captain ?"
"Aye, aye, sir."
" You will not be a moment behind-hand ?"
" Trust me for that, Cap'n."
" See if the people have left."
" The skipper went on deck and returned, to report the coast
clear.
Thurston then went on shore, entered the carriage, and was
driven homeward.
It was nearly four o'clock when he reached Dell-Delight, and
there he found the whole premises in a state of confusk-n.
Several negroes were on the lookout for him ; and as soor, as
they saw him ran to the house.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 489
"What is meaning of all this?" he inquired, detaining one
of the hindmost.
" Oh, Marse Thuster, sir 1 oh, sir !" exclaimed the boy, roll-
ing his eyes quite wildly.
" What is the matter with the fool ?"
" Oh, sir! my poor ole marse ! my poor ole marse 1"
"What has happened to your master? can't you b&
plain, sir ?"
"Oh, Marse Thuster, sir ! he done fell down inter a fit, an'
had to be toted off to bed."
"A fit ! good heavens ! has a doctor been summoned ?"
exclaimed Thurston, springing from his seat.
" Oh, yes, sir ! Jase be done gone arter de doctor."
Thurston stopped to inquire no farther, but ran into the
house and up into his grandfather's chamber.
There a distressing scene met his eyes. The old man, with
his limbs distorted, and his face swollen and discolored, lay in
a state of insensibility upon the bed. Two or three negro
women were gathered around him, variously occupied with rub-
bing his hands, chafing his temples, and wiping the oozing foam
from his lips. At the foot of the bed stood poor daft Fanny,
with disheveled hair and dilated eyes, chanting a grotesque
monologue, and keeping time with a see-saw motion from side
to side. The first thing Thur.ston did, was to take the hand of
this poor crazed, but docile creature, and lead her from the sick
room up into her own. He bade her remain there, and then
returned to his grandfather's bedside. In reply to his anxious
questioning, he was informed that the old man had fallen into
a fit about an hour before that a boy had been instantly seni
for the doctor, and the patient carried to bed ; but that he had
not spoken since they laid him there. It would yet be an.hour
before the doctor could possibly arrive, and the state of the
patient demanded instant attention.
And withal Thurston was growing very anxious upon Marian's
account. The sun was now sinking under a dark bank of
clouds. The hour of his appointed meeting with her was ap
490 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OH,
preaching. He felt, of course, tjiat his scheme must for the
present be deferred even if its accomplishment should again
seem necessary, which was scarcely possible. But Marian would
expect him. And how should he prevent her from coming to
the beach and waiting for him there ? He did not know where
a message would be most likely now to find her, whether at
Luckenough, at Old Fields, or at Colonel Thornton's. But he
momentarily expected the arrival of Doctor Brightwell, and he
resolved to leave that good man in attendance at the sick bed,
while he himself should escape for a few hours, and hurry to
the beach to meet and have an explanation with his wife.
But an hour passed, and the doctor did not come, Thurs-
ton's eyes wandered anxiously from the distorted face of the
dying man before him, to the window that commanded the
approach to the house. But no sign of the doctor was to be
Been.
The sun was on the very edge of the horizon. The sufferer
before him was evidently approaching his end. Marian he
knew must be on her way to the beach. And a dreadful storm
was rising.
His anxiety reached fever heat.
He could not leave the bedside of his dying relative, yet
Marian must not be permitted to wait upon the beach, exposed
to the fierceness of the storm, or worse, the rudeness of his own
confederates.
He took a sudden resolution, and wondered that he had not
done so before. He resolved to summon Marian as his wife
to his home.
Full of this thought, he hastened down stairs and ordered
Melchizedek to put the horse to the gig and get ready to go an
errand. And while the boy was obeying his directions, Thurs-
ton penned the following lines to Marian :
"My dear Marian my dear, generous, long-suffering wife
ome to my aid. My grandfather has been suddenly stricken
down with apoplexy, and is dying. The physician has not yet
arrived, and I cannot leave his bedside. Return with my mes<
THE MISSING BKIDE.
Benger, to assist me in taking care of the dying man. Yon,
who are the angel of the sick and suffering, will not refuse me
your aid. Come, never to leave me more ! Our marriage shall
be acknowledged to-morrow, to-night, any time, that you, in
your nicer judgment, shall approve. Come I let nothing hinder
you. I will send a message to Edith to set her anxiety at rest,
or I will send for her to be with you here. Come to me, be-
loved Marian. Dictate your own conditions if you will only
come."
He had scarcely sealed this note, when the boy, hat in hand,
appeared at the door.
" Take this note, sir, jump in the gig and drive as fast as
possible to the beach below Pine Bluffs. You will see Miss
Mayfield waiting there, give her this note, and then await her
orders. Be quicker than you ever were before," said Thurston,
hurrying his messenger off.
Then much relieved of anxiety upon Marian's account, he
eturned to the sick-room, and renewed his endeavors to relieve
the patient.
Ah! he was far past relief now; he was stricken with death.
And with Thurston, all thoughts, all feelings, all interests, even
those connected with Marian, were soon lost in that awful pre-
sence. It was the first time he had ever looked upon death,
and now, in the rushing tide of his sinful passions and impetu-
ous will, he was brought face to face with this last, dread, all-
conquering power ! What if it were not in his own person ?
What if it were in the person of an old man, very infirm, and
over-ripe for the great reaper ? It was DEATH the final earthly
end of every living creatures-death, the demolition of the human
form, the breaking up of the vital functions, the dissolution be-
tween soul and body, the one great event that "happeneth to
all;" the doom certain, the hour uncertain ; coming in infancy,
youth, maturity, as often or oftener than in age. These were
the thoughts that filled Thurston's mind as he stood and wiped
.he clammy dews from the brow of the dying man.
Thurston might have remained much longer, too deeply and
492 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
painfully absorbed in thought to notice the darkening of the
night or the beating of the storm, had not a gust of rain and
wind, of unusual violence, shaken the windows.
This recalled Marian to his mind ; it was nearly time for
her to arrive ; he hoped that she was near the house ; that she
would soon be there ; he arose and went to the window to look
forth into the night ; but the deep darkness prevented his see-
ing, as the noise of the storm prevented his hearing the ap-
proach of any vehicle that might be near. He went back tc
the bedside; the old man was breathing his life away without
a struggle. Thurston called the mulatto housekeeper to take
his place, and then went down stairs and out of the hall door,
and gazed and listened for the coming of the gig, in vain. He
was just about to re-enter the hall and close the door, when the
sound of wheels, dashing violently, helter-skelter, and with
break-neck speed into the yard, arrested his attention.
" Marian ! it is my dear Marian at last; but the fellow need
not risk her life to save her from the storm by driving at that
rate. My own Marian !" he exclaimed, as he hurried out, ex-
pecting to meet her.
Melchizedek alone sprang from the gig, and sank trembling
and quaking at his master's feet.
Thurston blindly pushed past him, and peered and felt in the
gig. It was empty.
" Where is the lady, sirrah ? What ails you ? Why don't
you answer me?" exclaimed Thurston, anxiously returning to
the spot where the boy crouched. But the latter remained
(speechless, trembling, groaning, and wringing his hands. "Will
you speak, idiot ? I ask you where is the lady ? was she not
upon the beach? What has frightened you so ? Did the horse
run away ?" inquired Thurston, hurriedly, in great alarm.
" Oh, sir, marster ! I 'spects she's killed 1"
" Killed ! Oh, my God ! she has been thrown from the gig I"
cried the young man, in a piercing voice, as he reeled undel
this blow. In another instant he sprang upon the poor boy
and shaking him furiously, cried in a voice of mingled
THE MISSING BRIDE. 493
rage, and anxiety "Where was she thrown, sir? Where ia
she ? How did it happen ? Oh ! villain 1 villain ! you shall
pay for this with your life ! Come and show me the spot ! in-
stantly! instantly!"
" Oh, marster, have mercy, sir ! 'Twasn't along o' me an'
the gig it happened of! She wur 'parted when I got there 1"
"Where? Where? Good Heaven, where?" asked Thurs-
tcn, nearly beside himself.
" On de beach, sir. Jes' as I got down there, I jumped out'n
de gig, and walked along, and then I couldn't see my way, an'
I turned de bull-eye ob de lantern on de sand afore me, an' oh,
marse "
" Go on! go on !"
" I seen de lady lying like dead, and a man jump up and run
away, and when I went nigh, I seen her all welkering in her
blood, an' dis yer lying by her," and the boy handed a small
poignard to his master.
It was TJiurstorfs own weapon, that he had lost some months
previous in the woods of Luckenough. It was a costly and
curious specimen of French taste and ingenuity. The handle
was of pearl, carved in imitation of the sword-fish, and the blade
corresponded to the long pointed beak that gives the fish that
name.
Thurston scarcely noticed that it was his dagger, but push-
ing the boy aside, he ran to the stables, saddled a horse with
the swiftness of thought, threw himself into his stirrups, and
galloped furiously away towards the beach.
The rain was now falling in torrents, and the wind driving it
in fierce gusts against his face. The tempest was at its very
height, and it seemed at times impossible to breast the blast
it seemed as though steed and rider must be overblown ! Yet he
lashed and spurred his horse, and struggled desperately on, think-
ing with fierce anguish of Marian, his Marian, lying wounded,
helpless, alone and dying, exposed to all the fury of the winda
and waves upon that tempestuous coast, and dreading with
tnrror, lest before he should be able to reach her, her helplesi
494 MIEIAM, THE AVENGEE; OH,
form, still living, might be washed off by the advancing waves.
Thus he sparred and lashed his horse, and drove him against
rain and wind, and through the darkness of the night.
With all his desperate haste, it was two hours before he ap-
proached the beach. And as he drew near, the heavy cannon-
ading of the waves upoi. the shore admonished him that tho
tide was at its highest point. He pressed rapidly onward,
threw himself from his horse, and ran forward to the edge of
the bank above the beach. It was only to meet the confirma-
tion of his worst fears. The waters were thundering against
the bank upon which he stood. The tide had come in and
overswept the whole beach, and now, lashed and driven by the
wind, the waves tossed and raved and roared with appalling
fury.
Marian was gone, lost, swept away by the waves ! that was
the thought that wrung from him a cry of fierce agony, piercing
through all the discord of the storm, as he ran up and down
the shore, hoping nothing, expecting nothing, yet totally unable
to tear himself from the fatal spot.
And so he wildly walked and raved, until his garments were
drenched through with the rain ; until the storm exhausted its
fury and subsided; until the changing atmosphere, the still,
severe cold, froze all his clothing stiff around him ; so he
walked, groaning and crying and calling despairingly upon the
name of Marian, until the night waned and the morning dawned,
and the eastern horizon grew golden, then crimson, then fiery
with the coming sun.
The sky was clear, the waters calm, the sands bare and glis-
tening in the early sunbeams; no vestige of the storm or of the
bloody outrage of the night remained all was peace and beauty.
In the distance was a single snow-white sail, floating swan-like
oa the bosom of the blue waters. All around was beauty
and peace, yet from the young man's tortured bosom peace
had fled, and remorse, vulture-like, had struck its talona
deep into his heart. He called himself a murderer, the de*
itroye" of Marian ; he said it was his selfishness, his willfulness.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 495
his treachery, that had exposed her to this danger, and brough/
her to this fate ! Some outlaw, some waterman, or fugitive
negro had robbed and murdered her. Marian usuallv wore a
very valuable watch ; probably, also, she had money about her
person enough to have tempted the cupidity of some lawless
wretch. He shrunk in horror from pursuing conjecture it
was worse than torture, worse than madness to him. Oh, blind-
ness and frenzy ? why had he not thought of these dangers so
likely to beset her solitary path ? Why had he so recklessly ex-
posed her to them ? Vain questions, alas ! vain as was his self-
reproach, his anguish and despair !
In the meantime, how had the morning broken upon Dell-
Delight ? how upon Luckenough ? and how at Old Field Cot-
tage?
At Dell-Delight, the old man had expired just before the sun
arose. The two physicians that had been summoned the night
previous, but had been delayed by the storm, arrived in the
morning only to see the patient die. Many inquiries were made
and much. conjecture formed, as to the cause of Thurston Will
coxen's improper and unaccountable absence at such a juncture
But Melchizedek, poor, faithful fellow, having followed his mas-
ter's steps, did not appear, and no one else upon the premises
could give any explanation relative to the movements of their
young master. He had left the bedside of his dying relative at
nine o'clock the night before, and he had not since returned >
his saddle-horse was gone from the stable that was all that
could ba ascertained. Dr. Brightwell took his departure, to
answer other pressing calls. But Dr. Weismann, seeing that
there was no responsible person In charge, and having elsewhere
no urgent demands upon his time and attention, kindly volun-
teered to stay and superintend affairs at Dell-Delight, until the
reappearance of the young master.
At Old Field Cottage, Edith had sat up late the night oetore
waiting for Marian ; but seeing that she did not return, fait
493 Mir, i A M , THE AVENGER; OR,
taken it for granted that she had remained all night with Miss
Thornton, and so, without the least uneasiness at her prolonged
absence, nad retired to rest. And in the morning she arose
with the same impression on her mind, gayly looking forward
to Marian's return with the visitor, and the certain happy reve-
lation she had promised.
She had breakfast over early, made the room very tidy,
dressed Miriam in her holiday clothes, put on her own Sunday
gown, and sat down to wait for Marian and the visitor. The
morning passed slowly, in momentary expectation of an arrival.
It was near eleven o'clock when she looked up and saw
Colonel Thornton's carriage approaching the cottage.
" There ! I said so ! I knew Marian had remained with
Miss Thornton, and that they would bring her home this morn-
ing. I suppose Colonel Thornton and his sister are both with
her ! And now for the revelation 1 I wonder what it is," said
Edith, smiling to herself, as she arose and stroked down her
dress, and smoothed her ringlets, preparatory to meeting her
guests.
By this time the carriage had drawn up before the cottage
gate. Edith went out just in time to see the door opened, and
Miss Thornton alight. The lady was alone that Edith saw at
the first glance, and,
" What can be the meaning of this ?" she asked herself, as
ehe wert forward to welcome her visitor.
But Miss Thornton was very pale and tremulous, and she
acted rltogether strangely.
" How do you do, Miss Thornton ? I am very glad to see you,"
Eaid E4ith, cordially offering her hand.
But the lady seized it, and drew her forcibly towards the
door, saying, in a husky voice,
"Come in come in."
Full of surprise, Edith followed her.
" Sit down," she continued, sinking into a chair, and point-
ing to a vacant one by her side.
Edith took the seat, and waited in wonder for her fartner
peech.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 497
" Wnere is Marian ?" asked Miss Thornton, in an agitated
voice.
" "Where ? Why, I believed her to be at your house 1" an-
swered Edith, in surprise and vague fear.
" Good heaven !" exclaimed the lady, growing very pale, ard
trembling in every limb. Edith started up in alarm.
" Miss Thornton, what do you mean ? For mercy sake, tell
me, has anything happened ?"
" I do not know I am not sure I trust not tell me 1 when
did you see her last ? when did she leave home ? this morning ?"
" Xo! last evening, about sundown."
"And she has not returned? you have not seen her since ?"
"No!"
" Did she tell you where she was going ?"
"No I"
" Did she promise to come back ? and when ?"
" She promised to return before dark ! she did not do so ! I
judged the storm had detailed her, and that she was with you,
and I felt easy."
" Oh, God 1" cried the lady, in a voice of deep distress, and
burying her face in her hands.
"Miss Thornton! for Heaven's sake! tell me what has oc-
curred!"
"Oh, Edith f"
" In mercy, explain yourself Marian ! what of Marian ?"
" Oh, God, sustain you, Edith ! what can I say to you ? my
own heart is lacerated!"
" Marian ! Marian ! oh I what has happened to Marian I
Oh ! where is Marian ?"
"I had hoped to find her here after all! else I had not
found courage to come 1"
"Miss Thornton, this is cruel"
" Ah I poor Edith! what you require to be told is far moro
cruel Oh, Edith ! pray Heaven for fortitude ?"
" I have fortitude for anything but suspense. Oh, Heaven,
Miss Thornton, relieve this suspense :>r I shall suffocate I"
31
498 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"Edith! Edith!" said the lady, going up and putting hei
arms around the fragile form of the young Avidow, as to shield
and support her. " Oh, Edith ! I heard a report this morning
and it may be but a report I pray Heaven, that it is no
more "
" Oh, go on ! what, what was it ?"
" That, that last evening on the beach during the storm, Ma-
rian Mayfield " Miss Thornton's voice choked.
" Oh, speak ! for mercy speak 1 What of Marian ?"
" That Marian Mayfield had been waylaid, and "
"Murdered! oh, God!" cried Edith, as her overstrainef
nerves relaxed, and she sunk in the arms of Miss Thornton.
A child's wild, frenzied shriek resounded through the house.
It was the voice of Miriam.
At Luckenough that morning, the remains of the unfortunate
Doctor Grimshaw were laid out preparatory to burial. Jac-
quelina, in a bewildered stupor of remorse, wandered vaguely
from room to room, seeking rest and finding none. " I have
caused a fellow creature's death !" That was the envenomed
thought that corroded her heart's centre. From her bosom,
too, peace had fled. It was near noon when the news of Ma-
rian's fate reached Luckenough, and overwhelmed the family
with consternation and grief.
But Jacquelina ! the effect of the tragic tale on her waa
nearly fatal. She understood the catastrophe as no one else
could! She knew who struck the fatal blow, and when, and
why, and under what mistake it was struck ! She felt that an-
other crime, another death lay heavy on her soul ! It was too
ranch I oh ! it was too much I no human heart nor brain could
sustain the crushing burden, and the poor lost elf fell into
convulsions that threatened soon to terminate in death. There
was no raving, no talking, in all her frenzy, the fatal secret
weighing on her bosom did not then transpire.
Before the day was out the whole c^nnty was in an uproar
THE MISSING BRIDE. 499
Never had any event of the neighborhood created so high an
excitement or so profound a sympathy. Great horror and
amazement filled every bosom. A county meeting sponta-
neously convened, and handbills were printed, large rewards
offered, and every means taken to secure the discovery of the
criminal. In the deep absorbing sympathy for Marian's fate,
the sudden death of Professor Grimshaw, and the reasoriably-to-
be-expected demise of old Mr. Cloudesley "Willcoxen, passed
nearly unnoticed, and were soon forgotten. Among the most
zealous in the pursuit of the unknown murderer, was Thurston
Willcoxen ; but the ghastly pallor of his countenance, the wild-
ness of his eyes, and the distraction of his manner, often varied
by fits of deep and sullen despair, excited the surprise and con-
jecture of all who looked upon him.
Days passed and still no light was thrown upon the mystery.
About a fortnight after the catastrophe, however, information
was brought to the neighborhood that the corpse of a woman,
answering to the description of Marian, had been washed
ashore some miles down the coast, but had been interred by the
fishermen, the day after its discovery. Many gentlemen hurried
down to the spot, and farther investigation confirmed the gene-
ral opinion that the body was that of the martyred girl.
Three weeks after this, Edith lay upon her death-bed ; her
delicate frame never recovered this last great shock. A few
days before her death she called Miriam to her bedside. The
child approached; she was sadly altered within the last few
weeks ; incessant weeping had dimmed her splendid eyes, and
paled her brilliant cheeks.
" Sit down upon the bed by me, my daughter," said Edith.
The child climbed up and took the indicated seat. Some-
thing of that long smothered fire, which had once braved the
fury of the British soldiers, kindled in the dying woman's eyes
" Miriam, you are nearly nine years old in time, and much
old>r tnan that in thought and feeling. Miriam, your mother
has not many days to live, but in dying, she leaves you a sacred
500 MIEIAM, THE AVE1TGER; OE,
trust to be fulfilled. My child, do you follow and understand
me?"
" Yes, mamma."
" Do not weep, tears are vain and idle. There was an in-
jured queen once whose tears were turned to sparks of fire. So
I would have yours to turn 1 You know what Marian haa
always been to you, but, oh ! you do not know all that she
was to me before you ever lived I should have perished, far
from my native land, in poverty and sorrow, but for Marian.
She came a stranger to me in my extremity, she watched over,
nursed, toiled for me, and when her labor could not procure all
the comforts of life, she sold her little girlish ornaments and
keepsakes to get them for me. By unremitted care, she raised
me at last from a sick bed, and got me into a ship, and
brought me across the sea to this my native country. Nor
here did her tenderness and care slacken the least. While
those from whom nature gave me the right to expect aid and
sympathy, withheld both, she, upon whom I had not the slight-
est claim, beyond the fragile one of common, human sisterhood,
stood firmly by us, working for, comforting, supporting me ; her
girlish head and heart and hands willingly assuming the burden
that should have been otherwise borne by manhood and money.
You, Miriam, must have perished in your infancy but for her,
for, when Heaven sent you here, I was too deeply prostrated in
mind and body to love you, or take care of you the least. But
she pitied the poor little stranger, and took it to her girlish
bosom, and loved and nursed it with all a mother's devotion,
and more than a mother's disinterestedness. You grew up in
her arms. I sometimes think you loved her more than you
iove me well, she deserved it. For oh I she was the most dis-
interested being that I ever saw. She came among us a young
stranger girl, without fortune or position, or any of the usual
stepping stones to social consideration. Yet see what influence,
what power she soon obtained, and what reforms and improve-
ments she soon effected. The county is rich in the monuments
of ner young w'sdom and angelic goodness. All are indebted
THE MISSING BRIDE. 501
to her, but none so deeply as you and I. All are bound to
seek out and punish her destroyer, but none so strongly as you
and I. Others have pursued the search for the murderer with
great zeal for awhile ; we must make that search the one great
object of our lives. Upon us devolve the right and the duty to
avenge her death by bringing her destroyer to the scaffold-
Miriam, do you hear do you hear and understand me ?"
"Yes, mamma yes "
" Child, listen to me ! I have a clue to Marian's murderer."
Miriam started, and attended breathlessly.
" My love, it was no poor waterman or fugitive negro,
tempted by want or cupidity. It was a gentleman, Miriam."
" A gentleman !"
" Yes, one that she must have become acquainted with dur-
ing her visit to Washington three years ago. Oh ! I remember
her unaccountable distress in the months that followed that
visit ! His name, or his assumed name, was attend, Miriam I
^Thomas Truman."
" Thomas Truman 1"
"Yes! and while you live, remember that name, until its
owner hangs upon the gallows."
Miriam shuddered, and hid her pale face in her hands.
" Here," said Edith, taking a small packet of letters from
under her pillow. " Here, Miriam, is a portion of her corres-
pondence with this man, Thomas Truman I found it in the
secret drawer of her bureau There are several notes entreat-
ing her to give him a meeting on the beach, at Mossy Dell,
and at other points from the tenor of these notes, I am led to
believe that she refused these meetings and more than that,
from the style of one in particular I am induced to suppose
that she might have been privately married to that man. "Why
he should have enticed her to that spot to destroy her life, I do
not know. But this, at least, I know, that our dearest Marian
has been basely assassinated. I see reason to suppose the as-
sassin to have been her lover, or her husband, and that his real
or assumed name was Thomas Truman. These facts, and thia
502 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Jittle packet of notes and letters, are all that I have to offer an
testimony. But by following a slight clue, we are sometimes
led to great discoveries."
" Why didn't you show them to the gentlemen, dear mamma ?
they might have found out something by them."
" I showed them to Thurston Willcoxen, who has been g(
energetic in the pursuit of the unknown murderer ; but Thurs-
ton became so violently agitated, that I thought he must have
fallen. And he wished very much to retain those letters, but
I would not permit them to be carried out of my sight. When
he became calmer, however, he assured me that there could be
no possible connection between the writer of these notes and
the murderer of the unfortunate girl. I, however, think differ-
ently I think there is a connection, and even an identity ; and
I think this packet may be the means of bringing the criminal
Jo justice ; and I leave it a sacred trust in your charge,
Miriam. Guard it well ! guard it as your only treasure, until it
has served its destined purpose. And now, Miriam, do you
know the nature of a vow ?"
"Yes, mamma ?"
" Do you understand its solemnity ? its obligation ? its invio-
lability ?"
"I think I do, mamma."
" Do you know that in the performance of your vow, if ne-
cessary, no toil, no privation, no suffering of mind or body, no
dearest interest of your life, no strongest affection of your soul,
but must be sacrificed do you comprehend all this ?"
" Yes, mamma, I knew it before and 1 have read of Tep-
thah and his daughter."
"Now, Miriam, kneel down, fold your hands, and give them
to me between my own look into my eyes. I want you to
make a vow to God and to your dying mother, to avenge tho
death of Marian. Will you bind your soul by such an obliga-
tion ?
The child was magnetized by the thrilling eyes that gazed
deep into her own she answered,
THE MISSING BRIDE. 503
" Yes, mamma."
" You vow in the sight of God and all his holy angels, that
as you hope for salvation, you will devote your life with all
your faculties of mind and body, to the discovery and punish-
ment of Marian's murderer ; and also that you will live a
maiden until you become an avenger."
" I vow."
Swear that no afterthought shall tempt you to falter that
happen what may in the changing years, you will not hesitate
that though your interests and affections should intervene,
you will not suffer them to retard you in your purpose ; that no
effort, no sacriflce, no privation, no suffering of mind or body
shall be spared, if needful, to the accomplishment of your
vow."
" I swear."
"You will do it! You are certain to discover the murderer,
and clear up the mystery."
The mental excitement that had carried Edith through this
scene subsided, and left her very weak, so that when Thurston
Willcoxen soon after called to see her, she was unable to re-
ceive him.
The next morning, however, Thurston repeated his visit, and
was brought to the bedside of the invalid.
Thurston was frightfully changed, the sufferings of the last
month seemed to have made him old his countenance was worn,
his voice hollow, and his manner abstracted and uncertain.
"Edith," he asked, as he took the chair near her head, "do
you feel stronger this morning ?"
" Yes I always do in the forenoon."
" Do you feel well enough tc talk of Miriam and her future ?"
" Oh, yes."
' What have you proposed to do with her ?"
'-'I shall leave her to Aunt Henrietta she will never let the
;hild want."
" But Mrs. Waugh is quite an old lady now. Jacquelina is
Insane, the Commodor and Mrs. L'Oiseau scarcely competent
504
M IK I AM, THE AVENGER; OE,
to take care of themselves and Luckenough a sad, unpromis-
ing home for a little girl."
"I know it oh ! I know it; why do y.ou speak of it, since
I can do no otherwise ?"'
"To point out how you may do otherwise, dear Edith. It
would have been cruel to mention it else."
She looked up at him with surprise and inquiry.
" Edith, you have known me from my boyhood. You know
what I am. Will you leave your orphan daughter to me ? You
look at me in wonder ; but listen, dear Edith, and then decide.
Marian dear martyred saint! loved that child as her own.
And / loved Marian loved her as I had never deemed it pos-
sible for heart to love I cannot speak of this ! it deprives me
of reason," he said, suddenly covering his eyes with his hands,
while a spasm agitated his worn face. In a few minutes he
resumed.
" Look at me, Edith ! the death of Marian has brought me
to what you see I My youth has melted away like a morning
mist. I have not an object in life except to carry out purposes
which were dear to her benevolent heart, and which her sudden
death has left incomplete. I have not an affection in the world
except that which comes through her. I should love this child
dearly, and cherish her devotedly for Marian's sake. I shall
never change my bachelor life but I should like to legally
adopt little Miriam. I should give her the best educational
advantages, and make her the co-heir with my young brother
Paul Douglas, of all I possess. Say, Edith, can you trust your
child to me ?" He spoke earnestly, fervently, taking her hand
and pressing it, and gazing pleadingly into her eyes.
" So you loved Marian I even judged so when I saw you
labor hardest of all for the apprehension of the criminal. Oh,
many loved her as much as you ! Colonel Thornton, Doctor
Weismann, Judge Gordon, Mr. Barnwell, all adored her ! Ah 1
the was worthy of it ?"
" No more of that, dear Edith, it will overcome us both ; but
tell m if you will give me your little girl ?"
THE MISSING BKIDE. 505
" Dear Thurston, your proposal is as strange and unusual as
it is generous. I thank you most sincerely, but you must give
me time to look at it and think of it. You are sincere, you
are in earnest, you mean all you say. I see that in your face ;
but I must reflect and take counsel upon such an important step
Go now, dear Thurston, and- return to me at this hour to-mor-
row morning."
Thurston pressed 'her hand and departed.
The same day Edith had a visit from Mrs. Waugh, Misa
Thornton, and other friends. And after advising with them
upon the proposal that had been made her, she decided to leave
Miriam in the joint guardianship of Mrs. Waugh and Thurston
Willcoxen.
And this decision was made known to Thurston when ho
called the next morning.
A few days after this Edith passed to the world of spirits.
And Thurston took the orphan child to his own heart and home.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
MARIAN.
Will the maiden wake again T
Her dewy eyes are closed,
And on their lids the texture fine
Scarce shades the dark blue orbs beneath,
And her pale tresses hide
The bosom's stainless pride.
Yesl she will wake a_rain,
Although her glowing limbs are motionless ;
And silent those sweet lips,
Once breathing eloquence." Stettey.
WHEN Marian awoke from the trance-like swoon that had
caused the supposition of her death, deep clouds were aroucd,
above, beneath, within her.
506 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
With no power of recollection, with no power of understand-
ing, scarcely conscious of her own identity, scarcely oonscioas
of her existence, she lay helpless as a new-born infant.
Shadows were about her everywhere shadows on the out-
ward scene shadows on her mind, and shadows on her heart
yes ! heavier than all upon her heart the impression of some
dread loss and sorrow, deep and immutable as the grave, lay
burdening her bosom what was it ? she could not tell nay,
she could not even inquire of her memory so feeble, so uncer
tain was her vital action.
A square of dim light, or rather of thinner darkness, was ovei
her feet. She did not know or even wonder what it was she
saw ; a monotonous low surging sounded on her ear she did
not know or speculate what it was she heard; a gentle rocking
motion soothed and lulled her she did not know, or care to
find out what it was she felt. Nay, she did not know or seek
to know herself. Gradually, very gradually came the faculty
of thought and recollection ; first she dimly remembered the
last hour in night and storm upon the beach, when, as she
drew the steel from her bosom, the scene had swam around her
and disappeared, carrying all consciousness of life away with it.
And now this awakening ? Was it in the spiritual or in the
material world ? if in the latter were these shadows the sha-
dows of a vault around her ? She could not tell ! But no !
there was the square of dim light over her feet, and it was di-
vided off into oblong divisions it was a window, an elevated
window, and the only view it afforded was that of a cloudy
night sky. Where was she ?
The monotonous rocking and humming continued it soothed
her series as the nurse's crade-hymn soothes the infant and
too wearied to feel or think, Marian closed her eyes in slumber,
and lost all consciousness until she awoke again.
She woke with a rather clearer recollection of what had oc-
curred before her fall upon the beach, yet with no certain kaow-
Hdge of what had happened since.
It was lighter around her now the square of light beyond
THE MISSING BRIDE. 607
her feet, showed the ruddy glow of the eastern horizon, and
below, the opening stairs were dimly to be seen. She turned
her eyes around there were berths each side of the place
ihere was a bureau and a wash-stand, yet they reeled and rocker 1
us she did.
A very slight noise attracted her" attention she turned her
eyes in the direction whence it came, to the right hand corner
of her bed's head, and there she vaguely perceived a lady, who
stood at a little stand and seemed engaged in pouring some-
thing from a vial into a cup. While she watched this lady,
the latter turned around, and gently raising the patient's head,
put the cup to her lips. Marian drank as a babe might have
drank, and then sank back upon the pillow and relapsed into
sleep.
And life was blotted out for several hours.
Once more she awoke it was now high noon. She knew
where she was, now ; in the neat, well-ordered cabin of a ves-
sel ; the square of light beyond her feet was the window in the
door at the head of the gangway ; she saw through it a por-
tion of the deck and the ropes, and the sea ahead, and the sky
beyond. Yes, she was on shipboard ; but how did she happen
to be there ? She strove to recall the past and then again
came memory much clearer and fuller than before, and wrung a
deep shuddering groan from her heart ; and then a sharp, lace-
rating pang struck through all her chest, and caught away her
breath ; she closed her eyes, but at the same time felt a gentle
arm slip under her shoulders and raise her up, and a cup placed
to her lips. It must have contained some elixir at once ano-
dyne, sedative and nourishing, for as soon as she had swallowed
it, indifference and repose came to mind and body. While she
lay in that state, another person entered the cabin, and inquired,
" How is your patient, dear Rachel ?"
" Her wound troubles her, I think," answered the sweetest
voice Mariav had ever heard.
" What are you doing there ?"
" I am preparing a soothing application for it ; and now, aa
I am about to dress it, you will please to retire, dear."
508 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Soon after this, Marian felt a pair of soft hands uncover-
ing her bosom She opened her eyes, and saw bending over
her, the sweetest face she had ever seen fair, pale, and gentle,
dark gray eyes, and smoothly braided dark-brown hair. Ma
rian strove to speak, but the effort started that acute pain that
held her very breath suspended.
" You must not try to speak, dear do not even try to think ;
you must consent to be as much like a dormouse as possible,"
said the gentle lady, while her soft, soothing fingers removed
the linen bandages, and bathed and dressed the wound.
Marian's eyes gazed pleadingly in her face.
"You are with friends, dear, who will attend you faithfully
until you can be restored to your family. In a day or two you
will be able to direct our inquiries. And that you may the
sooner be in a condition to do so, you must now be still and
patient," said the lady.
Still that eager questioning gaze ? Marian would have given
the world for the power to ask one question "Where is
Thurston ?" But she could not ; nay, the fear of committing
him, would have held her silent. Her own life assured, she
thought only of him, of his safety, his liberty, and his honor.
Strange, clinging, deathless affection ; immortal love that all
the power of evil cannot kill ; divine love that hate, and scorn,
and treachery, and cruelty, can never move to anger or revenge
can only move to sorrow and compassion, and renewed hope
and effort. It may not be a merit perhaps nothing so invo-
luntary can be a merit. Yet neither is it a weakness or reproach
no, by its strength to suffer, to labor, to hope, and to re-
deemby the sacrifice on Calvary, by all that is best and
strongest on earth, and in heaven, it is not a weakness or a re-
proach ! The soul gifted with such power of pure loving, is
the medium of the Lord ; it is the Father of Love who loveth
through it.
In Marian's heart the thought of Thurston caused the pro-
tbundest grief and pity, and while she lay there speechless
motionless, outwardly calm, her inner life was disturbed by COL-
THE MISSING BEIDE. 509
flicts and struggles to which her nature had hitherto been a
stranger.
Those who have ever suffered high nervous fever, aggravated
by grief, doubt, or anxiety and who have lain long days and
nights, cut off from conversation with the outer world, know, at
such times, how dramatic becomes the inner life how every
separate faculty of the mind, and every individual passion and
affectbn of the heart takes a distinct personality, and what con-
flicts they have how many voices speak, and what contro-
versies they hold. So it was with Marian in her illness.
Heart and head reason and affect' on, were at war with
each other. The heart refused to associate the idea of Thurs-
ton with the treachery and violence by which she had suffered.
" It is impossible, utterly impossible, that he could have sunk
to such a depth of crime I do not and cannot believe it,"
pleaded the heart.
" Unhappily, it is not a matter of belief, but of experience.
You know that he was guilty of that crime ; your own senses
were your witnesses," said the head.
"Ah, but there are some cases in which we doubt the evi-
dence of our senses, and this is one. He did not do it."
" Why should you doubt ?"
" Oh, his looks, his manner, his tone, his expression, all I
know of him, contradicts the ^possibility of his doing such a
thing."
" Yes, but poor heart, see here ! did you never yet hear of a
fair face and a foul soul ? Are hypocrisy, avarice, and cruelty
new things under the sun ? Can you take up a paper without
seeing a crime recorded ? And are you astonished or doubtful
then ? Poor heart ! crime is surprising only when it appears
in our own sphere. Besides, consider this young man's whole
conduct towards you. Did he not waylay your path, meeting
you whenever he could, following you, walking with you, re-
gardless of the detriment to your good name ? Did he not
use every art to beguile you into a secret marriage ? Did he
not finally effect that purpose by appealing to your affection iii
510 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
that sad parting hour, promising that if you would consent to
have the ceremonies performed, it should be merely a more
binding sort of betrothal, until he was prepared to acknowledge
the marriage ? Did he keep that promise ? Did he not use
every argument, persuasion, and threat to induce you to forego
fair fame, friends, peace, all in his favor ? Upon your steady
refusal, did he not wring you by his long estrangement ? Was
not the whole of his conduct, from the beginning to this point,
premeditated ? Answer !"
"Oh! no, no, I never believed it so. His conduct sprung
fiom impulse, not premeditation."
"Undeceive yourself, poor heart; after having failed in his
plan to get you off to France, what happened ? Why, he gave
you up, and transferred all his attentions to another a pretty
young heiress, in every way very acceptable to his friends."
" It was only done to pique me. It was only a ruse of love !"
"Ah, shrinking heart! Ah, shrinking, cowardly heart! sum
mon all your courage to look on the face of truth ! When you
interfered, did he not threaten ? When you spoke of divulging
your marriage, did he not taunt you with your inability to
prove it ?"
" Oh, but that was only to try my faith and temper!"
" Ah, faint heart ! faint, trembling heart ! nerve yourself to
bear the shock of hard facts. His engagement to Miss Le Roy
was generally reported he never contradicted it. And whei-
he found you resolved to inform Angelica of your marriage,
his whole conduct changed he displayed a conciliatory temper
he pleaded with you to give him a meeting on the beach
a prayer which you, oh, fool and blind, acceded to. And what
followed ? A meeting a little human hesitation, and then "
"Ah, let me not remember it! I cannot realize or believe
in it"
"And yet you know it! You knew the hand that dealt the
blow ; you recognized the very instrument with which it was
given! the xyphias dagger. Besides, who had an interest in
your decease, unless he had ? You had not an enemy in the
THE MISSING BRIDE. 511
He appointed that rendezvous you kept it and met,
from his hand, what had nearly been your death. Do you still
doubt ?"
"Ye?, yes, yes in the face of all that, I doubt.''
And so worked up into fever by the conflict of faith with
testimony, and love with reason; and suffering, beneath all, an
under-current of great sorrow, Marian rolled and tossed upon
her bed of mental and physical anguish. Not only once or
twice, but over and over again, was this internal controversy
held. And all these conflicts retarded her convalescence.
Day followed day, and her strength was not augmented, nor
her power of speech recovered. With matchless charity and
patience, the lady called " Rachel" attended her bedside. But
no explanation ensued between them. Thus several days passed
how many, Marian did not know ; when one noon she was
awakened from her sleep by the sudden cessation of that rolling
motion that had soothed her senses so long a time, and opening
her eyes, she saw the gangway glimpses of a thicket of
masts, and farther on a crowded pier and she knew the ves-
sel had anchored in some harbor. While her mournful eyea
were fixed in sad inquiry upon the scene, Rachel came with
pencil and paper in her hand, and sat down by the bedside, and
said, quietly,
We are in New York harbor, dear. This vessel sails for
Liverpool in a day or two. My husband and myself go with
it; but we will first see you in a place of safety, well attended
and provided for, until your friends can reach you. And now,
dear, tell me to whom I shall write ; here, take this pencil and
paper, and set down the name and place of residence."
Marian took the writing materials paused closed her eyes,
and seemed to be engaged in thought or in prayer, then sho
scrawled a few words on the paper, and then her hand dropped
exhausted.
Rachel took up frie scrap, and with some difficulty, ieci-
phered the following words, which she read aloud, to receive
iirther confirmation from the writer :
512
MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Take me to Liverpool I have friends and money there-
it is my native place."
" Is that what you mean, dear ?"
Marian bowed her head. And Rachel took the scrap of
paper, and left the cabin. Soon she returned with her hus-
band, who, coming to the bedside, asked,
" You really wish to go to Liverpool, young lady?"
Marian bowed her head.
" You say that you have friends there."
Marian bowed again, and made signs for the pencil and
paper and when they were given her, she managed to scrawl
two words,
" My letters!"
" Oh, you want the letters that were found with you here
they are," said the lady, as soon as she had read the scrap;
going to a beaufet and bringing out the packet.
Marian signed that she should give them to her husband,
and that he should read them. The reading occupied perhaps
fifteen minutes, and when it was over, he said,
"You shall go to Liverpool with us, young lady; and we
will serve you to the best of our ability, until we resign you
into the care of your friends."
Marian faintly bowed her thanks.
" And now, Reuben, we must let her rest, or her fever will
rise," said Rachel.
The gentleman retired, and the gentle lady administered a
cooling sedative to her patient, and sat down by the bed and
bathed her head until she fell asleep.
The next morning after breakfast, when Rachel took her
place as usual by the side of the invalid, Marian made signs for
pencil and paper, and when they were put in her hands, she
vrote,
" Please tell me how I came on board of this vessel."
" I fear the subject will excite you too much," said Rachel,
when she had read the words.
" Not so much to hear as to keep wondering about it,*
wrote Marian the second time.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 513
" In that case I will tell you. It is not much to tell, dear.
On the evening of Holy Thursday, about the time the storm
arose, our vessel lay to opposite a place on St. Mary's coast,
called Pine Bluff, and the mate put off in a boat to land a
passenger; as they neared the shore they met another boat
rowed by two men, who seemed so anxious to escape observa-
tion, as to row away as fast as they could without answering
cur boat's salute. Our mate thonght very strange of it at the
time ; but the mysterious boat was swiftly hid in the darkness,
and our boat reached the land. The mate and his man had to
help to carry the passenger's trunks up to the top of the bluff,
and a short distance beyond, where a carriage was *ept waiting
for him, and after they had parted from him, they returned
down the bluff by a shorter though steeper way ; and just as
they reached the beach, in the momentary lull of the storm,
they heard groans. Immediately the men connected thos<.
sounds with the strange boat they had seen row away, and
they raised the wick in the lantern, and threw its light around,
and soon discovered you upon the sands, moaning, though
nearly insensible. They naturally concluded that you had
been the victim of the men in the boat, who were probably
pirates. Their first impulse was to pursue the carriage, and
get you placed within it, and taken to some farm-house for
assistance ; but a moment's reflection convinced them that such
a plan was futile, as it was impossible to overtake the carriage.
There was also no house near the coast. They thought it
likely that you were a stranger to that part of the country.
And in the hurry and agitation of the moment, they could
devise nothing better than to put you in the boat, and bring
you on board this vessel. That is the way you came here,"
concluded the gentle woman, refraining from expressing any
curiosity, or asking any question, lest it might disturb her
patient.
The grateful gaze of Marian thanked her, as she held out her
nand for the pencil, and wrote,
41 Tell me the name of my angel nurse."
32
514 MIKIAM, THE AVENGEE; OE,
" Rachel Holmes,'- answered the lady, blushing gently. 'My
husband is a surgeon in the United States array. He is on
leave of absence now for the purpose of taking me home to see
my father and mother they live in London. I am of English
parentage."
Marian feebly pressed her hand, and then irregularly traced
these words,
" You are very good to ask me no questions, and I thank
you with all my heart; for, dear lady, I can tell you nothing,"
and having written them, her hand dropped powerless upon the
bed for she was entirely exhausted by this short conference.
The next day the vessel sailed with the first tide for Liverpool.
Marian slowly improved. Her purposes were not very clear
or strong yet mental and physical suffering and exhaustion
had temporarily weakened and obscured her mind. Her one
strong impulse was to escape, to get away from the scenes of
Buch painful associations and memories, and to go home, to
take refuge in her own native land. The thought of returning
to Maryland, to meet the astonishment, the wonder, the con-
jectures, the inquiries, and perhaps the legal investigation that
might lead to the exposure and punishment of Thurston, was
insupportable to her heart No, no ! rather let the width of
the ocean divide her from all those horrors. Undoubtedly her
friends believed her dead let it be so let her remain as dead
to them. She should leave no kindred behind her, to suffer by
her loss should wrong no human being. True, there were
Miriam and Edith ! But that her heart was exhausted by its
one great, all-consuming grief, it must have bled for them 1
Yet they had already suffered all they could possibly suffer
from the supposition of her death it was now three weeks
since they had reason to believe her dead, and doubtless kind
Nature had already nursed them into resignation and calmness,
that would in time become cheerfulness. If she should go
back, there would be the shock, the amazement, the questions,
the prosecutions, perhaps the conviction, and the sentence, and
the horrors of a state prison for one, the least hair of wnose
THE MISSING BRIDE. 515
head she could not willingly hurt; and then her own early
death, or should she survive, her blighted life. Could these
consequences console or benefit Edith or Miriam? No, no,
they would augment grief. It was better to leave things as
they were better to remain dead to them a dead sorrow
might be forgotten a living one never ! For herself, it was
bettcf to take fate as she found it to go home to England,
and devote her newly restored life, and her newly acquired
fortune, to those benevolent objects that had so lately occupied
so large a share of her heart. Some means also should be
found when she should grow stronger, and her poor head
should be clearer, so that she should be able to think to make
Edith and Miriam the recipients of all the benefit her wealth
could possibly confer upon them. And so in recollecting,
meditating, planning, and trying to reason correctly, and to
understand her embarrassed position, and her difficult duty,
passed the days of her convalescence. As her mind cleared,
the thought of Angelica began to give her uneasiness she
could not bear to think of leaving that young lady exposed to
the misfortune of becoming Thurston's wife and her mind
toiled with the difficult problem of how to shield Angelica
without exposing Thurston.
A few days after this, when Marian had recovered the power
of speech, she related to her kind friends all of her personal
history that she could impart, without compromising the safety
of others : and she required and received from them the pro-
mise of their future silence in regard to her fate.
As they approached the shores of England, Marian improved
so fast as to be able to go on deck. And though extremely
pale and thin, she could no longer be considered an invalid,
when, on the thirtieth day out, their ship entered the mouth of
the Mersey. Upon their arrival at Liverpool, it had been the
intention of Doctor Holmes and his wife to proceed to London ;
but now they decided to delay a few hours until they should
see Marian safe in the house of her friends. The Reverend
Theodore Burney was a retired dissenting clergyman, living oq
516 MIRIAM, THE AVENGEKj OE,
his modest patrimony in a country house a few miles out of
Liverpool, and now at eighty years enjoying a hale old age.
Doctor Holmes took a chaise and carried Marian and llache!
out to the place. The house was nearly overgrown with climb-
ing vines, and. the grounds were beautiful with the early spring
rcninre and flowers. The old man was overjoyed to meet
Marian, and be received her with a father's welcome. He
thanked her friends for their Care and attention, and pressed
them to come and stay several days or weeks. But Doctor
Holmes and Rachel simply explained that their visit was to
their parents in London, which city they were very anxious to
reach as soon as possible, and, thanking their host, they took
leave of him, of his old wife, and Marian, and departed.
The old minister looked hard at Marian.
"You are pale, my dear. Well, I always heard that our
fresh island roses withered in the dry heat of the American
climate, and now I know it ! But come ! we shall soon see a
change and what wonders native air and native manners and
morning walks will work in the way of restoring bloom."
Marian did not feel bound to reply, and her ill health re-
mained charged to the account of our unlucky atmosphere.
The next morning, the old gentleman took Marian into his
library, told her once more hew very little surprised, and how
very glad he was that instead of writing, she had come in per-
son. He then made her acquainted with certain documents,
and informed her that it would be necessary she should go up
to London, and advised her to do so just as soon as she should
feel herself sufficiently rested. Marian declared herself to be
already recovered of fatigue, and anxious to proceed with the
business of settlement. Their journey was thereupon fixed for
the second day from that time. And upon the appointed
morning, Marian, attended by the old clergyman, set out for
the mammoth capital, where, in due season, they arrived. A
few days were busily occupied amid the lumber of law docu-
ments, before Marian felt sufficiently at ease to advise her
frierds. the Holmeses, of her presence in town. Only a few
THE MISSING BRIDE. 517
hours had elapsed, after reading her note and address, before
she received a call from Mrs. Holmes and her father, Doctor
Coleman, a clergyman of high standing in the Church of England.
Friendliness and a beautiful simplicity characterised the man-
ners of both fatLer and daughter. Rachel entreated Marian tc
return with her and make her father's house her home while in
London. She spoke with an affectionate sincerity that Marian
could neither doubt nor resist, and when Dr. Coleman cordially
seconded his daughter's intention, Marian gratefully accepted
the proffered hospitality. And the same day Mr. Barney bade
a temporary farewell to his favorite, and departed for Liver-
pool, and Marian accompanied her friend Rachel Holmes to
the house of Dr. Coleman.
CHAPTER XXXYIII.
NEW LIFE.
"Live I for some high and holy work of love,
And thou an angel's happiness shalt know,
Shall bless the earth, while in the world above
The good begun by thee shall onward go
In many a branching stream, and ever wider flow. Cartot
MARIAN had many worthy reasons for wishing to cultivate
the acquaintance and friendship of Dr. Coleman. The first
of which was that she desired to consult him upon the subject
of her beneficent purposes, and to have the aid of his greater
experience and wisdom to guide her in the application of means
to ends. When one morning in his library, Marian presented
the subject to the doctor, that reverend gentleman was greatly
surprised that a lady so young and beautiful, one without the
least bit of fanaticism whatever, should simply resolve to devote
her life and wealth to the unfortunate. He could scarcely for-
518 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
bear from expressing his amazement, and he could not refrain
from expostulation. But Marian gravely and gently waived
his objections aside, saying,
" Circumstances against which I have no longer the slightest
inclination to contend, have cut me off from intimate family
relations with others, and have at the same time placed at my dis-
posal a large fortune. I regard these events, perhaps I should
say these coincidences, as providential. They interpret to me
all my earliest yearnings and aspirations, and point out their
destination. From earliest infancy I have felt the profoundest
sympathy with destitute children ; yes, even from the age of three
years, when I first noticed the difference between my own
cherished and sheltered lot, and the neglected and exposed con-
dition of the little beggar in the street, and wondered why such
contrasts should exist, my heart, from its depths, has responded
to the suffering looks or cries of the little children. As I
grew older, and began to observe, and to reflect upon the many
schemes of philanthropy active in the world, and see how one
would aim at converting the heathen of the antipodes, another
at redeeming criminals, a third at abolishing capital punish-
ment, a fourth at reforming prisons, a fifth at exterminating
war, and so on forever; and when I perceived in all these
enterprises, good as they undoubtedly are, how miserably inade-
quate to the cost is the return, I could but think of the nearer,
and more promising field of benevolence that lay immediately
around us, of the little, neglected children of the poor, the igno-
rant, and the vicious ; the little children perishing around our very
door-sills, or worse than perishing, growing up to finally become
as miserable as their wretched parents. And then it seemed to
me that the relief and education of destitute children was a
nearer, more urgent, and more hopeful duty, and one that, for
labor and capital expended upon it, would yield a greater return
In good than any other scheme of beneficence whatever. And I
wondered how philanthropists, with necessarily limited means,
should devote time and money to the rivilizing of savages, and
the reforming of criminals, while hundreds of innocent children
THE MISSING BRIDE. 519
I round them were perishing from want, or growing up in
ignorance or vice. Prevention is so much better than cure, that
it seems to me bad economy, to spend upon the doubtful event
of civilizing a savage, or reforming a burglar, the means that
might be devoted to educating and preserving the innocence of a
child."
"And yet," said the pastor, mildly, "criminals are also to be
pitied, and, if possible, saved. They were once innocent chil-
dren they are very often the victims of circumstances, rather
than subjects of willful depravity and should have some share
in the compassion of your heart."
"And they have," 11 said Marian, gravely; "but while my
power is limited, and while one little child within my reach re-
mains unfed, unclothed, untaught, I can give the criminal only
compassion. Shall I ' take the children's bread and cast it to
the dogs ?' "
"That is a severe application of the text to come from a
woman's gentle lips."
" I know it is severe, but it is just and appropriate. Children
have the greatest claim upon us while they have need, and we
have power. Let me proceed with telling you my reasons for
thinking so. CHRIST left them a perpetual legacy to us
4 Whoso shall receive one such little child in My name receiveth
Me.' Could there be a stronger or more affecting recommenda-
tion of the children to our mercy ? Destitute children, by their
innocence, their helplessness, their suffering, and the bright or
dark possibilities latent in their undeveloped natures, and in their
unknown futures, appeal equally to our sympathy and our po-
licy. Again, children are not, as adults are, accountable for
their own destitution. They have not, as adults have, a great
deal to Mralearn. Their minds and hearts are like fair pages,
unwritten with the annals of crime, but ready to receive the
impression of good principles. Or they are like the rich open
prairie lands of America no cutting down, rooting up, and
clearing to be done they are all ready for cultivation, and
Vill richly repay the cultivator."
520 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" My dear girl, have you never heard of ' juvenile depravity ?'"
" "Thare is no such thing as 'juvenile' let me separate suck
words by at least a dozen others ' depravity.' Such a phrase
sounds to me false, cruel, and calumnious, or would do so, were
it not so contradictory as to be nonsensical. Children are never
depraved. A child's habits, received from his only guides,
vicious associates, may be bad enough, but they are bad habita
just as his poor little dii'ty jacket, and his poor little ragged
trowsers are bad habits they are not a part of him, they did
not grow out of him, tney are external to him' they were put
upon him; he does not know where to get any better. Only
provide him with clean clothes, and show him clean behaviour,
and see if lie does not prefer them. But to resume the thread
of my argument Lastly, the good commenced in the intellec-
tual and religious culture of children must go on forever, must
produce and reproduce good fruits eternally. I do not wish to
say onje word against other forms of benevolence they are all
good only this is best. It is well, if possible, to reform a cri-
minal, but there, most likely, the good ends. But if you edu-
cate a child, you may benefit in after times his children, and his
children's children, down countless generations. There is nc
calculating the good that may flow on forever from one wel'j
developed human soul. This view addresses itself to our judi-
cious economy in the application of means to ends, and to secure
the greatest return of good from limited power of labor and
money. Very early in life I felt this. In my first youth, the
Lord entrusted me with but one talent leisure and I invested
it in the teaching of poor children and it paid a large interest
more than cent, per cent., I assure you, and the interest is
still going on, and must forever go on, at compound rate. Now
the Lord has lent me two talents time and money and I wish
to invest them in the same profitable enterprise."
But we may not pause to trace minutely those labors of love
h which Marian sought at once to forget her own existence anr
to bless that of others.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 521
A few events only it will be necessary to record.
In the very first packet of Baltimore papers received by Dr.
Holmes, Marian saw announced the marriage of Angelica Le
Roy, to Henry Barn well. She knew by the date, that it took place
within two weeks after she sailed from the shores of America.
And her anxiety on that young lady's account was set at rest.
After a visit of two months, Dr. Holmes and his lovely wife
prepared to return to the United States. And the little for-
tune that Marian intended to settle upon Edith and Miriam,
was entrusted to the care of the worthy surgeon, to be invested
in bank stock for their benefit, as soon as he should reach Bal-
timore. It was arranged that the donor should remain anony.
mous, or be known only as a friend of Miriam's father.
In the course of a few months, Marian's institution, " The
Children's Home," was commenced. And before the end of
the first year, it was completed and filled with inmates. Marian
had at first discreetly limited the number to be received to the
capacities of accommodation afforded by her house. But could
she so limit the expansion of her own benevolent heart? Could
she turn back the houseless little ones that wanted to come in ?
No ! never and it happened, of course, that as month followed
month, and her " Children's Home " thrived, and more applica-
tions for shelter there pressed upon her, that her house had to
be enlarged, and its income increased, and more and more of
her reserved private fortune appropriated to meet expenses,
until her whole estate was embarked in the benevolent enter-
prize, and she had nothing left but a home among her own
little flock. And Marian did not regret this as long as the in
come met the outlay.
But the demands of her heart, to be farther useful among tho
unfortunate, were not satisfied. Her sympathies were awak-
ened, and her thoughts employed for another class" of sufferers
the industrious poor of the overpeopled country, starving in
enforced idleness. And her mind involuntarily associated with
them the vast, uninhabited, fertile tracts of land in western
America, ^he saw these two groups of facts, as surely r^
522 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
.ated to each other as demand and supply, or as disease and
remedy. The poor, miserable men and women of the old world,
perishing around her for want of food, or the work that
win it and the broad, rich prairies of the new world
idle, waiting to repay labor and cultivation with health, compe-
tence and independence to the laborer and cultivator two things
morally related, but actually separated. Day and night toiled
Marian's heart and brain, with the problem of how to bring
these two powers together for mutual advantage. True, she
knew that there were colonization companies and emigrant
ships, (as she had also known when planning for the relief Oi
destitute children, that there were Orphan Asylums,) but they
did not seem to meet the case.
It was a doubtful good to pick up a cargo of human beings,
as motely as Falstaff's regiment, made up equally of criminals
and paupers, and cast them strangers and penniless upon a
foreign shore leaving them to wander about seeking work,
begging or stealing, through the Atlantic cities, with not much
better opportunities of improvement than they left behind. No ;
the great uninhabited tracts of the West the rich prairie lands,
the forests with their game, no "lord" or "gentleman" might
" preserve," the lakes and streams with their fisheries unincor*
porated ; this was the "promised land" for the landless the
hope of the laborer !
Day and night her heart burned and her head planned. Oh
for the means of bringing these two related forces together.
Had she possessed the fortune of the Baron Rothschild, she
would have gladly devoted it to the purpose of settling the
industrious suffering poor of over-populated England upon the
uninhabited rich territories of the West. She now regarded
America as God's beneficent gift to the poor and oppressed of
Europe. Oh ! for the means of helping these poor to their
land of promise. Day and night heart and brain worked with
this problem. From herself she could do nothing ; her own
r^eans were all exhausted upon the children ; she had reserved
lothing her very clothing was of that inexpensive material
provided for the children's wear.
THE MISSING BE IDE. 523
But Marian knew that the most circumscribed action was
fcetter than mere fruitless theorizing, and she resolved to begin
and do something, if it were for the relief of only a few families.
Iler acquaintance among the benevolent portion of the wealthy
and influential was considerable.
Her field of influence was extended and changed. She had
now not only to labor for the good of others, but to labor upon
the hearts and minds of others. I have before mentionec"
Marian's irresistible powers of persuasion that combined elo-
quence of soul and eye and lip that no one could withstand ;
that matchless " spell o'er hearts," composed of beauty, genius,
goodness, and indomitable will. The idea of a lady, young,
beautiful, and gifted, devoting her whole life to purposes so
disinterested and benevolent, could not but appeal powerfully
to the co-operation of the good, the wise, and the strong around
her. She left no means untried to effect the object she had in
view, and her efforts were in time rewarded with a fair prospect
of success.
But was Marian content ? Did she realize the promised
" angel's" happiness ? She lived two lives the actual life of
thought and labor for others, and the inner life of sorrow :
patient, silent, veiled sorrow sorrow that she must bear alone.
Thus when she suffered herself to relapse into reverie and recol-
lection, her sufferings were almost insupportable; alone, un-
loved, and filled with the memories of bitter wrongs, how could
it be otherwise ?
And when, with a strong effort of will, she threw herself
with all her fsrce into works of humanity and benevolence,
then was she happy ?
But we must leave her for the present, and revisit Thurst :m
524 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
PART FIFTH.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THURSTON.
Who by repentance is not satisfied,
Is not of Heaven nor earth." Shakspeare.
AFTER a stormy passage in life comes a long calm, preceding
perhaps another storm. I must pass rapidly over several years.
Thurston was a new being. Some Christians will tell yon
that the new birth is the event of a moment ; others, that it is
the labor of years. Doubtless both speak truly of their own
experiences. In some, regeneration is a slow reform ; in others,
it is a sudden revolution. "With Thurston it was both a violent
revolution and a permanent reform. The catastrophe plucked
down by his own rash hand upon the head dearest to him in
life ; the catastrophe that had bereaved him of his idol at the
very moment and by the very means he had treacherously taken
to secure her; had, as by a thunder-shock, roused him to a
sense of what he was, what he did, and what he was fast becom-
ing. His nature was revolutionized. And then ensued the
wild anarchy that follows such convulsions, whether of the in-
dividual soul, or of the national commonwealth; until it settles
down upon a reformed basis. In the confusion that reigned in
his bosom, many clamorous voices were heard ; there was bitter
grief that would not be silent, but wailed forth lamentations
forever ; there was remorse that never slumbered, but groanei
in deep self-reproaches and threats day and night. Hope tried
THE MISSIXG BEIDE. 525
to make her voice heard, and to speak of a nearly impossible
fortuity. But despair silenced her by pointing out the facts.
It was after some time, and with much difficulty, that the
WILL struggled up through all this anarchy, and gained the
ascendency and subdued the storm, and restored quiet sind
order. And then, though weary and fainting with its toils, tho
soul saw its way clearly to its course and end.
It was not to sit down supinely and indulge a fruitless sorrow
and a remorse as selfish as his sin had been. It was to retrieve
the past, to redeem his soul, and to labor for the good of others.
And how many there were to be worked for. He resolved
to devote his time, talents and means, first of all to carrying on
and perfecting those works of education and reform started by
Marian in his own neighborhood.
But this was a very mournful consolation, for in every thought
and act of the whole work, the memory of Marian was so inti-
mately woven, that her loss was felt with double keenness.
Every effort was doubly difficult ; every obstacle was doubly
great ; every discouragement doubly hopeless, because she was
not there with her very presence inspiring hope and energy-
and every success was robbed of its joy, because she was not
there to rejoice with him. He missed her in all things ; he
missed her everywhere. Solitude had fallen upon all the earth
from which she had passed away. Because her face was gone,
all other faces were repulsive to his sight ; because her voice
was silent, all other voices were discordant to his ear ; because
her love was impossible, all other friendships and affections
were repugnant to his heart; and Thurston, young, handsome,
accomplished and wealthy, became a silent and lonely man.
The estate left by old Clou'desley Willcoxen had exceeded
even the reports of his hoarded wealth. The whole estate, real
and personal, was bequeathed to his eldest grandson, Thurston
Willcoxen, ipon the sole condition that it should not be
divided.
Dell-Delight, with its natural beauties, was a home that
wealth couM convert into a material paradise. Once it had
526 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
been one of Thurston's happiest dreams to adorn and beautify
the matchless spot, and make it worthy of Marian, its intended
mistress. Noio he could not bear to think of those plans of
home-beauty and happiness so interwoven with fond thoughts
of her. So poignant were the wounds of association, that he
could scarcely endure to remain in a neighborhood so filled
with reminiscences of her : and he must have fled the scene, and
taken refuge from memory in foreign travel, had he suffered
from bereavement and sorrow only; but he was tortured by
remorse, and remorse demands to suffer and to atone for sin.
And, therefore, though it spiritually seemed like being bound
to a wheel and broken by its every turn, he was true to hia
resolution to remain in the county and devote his time, wealth,
and abilities to the completion of Marian's unfinished worka
of benevolence.
Dell-Delight remained unaltered. He could not bear to maka
; t beautiful, since Marian could not enjoy its beauty. Only such
changes were made as were absolutely necessary in organizing
his little household. A distant relative, a middle-aged lady of
exemplary piety, but of reduced fortune, was engaged to come
and preside at his table, and take charge of Miriam's education,
Tor Miriam was established at Dell-Delight. It is true thai
Mrs. Waugh would have wished this arrangement otherwise.
She would have preferred to have the orphan girl with herself ,
but Commodore "Waugh would not even hear of Miriam's com-
ing to Luckenough with any patience "For if her mother had
married Grim', none of these misfortunes would have happened,"
he said.
Even Jacquelina had been forced to fly from Lnckenough j
ED one knew whither ; some said that she had run away ; some
knew that she had retired to a convent ; some said only to
escape the din and turmoil of the world, and find rest to her
goul in a few months or years of quiet and silence, and some
ea'd she had withdrawn for the purpose of taking the vows and
becoming a nun. Mrs. Waugh knew all about it, but she said
nothing except to discourage inquiry upon the subject. In the
THE MIS SIN a BRIDE. 627
midst of the speculation following Jacquelina's disappearance,
Clondesley Mornington had come home. He staid a day or
two at Luckenough, a week at Dell-Delight, and then took him-
self, with his broken heart, off from the neighborhood, and got
ordered upon a distant and active service.
There were also other considerations that rendered it desirabia
for Miriam to reside at Dell-Delight, rather than at Luckenough ,
Commodore Waugh would have made a terrible guardian to a
child so lately used to the blessedness of a home with her mother
and withal, so shy and sensitive as to breathe freely only in
an atmosphere of peace and affection, and Luckenough would
have supplied a dark and dreary home for her whose melan-
choly temperament and recent bereavements rendered change
of scene and the companionship of other children absolute
necessities. It was for these several reasons that Mrs. Waugh
was forced to consent that Thurston should carry his little
adopted daughter to his own home. Thurston's household
consisted now of himself, Mrs. Morris, his housekeeper, Alica
Morris, her daughter, Paul Douglass, his own half-brother, poor
Fanny, and lastly, Miriam.
Mrs. Morris was a lady of good family, but decayed fortune,
of sober years and exemplary piety. In closing her terms with
Mr. Willcoxen her one great stipulation had been that she
should bring her daughter, whom she declared to be too "young
and giddy" to be trusted out of her own sight, even to a good
boarding school.
Mr. Willcoxen expressed himself rather pleased than other-
wise at the prospect of Miriam's having a companion, and so
the engagement was closed.
Alice Morris was a hearty, cordial, blooming hoyden, really
about Urn or eleven years of age, but seeming from her fine
growth and proportions at least thirteen or fourteen.
Paul Douglass was a fine, handsome, well-grown boy of four-
teen, with an open, manly forehead, shaded with clustering,
yellow curls, as soft and silky as a girl's, and a full, beaming,
merry,' blue eye, whose flashing glances were the most mirtb-
528 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
provoking to all upon whom they chanced to light. Paul was,
and ever since his first arrival in the house had L-een. "the life
of the family." His merry laugh and shout were the pleasantest
sounds in all the precincts of Dell-Delight. When Paul first
heard that there was to be an invasion of " women and girls"
into Dell-Delight, he declared he had rather there had been an
irruption of the Goths and Yandals at once for if there were
any folks he could not get along with, they were "the gals."
Besides which, he was sure now to have the coldest seat around
the fire, the darkest place at the table, the backward ride in the
carriage, and to get the necks of chickens and the tails of fishes
for his share of the dinner. Boys were always put u^on by the
girls, and sorry enough he was, he said, that any were coming
to the house. And he vowed a boyish vow "by thunder and
lightning" that he would torment the girls to the very best of
his ability.
Girls forsooth ! girls coming to live there day and night, and
eat, and drink, and sleep, and sit, and sew, and walk up and
down through the halls, and parlors, and chambers of Dell-
Delight girls, with their airs, and affectations, and pretensions,
and exactions girls pah! the idea was perfectly disgusting
and offensive. He really did wonder at " Brother," but then
he already considered " Brother" something of an old bachelor,
and old bachelors would be queer.
But Thurston well knew how to smite the rock, and open the
fountain of sympathy in the lad's heart. He said nothing in.
reply to the boy's saucy objections, but on the evening that
little Miriam arrived, he beckoned Paul into the parlor where
the child sat, alone, and pointing her out to him, said in a low
tone,
" Look at her, she has lost all her friends she has just come
from her mother's grave she is strange, and sad, and lonesome.
Go, try to amuse her."
"I don't know how," said Paul.
"Go show her your books, or your engravings, or minerals,
or dried beetles or whatever may be the present hobby or en-
thusiasm "
THE MISSING BRIDE. 529
"She is a queer one. She is all black and white black
dress, curls, eyes, and eyebrows, and white face, hands, and
neck ! I say, brother, she is a sketch in Indian ink, with less
light than shadow about her."
" You're a babbling boy but go and talk to her."
"I say, brothor, she is like Melrose Abbey by moonlight
vll framed of ebon and ivory,' and just as picturesque and
golemii, too."
" You are rn unfeeling boy, I am afraid. Don't you know
that it is griej that makes her look so pale ? She is just an
orphan."
"I'm going to her, though I hardly know how," replied the
lad, moving toward 'the spot where the abstracted child sat
deeply musing.
" Miriam 1 Is that your name," he asked, by way of opening
the conversation.
"Yes," replied the child, very softly and shyly.
" It's a very heathenish oh, Lord ! I mean it's a very pretty
name is Miriam, it's a Bible name, too. I don't know but what
it's a saint's name also."
The little girl made no reply, and the boy felt at a loss what
to say next. After fidgeting from one foot to the other he began
again.
" Miriam, shall I show you my books Scott's poems, and tho
Waverley novels, and Milton's Paradise, and "
"No, I thank you," interrupted the girl, uneasily.
" Well, would you like to see my pictures two volumes of
engravings, and a portfolio full of sketches ?"
"No, thank you."'
" Shall I bring you my drawer full of minerals ? I have got n
" I don't want them, please."
' "Well, then, would you like the dried bugs ? I've got whole
cards of them under a glass case, and "
" I don't want them either, please."
" Dear me ! I have not got anything else to amuse you with.
What da you want ?"
33
530 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Miriam began to weep. Mr. Willcoxen came up t) her and
took her hand gently, and spoke kindly, saying,
" What is the matter, my child ?"
" This boy wont go away and let me alone," wept Miriam.
"'Boy,' humph!" said Paul, walking off in high dudgeop.
Presently he walked back. " I say, little girl, I just want to
speak one word, may I ?"
" Yes," whispered Miriam.
" I just want to make a bargain with you. You don't like
boys, I reckon ?"
"No," murmured Miriam.
" That's you ! We shall agree first rate, for neither do I
like girls. I hate them like anything so now for a bargain, if
you will let me alone and never speak to me, I will let you
alone and never speak to you, Come! will you agree ?"
"Yes," said Miriam.
" That's right. I don't think you'll trouble me so much after
all. I don't care if I give you a ride on my pony to-morrow.
Say ! would you like to ride on my pony ?"
" No, thank you."
" I've got a canoe, then. I'll give you a ride in the canoe
to-morrow would you like that ?"
"No I shouldn't."
" Well what would you like ? Can't I do anything for you ?"
" Yes, you can go-away and leave me alone. You promised
to, and now you wont."
" Am I doing you any harm aint I trying to please you ?"
" No you promised not to speak to me, and you keep oil
doing so."
Once more Paul walked off indignantly, but looking over his
shoulder at the little shrinking, cowering form, he stid to him-
eell, "Poor little shy creature, she is just for all the world like
that little wounded blackbird that I found and tried to save, but
that fluttered away from me every time I touched it," then turn
ing back, he said to her,
" Miriam, what makes you hate boys so ?'*
THE MISSING BEIDE. 531
" We didu't have any boys at home," said the child, shrink-
ing more into herself.
And Paul, seeing that his efforts at entertaining only dis-
trosse; her, walked away. And after that Paul took her out
Bf the offensive class of "gals," and called her the poor little
wounded "blackbird," and wondered how he should ever be
able to serve, without alarming her.
Miriam continued very shy, showing no more disposition to
associate with Mrs. Morris or Alice, than with Paul and de-
lighting only in the company of Aunt Jenny, who had attended
her from Old Fields.
The next day fortune favored Paul in his efforts to please
Miriam. He had a tame white rabbit, and he thought that the
child would like it for a pet so he got up very early in the
morning, and washed the rabbit "clean as a new penny," and
put it under a new box to get dry while he rode to C and
bought a blue ribbon to tie around its neck. This jaunt made
Paul very late at breakfast, but he felt rewarded when after-
wards he gave the rabbit to old Jenny, and asked her to give it
to the little girl and when he heard the latter say " Oh, what
a pretty little thing! tell Paul, thanky !" After this, by slow
deg r ees, he was enabled to approach "the little blackbird''
without alarming her. And after a while he coaxed her to
take a row in his little boat, and a ride on his little pony al-
ways qualifying his attentions by saying that he did not like
girls as a general thing, but that she was different from others.
And Mr. Willcoxen witnessed, with much satisfaction, the grow-
ing friendship between the girl and boy, for they were the two
creatures in the world who divided all the interest he felt in
life. The mutual effect of the children upon each other's cha-
racters was very beneficent ; the gay and joyous spirits of Paul
continually charmed Miriam away from those fits of melancholy,
i) which she was by temperament and circumstances a prey,
wills th-3 little girl's shyness and timidity taught Paul to tame
his own boisterous manners for her sake.
But of all the family Miriam was most attracted to the lonely
632 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Borrowful man who passed so many hours shut up in his study.
A certain sympathy put the child en-rapport with the recluse.
She felt that he was suffering, and longed for the ability tc
comfort him. Often she resolved in her mind the problem of
how she should be able to serve or console him. Not the least
obstacle was her shyness and timidity, her self-distrust for
what could a little girl do ? But the heart is a good teacher.
There was a sitting-room with front windows commanding a
view of the vista opening to the bay ; this room was slightly
repaired and furnished, just sufficiently to make it neat and
comfortable ; and it was usually occupied by Mrs. Morris and
the two girls. There was an old-fashioned centre work-table,
called a " sociable," with four drawers around it tending to a
common centre, like spokes in a wheel, and around this table
they would gather with their books or needle-work.
Paul, when he became somewhat reconciled to the girls,
claimed the fourth drawer and the vacant seat at the table. This
drawer of Paul's was a source of great diversion to Alice Mor-
ris, who called it a mental thermometer, by which she could
always tell the state of the boy's mind. And many were the
fluctuations it recorded, and it was a laughable mystery to his
friends, whether he meant finally to distinguish himself in art,
science, belles lettres, poetry or mechanics. One montli geo-
logy would reign supreme, and Paul's drawer would be filled
with minerals ; next, accident would direct his attention to art,
and the minerals would all be hustled away in a corner of tho
closet, and the drawer filled with engravings and pencil sketches,
to be discarded in their turn to make room for dried bugs and
impaled worms, to remain so long as natural history held the
ascendency.
His next frenzy was for carving, and the bugs and butterflies
were turned out to give place to cedar blocks, and slabs, and
penknives, and designs for inkstands and work-boxes and minia-
ture cathedrals, and panels for ornamental book-cases that were
never destined to completion. This was a sore triul to a tidy
woms.u like Mrs. Morris, as Paul, in his zeal for carving, sur
THE MISSING BKIDE. 533
rounded himself for many feet in circumference with cnips and
shavings ; and the governess would not havs borce it long, had
not little Miriam, perceiving her annoyance, quietly slipped
down and gathered up the litter whenever it was made In
reward for which services Paul generously made the child a
present of every piece of carving that he had spoiled.
But heavy as the dispensation of carving was felt to be, they
had good reason to wish the reign of chips and shavings back
again, when one evening Paul returned from the village, bnng-
ing with him a cracked flute, bought at second-hand, and a book
of instructions, to teach himself to play upon it, and there fol-
lowed a visitation of horrible discords that Paul called music.
This nearly drove the quiet circle crazy, for Paul had no ear for
tune, and not the slightest conception of variation in sound,
except as it made more or less noise, and to him "fa, so, la,"
stood for loud ! louder ! ! loudest 1 1 ! he ever thought that he
who had the best lungs, or made the most noise, was the great-
est performer. And sometimes I have suspected an opera
troupe of being under the same hallucination Be that as it
may, if poor Paul ever
Heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies
he never succeeded in giving it utterance, but instead, awoke
such discords of dreadful sounds as can only be imagined to
exist in the future place of punishment for wicked musicians.
Conversation was difficult, and study impossible. And the
amateur would have been ordered off, only where was he to
go ? As he himself argued with a very ill-used air, he "could
not go in the kitche.. to play, for, if ladies had no taste for
melody, it wasn't to be expected that niggers would lave; nor
they hadn't either, for when he sat down there to play for them,
they all went away but the cook, who was dressing the dinner,
and she said it deafened her and made her head ache. And as
for brother, he dare not go into his study and toot, for ha
wouldn't stand it a minute." Where was he to practice, sure
enough ? So they bore tht infliction as merrily as they coc!t
534 MIRIAM, THE A.V E N G E R ; OR,
repaying the debt by many a jest at the performer's expense,
and longing for the good weather to come, when Paul might
take his flute abroad, and "toot" to the "hills and fields and
streams," in true pastoral style.
Sometimes Mr. Willcoxen would come into the sitting-room.
And in a moment Paul would stop blowing, put his flute into
the drawer and shut it up.
But Miriam would slip quietly from her chair, and leave it
vacant for the new comer. And Mr. Willcoxen would take it
without even perceiving whose attention had left it for him.
And that suited Miriam best ; she felt very kindly towards him,
but she did not like to be noticed.
As the spring opened, Mrs. Morris and her pupils became
interested in the neglected flower-garden, and with the aid of a
skillful gardener, they soon had it in nice order.
But Miriam noticed that her mournful guardian took no in-
terest in their labor and its success. And though she glided
into his study every morning in his absence, to place a vase of
fragrant flowers on his table, she did not know whether her
offering was welcome, or whether its presence was even per-
ceived by the abstracted solitary.
One day in June, however, while the child was in the garden
weeding her violets, and Mr. Willcoxen was walking up and
down the central walk, absorbed in deep thought, she saw him
stop, stoop down, and raise a blue morning-glory in his hand.
He did not pluck it, but held it gently, and gazed long and
strangely down into its vase-like cup.
It was the only morning-glory in the garden; its presence
there was accidental. But Miriam resolved to go to her old
home, where they grew abundantly, and bring some to plant :
perhaps they might live if she should water them well. Sho
would try, anyhow, for Mr. Willcoxen, who never noticed th<
fine roses and lilies and tulips and hyacinths, had studied the
morning-glory. She knew, besides, that it was Marian's fr.TO-
rite flower. And, oh ! at that thought "lame back the rushing
tide of tec.ier memories, freighted with love and sorrow insop-
THE MISSIXG BRIDE. 535
portable, and the little girl started up and fled away into the
forest, and threw herself upon her face to give way to those
overwhelming bursts of sorrow that she always chose to indulge
in solitude.
Mrs. Waugh had not forgotten her young protege. She
came as often as possible to Dell-Delight, to inquire after the
health and progress of the little girl.
It is not to be supposed, in any neighborhood where there
existed managing mammas and unmarried daughters, that a
young gentleman, handsome, accomplished, wealthy, and of good
repute, should remain unmolested in his bachelorhood. Indeed
the matrons and maidens of his own circle seemed to think
themselves individually aggrieved by the young heir's mode of
life. And many were the dinners and evening parties got up
for his sake, in vain, for, to their infinite disgust, Thurston al-
ways returned an excuse instead of an acceptance.
At length the wounded self-esteem of the community received
a healing salve, in the form of a report that Mr. Willcoxen had
withdrawn from the gay would, in order the better to prepare
himself for the Christian ministry. A report that, in twelve
mouths, received its confirmation in the well established fact,
that Thurston Willcoxen was a candidate for holy orders.
And in the meantime the young guardian did not neglect his
youthful charge, but in strict interpretation of his assumed du-
ties of guardianship, he had taken the education of the girl and
boy under his own personal charge.
" Many hard-working ministers of the Gospel have received
pupils to educate for hire. Why may not I, with more time at
my command, reserve the privilege of educating my own adopted
son and daughter," he said, and acting upon that thought, had
fitted up a little school-room adjoining his library, where, in the
presence of Mrs. Morris, Miriam and Paul pursued their studies,
Mrs. Morris hearing such recitations as lay within her province,
and Mr. Willcoxei. attending to the classical and mathematical
brar^hes. Thus passed maay months, mid every month the hearts
536 MIRIAM, TKE AVENGER; OR,
of the children were knitted closer to each other and to their
guardian.
And Thurston Willcoxen " grew in favor, with God and man/'
His name became the synonym for integrity, probity and philan
thropy. He built a church and a free-school, and supported
both at his own expense. In the third year after entering upon
his inheritance, he was received into holy orders ; and two
years after, he was elected pastor of his native parish. Thus
time went by, and brought at length the next eventful epoch of
our domestic history that upon which Miriam completed her
sixteenth year.
CHAPTER XL.
MIRIAM.
* Her cheek too quickly flushes ; o'er her eye
The lights and shadows come and go too fast.
The tears gush forth too soon, and in her yoice
Are sounds of tenderness too passionate
For peace on earth." Mrs. Hemans.
Si* years had passed away. Thurston Willcoxen was the
most beloved and honored man, as well as the most distinguished
clergyman of his day and state. His church was always crowded,
except when he changed with some brother minister, whose
pulpit was within reach in which case, a great portion of his
congregation followed him. Many flattering " calls" had the
gifted and eloquent country parson received to metropolitan
parishes; but he remained the faithful shepherd of his own
flock as long as they would hear his voice.
Thurston was young, healthful, and handsome ; wealthy,
talented, honored, and prosperous what was wanted to com-
plete his happiness ? What, alas ! Time, that soothes all other
sorrows to sleep, has no opiate for remorse ; Time, that hJ
brought him wealth, fame, and love, brought him no peac*.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 537
The church, the school, and the asylum he had established,
flourished well ; yet he could not but feel acutely that had Ma-
rian's loving heart and clear head assisted him in their govern-
ment and direction, they would have prospered better. Through
all his nature he missed the twin woman-soul, and there was
none to take her place none ! There were good and beautiful
girk around him, and they were not indifferent to the many
attractions of the young clergyman. His genius, his goodness,
his eloquence, and a certain touching beauty and grace of look
and tone and manner drew all hearts to himself. More than one
maiden secretly worshiped the minister, love came to him
unclesired, as fame came unsought. He had known Marian, his
ideal woman, and even had his bitter sorrow for her supposed
death been free from remorse, her memory still had rendered the
charms of all other women powerless to win her place in his
heart. He had seen Marian, and though years had passed,
time and distance seemed only to idealize and hallow and glo-
rify her image until her excellence appeared little less than
angelic.
And thus, as year after year rolled on, he became more and
more of a lonely, abstracted, and sorrowing man shunning
society, except when duty called him out. Little did they know,
who wondered at his genius and eloquence, that wisdom had
entered by the sorrow that had "touched his lips with fire."
Little did they think who wondered at his perfect knowledge
of the human heart, how it was by breaking his own, that he
had found out all its secret mechanism by letting the tempest
sweep the bosom's harp, he had found out all the chords, and
"knew their every tone." The honor of men, the love of
dreaming girls, the admiration of all, was his dower already,
and he would have been blessed with the beautiful friendship of
woman, too, but for the want of that nearest and dearest wo-
man that second self that twin soul, Marian ! Had she been
with him, then had he been in harmony with all outer cirles of
social life and love. Then had there been no poetic maidens
dreaming vain dreans of him, and eliciting no response, save
538 MIRIAM, THE A V E N G*E-R ; OR,
that of a faint surprise and pity soon forgotten. Then had the
riendship and admiration of women been congenial io his na-
ture added larger life to his life ; now something was wanted
between himself and them it was woman's soul the wife's
soul united to his own to make all outer circles of affection har-
monious and beautiful and beneficial. And thus it was, repuls-
ing man's sympathy and woman's friendship, the lonely heart
shrank more and more into itself.
With the exception of two days in the week, namely, Sundays
when he preached, and Wednesdays set apart for parochial
visits, he usually passed his mornings in his study, and his after-
noons in rambling through the forest or on the beach.
Of all the world, perhaps his affections only moved towards
Paul and Miriam ; but even in these relations there was some-
thing wanting; he was not en rapport with either of the
young people, a chill atmosphere of distrust, felt, not under-
stood, still less expressed, seemed to envelop him, and repel
them.
Miriam, as she bloomed into womanhood, more than fulfilled
the rich promise of beauty given by her infancy. She was one
of those strange visions of beauty that sometimes surprise the
beholder, and vanish, to leave behind a haunting, dream to the
half-delighted, half-incredulous memory. Her form and face
were of the eastern type a slight, elegant, lithe figure ; swift,
smooth, graceful motions; a liquid, low-toned voice; a thin,
dark, piquant face ; features sharply defined, yet softly and de-
licately finished ; rich olive complexion, deepening and bright-
ening into ripe bloom upon the cheeks and lips ; large liquid
eyes, dark, fathomless, and splendid as Syrian midnight skies ,
hair of that burning blue black hue, tempered in torrid zones ;
which dropped in countless little spiral ringlets, crisp as grape
tendrils, and glittering like jet down her temples, cheeks, and
throat, just reaching and dancing lightly on the graceful neck,
Miriam liked dark brilliant colors, and her usual dress was black
or crimson, except at midsummer, when she wore only white.
Her favorite flower was the crimson cypress vine and at all
THE MISSIXU B li IDE. 539
the summer festivals its fiery stars wreathed her head, and
glowed amid the glittering tendrils of black hair. Her young
companions wondered at her preference, and whispered that it
was the blood-stained flower of death. But Miriam had never
heard, or never heeded the superstition. Of all the seasons of
the year she loved the midsummer best, and of all hours she
enjoyed most the starlit midnight, when all the earth was still
and in all the heavens there was neither moon nor cloud, nothing
but the clear unfathomable sky, and its myriads of intensely
brilliant stars. All her tastes were governed by the same char-
acteristics of mind. In music she cared nothing for simple
melodies and familiar household songs, dear to most hearts, but
sacred anthems or high heroic martial strains had power to
catch and wrap her soul in a sort of ecstatic enthusiasm.
She had few books, and fewer favorites among them. Of poetry,
Shakspeare's tragedies and historical plays, Milton's Paradise
Lost, and Scott's metrical romances, were her preferences.
Notwithstanding her earnest and impassioned temperament,
and, perhaps, because of it, Miriam was profoundly happy. She
drew deep drafts of joy from the face of nature around her,
from books, from painting, from music, from the affections of
her heart, and from her sympathy with all that is high and heroic
in human nature and human history.
She had not ceased to remember and to love her mother and
Marian ; but the image presented by memory was one of holy
beauty glorified saints, angels before the throne of God so
she thought of them.
The recollection of the vow by which she bound her soul,
gave no painful anxiety, but a strange and fascinating interest
to her future life.
lu her childhood, Miriam had been too shy to speak to any
one of her strange vow, and as she grew to womanhood, pru-
dence held her silent upon the subject, while she kept her facul-
ties ever upon the alert for the discovery of some clue that
nighi eventually lead to the detection of the guilty.
>h c carefully p-eserved in memory, and often recalled to
540 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
mind the slight indexes that she already had in possession
namely, beginning with Marian's return after her visit to Wash-
ington her changed manner, her fits of reverie, her melancholy
when she returned empty-handed from the post-office, her joy
when she received letters, which she would read in secret and
in silence, or when questioned concerning them, would gently
but firmly decline to tell from whom or whence they came;
the house-warming at Luckenough, where Marian suddenly be-
came so bright and gay, and the evening succeeding, when she
returned home through^night and storm, and in such anguish
of mind, that she wept all night ; and the weeks of unexplained,
unaccountable distress that followed this 1 All these things
Miriam recalled, and studied if by any means they might direct
her in the discovery of the guilty.
And her faithful study had eventuated in her assurance
of one or two facts or one or two links, perhaps we should
Bay, in the chain of evidence. The first was, that Marian's
mysterious lover had been present in the neighborhood, and,
perhaps, in the mansion at the* time of the house-warming at
Luckenough that he had met her once or more, and that his
name was not Thomas Truman that the latter was an assumed
name, for, with all her observation and astute investigation, she
had not been able to find that any one of the name of Truman
had ever been seen or heard of in the county.
She was sure, also, that she had seen the man twice, both
times in night and storm, when she had wandered forth in search
of Marian.
She remembered well the strange figure of that man the
tall form shrouded in the black cloak the hat drawn over the
eyes the faint spectral gleam of the clear-cut profile the pe-
culiar fall of light and shade, the decided individuality of air
and gait all was distinct as a picture in her memory, and she
felt sure that she would be able to identify that man again.
Up to this time, the thought of her secret vow, and her life'i
mission, had afforded only a romantic and heroic excitement :
but the day was fast approaching when these indexes she re-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 541
lained, should point to a clue that should lead fcnrougn a train
of damning circumstantial evidence destined to test her soul by
mi unexampled trial.
Paul Douglass had grown up to be a tall and handsome
youth, of a very noble, frank, attractive countenance and mari-
ners. To say that he loved Miriam is only to say that he loved
himself. She mingled with every thought, and feeling, and
purpose of his heart. He could not bear the idea of a separate
interest, far less of a separate existence from hers. He had
cured himself of his habit of flirting with the muses, in turn, and
had devoted himself to that god or goddess that presides over
the art of healing ; in other words, he iiad given up dilet-
tanteism with the polite arts ; frankly confessing that '.vhen he
had made one line of verse, he never could get another to match
it, and as for music, he did not know " Auld Lang Syne"
from " Old Hundred," unless the singers would tell him ; a
fault that might have been as much with the musicians as with
honest Paul's ear ; and he had commenced and was diligently
pursuing the study of medicine. Miriam had wished him to
enter the army. "But no," said canny Scottish Paul; "I
grant you that both are very attractive, but Miriam, I will be
a doctor, and save men, instead of destroying them. And I
tell you, Miriam, that I think the man that mends bones for a
living quite as good a fellow as he who breaks them for the
same purpose ; and a faithful physician, in the time of pesti-
lence, is a greater hero than all the plumed and gilded, sword
and buckler butchers that ever killed, on sea or land, for pa-
triotism, passion, pay, or plunder, from the time of Cain, when
one brother rose up against the other, and slew him, to this
time, when thousands of brethren rise up against other thou-
sands, and slay them."
But Miriam's youthful heart was impressed with a passion for
glory, without well understanding in what it consisted she was
inspired by pageantry, splendor, and martial music ; and she
argued the point with Paul, telling him that had it not been
for those vary " sword and buckler butchers" who bore th
542 MIRIAM. THE AVENGER; OR,
shock of battle in troublous times, and whose exposure abroad
still secured our safety at home, the quiet citizen could not
pursue his avocations in peace, nor would he, Paul, be sitting
there " under his own vine and fig tree," delivering the oraclea
of unripe wisdom.
Paul would laugh, and reply that the glitter of the uniform
rlazzled her judgment. And so the controversy would end, or
go on, as it might chance ; the two young people never loving
each other better than when they honestly differed, and frankly
expressed their difference. And as for the youth, 'V very
hours given to study were almost grudged, because they took
him from the girl's society.
And when, at last, the time came that Paul had to leave
home for Baltimore, to remain absent all winter, for the purpose
of attending the course of lectures at the medical college, Miriam
learned the pain of parting, and understood how impossible
happiness would be for her, with Paul away, on naval or mili-
tary duty, more than half their lives, and for periods of two,
three, or five years ; and after that she never said another word
in favor of his wearing Uncle Sam's livery.
Miriam's affection for Paul was so profound and quiet, that
she did not know its depth or strength. As she had not be-
lieved that parting from him would be painful until the event
had taught her, so even now she did not know how intertwined
with every chord and fibre of her heart, and how identical with
her life, was her love of Paul. She was occupied by a more en
thusiastic devotion to her " brother," as she called her
guardian.
The mysterious sorrow, the incurable melancholy of a man
like Thurston Willcoxen, could not but invest him with peculiar
interest and even strange fascination for one of Miriam's en-
thusiastic, earnest temperament. She loved him with more
than a daughter's love she loved him with all the impassioned
earnestness of her nature her heart yearned as it would break
with its wild, intense longing to do him some good, to cure
his sorrrw, tc make him happy. There were moments when.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 543
bnt for the sweet shyness that is ever the attendant and con-
Bervator of such pure feeling, this wild desire was strong enough
to cast her at his feet, to embrace his knees, and with tears be-
Beech him to let her into that dark, sorrowful bosom, to see if
she could make any light and joy there. She feared that he
had sinned, that his incurable sorrow was the gnawing tooth
ol that worm that never dieth, preying on his heart ; but she
doubted, too, for what could he have done to plunge his soul
in such a hell of remorse ? He commit a crime ? Impossible !
the thought was treason ; a sin to be repented of and expiated.
His fame was fairest of the fair, his name most honored among
the honorable. If not remorse, what then was the nature of
his life-long sorrow? Many, many times she revolved this
question in her mind. And as she matured in thought and
affection, the question grew more earnest and importunate.
Oh that he would unburthen his heart to her ; oh ! that she
might share and alleviate his griefs. If "all earnest desires
are prayers," then prayer was Miriam's " vital breath and
native air" indeed ; her soul earnestly desired, prayed, to bo
able to give her sorrowing brother peace.
CHAPTER XLI.
DREAMS AND VISIONS
"Can such things be,
And overcome us like a summer cloud,
Without our special wonder?" Sfiakspeare.
WINTER waned. Mrs. Waugh had attended the Commodore
to the South, for the benefit of his health, and they had not
yet returned.
Mrs. Morris an ' Alice were absent on a long visit to a rela-
544 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
tive iu Washington City, and were not expected back for a
month. Paul remained in Baltimore, attending the medical
lecture*.
The house at Dell-Delight was very sad and lonely. The
family consisted of only Thurston, Fanny and Miriam.
The spring was coming on. That season, which, from its as-
sociations, always aggravated the mental distress of Mr. Will-
coxen, now oppressed him with unusual sadness, and day after
day he immured himself in his study.
A change had also passed over poor Fanny's malady. She
was no longer the quaint, fantastical creature, half-lunatic, half-
seeress, singing snatches of wild songs through the house now
here, now there, now everywhere, awaking smiles and merri-
ment in spite of pity, and keeping every one alive about her.
Her bodily health had failed, her animal spirits departed ; she
never sang nor smiled, but sat all day in her eyrie chamber,
lost in deep and concentrated study, her face having the care-
worn look of one striving to recall the past, to gather up and
reunite the broken links of thought, memory and understanding.
Yes ! the house was very sad and lonely ; the material atmos-
phere was overcast, chill and gloomy ; the spiritual atmosphere
still, heavy, oppressed, as foreboding an approaching storm
Perhaps it was these combined causes that made Miriam
peculiarly sensitive t-j the grief that was weighing upon the
spirits of her guardian. Long days and long evenings she sat
alone at her work table, in the old parlor, brooding over the
cause of his wretchedness.
At last, one day, she received a fetter from Paul, announcing
the termination of the winter's course of lectures, the conclu-
sion of the examination of medical candidates, the successful
issue of his own trial, in the acquisition of his diploma, and
finally his speedy return home.
Miriam's impulsive nature rebounded from all depressing
thoughts, aud she looked forward with gladness to the arrival
of Paul.
He came towards th.9 last of the week.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 545
Mr. Willcoxen, roused for a moment from his sad abstraction,
gave the youth a warm welcome.
Miriam received him with a bashful blushing joy.
He had passed through Washington City on his way home,
aud had spent a day with Mrs. Morris and her friends, and hi
had brought away strange news of them.
Alice, he said, had an accepted suitor, and would probably
be a bride soon.
A few days after Paul's return, he sought a private interview
with his brother. He found Mr. Willcoxen in his study,
wrapped in dark sorrow as in a garment.
" How can a man endure such a life year after year ?"
thought Paul.
But the errand that he had come upon soon engaged his at-
tention. He spoke to his brother, and at the friendly bidding
of the latter, he sat down, and then, after much hesitation,
managed to make -known his wish to marry Miriam.
"You have addressed her upon this subject?" said Mr
Willcoxen.
" No, sir not literally no words have passed between us,
but we could not fail to know each other's hearts. I love her,
sir, and I am sure she "
Paul arrested himself; he was too modest and respectful to
finish hiy sentence.
" You mean to say that you are sure she would not be indif-
ferent to your suit. I am glad to believe it, Paul."
And the melancholy recluse smiled for the first time in manj
years.
" Then I have your consent to mention this to Miriam ?"
" Yes, Paul. When do you wish this affair to come off ?"
" If I have a distinct explanation with Miriam," said practi
cal Paul, I think I could better bear the inevitable delay. But
I do not wish it to be prolonged beyond the time when I shall
secure a good practice in this neighborhood."
" And that would be a long time, Paul. Paul, you know it
is written that ' the course of true love never did run smooth,
34
546 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
and, Paul, though a poet wrote it, it is sober, prosy, dailj
truth, as far as my observation informs me. But, my dear boy,
there are very few rules without exceptions, and yours and
Miriam's true love shall be the exception to this quoted rule-
its course shall run smooth if I have power to remove obstruc
tions and I think I have. There is no absolute necessity, my
dear Paul, that you should wait to marry until you can s-ecure
a professional practice here. That time, with even your best
efforts, will be distant and uncertain. Miriam will be seven-
teen in May. Win her consent, wait a year longer until she
shall be eighteen, and then marry her, if you please. All that
I have is yours and hers. I have no dearer earthly wish than
to witness your happiness, and I shall thank God that there re-
mains to me this joy of hastening its completion."
This was said with a smile intended to be cheerful and en
couraging, but which was, in sober truth, so sad that the sight
of it, together with the thought of his brother's generosity,
brought the tears rushing to Paul's eyes, and he regarded him
with mournful earnestness.
" Go, boy go I" said Thurston, in a gentle tone. " Go,
and if you wish to give me a pleasurable feeling, win Miriam's
consent to be your bride, and let me know when you are be-
trothed !
Paul went to him once more, took and pressed his hand, and
then left the study, and went to seek Miriam.
He found her in the old wainscoted parlor seated by the fire.
She appeared to be in deep and painful thought. Her elbow
rested on the circular work-table, her head was bowed upon
her hand, and her face was concealed by the drooping black
ringlets.
" What is the matter, dear sister ?" he asked, in that tender,
'amiliar tone, with which he sometimes spoke to her.
"Oh, Paul, I am thinking of our brother I Can n -tiling
soothe or cheer him, Paul ? Can nothing help him ? Can \ve
do him no good at all ? Oh, Paul ! I brood so nneh jver nis
trouble I I long st? much to comfort him. that I do believe ; t
THE MISSING BRIDE. 547
is beginning to affect my reason, and make me ' see visions and
dream dreams.' Tell me do you think anything can be done
for him ?"
" Ah, I do not know ! I have just left his study, dear
Miriam, where I have had a long and serious conversation with
him."
" And what was it about ? May I know ?"
" You must know, dearest Miriam, it concerned yourself and
me I" said Paul, and he took a seat by her side, and com-
menced and told her all that had passed during his interview
with Thurston in the library.
Miriam replied,
" Paul, there is one secret that I have never imparted tc
you not that I wished to keep it from you, but that nothing
has occurred to call it out "
She paused, while Paul regarded her in much curiosity.
" What is it, Miriam ?" he at last inquired.
"I promised my dying mother, and sealed the promise with
an oath, never to be a bride until I shall have been "
" What, Miriam ?"
" An avenger of blood 1"
" MIRIAM 1"
It was all he said, and then he remained gazing at her, as if
he doubted her perfect sanity.
"I am not mad, dear Paul, though you look as if you
thought so."
" Explain yourself, dear Miriam."
" I am going to do so. Yeu remember Marian Mayfield .>
hc said, her face beginning to quiver with emotion.
"Yes! yes! well?"
" You remember the time and manner of her death ?"
Yes yes !"
" Oh I Paul, that stormy night death fell like scattering
lightning, and struck three places at once! But, oh! Paul,
such was the consternation and grief excited by the discovery
rf Marian's assassination, that the two other sudden deaths
548 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
passed almost unnoticed, except by the respective families of the
deceased. Child as I then was, Paul, I think it was the tre-
mendous shock of her sudden and dreadful death, that threw
me entirely out of my centre, so that I have been erratic ever
since. She. was more than a mother to me, Paul ; and if I had
been born hers, I could not have loved her better I loved her
beyond all things in life. In my dispassionate, reflective mo-
ments, I am inclined to believe that I have never been quite
right since the loss of Marian. Not but that I am reconciled
to it knowing that she must be happy only, Paul, I often feel
that something is wrong here and here," said Miriam, placing
her hand upon her forehead and upon her heart.
" But your promise, Miriam your promise," questioned
Paul, with increased anxiety.
" Aye true 1 Well, Paul, I promised to devote my whole
life to the pursuit and apprehension of her murderer; and
never to give room in my bosom to any thought of love or
marriage, until that murderer should hang from a gallows ;
and I sealed that promise with a solemn oath."
" That was all very strange, dear Miriam "
" Paul, yes it was and it weighs upon me like lead. Paul,
if two things could be lifted off my heart, I should be happy.
I should be happy as a freed bird."
" And what are they, dear Miriam ? What weights are they
that I have not power to lift from your heart ?"
" Surely you may surmise the first is our brother's sadness
that oppresses my spirits all the time ; the second is the me-
mory of that unaccomplished vow; so equally do these two
anxieties divide my thoughts, that they seem connected seem
to be parts of the same responsibility and I even dreamed
thaf: the one could be accomplished only with the other."
" Dearest Miriam, let me assure you, that such dreams and
visions are but the effect of your isolated life they come from
an over-heated brain and over-strained nerves. And you must
consent to throw off those self-imposed weights, and be happy
and joyous as young creature should."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 549
" Alas, how can I throw them off, dear Paul?"
" In this way first for my brother's life-long sorrow, since
you can neither cure nor alleviate it, turn your thoughts away
from it. As for your vow, two circumstances -combine to ab-
solve you from it; the first is this that you were au irrespon-
sible infant, when you were required to make it the second is,
that it is impossible to perform it; these two considerations
fairly release you from its obligations. Look upon these mat-
ters iu this rational light, and all your dark and morbid dreams
and visions will disappear; and we shall have you joyous as
any young bird sure enough. And I assure you, that yout
cheerfulness will be one of the very best medicines for our bro-
ther. Will you follow my advice ?"
" Xo, no, Paull I cannot follow it in either instance! I
cannot, Paul! it is impossible! I cannot steel my heart
against sympathy with his sorrows, nor can I so ignore the
requirements of my solemn vow. I do not by any means think
its accomplishment an impossibility, nor was it in ignorance of
its nature that I made it. No, Paul ! I knew what I promised,
and I know that its performance is possible. Therefore 1 can
not feel absolved ! I must accomplish my work ; and you,
Paul, if you love me, must help me to do it."
" I would serve you with my life, Miriam, in anything rea-
sonable and possible. But how can I help you? How can
you discharge such an obligation ? You have not even a clue 1"
" Yes, I have a clue, Paul."
" You have ? What is it ? Why have you never spoken
of it before ?"
" Because of its seeming unimportance. The clue is so
slight, that it would be considered none at all, by others less
interested than myself."
" What is it, then ? At least allow me the privilege of
knowing, and judging of its importance."
"I am about to do so," said Miriam, and she commenced,
and told him all she knew, and also all she suspected of the
sircumstances that preceded the assassination on the beach
550 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
In conclusion, she informed him of the letters in her po
session.
" And where are now those letters, Miriam ? What are
they like ? What is their purport ? It seems to me tl.at they
would not only give a hint, but afford direct evidence against
that demoniac assassin. And it seems strange to me that they
were not examined, with a view to that end."'
" Paul, they were ; but they did not point out the writer,
even. There was a note among them a note soliciting a
meeting with Marian, upon the very evening, and upon the
very spot when and where the murder was committed ! But
that note contains nothing to indicate the identity of its author.
There are, besides, a number of foreign letters written in
French, and signed ' Thomas Truman,' no French name,
: jy-the-bye, a circumstance which leads me to believe that it
oiust have been an assumed one."
" And those French letters give no indication of the writer,
either ?
" I am not sufficiently acquainted with that language to read
it in manuscript, which you know is much more difficult than
print. But I presume they point to nothing definitely, for my
dear mother showed them to Mr. Willcoxen, who took the
greatest interest in the discovery of the murderer, and he told
her that those letters afforded not the slightest clue to the per-
petrator of the crime, and that whoever might have been the
assassin, it certainly could not have been the author of those
letters. He wished to take them with him, but mother de-
clined to give them up, she thought it would be disrepect to
Marian's memory to give her private correspondence up to ft
stranger, and so she told him. He then said that of all men,
certainly, he had the least right to claim them, and so the mat-
ter rested. But mother always believed they held the key to
the discovery of the guilty party ; and afterward she left them
to me, with the charge that I should never suffer them to pasa
from my possession until they had fulfilled their destiny of wit-
nessing against the murderer for whatever Mr. Willcoxen
THE MISSING BRIDE. 551
might think, mother felt convinced that the writer of those let-
ters and the murderer of Marian was the same person."
" Tell me more about those letters."
" Dear Paul, I know nothing more about them ; I told yon
Jiat I \vas not sufficiently familiar with the French language to
-ead them."
" But it is strange that you never made yourself acquainted
with their contents by getting some one else to read them for
you."
" Dear Paul, you know that I was a mere child when they
first came into my possession, accompanied with the charge that
I should never part with them until they had done their office.
J felt bound by my promise, I was afraid of losing them, and
of those persons that I could trust none knew French except
our brother, and he had already pronounced them irrelevant to
the question. Besides, for many reasons, I was shy of intrud-
ing upon brother."
"Does he know that you have the packet?"
"I suppose he does not even know that."
"I confess," said Paul, "that if Thurston believed them to
have no connection with the murder, I have so much confidence
in his excellent judgment, that I am inclined to reverse my
hasty opinion, and to think as he does, at least until I see the
letters. I remember, too, that the universal opinion at the time
was that the poor young lady had fallen a victim to some ma-
rauding waterman the most likely thing to have happened.
But. to satisfy you, Miriam, if you will trust me with those let-
ters, I will give them a thorough and impartial study, and then
if I find no clue to the perpetrator of that diabolical deed, I
hope, Miriam, that you will feel yourself free from the responsi
bility or pursuing the unknown demon a pursuit which I con-
sider worse than a wild goose chase."
They were interrupted by the entrance of the boy with the
mail bag. Paul emptied the contents of it upon the table.
There were letters for Mr. Willcoxen, for Miriam, and for Paul
Uio>elf. Those for Mr. Willcoxen were sent up to him by tLa
552 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
boy. Miriam's letter was from Alice Morris, announcing hef
approaching marriage with Oliver Murray, a young lawyer of
Washington, and inviting and entreating Miriam to come to
the city and be her bridesmaid. Paul's letters were from some
of his medical classmates. By the time they had read and dis-
cussed the contents of their epistles, a servant came in to re-
plenish the fire and lay the cloth for tea.
When Mr. Willcoxen joined them at supper, he laid a letter
on Miriam's lap, informing her that it was from Mrs. Morris,
who advised them of her daughter's intended marriage, and
prayed them to be present at the ceremony. Miriam replied
that she had received a communication to the same effect.
" Then, my dear, we will go up to Washington and pass a
few weeks, and attend this wedding, and see the inauguration
of Gen. . You lead too lonely a life for one of your
years, love. I see it affects your health and spirits. I have
been too selfish and oblivious of you, in my abstraction, dear
child ; but it shall be so no longer. You shall enter upon the
life better suited to your age."
Miriam's eyes thanked his care. For many a day Thurston
had not come thus far out of himself, and his doing so now waa
hailed as a happy omen by the young people.
Their few preparations were soon completed, and on the firsl
of March they went to Washington City.
THE MISSING BKIDE. 503
CHAPTER XLII.
DISCOVERIES.
" And all too soon the sought and (band,
In many a tale from those around
The proof of all she feared to know,
His present guilt, their future woe.
All circumstance that may compel
Full credence to the tale they tell ;
And now her tortured heart and ear
Have nothing more to feel or fear."
ij* arriving at Washington, our party drove immediately to
the Mansion House, where they had previously secured rooms
The city was full of strangers from all parts of the country,
drawn together by the approaching inauguration of one of the
most popular Presidents that ever occupied the White House.
As soon as our party made known their arrival to their friends,
they were inundated with calls and invitations. Brother clergy-
men called upon Mr. Willcoxen, and pressed upon him the free-
dom of their houses. Alice Morris, and Mrs. Moulton, the
relative with whom she was staying, called upon Miriam, and
insisted that she should go home with them to remain until after
the wedding. But these offers of hospitality were gratefully
declined by the little set, who preferred to remain together at
their hotel.
The whole scene of metropolitan life, in its most stirring
aspect, was entirely new and highly interesting to our rustic
beauty. Amusements of every description were rife. The
theatres, exhibition halls, saloons and concert rooms held out
their most attractive temptations, and night after night were
crowded with the gay votaries of fashion and of pleasure-
While the churches, and lyceuras, and lecture-rooms had greater
charms for the more seriously inclined. The old and the young,
the grave and *be gay, found no lack of occupation, amusement
554 MIKIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
and instruction to suit their several tastes or varying moods.
The second week of their visit, the marriage of Alice Morris
and Oliver Murray came off, Miriam serving as bridesmaid,
Dr. Douglass as groomsman, and Mr. Willcoxen as officiating
minister.
But it is not with these marriage festivities that we have to
do, but with the scenes that immediately succeed them.
From the time of Mr. Willcoxen's arrival in the city, he had
not ceased to exercise his sacred calling. His fame had long
before preceded him to the capital, and since his coming he had
been frequently solicited to preach and to lecture.
Not from love of notoriety not from any such ill-placed vain
glory, but from the wish to relieve some overtasked brother of
the heat and burden of at least one day ; and possibly by pre-
senting truth in a newer and stronger light to do some good,
did Thurston Willcoxen, Sabbath after Sabbath, and evening
after evening, preach in the churches or lecture before the Ly-
ceum. Crowds flocked to hear him, the press spoke highly of
his talents and his eloquence, the people warmly echoed the
opinion, and Mr. Willcoxen, against his inclination, became the
clerical celebrity of the day.
But from all this unsought world-worship he turned away a
weary, sickened, sorrowing man.
There was but one thing in all "the world outside" that strongly
Interested him it was a "still small voice," a low-toned, sweet
music, keeping near the dear mother earth and her humble chil-
dren, yet echoed and re-echoed from sphere to sphere it was
the name of a lady, young, lovely, accomplished and wealthy,
who devoted herself, her time, her talents and her fortune, to
the cause of suffering humanity.
This young lady, whose beauty, goodness, wisdom, eloquence
and powers of persuasion were rumored to be almost miraculous,
bad founded schools and asylums, and had collected by sub-
scription a large amount of money, with which she was coming
to America, to select and purchase a tract of land to settle a
colony of tl > London poor. This angel girl's name and fame
THE MISSING BRIDE. 555
wa? a low, sweet ecno, as I said before never noisy, never
rising high keeping near the ground. People spoke of her
in quiet places, and dropped their voices to gentle tones in
mentioning her and her works. Such was the spell it exercised
over them. This lady's name possessed the strangest fascina-
tion for Thurston Willcoxen he read eagerly, whatever waa
written of her he listened with interest, to whatever was spoken
of her. Her name ! it was that of his loved and lost Marian !
that in itself was a spell, but that was not the greatest charm
her character resembled that of his Marian !
"How like my Marian ?" would often be the language of his
heart, when hearing of her deeds. "Even so would my Marian
have done had she been born to fortune as this lady was."
The name was certainly common enough, yet the similarity
>f both names and natures inclined him to the opinion that this
angel-woman must be some distant and more fortunate relative
of his own lost Marian. He felt drawn towards the unknown
lady by a strange and almost irresistible attraction and he
secretly resolved to see and know her, and pondered in his heart
ways and means by which he might with propriety seek her
acquaintance.
While thus he lived two lives the outer life of work and
usefulness, and the inner life of thought and suffering the
young people of his party, hoping and believing him to be en-
joying the honors heaped upon him, yielded themselves up to
tfce attractions of society.
Miriam spent much of her time with her friend, Alice Murray.
One morning, when she called on Alice, the latter invited her
rwitor up into her own chamber, and seating her there, said,
p*th a mysterious air,
" Do you know, Miriam, that I have something the strangest
Mng that ever was that I have been wanting to tell you for
ijferee or four days, only I never got an opportunity to do so,
tecause Oily or some one was always present ? But now Oily
bas gone to court, and mother has gone to market, and you and
* ceo have a cozy chat to ourselves."
556 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
She stopped to stir the fire, and Miriam quietly waited fof
her to proceed.
" Now, why in the world don't you ask me for my secret ? T
declare you take so little interest, and show so little curiosity,
that it is not a bit of fun to hint a mystery to you. Do you
want to hear, or don't you ? I assure you it is a tremendous
revelation, and it concerns you, too !"
" What is it, then ? I am anxious to hear ?"
" Oh ! you do begin to show a little interest ; and now, to
punish you, I have a great mind not to tell you ; however, I
will take pity upon your suspense ; but first you must promise
never, never, n-e-v-e-r to mention it again will you promise ?"
" 5'es."
" Well, then, listen. Stop ! get a good place to faint first,
and then listen. Are you ready ? One, two, three, fcre. The
Reverend Thurston Willcoxen is a married man !"
"What!"
"Mr. Thurston Willcoxen has been married for eight yeara
past."
"Pshaw!"
" Mr. Willcoxen was married eight years ago, this spring, at
a little Methodist chapel near the navy yard of this city, and
by an old Methodist preacher, of the name of John Berry."
"You are certainly mad !"
"I am not mad, most noble ' doubter,' but speak the words
of truth and soberness. Mr. Willcoxen was married privately,
when and where I said, to a beautiful fair-haired lady, whose
name heard in the ritual, was Marian. And my husband, Oily
Murray, was the secret witness of that private marriage."
A wild scream, that seemed to split the heart from whence it
arose, broke from the lips of Miriam springing forward, she
grasped the wrist of Alice, and with her wild eyes starting,
straining from their sockets, gazed into her face, crying,
"Tell me! tell me! that you have jested! tell me that you
have lied? Speak! speak!"
"I<;old you the Lord's blessed truth, and Oily knows it
THE MISSING BEIDE. 557
But, Miriam, for goodness sake don't look that way you scare
me almost to death ! And whatever you do, never let anybody
know that I told you this ; because, if you did, Oily would be
vary much grieved at me ; for he confided it to me as a dead
Bccret, and bound me up to secresy, too ; but I thought as it
C'Jncerned you so much, it would be no harm to tell you, if you
would not tell it again ; and so when I was promising, I made
a mental reservation in favor of yourself. And so I have told
you ; and now you mustn't betray me, Miriam,"
" It is false ! all that you have told me is false ! say that it
is false! tell me so ! speak ! speak !" cried Miriam, wildly.
" It is not false it is true as Gospel, every word of it nor
is it any mistake. Because Oily saw the whole thing, and told
me all about it. The way of it was, that Oily overheard them
in the congressional library arranging the marriage the gen-
tleman was going to depart for Europe, and wished to secure
the lady's hand before he went and at the same time, for some
reason or other, he wished the marriage to be kept secret.
Oily owns that it was none of his business, but that curiosity
got the upper hand of him, so he listened, and he heard them
call each other ' Thurston' and ' Marian' and when they left
the library, he followed them and so, unseen, he witnessed the
private marriage ceremony, at which they still answered to the
names of ' Thurston' and ' Marian.' He did not hear their sur-
names. He never saw the bride again ; and he never saw the
bridegroom until he saw Mr. Willcoxen at our wedding. The
moment Oily saw him he knew that he had seen him before, but
could not call to mind when or where ; and the oftener he
looked at him, the more convinced he became that he had
geen him first under some very singular circumstances. And
when at last he heard his first name called ' Thurston,' the
whole truth flashed on him at once. He remembered every-
thing connected with the mysterious marriage. I wonder what
Mr. "Willcoxen has done with his Marian ? or whether she died
or whether she lives ? or where he hides her ? Well, som
m<>n ft~e a mystery don't you think so, Marian ?"
558 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
But only deep and shuddering groans, upheaving from the
poor girl's bosom, answered her.
" Miriam ! Oh, don't go on so 1 what do you mean ? Indeed,
yon alarm me ! oh, don't take it so to heart ! indeed, /wouldn't,
if I were you 1 I should think it the funniest kind of fun !
Miriam, I say !"
She answered not she had sunk down on the floor, utterljf
crushed by the weight of misery that had fallen upon her.
" Miriam ! now what in the world do you mean by this ?
Why do you yield so? /would not do itl I know it is bad
to be disappointed of an expected inheritance, and to find out
that some one else has a greater claim, but, indeed, /would not
take it to heart so, if / were you. Why, if he is married, he
may not have a family, and even if he has, he may not utterly
disinherit you, and even if he should, I would not grieve myself
to death about it if I were you 1 Miriam, look up, I say !"
But the hapless girl replied not, heard not, heeded not ; deaf,
blind, insensible was she to all everything but to that sharp,
mental grief, that seemed so like physical pain- that fierce an-
guish of the breast, that, like an iron hand, seemed to clutch
and close upon her heart tighter, tighter, tighter, until it
stopped the current of her blood, and arrested her breath, and
threw her into convulsions.
Alice sprang to raise her, then ran down stairs to procur&
restoratives and assistance. In the front hall she met Doctor
Douglass, who had just been admitted by the waiter. To his
pleasant greeting, she replied hastily, breathlessly,
" Oh, Paul I come come quickly up stairs I Miriam has
fallen into convulsions, and I am frightened out of my senses!"
" What caused her illness ?" asked Paul, in alarm and anxiety,
as he ran up stairs, preceded by Alice.
"Oh, I don't know!" (It could not have been what I said
to her, and if it was, I must not tell,) added Alice, as she
opened the door and ushered him into the chamber.
The details of sickness are never interesting. I shall not
dwell upon Miriam's illness of several weeks ; the doctors pro
THE MISSING BRIDE. 559
bounced it to be angina pectoris a fearful and often fatal
complaint, brought on in those constitutionally predisposed to
it, by any sndvlen shock to mind or body. What could have
caused tts attsv.k upon Miriam, they could not imagine. And
Alice Murray, vu fear and doubt, held her tongue and kept her
own counsel. In all her illness, Miriam's reason was not for a
moment clouded- -it seemed pretcrnaturally awake; but she
spoke not, and it was observed that if Mr. Willcoxen, who was
overwhelmed with distress by her dreadful illness, approached
her bedside and touched her person, she instantly fell into
spasms. Iii griof and dismay, Thnrston's eyes asked of all
around an explanation of this strange and painful phenomenon ;
but none could tell him, except the doctor, who pronounced it
the natural effect of the excessive nervous irritability attending
tier disease, and urged Mr. Willcoxen to keep away from her
chamber. And Thurston sadly complied.
Youth, and an elastic constitution, prevailed over disease,
and Miriam was raised from the bed of death ; but so changed
in person and in manner, that you would scarcely have recog-
nized her. She was thinner, but not paler an intense, con-
suming fii'c burned in and out upon her cheek, and smoul-
dered and Pushed from her eye. Self-concentrated and re-
served, she replied not at all. or only in monosyllables, to
the words addressed to her, and withdrew more into herself.
At length, Doctor Douglass advised their return home.
A.nd therefore tK:y set out, and upon the last of March, ap-
proached Dell-Dc.ight.
The sky was o?ercast, the ground was covered with snow,
the weather was 'lamp, and very cold for the last of March.
A.s evening drew on, and the leaden sky lowered, and the chill
damp penetrated the comfortable carriage in which they traveled
Mr. Willcoxen redoubled his attentions to Miriam, carefully
wrapping her cloak and furs about her, and letting down thj
leathern blinds and the damask hangings, to exclude the cold ;
but Miriam shrank from his touch, and shivered more than
tefore, and drev closely into her own corner.
560 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"Poor child, the cold nips and shrivels her as it does a
tropical flower," said Thurston, desisting from his efforts after
he had tucked a woolen shawl around her feet.
" It is really very unseasonable weather there is snow in the
atmosphere. I don't wonder it pinches Miriam," said Paul
Douglass.
Ah ! they did not either of them know that it was a spiritual
fever and ague alternately burning and freezing her very heart's
blood hope and fear, love and loathing, pity and horror, that
striving together made a pandemonium of her young bosom.
Like a flight of fiery arrows came the coincidences of the tale
she had heard, and the facts she knew. That spring, eight
years before, Mr. Murray said he had, unseen, witnessed the
marriage of Thurston Willcoxen and Marian. That spring,
eight years before, she knew Mr. Willcoxen and Miss Mayfield
had been together on a visit to the capital. Thurston had gone
to Europe, Marian had returned home, but had never seemed
the same since her visit to the city. The very evening of the
house-warming at Luckenough, where Marian had betrayed so
much emotion, Thurston had suddenly returned, and presented
himself at that manison. Yet in all the months that followed .
she had never seen Thurston and Marian together. Thurston
was paying marked and constant attentions to Miss Le Roy,
while Marian's heart was consuming with a secret sorrow and
anxiety that she refused to communicate even to Edith. How
distinctly came back to her mind those nights when, lying by
Marian's side, she had put her hand over upon her face and
felt the tears on her cheeks. Those tears ! the recollection of
them now, and in this connection, filled her heart with inde-
scribable emotion. Her mother, too, had died in the belief that
Marian had fallen by the hands of her lover or her husband
Lastly, upon the same night of Marian's murder, Thurston
Willcoxen had been unaccountably absent, during the whole
night, from the death-bed of his grandfather. And then his
incurable melancholy from that day to this his melancholy
augmented to anguish at the annual return of this season
THE MISSING BRIDE. 561
And then rising, in refutation of all this evidence, was his
own irreproachable life and elevated character.
Ah ! but she had young as she was, heard of such casea
before how in some insanity of selfishness or frenzy of passior,
a crime had been perpetrated by one previously and afterwards
irreproachable in conduct. Piercing wound after wound smote
these thoughts like swift coming arrows.
A young, immature woman, a girl of seventeen, in whose
warm nature passion and imagination so largely predominated
over intellect, was but too liable to have her reason shaken from
its seat by the ordeal through which she was forced to go.
As night descended, and they drew near Dell-Delight, the
storm that had been lowering all the afternoon came upon them.
The wind, the hail, and the snow, and the snow-drifts continually
forming, rendered the roads, that were never very good, now
nearly impassable.
More and more obstructed, difficult and unrecognizable
became their way, until at last, when within an eighth of a mile
from the house, the horses stepped off the road into a covered
gully, and the carriage was overturned and broken.
" Miriam! dear Miriam! dear child, are you hurt?" was the
first anxious exclamation of both gentlemen.
No one was injured ; the coach lay upon its left side, and the
right side door was over their heads. Paul climbed out first,
and then gave his hand to Mariam, whom Mr. Willcoxen
assisted up to the window. Lastly followed Thurston. The
horses had kicked themselves free of the carriage, and stood
kicking yet.
" Two wheels and the pole are broken nothing can be done
t ) remove the carriage to-night. You had better leave the
horses where they are, Paul, and let us hurry on to get Miriam
under shelter first, then we can send some one to fetch thrui
home."
They were near the park gate, and the road from there to
the mansion was very good. Paul was busy in bundling Miriam
op in he- cloak, shawls and furs. And then Mr. Willcoxen
35
562 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
approached to raise her in his arms, and take her through the
snow ; but,
" No ! no !" said Miriam, shuddering and crouching closely
o Paul. Little knowing her thoughts, Mr. Willcoxen slightly
smiled, and pulling his hat low over his eyes, and turning up
his fur collar and wrapping his cloak closely around him, he
strode on rapidly before them. The snow was blowing in their
faces, but drawing Miriam fondly to his side, Paul hurried after
him.
When they reached the park gate, Thurston was laboring 10
open it against the drifted snow. He succeeded, and pushed
the gate back to let them pass. Miriam, as she went through,
raised her eyes to his form.
There he stood, in night and storm, his tall form shrouded
in the long black cloak the hat drawn over his eyes, the faint
spectral gleam of the snow striking upward to his clear-cut pro-
file, the peculiar fall of ghostly light and shade, the strong indi-
viduality of air and attitude.
With a half-stifled shriek, Miriam recognized the distinct
picture of the man she had seen twice before with Marian.
" What is the matter, love ? Were you near falling ? Give
me your arm, Miriam you need us both to help you through
this storm," said Thurston, approaching her.
But with a shiver that ran through all her frame, Miriam
shrank closer to Paul, who, with affectionate pride, renewed his
care, and promised that she should not slip again.
So link after link of the fearful evidence wound i'/^lf around
her consciousness, which struggled against it, like Laocoon in
tin fatal folds of the serpent.
Now cold as if the blood were turned to ice in her veins
DOW burning as if they ran fire she was hurried on into the
bouse.
They were expected home, and old Jenny had fires in all the
occupied rooms, and supper ready to go on the table, that MB
prepared in the parlor.
But Miriani refused all refreshment, and hurried to het room
THE MISSING BRIDE. 563
it was warmed and lighted by old Jenny's care, and the good
creature followed her young mistress with affectionate proffers
of aid.
" Wouldn't she have a strong cup of tea ? Wouldn't she have
a hot bath? Wouldn't she have her bed warmed ? Wouldn't
ehe have a bowl of nice hot mulled wine ? Dear, dear ! she
was so sorry, but it would have frightened herself to death
if the carriage had upset with her, and no wonder Miss Miriam
was knocked up entirely."
"No, no, no !"
Miriam would have nothing, and old Jenny reluctantly left
her to repose ? Ah, no ! with fever in her veins to walk up and
down and up and down the floor of her room with fearful unrest.
Up and down, until the candle burned low, and sunk drowned
in its socket ; until the fire on the hearth smouldered and went
out ; until the stars in the sky waned with the coming day ;
until the rising sun kindled all the eastern horizon ; and then,
attired as she was, she sank upon the outside of her bed, and
fell into a heavy sleep of exhaustion.
She arose unrefreshed, and after a hasty toilet descended to
the breakfast parlor, where she knew the little family awaited
her.
" The journey and the fright have been too much for you,
love ; you look very weary ; you should have rested longer this
morning," said Mr. Willcoxen affectionately, as he arose and
met her, and led her to the most comfortable seat near the fire.
His fine countenance, elevated, grave and gentle in expression,
his kind and loving manner, smote all the tender chords of
Miriam's heart.
Could that man be guilty of the crime she had dared to suspect
him of?
Oh, no, no, no! never! every lineament of his face, e^erj
inflection of his voice, as well as every act of his life, and every
trait of his character, forbade the dreadful imputation !
But then the evidence 1 the damning evidence ! Her braip
iceled with the doubt a<= she sank into the seat he offered her
664 M IE I AM, THE AVENGEE; OE,
" Ring for breakfast, Paul ! Our little housekeeper wU feel
better when she gets a cup of coffee."
But Miriam sprang up to anticipate him ; and drew her chair
to the table, and nervously began to arrange the cups and fin
sr.gar and cream into them, with the vagu^ Jeeling that she must
act as usual to avoid calling observation upon herself, for if ques-
tioned, how could she answer inquiries, and who could she
icake a confidant in her terrible suspicions ?
And so through the breakfast scene, and so through the whole
day she sought to exercise self-control. But could her distress
escape the anxious, penetrating eyes of affection ? That even-
ing, after tea, when Mr. Willcoxen had retired to his own apart-
ment, and the waiter had replenished the fire and trimmed the
lamps and retired, leaving the young couple alone in the parlor
Miriam sitting on one side of the circular work-table bending
over her sewing, and Paul on the other side with a book in his
hand, he suddenly laid the volume down, and went round and
drew a chair to Miriam's side, and began to tell her how much
he loved her, how dear her happiness was to him, and to entreat
her to tell him the cause of her evident distress. As he spoke,
she became paler than death, and suddenly and passionately
exclaimed,
" Oh, Paul ! Paul ! do not question me ! You know not
what you ask."
" My own Miriam, what mean you ? I ought to know."
" Oh, Paul ! Paul ! I am one foredoomed, to bring misery
and destruction upon all who love me ; upon all whom I love."
" My own dearest, you are ill, and need change, and you
shall have it, Miriam," he said, attempting to soothe her with
that gentle, tender loving manner he ever used towards her.
But shuddering sighs convulsed her bosom, and,
" Oh, Paul ! Paul !" was all she said.
" Is it that promise that weighs upon your mind, Miriam F
Oast it out ; you cannot fulfill it ; impossibilities are not
duties."
"Oh, Paul! would Heaven it were impossible I or that I
ire**e dead."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 565
" Miriam 1 where are those letters you wished to show me ?'
" Oh 1 do not ask me, Paul 1 not yet ! not yet I I dread to
see them. And yet who knows ? they may relieve this dread-
ful suspicion ! they may point to another probability," sho
said, incoherently.
" Just get me those letters, dear Miriam," he urged gently.
She arose, tottering, and left the room, and after an absence
of fifteen minutes, returned with the packet in her hand.
" These seals have not been broken since my mother closed
them," said Miriam, as she proceeded to open the parcel.
The first she came to was the bit of a note without date or
signature, making the fatal appointment.
" This, Paul," she said mournfully, " was found in the pocket
of the dress Marian wore at Luckenough, bnt changed at home
before she went out to walk the evening of her death. Mother
always believed that she went out to meet the appointment
made in that note."
" Paul took the paper with eager curiosity, to examine it.
He looked at it, started slightly, turned pale, shuddered, passed
his hand once or twice across his eyes, as if to clear his vision,
looked again, and then his cheeks blanched, his lips gradually
whitened and separated, his. eyes started, and his whole counte-
nance betrayed consternation and horror.
Miriam gazed upon him in a sort of hushed terror then
exclaimed,
" Paul ! Paul ! what is the matter ? You look as if you had
been turned to stone by gazing on the Gorgon's head ; Paul !
Paul !"
" Miriam, did your mother know this handwriting ?" he asked,
in a husky, almost inaudible voice.
" No 1"
1 Did she suspect it ?"
" Xo 1"
"Did yemknow or suspect it?"
" No ! I was a child when I received it, remember ; I have
never seen it since."
666 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Not when you put it in my hand, just now 7"
" No, I never looked at the writing ?"
" That was most strange, that you should not have glanced
at the handwriting when you handed it to me ; why didn't you !
Were you afraid to look at it ? Miriam ! why do you turn
away your head ? Miriam 1 answer me do you know the
handwriting?"
' ; No, Paul, I do not know it do you?"
" No 1 no ! how should I ? but Miriam, your head is still
averted. Your very voice is changed. Miriam I what mean
you ? tell me once for all. Do you suspect the handwriting?"
" How should I ? do you, Paul?"
11 No ! no ! I don't suspect it."
They seemed afraid to look each other in the face ; and well
they might be, for the written agony on either brow; they
seemed afraid to hear the sound of each other's words ; and well
they might be, for the hollow, unnatural sound of either voice.
" It cannot be ! I am crazy, I believe. Let me clear my
oh, Heaven ! Miriam 1 did was do you know whether there
was any one in particular on familiar terms with Miss
MayBeld ?"
"No one out of the family, except Miss Thornton."
" ' Out of the family' out of what family ?"
" Ours, at the cottage."
" Was did I wonder if my brother knew her intimately ?"
" I do not know; I never saw them in each other's company
but twice in my life."
The youth breathed a little freer."
" Why did you ask, Paul ?"
" No matter, Miriam. Oh 1 I was a wretch, a beast to
think"
"What, Paul?"
" There are such strange resemblances iu in in what are
you looking at me so for, Miriam ?"
" To find your meaning. In what, Paul ? Btrange resemblancei
In '
THE MISSING BRIDE. 567
"Why in faces."
"Why then so there are, and in persons also ; and sometimes
in fates ; but we were talking of handwritings, Paul."
" Were we ? oh, true, I am not quite right, Miriam. I
believe I have confined myself too much, and studied too hard.
1 am really out of sorts, never mind me ! please hand me those
foreign letters, love."
Miriam was unfolding and examining them ; but all in a sold,
stony; -unnatural way.
"Paul," she asked, "wasn't it just eight years this spring
Rrnce your brother went to Scotland to fjtch you ?"
" Yes, why ?"
" Wasn't it to Glasgow that he went?"
"Yes, why?"
"Were not you there together in March and A{\ril, 182- ?"
" Once more, yes ! why do you inquire ?"
"Because all these foreign letters directed to Marian, are
postmarked Glasgow, and dated March or April, 182-"
With a low, stifled cry, and a sudden spriiig, he snatched the
packet from her hand, tore open the first letter that presented
itseF, and ran his strained, blood-shotten eyes down the lines.
fly,f suppressed, deep groans like those wrung by torture from
a "trong man's heart, burst from his pale lips, and great drops
of sweat beaded on his agonized forehead ; and then he
crushed the letters together in his hand, and held them tightly,
unconsciously, while his starting eyes were fixed on vacancy,
and his frozen lips muttered,
" In u fit of frantic passion, anger, jealousy, even he might
have been maddened to the pitch of doing such a thing ! but aa
an act of base policy, as an act of forethought, oh! never,
never, never !"
" Paul 1 Paul ! speak to me, Paul. Tell me what you thiuk,
I have had foreshadowings long. I can bear silence aud un
certainty no longer. What find you in those letters ? Oh,
noeak, or my heart will burst, Paul."
He gave no heed to her or her words, but remained like on
568 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OH,
impaled ; still, fixed, yet writhing, his features, his whole form
and expression discolored, distorted with inward agony.
" Paul ! Paul I" cried Miriam, starting up, standing before
him, gazing on him : " Paul ! speak to me. Your looks kill
me. Speak, Paul ! even though you can tell me little new. I
know it all, Paul ; or nearly all. Weeks ago I received the
shock ! it overwhelmed me for the time ; but I survived it ! but
yon, Paul ! you ! Oh 1 how you look ! Speak to your sister,
Paul 1 Speak to your promised wife."
But he gave no heed to her. She was not strong or assured
she felt herself tottering on the very verge of death or mad-
ness but she could not bear to see him looking so once more
she essayed to engage his attention.
" Give me those letters, Paul I can perhaps make out the
meaning." '
As he did not reply, she gently sought to take them from his
Hand. But at her touch he suddenly started up and threw
the packet into the fire. With a quick spring Miriam darted
forward, thrust her hand into the fire, and rescued the packet,
scorched and burning, but not destroyed.
She began to put it out, regardless of the pain to her hands,
He looked as if he were tempted to snatch it from her, but she
exclaimed,
" No, Paul I no ! you will not use force to deprive me of this
that I must guard as a sacred trust."
Still Paul hesitated, and eyed the packet with a gloomy
glance.
" Remember honor, Paul, even in this trying moment," said
Miriam ; " let honor be saved, if all else be lost."
" What do you mean to do with that parcel ?" he asked in a
hollow voice.
"Keep them securely for the present."
" And afterwards ?"
" I know not."
41 Miriam, y^u evade my questions. Will you promise ma
one thing ?"
THE MISSING BRIDE. 569
" What is that ?"
" Promise me to do nothing with those letters until you hav
farther evidence."
"I promise you that."
Then Paul took up a candle an<3 left the room, as if to go to
his sleeping apartment ; but on reaching the hall, he threw
down and extinguished the light, and rushed as if for breath
out into the open air.
The night was keen and frosty, the cold, slaty sky waa
thickly studded with sparkling stars, the snow was crusted over
it was a fine, fresh, clear, wintry night at another time it
would have invigorated and inspired him now the air secured
stifling, the scene hateful.
The horrible suspicion of his brother's criminality had entered
his heart for the first time, and it had come with the shock of
certainty. The sudden recognition of the handwriting, the
strange revelations of the foreign letters, had not only in them-
selves been a terrible disclosure, but had struck the whole " elec*
trie chain" of memory and association, and called up in living
force many an incident and circumstance heretofore strange and
iucc*nprehensible ; but now only too plain and indicative. The
whole of Thurston's manner the fatal day of the assassination
his abstraction, his anxious haste to get away on the plea of
most urgent business in Baltimore business that never was
afterwards heard of his mysterious absence of the whole night
from his grand farhet's death-bed provoking conjecture at
the time, and unaccounted for to this day his haggard and
distracted looks upon returning late the next morning his in-
curable sorrow his habit of secluding himself upon the anni-
rersary of that crime and now the damning evidence in thes*
letters I Among them, and the first he looked at, was the let-
ter Thurston had written Marian, to persuade her to accompany
him to France, in the course of which his marriage with her
was repeatedly acknowledged, being incidentally introduced ad
an argument in favor of her compliance with his wishes.
Yet Paul could not believe the crime ever premeditated it
570 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
was sudden, unintentional, consummated in a lover's quarrel, in
a St of jealousy, rage, disappointment, madness ! Stumbling
upon half the truth, he said to himself,
"Perhaps failing to persuade her to fly with him to France^
he had attempted to carry her off, and being foiled, had tempo
rarily lost his self-control, "his very sanity that would account
for all that had seemed so strange in his conduct the day and
night of the assassination, and the morning after."
There was agony there was madness in the pursuit of the
investigation. Oh ! pitying heavens, how thought and grief
surged and seethed in aching heart and burning brain !
And Miriam's promise to her dying mother Miriam's pro-
mise to bring the criminal to justice ! would she could she now
abide by its obligations ? could she prosecute her benefactor,
her adopted brother, for murder? could her hand be raised to
burl him down from his pride of place to shame and death ? No,
no, no, no ! the vow must be broken, must be evaded, the right,
even if it were the right, must be transgressed, heaven offended
anything 1 anything ! anything but the exposure and sacrifice of
their brother ! If he had sinned, had he not repented ? did he
not suffer ? what right had she, his ward, his protege, his child, to
punish him ? " Vengeance is mine I will repay, saith the Lord. "
No, Miriam must not keep her vow ! She must ; she must ; she
must ; responded the moral sense, slow, measured, dispassionate,
as the regular fail of a clock's hammer. " I will myself prevent
her, I will find means, arguments and persuasions to act upon
her. I will so appeal to her affections, her gratitude, her com-
passion, her pride, her fears, her love for me I will so work
upon her heart tha* she will not find courage to keep her vow."
She will ; she will ; responded the deliberate conscience.
And so he walked up and down vainly the fresh wind fanned
his fevered brow vainly the sparkling stars glanced down from
holy heights upon him he found no coolness for his fever in
the air, no sedative for his anxiety in the stillness, no comfort
for his soul in the heavens he knew not whether he were in-
doors or out whether it were night or day, summer or winter
THE MISSING BEIDE. 571
he knew not, wrapped as he was in the mantle of his o\\u sad
thoughts, suffering as he was in the purgatory of his inner life.
While Paul walked up and down, like a maniac, Miriam re-
turned to her room to pace the floor until nearly morning, when
she threw herself exhausted upon the bed, fell into a heavy sleep,
and a third time, doubtless from nervous excitement or prostra>
tion, suffered a repetition orher singular vision, and awoke late
in the morning, with the words, " Perform thy vow," ringing in
her ears.
CHAPTER XLIII.
INDICTMENT.
" And yet he seems not overcome,
Although as yet his roice be dumb."
SEVERAL days passed in the gloomy mansion misnamed Dell-
Delight. Miriam and Paul avoided each other like death.
Both dreaded like death any allusion to the awful subject that
lay so heavy upon the heart of each. Paul, unacquainted with
her thoughts, and relying upon her promise to do nothing with
the letters without further evidence, contented himself with
watching her motions, feeling comparatively at ease as long as
she should remain in the house ; and being resolved to prevent
her from going forth, or to accompany her if she persisted in
leaving home.
With Miriam, the shock, the anguish, the struggle had well-
nigh passed ; she was at once subdued and resolved, like one
into whom some spirit had entered and bound her own spirit,
and acted through her. So strange did all appear to her, so
strange the impassiveness of her own will, of her habits and
affections, that should have rebelled and warred against her
purpose that she sometimes thought herself not herself, or
572 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
insane, or the subject of a monomania, or some strange hallucina*
tion, a dreamer, a somnambulist, perhaps. And yet with
matchless tact and discretion, she went about her deadly work.
She had prepared her plan of action, and now waited only for a
day very near at hand, the fourth of April, the anniversary of
Marian's assassination, to put Thurston to a final test before
proceeding further.
The day came at last it was cold and wintry for the season.
Towards evening, the sky became overcast with leaden clouds,
and the chill dampness penetrated into all the rooms of the old
mansion. Poor Fanny was muttering and moaning to herself
and her " spirits" over the wood fire in her distant room.
Mr. Willcoxen had not appeared since breakfast time. Mi-
riam remained in her own chamber ; and Paul wandered rest-
lessly from place to place through all the rooms of the house,
or threw himself wearily into his chair before the parlor fire.
Inclement as the weather was, he would have gone forth, but
that he too remembered the anniversary, and a nameless anxiety
connected with Miriam confined him to the house.
In the kitchen, the colored folks gathered around the fire,
grumbling at the unseasonable coldness of the weather, and
predicting a hail-storm, and telling each other that they never
" 'sperienced" such weather this time o' year, 'cept 'twas that
spring Old Marse died when no wonder, " 'siderin' how he
lived long o' Sam all his life."
Only old Jenny went in and out from house to kitchen. Old
Jenny had enough to do to carry wood to the various fires.
She had never "seed it so cold for de season nyther, 'cept 'twas
de spring Miss Marian went to hebben, and not a bit o' wonder de
yeth was cole arter she war gone de dear, lovin' heart warm
angel ; 'deed I wondered how it ever come summer again, an'
thought it was right down onsensible in her morning-glories to
bloom out jest de same as ever, arter she was gone ! An' what
minds me to speak o' Miss Marian now, it war jes' seven years
this night, since she 'parted 'dis life," said Jenny, as she stood
leaning her heac 1 upon the mantle-piece, and toasting her loea
THE MISSING BRIDE. 573
nt the kitchen fire, previous to carrying another armful of wooa
into the parlor.
Nighi and the storm descended together such a tempest !
snch a wild outbreaking of the elements 1 rain and hail, and snow
and wind, all warring upon the earth together the old house
shook, the doors and windows rattled, the timbers cracked, the
shingles were torn off and whirled aloft the trees were swayed
and snapped ; and as the storm increased in violence and roused
to fury, the forest beat before its might, and the waves rose and
overflowed the low land.
Still old Jenny went in and out from house to kitchen and
kitchen to house, carrying wood, water, meat, bread, sauce,
sweetmeats, arranging the table for supper, replenishing the
fire, lighting the candles, letting down the curtains and trying
to make everything cozy and comfortable for the reassembling
of the fireside circle. Poor old Jenny had passed so much of her
life in the family with " the white folks," that all her sympathies
went with them and on the state of their spiritual atmosphere
depended all her cheerfulness and comfort ; and now the cool,
distant, sorrowful condition of the members of the little family-
circle "ebry single mudder's son and darter ob 'em, superam-
balated off to derself like pris'ners in a jail-house" as she
said depressed her spirits very much. Jenny's reaction from
depression was always querulous. And towards the height of
the storm, there was a reaction and she grew very quarrelsome.
" Sam's waystin'* roun' in dere," said Jenny, as she thrust
her feet into the kitchen fire, before carrying in the urn ; " Sam's
svaystin', I tells you all good! all werry quiet dough no noise,
no fallin' out, no 'sputin' nor nothin' all quiet as de yeth jest
afore a debbil ob a storm nobody in de parlor 'ccpt 'tis
Marse Paul, settin' right afore de parlor fire, wid one long leg
poked east and toder west, wid the boots on de andirons like a
spread-eagle I lookin' as glum as if I owed him a yoar's sarvice,
an' uebber so much as a-sayin', 'Jenny, you poor old debbii,
W&.rsting going up and down.
574 HIBIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
aint; you a-cold ?' an' me coming in ebry minnit wid the icicles
a-jinglin' J roun' my linsey-woolsey skurts, like de diamonds on
de Wirgin Mary's Sunday gown. But Sam's waystin* now, I
tells you all good. Lors Gemini, what a storm."
" I 'members of no sich since dat same storm as dc debbil
come in to fetch ole marse's soul dis berry night seven year
past, an' he carried of him off all in a suddint whiff 1 jist like a
puff of win'. An' no wonder, seein' how he done traded his
Boul to him for money 1"
" An' Sam's here ag'in to-night 1 dunno who he's come arteri
but he's here, now, I tells you all good!" said Jenny, as she
took up the urn to carry into the parlor.
When she got there she could scarcely get to the fire ; Paul
took up the front. His immobility and unconsciousness irri-
tated Jenny beyond silent endurance.
" I tell you all what," she said, " I means to 'sign my sitewa-
tion ! 'deed me 1 I can't kill mysef for dem as wouldn't even
care 'nough for me to have a mass said for de 'pose o' my soul."
" What do you mean ?" asked Paul, angrily, for confinement,
solitude, bad weather, and anxiety, had combined to make him
querulous too.
" I means how ef yer doesn't have a kivered way made fron,
de house to de kitchen an' back agHn, I gwine give up waitin ;
on de table, now mine I tell yer, 'deed me ! an' now ef you
likes, yer may jes' go an' tell Marse Rooster."
" ' Marse Rooster!' " will you ever give up that horrid non-
sense. Why you old 1 Is my brother is your master a
barn-door chicken-cock, that you call him ' Rooster ?' " asked
the young man, snappishly.
"Well, Shrooster, den, ef you wants me to wring my tongue
in two Ef people's sponsors in baptism will gib der chillun
such heathen names, how de debbil any Christian 'ornan gwine
to twis' her tongue roun' it ? I thanks my 'Vine Marster dat
my sponsors in baptism named me arter de bressed an' hooly
S'int Jane who has 'stained an' Vported me all my days ; an'
'ill detect *.ow, dough you do try to break my poor ole heart
THE MISSING BEIDE. 575
long wid onkindness at my ole ages o' life ! But what's de use
o' talkin' Sam's waystin' !" And so saying, Jenny gave the
finishing touches to the arrangement of the table, and then
seized the bell, and rang it with rather needless vigor and vio-
lence, to bring the scattered members of the family together.
They came slowly and singly and drew around the table,
more like ghosts than living persons a few remarks upon the
Btorm and then they sunk into silence and as soon as the
gloomy meal was over, one by one they dropped away from the
room first went poor Fanny, then Mr. Willcoxen, then Miriam.
" Where are you going, Miriam ?" asked Paul, as the latter
was leaving the room.
"To my chamber."
And before he could farther question, or longer detain her,
she pressed his hand and went out. And Paul, with a deep
sigh and a strangely foreboding heart, sank back into his seat.
When Miriam reached her bed-room, she carefully closed and
locked the door, went to her bureau, opened the top-drawer,
and took from it a small oblong mahogany glove-box. She
unlocked the latter, and took out a small parcel, which she un-
wrapped and laid before her upon the bureau.
It was the xyphias poniard.
The weapon had come into her possession some time before
in the following manner : During the first winter of Paul
Douglass's absence from home, Mr. Willcoxen had emancipated
several of his slaves and provided means for their emigration to
Liberia. They were to sail early in March. Among the num-
ber was Melchisedek. A few days previous to their departure,
this man had come to the house, and sought the presence of his
youthful mistress, when he knew her to be alone in the parlor,
and with a good deal of mystery and hesitation had laid before
her a dagger which he said he should rather have given to
"Marster Paul," if the latter had been at home. He had
picked it up near the water's edge on the sands the night of
Miss Mayfield's death, which "Marster" had taken so to heart,
taat \Q was afraid to harrow up his feelings by bringing it to
576 MIEIAM, THE AVENGEE; OR,
him a second time but that as it was an article of value, he
did not like to take it away with him. And he begged Miss
Miriam to take charge of it. And Miriam had taken it, and
with surprise, but without the slightest suspicion, had read the
name of " Thurston Willcoxen" carved upon its handle. To
all her questions, Melchisedek had given evasive answers, or
remained obstinately silent being determined not to betray
his master's confidence by revealing his share in the events of that
fatal night. Miriam had taken the little instrument, wrapped
it carefully in paper, and locked it in her old-fashioned long
glove-box. And from that day to this she had not opened it.
Now, however, she had taken it out with a fixed purpose,
and she stood and gazed upon it. Presently she took it up,
rolled it in the paper, took her lamp, and slowly left her room, and
passed along the passages leading to Mr. Willcoxen's library.
The storm howled and raved as she went, and the strong
blast, driving through the dilapidated window-sashes, nearly ex-
tinguished her light before she reached the study door.
She blew out the light and set down the lamp, and rapped
at the door. Again and again she rapped, without awakening
any response from within.
Then she turned the latch, opened the door, and entered.
No wonder she had received no answer.
The abstracted man before her seemed dead to every sight
and sound around him. He sat before the table in the middle
of the room, his elbow on the mahogany; his face bowed upon
his hand, his haggard countenance revealing a still, speechless
despair as awful as it was profound.
Miriam approached and stood by him, her breath went by
.iis cheek, so near she stood, and yet her presence was unheeded
She stooped to see the object upon which he gazed the object
that now shut out all the world from his sight it was a long
bright tress of golden auburn hair.
"Mr. Willcoxen!"
He did not hear her how should he hear her low tones, when
he heard not the cannonading of the storm that shook the housa
to its foundation ?
THE MISSING BEIDE. 577
"Mr. Willcoxen!" she said once more.
But he moved not a muscle.
" Mr. Willcoxen !" she repeated, laying her hand upon his arm.
lie looked up. The expression of haggard despair softened
cut of his countenance.
"Is it you, my dear?" he said. "What has brought you
here, Miriam ? Were you afraid of the storm ? There is no
danger, dear child it has nearly expended its force, and will
goon be over but sit down."
" Oh, no ! it is not the storm that has brought me hera
though I scarcely remember a storm so violent at this seasoL
of the year, except one this night seven years ago the night
that Marian Mayfield was murdered !"
He started it is true that he had been thinking of the same
dread tragedy but to hear it suddenly mentioned, pierced him
like an unexpected sword thrust.
Miriam proceeded speaking in a strange, level, monotone-
as if unwilling or afraid to trust her voice far,
"I came this evening to restore a small but costly article of
virtu, belonging to you, and left in my care some time ago, by
the boy Melchisedek. It is an antique dagger somewhat
rusty and spotted here it is."
And she laid the poniard down upon the tress of hair before
him.
He sprang up as \ T it had been a viper his whole frame
shook, and the perspii atioii started from his livid forehead.
Miriam, keeping her eye upon him, took the dagger up.
"It is very rusty, and very much streaked," she said. "I
wonder what these dark streaks can be ? They run along the
edge, from the extreme point of the blade, upwards towards
the handle they look to me like the stains of blood as if a
murdere" had stabbed his victim with it, and in his Last? to
escape, had forgotten to wipe the blade, but had left the bkod
upon it, to curdle and corrode the steel see ! dor.'t it look so to
you ?" she said, approaching him, and holding the weapon up to
his view.
36
578 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" Girl ! girl ! what do you mean ?" he exclaimed, throwing
his hand across his eyes, and hurrying across the room.
Miriam flung do\vn the weapon with a force that made its
mettle ring upon the floor, and hastening after him, she stood
before him ; her dark eyes fixed upon his, streaming with insuf-
ferable and consuming fire, that seemed to burn through into
his brain. She said,
" I have heard of fiends in the human shape, nay, I have
heard of Satan in the guise of an angel of light ! Are you such
that stand before me now?"
" Miriam, what do you mean ?" he asked, in sorrowful aston-
ishment.
" THIS is what I mean ! That the mystery of Marian May-
field's fate, the secret of your long remorse, is no longer hidden !
I charge you with the murder of Marian Mayfield 1"
" Miriam, you are mad !"
" Oh ! well for me and better still for you if I were mad 1"
He was tremendously shaken, more by the vivid memories
she recalled, than by the astounding charge she made.
" In the name of Heaven, what leads you to imagine such
impossible guilt !"
" Good knowledge of the facts that this month, eight years
ago, in the little Methodist chapel of the navy yard, in Wash-
ington City, you made Marian Mayfield your wife that this
night seven years since, in just such a storm as this, on the beach
below Pine Bluff, you met and murdered Marian Willcoxen !
And, moreover, I assure you, that these facts which I tell you
now, to-morrow I will lay before a magistrate, together with all
the corroborating proof in my possesssion I"
" And what proof can you have ?"
" A gentleman who, unknown and unsuspected, witnessed the
private marriage ceremony between yourself and Marian ; a
packet of French letters, written by yourself from Glasgow, to
Marian, in St. Mary's, in the spring of 1823; a note found in
the pocket of her dress, appointing the fatal meeting on the
beac'i at which she perished. Tvo physicians, who can testify
THE MISSING BRIDE. 579
to jour unaccountable absence from the death-bed of your pa-
rent on the night of the murder, and also to the distraction of
your manner when you returned late the next morning."
" And this," said Thurston, gazing in mournful amazement
upon her; "this is the child that I have nourished and brought
up in my house ! She can believe me guilty of such atrocious
crime she can aim at my honor and my life such a deadly
blow?"
" Alas ! alas ! it is my duty ! it is my fate ! I cannot escape
it ! I have bound my soul by a fearful oath ! I cannot evade it !
I shall not survive it ! Oh, all the Heaven is black with doom,
and all the earth tainted with blood !" cried Miriam, wildly.
" You are insane, poor girl ! you are insane !" said Thurston,
pityingly.
"Would Heaven I were! would Heaven I were! but I am
not ! I am not ! Too well I remember I have bound my soul by
an oath to seek out Marian's destroyer, and deliver him up to
death ! And I must do it ! I must do it ! though my heart
break as it will break in the act!"
" And you believe me to be guilty of this awful crime!"
" There stands the fearful evidence*! Would Heaven it did
not exist 1 oh ! would Heaven it did not !"
"Listen to me, dear Miriam," he said calmly, for he had now
recovered his self-possession. " Listen to me I am perfectly
guiltless of the crime you impute to me. How is it possible
that I could be otherwise than guiltless. Hear me explain the
circumstances that have come to your knowledge," and he at-
tempted to take her hand to lead her to a seat. But with a
slight scream, she snatched her hand away, saying wildly,
" Touch me not ! your touch thrills me to sickness ! to faint-
cess ! curdles turns back the current of blood in my veins !"
" You think this hand a blood-stained one r"
"Th3 evidence ! the evidence !"
" I can explain that evidence. Miriam, my child, sit down
at any distance from me you please only let it be near enough
for you to he*r. Did I believe you quite sane, Miriam, grief
580 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
and anger might possibly seal my lips upon this subject but
believing you partially deranged from illness and other causes
I will defend myself to you. Sit down and hear me."
Miriam dropped into the nearest chair.
Mr. Willcoxen took another, and commenced
" You have received some truth, Miriam. How it has been
presented to you, I will not ask now. I may presently. I was
married, as you have somehow ascertained, to Marian Mayfield,
just before going to Europe. I corresponded with her from
Glasgow. I did appoint a meeting with her on the beach, upon
the fatal evening in question for what purpose that meeting
was appointed, it is bootless to tell you, since the meeting never
took place for some hours before I should have set out to
keep my appointment, my grandfather was stricken with apo-
plexy. I did not wish to leave his bedside until the arrival of
the doctor. But when the evening wore on, and the storm ap-
proached, I grew uneasy upon Marian's account, and sent Mel-
chisedek in the gig to fetch her from the beach to this house
never to leave it. Miriam, the boy reached the sands only to
find her dying. Terrified half out of his senses, he hurrieu
back and told me this story. I forgot my dying relative for-
got everything, but that my wife lay wounded and exposed on
the beach. I sprung upon horseback, and galloped with all
possible haste to the spot. By the time I had got there the
storm had reached its height, and the beach was completely
covered with the boiling waves. My Marian had been carried
away. I spent the wretched night in wandering up and down
the bluff above the beach, and calling on her name. In the
morning I returned home to find my grandfather dead, and the
family and physicians wondering at my strange absence at such
a time. That, Miriam, is the story."
Miriam made no comment whatever. Mr. Willcoxen seemed
surprised and grieved at her silence.
" What have you now to say, Miriam ?"
"Nothing."
" ' Nothing ?'--what do you think of my explanation 7 M
THE MISSING BRIDE. 581
"I think nothing. My mind is in an agony of donbt and
conjecture. I must be governed by stern facts not by my own
prepossessions. I must act upon the evidences in my posses-
sion not upon your explanation of them," said Miriam dis-
tractedly, as she arose to leave the room.
" And you will denounce me, Miriam ?"
" It is my insupportable duty ! it is my fate ! my doom ! for
it will kill me !"
" Yet you will do it 1"
"I will."
"Yet turn, dear Miriam ! Look on me once more! take my
hand ! since you act from necessity, do nothing from anger
turn and take my hand."
She turned and stood such a picture of tearless agony ! She
met his gentle, compassionate glance it melted it subdued her.
" Oh ! would Heaven that I might die, rather than do this
thing 1 would Heaven I might die ! for my heart turns \o you ;
it turns, and I love you so oh ! I love you so ! never, never
so much as now ! my brother ! my brother 1" and she sunk down
and seized his hands and wept over them.
" What, Miriam 1 do you love me, believing me to be guilty ?"
"To have been guilty not to be guilty you have suffered
remorse you have repented, these many long and wretched
years. Oh 1 surely repentance washes out guilt !"
" And you can now caress and weep over my hands, believ.
ing them to have been crimsoned with the life-stream of you*
first and best friend ?"
"Yes! yes! yes! yes! Oh! would these tears, my very
heart sobs forth, might wash them pure again! Yes! yesl
whether you be guilty or not, my brother ! the more I listen to
my heait, the more I love you, and I cannot help it 1"
" It is because your heart is so much wiser than your head,
dear Miriam ! Your heart divines the guiltlessness that your
region refuses to credit ! Do what you feel that you must, dear
Miriam but, in the meantime, let us still be brother and si*te
embrace me once more."
582
MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"With anguish bordering on insanity, she threw herself into
his s.rm& for a moment was pressed to his heart, and then
breaking away, she escaped from the room to her own chamber.
And there, with her half-crazed brain and breaking heart like
one acting or forced to act in a ghastly dream, she began to
arrange her evidence collect the letters, the list of witnesses
and all, preparatory to setting forth upon her fatal mission in
the morning.
With the earliest dawn of morning, Miriam left her room.
In passing the door of Mr. Willcoxen's chamber, she suddenly
stopped a spasm seized her heart, and convulsed her features
she clasped her hands to pray, then, as if there were wild
mockery in the thought, flung them fiercely apart, and hurried
on her way. She felt that she was leaving the house never to
return, she thought that she should depart without encountering
any of its inmates. She was surprised, therefore, to meet Paul
in the fttfnt passage. He came up and intercepted her
" Where are you going so early, Miriam ?"
"To Colonel Thornton's."
" What ? before breakfast ?"
"Yes."
He took both of her hands, and looked into her face her
pallid face with all the color concentrated in a dark crimson
spot upon either cheek with all the life burning deep down in
the contracted pupils of the eyes.
"Miriam, you are not well come, go into the parlor," he
Baid, and attempted to draw her towards the door.
" No, Paul, no ! I must go out," she said, resisting his efforts.
"But why?"
" What is it to you ? Let me go."
" It is everything to me, Miriam, because I suspect your er-
rand. Come into the parlor. This madness must not go on."
"Well, perhaps I am mad, and my words and acts may go
for nothing. I hope it may be so."
" Miriam, I must talk with you not here for we are liablu
to be interrupted every instant. Come into the parlor, at least
f or a few moments."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 583
She no longer resisted that slight plea, but suffered him to
fcad her in. He gave her a seat, and took one beside her, and
took her hand in his, and began to urge her to give up her
fatal purpose. He appealed to her, through reason, through
religion, through all the strongest passions and affections of her
soul through her devotion to her guardian through the gra-
titude she owed him through their mutual love, that must be
sacrificed, if her insane purpose should be carried out. To all
this she answered,
" I think of nothing concerning myself, Paul I think only
of him, there is the anguish."
" You are insane, Miriam ; yet, crazy as you are, you may do
a great deal of harm much to Thurston, but much more to
yourself. It its not probable that the evidence you think you
have, will be considered by any magistrate of sufficient import-
ance to be acted upon against a man of Mr.,Willcoxen's life
and character."
" Heaven grant that such may be the case."
" Attend ! collect your thoughts the evidence you produce
will probably be considered unimportant and quite unworthy
of attention ; but what will be thought of you who volunteer
to offer it ?"
" I had not reflected upon that and now you mention it, I
do not care."
" And if, on the other hand, the testimony which you have
to offer, be considered ground for indictment, and Thurston is
brought to trial, and acquitted, as he surely would be "
" Aye ! Heaven send it !"
"And the whole affair blown all over the country how
would you appear ?"
" I know not, and care not, so he is cleared ; Heaven grant
I may be the only sufferer ! I am willing to take the infamy."
" You would be held up before the world as an ingrate, a
domestic traitress, and unnatural monster. You would be hated
of all your name and history become a tradition of almost
impossible wickedness."
584 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
" Ha ! why, do you think, that in snch an hour as this, I cart
for myself ? No, no ! no, no ! Heaven grant that it may be
as you say that iny brother be acquitted, and I only may
suffer ! I am willing to suffer shame and death for him whom
I denounce ! Let me go, Paul ; I have lost too much time
here."
" Will nothing induce you to abandon this wicked purpose ? H
" Nothing on earth, Paul 1"
" Nothing ?"
"No ! so help me Heaven ! Give way let me go, Paul."
" You must not go, Miriam."
" I must and will and that directly stand aside."
" Then you shall not go."
" Shall not ?"
"I said SHALL not."
"Who will prevent me?"
"/will ! You are a maniac, Marian, and must be restrar o.rt
from going abroad, and setting the county in a conflagration."
"You will have to guard me very close for the whole of my
life, then."
At that moment the door was quietly opened, and Mr. Will-
coxen entered.
Miriam's countenance changed fearfully, but she wrung her
hand from the clasp of Paul's, and hastened towards the door.
Paul sprang forward and intercepted her.
"What does this mean ?" asked Mr. Willcoxen, steppi 7 gup
to them.
" It means that she is mad, and will do herself or somebody
else much mischief," cried Paul, sharply
" For shame, Paul ! Release her instantly," said Thurston,
authoritatively.
" Would you release a lunatic, bent upon setting the house
on fire?" expostulated the young man, still holding her.
" She is no lunatic; let her go instantly, sir."
Paul, with a groan, complied.
Miram hastened onward, cast one look of anguish back to
THE MISSING BRIDE.
585
Thurston's face, rushed back, and threw herself upon her knees
at his feet, clasped his hands, and cried,
"I do not ask you to pardon me I dare not! But God
deliver you ! if it brand me and my accusation with infamy !
and God forever bless you !" then rising, she fled from tha
room.
The brothers looked at each other.
" Thurston, do you know where she has gone ? what she in
tends to do ?"
"Yes."
"You do?"
"Assuredly."
"And you would not prevent her?"
" Most certainly not."
Paul was gazing into his brother's eyes, and, as he gazed,
every vestige of doubt and suspicion vanished from his mind ;
it was like the sudden clearing up of the sky, and shining forth
of the sun ; he grasped his brother's hands with cordial joy.
" God bless you, Thnrston ! I echo her prayer. God for-
ever bless you ! But, Thurston, would it not have been wiser
to prevent her going out ?"
" How ? would you have used force with Miriam ? restrained
her personal liberty ?"
" Yes ! I would have done so 1"
" That would have been not only wrong, but useless ; for
if her strong affections for us were powerless to restrain her, be
sure that physical means would fail ; she would make herself
heard in some way, and thus make our cause much worse. Be-
sides I should loathe, for myself, to resort to any such expe
dients."
" But she may do so much harm. And you ?'
" I am prepared to meet what comes !"
' Strange infatuation ! that she should believe you to be-*
I will not wrong you by finishing the sentence."
' She does not at heart believe me guilty her mind is in a
storm. She i= bound by her oath to act upon the evidenct
586 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
rather than ::pon her own feelings, and that evidence is much
stronger against me, Paul, than you have any idea of. Come
into my study, and I will tell you the whole story."
And Paul followed him thither.
Some hours later in that day, Colonel Thornton was sitting,
in his capacity of police magistrate, in his office at C . The
room was occupied by about a dozen persons, men and women,
black and white. He had just got through with one or two
petty cases of debt or theft, and had up before him a poor, half-
starved " White Herring," charged with sheep-stealing ; when
the door opened, and a young girl, closely veiled, entered and
took a seat in the farthest corner from the crowd. The case of
the poor man was soon disposed of the evidence was not po
Bitive the compassionate magistrate leaned to the side of
mercy, and the man was discharged, and went home most pro-
bably to dine upon mutton. This being the last case, the ma-
gistrate arose and ordered the room to be cleared of all who
had no further business with him.
When the loungers had left the police office, the young girl
came forward, stood before the magistrate, and raised her veil,
revealing the features of Miriam.
" Good morning, Miss Shields," said Colonel Thornton; and
neither the countenance nor manner of this suave and stately
gentleman of the old school, revealed the astonishment he really
felt on seeing the young lady in such a place. He arose, and
courteously placed her a chair, reseated himself, and turned
towards her, and respectfully awaited her communication.
" Colonel Thornton, you remember Miss Mayfield, and the
mauner of her death, that made some stir here about seven
years ago ?"
The face of the old gentleman suddenly grew darkened and
slightly convulsed, as the face of the sea when clouds and wind
pass over it.
" Yes, young lady, I remember."
"Ih\v come to denounce her murderer."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 587
Colonel Thornton took up his pen, and drew towards him a
blank form of a writ, and sat looking towards her, and waiting
for her further words.
Her bosom heaved, her face worked, her voice was choked
and unnatural, as she said
" You will please to issue a warrant for the arrest of Thurston
Willcoxen."
Colonel Thornton laid down his pen, arose from his seat,
and took her hand and gazed upon her with an expression oi
blended surprise and compassion.
" My dear young lady, you are not very vvell. May I inquire
are your friends in town, or are you here alone ?"
" I am here alone. Nay, I am not mad, Colonel Thornton,
although your looks betray that you think me so."
"No, no, not mad, only indisposed," said the Colonel, in no
degree modifying his opinion.
" Colonel Thornton, if there is anything strange and eccen-
tric in my looks and manner, you must set it down to the
strangeness of the position in which I am placed."
" My dear young lady, Miss Thornton is at the hotel to-day.
Will you permit me to take you to her ?"
" You will do as you olease, Colonel Thornton, after you
shall have heard my testimony, and examined the proofs I have
to lay before you. Then I shall permit you to judge of my
soundness of mind as you will, premising, however, that my
sanity or insanity, can have no possible effect upon the proofs
that I submit," she said, laying a packet upon the table between
them.
Something in her manner now compelled the magistrate to
give her words an attention for which he blamed himself, as for
a gross wrong, towards his favorite clergyman.
"Do I understand you to charge M.. Willcoxen with the
deatn of Miss Mayiield ?"
" Yes," said Miriam, bowing her head.
" What cause, young lady, can you possibly have, for making
uch a monstrous and astounding accusation ?''
588 MIRIAM, THE' AVENGER; OR,
" I came here for the purpose of telling you, if yon will per-
mit me. Nor do I. since you doubt my reason, ask you to be
lieve my statement, unsupported by proof."
" Go on, young lady ; I am all attention."
" Will you administer the usual oath ?"
" No, Miss Shields. I will hear your story first in the capa-
city of friend."
"And you think that the only capacity in which you will be
called upon to act? "Well, may Heaven grant it," said Miriam,
and she began, and told him all the facts that had recently
come to her knowledge, ending by placing the packet of letters
in his hands.
While she spoke, Colonel Thornton's pen was busy making
minutes of her statements ; when she had concluded, he laid
down the pen, and turning to her, asked,
" You believe, then, that Mr. Willcoxen committed this
murder ?"
"I know not I act only upon the evidence."
" Circumstantial evidence, often as delusive as it is fatal \
Do you think it possible that Mr. Willcoxen could have medi-
tated such a crime ?"
" No, no, no, no ! never meditated it ! if he committed it,
it was unpremeditated, unintentional; the accident of some
lover's quarrel, some frenzy of passion, jealousy, I know not
what!",
"Let me ask you, then, why you volunteer to prosecute ?"
"Because I must do so. But tell me, do you think what I
have advanced trivial and unimportant?" asked Miriam, in a
hopeful tone, for little she thought of herself, if only her obli-
gation were discharged, and her brother still unharmed."
" On the contrary, I think it so important as to constrain my
instant attention, and oblige me to issue a warrant for the ap-
prehension of Mr. Thurston Willcoxen," said Colonel Thornton,
as he wrote rapidly, filling out several blank documents. Vhew
he rang a bell, that was answered by the entrance of several
police officers. To the first he gave a warrant, saying,
THE MISSING BKIDE. 589
"You will serve this immediately npon Mr. Willcoxen."
And to another he gave some half dozen subpoanas, saying,
" You will serve all these between this time and twelve to-
morrow."
When these functionaries were all discharged, Miriam arose
mid went to the magistrate.
" "What do you think of the testimony ?"
"It is more than sufficient to commit Mr. Willcoxen for
trial ; it may cost him his life."
A sudden paleness passed over her face ; she turned to leave
the office, but the hand of death seemed to clutch her heart,
arresting its pulsations, stopping the current of her blood,
smothering her breath, and she fell to the floor.
Wearily passed the day at Dell-Delight. Thurston, as usual,
sitting reading or writing at his library table. Paul rambling
uneasily about the house, now taking up a book and attempting
to read, now throwing it down in disgust. Sometimes almost
irresistibly impelled to spring upon his horse and gallop to
Charlotte Hall then restraining his strong impulse lest some-
thing important should transpire at home during his absence.
So passed the day until the middle of the afternoon.
Paul was walking up and down the long piazza, indifferent
for the first time in his life to the loveliness of the soft April
atmosphere, that seemed to blend, raise and idealize the features
of the landscape until earth, water and sky were harmonized
into celestial beauty. Paul was growing very anxious for the
reappearance of Miriam, or for some news of her or her errand,
yet dreading every moment an arrival of another sort. " Where
could the distracted girl be. Would her report be received
and acted upon by the magistrate ? if so, what would be done ?
how would it all end? would Thurston sleep in his own house
or in a prison that night? When would Miriam return?
Would she ever return, after having assumed such a task as she
had taken upon herself."
These and other questions presented themselves every mo-
590 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
raent, as he walked up and down the piazza, keeping an ey
upon the distant road.
Presently a cloud of dust in the distance arrested both his
attention and his promenade, and brought his anxiety to a crisis
lie soon perceived a single horseman galloping rapidly down
tbe road, and never removed his eyes until the horseman turned
iuto the gate and galloped swiftly up to the house.
Then with joy Paul recognized the rider, and ran eagerly
down the stairs to give him welcome, and reached the paved
walk just as Cloudy drew rein and threw himself from the
saddle.
The meeting was a cordial, joyous one with Cloudy, it was
sincere, unmixed joy ; with Paul, it was only a pleasant surprise
and a transient forgetfulncss. Rapid questions were asked
and answered, as they hurried into the house.
Cloudy's ship had been ordered home sooner than had been
expected ; he had reached Norfolk a week before, B that
afternoon, and had immediately procured a horse and hurried
on home. Hence his unlooked-for arrival.
" How is Thurston ? how is Miriam ? How are they all at
Luckenough ?"
" All are well ; the family at Luckenough are absent in the
south, but are expected home every week."
" And where is Miriam ?"
" At the village."
"And Thurston?"
" In his library, as usual," said Paul, and touched the bell to
summon a messenger to send to Mr. Willcoxen.
" Have you dined, Cloudy ?"
" Yes, no I ate some bread and cheese at the village ; don't
fuss, I'd rather wait till supper-time."
The door opened, and Mr. Willcoxen entered.
Whatever secret anxiety might have weighed upon the mm
ister's heart, no sign of it was suffered to appear upon Lia
countenance, as smiling cordially, he came in holding out his
hand to welcome his cousin and early playmate, expressing
iaual surprise and pleasure at seeing him.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 591
Cloudy had to g. over the ground of explanation of his
midden arrival, and by the time he had finished, old Jenny earne
in laughing and wriggling with joy to see him. But Jenny did
not remain long in the parlor, she hurried out into the kitchen
to express her feelings professionally by preparing a welcome
feast.
' And you are not married yet, Thurston, as great a favorite
as you are with the ladies ? How is that ? Every time I come
home, I expect to be presented to a Mrs. Willcoxen, and never
am gratified ; why is that?"
"Perhaps I believe in the celibacy of the clergy."
" Perhaps you have never recovered the disappointment of
losing Miss Le Roy ?"
"Ah! Cloudy, people who live in glass houses, should not
throw stones; I suspect you judge me by yourself? how is it
with you, Cloudy ? has no fair maiden been able to teach you
to forget your boy-love for Jacquelina ?"
Cloudy winced, but tried to cover his embarrassment with a
laugh.
" Oh ! I have been in love forty dozen times, I'm always in
love ; my heart is continually going through a circle from one
fit to another, like the sun through the signs of the zodiac ;
only it never comes to anything."
" Well, at least little Jacko is forgotten, which is one con-
gratulatory circumstance."
" No, she is not forgotten ; I will not wrong her by saying
that she is or could be ! all other loves are merely the foreign
ports, which my heart visits transiently now and then. Lina is
its native home. I don't know how it is. With most cases of
disappointment, such as yours with Miss Le Roy, I suppose
the regret may be short-lived enough ; but w'uen an affection
has been part and parcel of one's being from infancy up ; why
it is in one's soul and heart and blood, so to speak is identi-
cal with one's consciousness, and inseparable from one's life."
" Do you ever see her ?"
" See her 1 yes. but how ? at each return from a voyage, I
592 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
may see her once, with an iron grating between us ; she dis-
guised with her black shrouding robe and veil, and thinking
thai she must suffer here to expiate the fate of Doctor Grim-
shaw, who, scorpion-like, stung himself to death with the venom
of his own bad passions. She is a Sister of Mercy, devoted to
good works, and leaves her convent only in times of war, plague,
pestilence or famine, to minister to the suffering. She nurseJ
me through the yellow fever, when I lay in the hospital, at Now
Orleans, but when I got well enough to recognize her, she van-
ished evaporated made herself ' thin air,' and another sister
nerved in her place."
" Have you ever seen her since ?"
" Yes, once ; I sought out her convent, and went with the
fixed determination to reason with her, and to persuade her not
to renew her vows for another year ; you know the Sisters only
take vows for a year at a time."
"Did you make any impression on her mind?" inquired
Thurston, with more interest than he had yet shown in any
part of the story.
'"Make any impression on her mind!' no. I I did not
even attempt to ; how could I, when I only saw her behind a
grate, with the prioress on one side of her, and the portress on
the other ? My visit was silent enough, and short enough, and
sac? enough. Why can't she come out of that ? What have I
done to deserve to be made miserable ? I don't deserve it. I
am the most ill-used man in the United States service."
While Cloudy spoke, old Jenny was hurrying in and out be-
tween the house and the kitchen, and busying herself with setting
the table, laying the cloth, and arranging the service. But
presently she came in, throwing wide the door, and announcing,
"Two gemmun, axin to see marster."
Thurston arose, and turned to front them, while Paul became
suddenly pale, on recognizing two police officers.
" Good-afternoon, Mr. Willcoxen good-afternoon, gentle-
men," said the foremost, and most respectable-looking of the
two, lifting his hat, and bowing to the fire-side party. Then
THE MISSING BEIDE. 593
replacing it, he said : " Mr. Willcoxen, will you be kind enough
to step this way, and give me your attention, sir." He walked
t > the window, and Thurston followed him.
Paul stood with a pale face, and firmly compressed lip, and
gnz<;d after them.
And Cloudy unsuspicious Cloudy, arose, and stood with
his back to the fire, and whistled a sea air.
"Mr. Willcoxen, you can see for yourself the import of thu
paper," said the officer, handing the warrant.
Thurston read it and returned it.
" Mr. Willcoxen, myself and my comrade came hither on
horseback. Let me suggest to you to order your carriage.
One of us will accompany you iu the drive, and all remarks will
be avoided."
" I thank you for the hint, Mr. Jenkins ; I had, however,
intended to do as you advise," said Thurston, beckoning his
brother to approach.
" Paul ! I am a prisoner, say nothing at present to Cloudy ;
permit him to assume that business takes me away, and go now
quietly and order horses put to the carriage."
" Dr. Douglass, we shall want your company also," said the
officer, serving Paul with a subpoena.
Paul ground his teeth together, and rushed out of the door.
"Keep an eye on that young man," said the policeman to
his comrade, and the latter followed Paul into the yard, and on
to the stables.
The haste and passion of Paul's manner had attracted
Cloudy's attention, and now he stood looking on with surprise
and inquiry.
" Cloudy," said Thurston, approaching him, " a most press.
ing affair demands my presence at C this afternoon. Paul
must also attend me I may not return to-night. Paul, how-
ever, certainly will. In the meantime, Cloudy, my boy, make
yourself as much at home and as happy as you possibly can."
"Oh ! don't mind me ! never make a stranger of me. Go by
all nieaus. I wouldn't detain you for the world j hope it ia
37
594 MIRIAM, THE AVENGE B ; OK,
nothing of a painful nature that calls you from home, however
Any parishioner ill, dying, and wanting your ghostly con
solations?"
"Oh, no," said Thurston, smiling.
" Glad of it go by all means. I will make myself jolly
until you return," said Cloudy, walking up and down the floor
whistling a love ditty, and thinking of little Jacko ; he always
thought of her with tenfold intensity whenever he returned
home, and came into her neighbornood.
" Mr. Jenkins, will you follow me to my library," said
Thurston.
The officer bowed assent, anil Mr. Willcoxen proceeded
thither for the purpose of securing his valuable papers, and
locking his secretary and writing-desk.
After an absence of some fifteen minutes, they returned to
the parlor to find Paul and the constable awaiting them.
"Is the carriage ready ?" asked Mr. Willcoxen.
"Yes, sir," replied the constable.
" Then, I believe, we also are is it not so ?"
The police officer bowed, and Mr. Willcoxen walked up to
Cloudy and held out his hand.
" Good-bye, Cloudy, for the present. Paul will probably be
home by nightfall, even if I should be detained."
" Oh, don't hurry yourself upon my account. I shall do very
well. Jenny can take care of me," said Cloudy, jovially, as he
shook the offered hand of Thnrston
Paul could not trust himself to look Cloudy in the face and
say "Good-bye." He averted his head, and so followed Mr
Willcoxen and the officer into the yard.
Mr. Willcoxen, the senior officer, and Paul Douglass, entered
ihe carnage, and the second constable attended on horsebai-k,
and so the party set out for Charlotte Hall.
Hour after hour passed. Old Jenny came in and put Ihe
fcupper on the table, and stood presiding over the urn and tea-
pot wLile Cloudy ate his supper. Old Jenny's tougue ran as
if she felt obliged to make up in conversation for the absence
of the rest of the family
THE MISSING BKIDE. 595
"Lord knows, I'se glad 'nongh you'se corned back," she said;
" dis yer place is bad 'nough. Sam's been waystin' here eber
since de fara'ly come from de city dey must o' fotch him long
o' dem. Now I do 'spose sumtin is happen long o' Miss Miriam,
as went heyin ? off to de willidge dis mornin' afore she got her
brekfas. nobody on de yeth could tell what fur. Now do oder
two is gone, an' nobody lef here to mine de house, 'eept 'tis you
an' me ! Sam's waystin' 1"
Cloudy laughed and tried to cheer her spirits by a gay reply,
and then they k&pt up between them a lively badinage of
repartee, in which old Jenny acquitted herself quite as wittily as
her young master.
And after supper she cleared away the service, and went to pre-
pare a bed and light a fire in the room appropriated to Cloudy.
And so the evening wore away.
It grew late, yet neither Thurston nor Paul appeared. Cloudy
began to think their return unseasonably delayed, and at eleven
o'clock he took up his lamp to retire to his chamber, when he
was startled and arrested by the barking of dogs, and by the
rolling of the carriage into the yard, and in a few minutes the
door was thrown violently open, and Paul Douglass, pale, hag-
gard, convulsed, and despairing, burst suddenly into the room.
" Paul ! Paul ! what in the name of Heaven has happened ?"
cried Cloudy, starting up, surprised and alarmed by his appear-
ance.
"Oh, it has ended in his committal! it has ended in his
committal ! he is fully committed for trial ! he was sent off
to-night to the county jail at Leonardtown, in the custody of
two officers!"
" Who is committed? "What are you talking about, Paul?"
aaid Cloudy, taking his hand kindly and looking in his face.
These words and actions brought Paul somewhat to his senses.
"Oh! you do not know! you do not even guess anything
about it, Cloudy ! Oh, it is a terrible misfortune ! Let me sit
down, and I will tell you 1"
Anc Paul Douglass threw himself into a chair, and in an
596 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
agitated, nearly incoherent manner, related the circumstances
that led to the arrest of Thurston Willcoxen for the murder of
Marian Mayfield.
When he had concluded the strange story, Cloudy started up,
took his hat, and was about to leave the room.
"Where are you going, Cloudy?"
"To the stables to saddle my horse, to ride to Leonardtown
this night !"
" It is nearly twelve o'clock."
" I know it, but by hard riding I can reach Leonardtown by
morning, and be with Thurston as soon as the prison-doors are
opened. And I will ask you, Paul, to be kind enough to for-
ward my trunks from the tavern at Benedict to Leonardtown,
where I shall remain to be near Thurston as long as he needs
my services."
" God bless you, Cloudy ! I myself wished to accompany him ,
but he would not for a moment hear of my doing so he entreated
me to return hither to take care of poor Fanny and the home-
stead.
Cloudy scarcely waited to hear this benediction, but hurried
to the stables, found and saddled his horse, threw himself into the
stirrups, and in five minutes was dashing rapidly through the
thick, low-lying forest stretching inland from the coast.
Eight hours of hard' riding brought him to the county seat.
Just stopping long enough to have his horse put up at the
best hotel, and to inquire his way to the prison, he Lurried
tnither.
It was nearly nine o'clock, and the street corners wero
thronged with loungers conversing in low, eager tones upon the
present all-absorbing topic of discourse the astounding event
of the arrest of the great preacher, the Reverend Thurston
Willcoxen, upon the charge of murder.
Hurrying past all these, Cloudy reached the jail. He readily
gained admittance, and was conducted to the cell of the pri-
Boner. He found Thurston attired as when he left home, sitting
at a small wooden stand, and calmly occupied with his pen.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 597
Re arose, and smilingly extended his hand, saying,
"This is very kind as well as very prompt, Cloudy. You
must have ridden fast."
" I did. Leave us alone, if you please, my friend," said
Cloudy, turning to the jailor.
The latter went out, and locked the door upon the friends.
"This seems a sad event to greet you on your return home,
Cloudy : but never mind, it will all be well !"
"Sad? It's a farce! I have not an instant's misgiving
about the result; but the present indignity ! Oh ! oh ! I could "
" Be calm, my dear Cloudy. Have you heard anything of
the circumstances that led to this ?"
"Yes! Paul told me ; but he is as crazy and incoherent as
a Bedlamite ! I want you, if you please, Thurston, if you have
no objection, to go over the whole story for me, that I may see
if I can make anything of it, for your defence."
" Poor Paul ! he takes this matter far too deeply to heart:
sit down. I have not a second chair to offer, but take this or
the foot of the cot, as you prefer."
Cloudy took the foot of the cot.
" Certainly, Cloudy, f will tell you everything," said Thura
ton, and forthwith commenced his explanation.
Thurston's narrative was clear and to the point. When it was
finished, Cloudy asked a number of questions, chiefly referring
to the day of the tragedy. When these were answered, he sat
with his brows gathered down in astute thought. Presently he
asked,
" Thurston, have you engaged counsel?"
" Yes ; Mr. Romford has been with me this morning."
" Is he fully competent?"
" The best lawyer in the state."
" When docs the court sit ?"
"On Monday week."
11 Have you any idea whether your trial will come on early in
the session ?"
" I presume it will come on very soon, as Mr. Romford in
forms me the<~e are but few cases >n the docket."
598 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"Thank Heaven for that, as your confinement here promises
to be of very short duration. However, the limited time makes
it the more necessary for me to act with the greater promptitude.
I came here with the full intention of remaining in town aa
long as you should be detained in this infernal place, but I shall
have to leave you within the hour."
" Of course, Cloudy, my dear boy, I could not expect you to
restrict yourself to this town so soon after escaping from the
confinement of your ship !"
" Oh ! you don't understand me at all ! Do you think I am
going away on my own business, or amusement, while you are
here ? To the devil with the thought begging your rever-
ence's pardon. No, I am going in search of Jacquelina.
Since hearing your explanation, particularly that part of it re-
lating to your visit to Luckenough, upon the morning of the
day of Marian's death, and the various scenes that occurred
there certain vague ideas of my own have taken form and
color and I feel convinced that Jacquelina could throw some
light upon this affair."
" Indeed ! why should you think so ?"
" Oh ! from many small indexes, whfch I have neither the
time nor the inclination to tell you ; for taken apart from col-
lateral circumstances and associations, they would appear vision-
ary. Each in itself is really trivial enough, but in the mass
they are very indicative. At least I think so, and I must seek
Jacquelina out immediately. And to do so, Thurston, I must
leave you this moment, for there is a boat to leave the wharf
for Baltimore this morning, if it has not already gone. It will
take me two days to reach Baltimore, another day to get to her
convent, and it will altogether be five or six days before I can
get back here. Good-bye, Thurston, Heaven keep ycu, and
give you a speedy deliverance from this black hole !"
And Cloudy threw his arms around Thurston in a brother,/
embrace, and then knocked at the door to be let out.
In half-an-hour, Cloudy was " once more upon the waters,"
in full sail for Baltimore.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 599
CHAPTER XLIV.
MARIAN.
RUe ! for the day is breaking,
Though the dull night be long ;
Rise! God is not forsaking
Thy heart be strong t be strong I
Rise ! for the time is hasting
When life shall be made clear
And all who know heart-wasting,
Shall feel that God is dear!" O. H. T.
GREAT was th.- consternation caused by the arrest of a gen-
tinman so high in social rank and scholastic and theological
reputation, as the Reverend Thurston Willcoxen, and upon a
2harge, too, so awful as that for which he stood committed !
It was the one all-absorbing subject of thought and conversa-
tion. People neglected their business, forgetting to work, to
bargain, buy or sell. Village shop-keepers, instead of vamping
their wares, leaned eagerly over their counters, and with great
dilated eyes and dogmatical fore-fingers, discussed with ens
tomers the merits or demerits of the great case. Village mecha-
nics, occupied solely with the subject of the pastor's guilt or
innocence, disappointed with impunity customers who were
themselves too deeply interested and too highly excited by the
game subject, to remember, far less to rebuke them, for unful-
filled engagements. Even women totally neglected, or badlj
fulfilled, their domestic avocations ; for who in the parish
could sit down quietly to the construction of a garment or a
pudding while their beloved pastor, the "all praised" Thurs
ton "Willcoxen, lay in prison awaiting his trial for a capital
crime ?
As usual in such cases, there was very little cool reasoning,
ana vry much passionate declamation. The first astonishment
600 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
had given place to conjecture, which yielded in turn to dog-
tnatic judgments acquiescing or condemning, as the self-con-
stituted judges happened to be favorable or adverse to the
cause of the minister.
In a word, those who are familiar with the circumstances
attending, a Boston tragedy, that electrified the country some
few years ago, can readily imagine the social convulsion that
ensued upon the arrest of a clergyman so justly celebrated, so
honored and beloved, upon a charge so horrible and loathly.
When the first Sabbath after the arrest came, and the church
was closed because the pulpit was unoccupied, the dispersed
congregation, haunted by the vision of the absent pastor in
his cell, discussed the matter anew, and' differed and disputed,
and fell out worse than ever parties formed for and against
the minister, and party feuds raged high.
Upon the second Sabbath being the day before the county
court should sit a substitute filled the pulpit of Mr. Will-
coxen, and his congregation re-assembled to hear an edifying
discourse from the text " I myself have seen the ungodly in
great power, and flourishing like a green bay tree. I went by,
and lo ! he was gone ; I sought him, but his place was nowhere
to be found."
This sermon bore rather hard (by pointed allusions) upon the
great elevation and sudden downfall of the celebrated minister,
and, in consequence, delighted one portion of the audience and
enraged the other. The last-mentioned charged the new
preacher with envy, hatred and malice, and all uncharitable-
rvess, besides the wish to rise on the ruin of his unfortunate
predecessor, and they went home in high indignation, resolved
not to set foot within the parish church again until the honor-
able acquittal of their own beloved pastor should put all hia
enemies, persecutors, and slanderers to shame.
The excitement spread, and gained force and fire with space.
The press took it up, and went to war as the people had done.
And as far as the name of Thurston "Willcoxen had been wafted
by the breath of fame, it was now blown by the "Blatant
THE MISSING BRIDE. 601
Beast." Aye, and farther too ! for those wno had never even
heard of his great talents, his learning, his eloquence, his zeal
and his charity, were made familiar with his imputed crime and
shuddered while they denounced. And this was natural and
well, so far as it went to prove that great excellence is so much
Jess rare than great evil, as to excite less attention. The news
of this signal event spread like wildfire all over the country,
from Maine to Louisiana, and from Missouri to Florida, pro-
ducing everywhere great excitement, but falling in three places
with the crushing force of a thunderbolt.
First by Marian's fireside.
In a private parlor of a quiet hotel, in one of the eastern
cities, sat the lady, now nearly thirty years of age, yet still in
the bloom of her womanly beauty.
She had lately arrived from Europe, charged with one of
those benevolent missions which it was the business and the
consolation of her life to fulfill.
It was late in the afternoon, and the low descending sun
threw its golden gleam across the round table at which she sat,
busily engaged with reading reports, making notes, and writing
'.etters connected with the affair upon which she had come.
Seven years had not changed Marian much a little less
fivid, perhaps, the bloom on cheeks and lips, a shade paler the
angel brow, a shade darker the rich and lustrous auburn tresses,
softer and calmer, fuller of thought and love the clear blue
eyes sweeter her tones, and gentler all her motions that was
all. Her dress was insignificant, in material, make and color,
yet the wearer unconsciously imparted a classic and regal graco
to every fold and fall of the drapery. No splendor of apparel
could have given such effect to her individual beauty as this
quiet costume ; I would I were an artist, that I might repro-
duce her image as she was the glorious face and head, the
queenly form, in its plain but graceful robe of I know not what
gray serge, perhaps.
Her whole presence her countenance, manner and tone re-
pealed the richness, strength and serenity of a faithful, lovibg,
602 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
self-denying, God-reliant soul of one who could recall tl e past,
endure the present, and anticipate the future without regret,
complaint or fear.
Sometimes the lady's soft eyes would lift themselves from
her work, to rest with tenderness upon the form of a little child,
BO small and still that you would not have noticed her presence,
but in following the lady's loving glance. She sat in a tin}
rocking chair, nursing a little white rabbit on her lap. She
was not a beautiful child she was too diminutive and pale,
with hazy blue eyes, and fady yellow hair yet her little face
was so demure and sweet, so meek and loving, that it would
haunt and soften you more than that of a beautiful child could.
The child had been orphaned from her birth, and when but a
few days old, had been received into the " Children's Home."
Marian never had a favorite among her children, but this
little waif was so completely orphaned, so desolate and desti-
tute, and withal so puny, fragile, and lifeless, that Marian took
her to her own heart day and night, imparting from her own
fine vital temperament the warmth and vigor that nourished the
perishing little human blossom to life and health. If ever a
mother's heart lived in a maiden's bosom, it was in Marian's.
As she had cherished Miriam, she now cherished Angel, and
she was as fondly loved by the one as she had been by the
other. And so for five years past Angel had been Marian's
inseparable companion. She sat with her -little lesson, or her
sewing, or her pet rabbit, at Marian's feet while she worked
held her hand when she walked out, sat by her side at the table
or in the carriage, and slept nestled in her arms at night.
She was the one earthly blossom that bloomed in Marian's soli-
tary path.
Angel now sat with her rabbit on her knees, waiting de
murely till Marian should have time to notice her.
And the lady still worked on, stopping once in a while to
Buiile upon the ihild. There was a file of the evening papera
lying near at hand upon the table where she wrote, but Marian
had not yet had time to look at them. Soon, however, she had
THE MISSING BRIDE. 603
occasion to refer to one of them for the names of the members
of the Committee on Public Lands. In casting her eyes over
the paper, her glance suddenly lighted upon a paragraph that
sent all the blood from her cheeks to her heart. She dropped
the paper, sank back in her chair, and covered her blanched
face with both hands, and strove for self-control.
Angel softly put down the rabbit, and gently stole to iaer
ide and looked up with her little face full of wondering sym-
pathy.
Presently Marian began passing her hands slowly over her
forehead, with a sort of unconscious self-mesmerism, and then she
dropped them wearily upon her lap, and Angel saw how pallid
was her face, how ashen and tremulous her lip, how quivering
her hands. But after a few seconds, Marian stooped and picked
the paper up, and read the long, wonder-mongering affair, in
which all that had been, and all that had seemed, as well a v s many
things that could neither be nor seem, was related at length, or
conjectured, or suggested. It began by announcing the arrest
of the Reverend Thurston Willcoxen upon the charge of mur-
der, and then went back to the beginning, and related the
whole story, from the first disappearance of Marian Mayfield, to
the late discoveries that had led to the apprehension of the sup-
posed murderer, with many additions and improvements gathered
in the rolling of the ball of falsehood. Among the rest, that
the body of the unhappy young lady had been washed ashore
several miles below the scene of her dreadful fate, and had been
charitably interred by some poor fishermen. The article con-
cluded by describing the calm demeanor of the accused and the
contemptuous manner in which he treated a charge so grave,
scorning even to deny it.
"Oh, I do not wonder at the horror and consternation this
natter has caused. When the deed was attempted, more than
the intended death wound did it overcome me ! And nothing,
nothing in the universe but the evidence of my own senses could
have convinced me of his purposed guilt! And still I cannot
realize it 1 He must have been insane ! But he treats the di
604 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
eovery of his intended and supposed crime with scorn and con-
tempt I Alas! alas! is this the end of years of suffering and
probation ? Is this the fruit of that long remorse, from which
I had hoped so much for his redemption ? A remorse without
repentance, and barren of reformation I Yet I must save
him !"
She arose and rung the bell, and gave orders to have two
scats secured for her in the coach that would leave in the morn-
ing for Baltimore. And then she began to walk up and down
the floor, to try and walk off the excitement that was fast gaining
upon her.
Before this night and this discovery, not for the world would
Marian have made her existence known to him, far less would
she have sought his presence. Nay, deeming such a meeting
improper as it was impossible, her mind had never contemplated
it for an instant. She had watched his course, sent anonymous
donations to his charities, hoped much from his repentance and
good works, but never hoped in any regard to herself. But
now it was absolutely necessary that she should make her ex-
istence known to him. She would go to htm ! She must save
him ! She should see him, and speak to him him whom she
had never hoped to meet again in life ! She would see him
again in three days ! The thought was too exciting even foi
her strong heart and frame, and calm self-governing nature!
And in defiance of reason and of will, her long-buried youth-
ful love, her pure, earnest, single-hearted love, burst its secret
sepulchre, and rejoiced through all her nature. The darkness
of Ihe past was, for the time, forgotten Memory recalled no
picture of unkindness, injustice, or inconstancy. Even the
scene upon the beach was faded, gone, lost. But the light of
the past glowed around her their seaside strolls and wor -ilanC
wanderings
" The still, green places where they met,
The moonlit branches dewy wet,
The greeting and the parting word,
The smile, the embrace, the tone that made
Av Eden of the forest shade."
THE MISSING BRIDE. 605
tindling a pure rapture from memory, and a wild longing from
hope, thiv; her full heart could scarce contain.
But ioon came on another current of thought and feelirg
opposed to the first doubt and fear of the meeting. For her-
self she felt that she could forget all the sorrows of the past,
lye ! and with fervent glowing soul, and flushed cheeks, and
tearful eyes, and clasped hands, she adored the Father in Heaveii
that lie had put no limit to forgiveness no ! in that blessed
path of light all space was open to the human will, and the
heart might forgive infinitely and to its own measureless ex-
tent!
But how would Thurston meet her ? He had suffered such
tortures from remorse, that doubtless he would rejoice " with
exceeding great joy" to find that the deed attempted in some
fit of madness, had really not been effected. But his sufferings
had sprung from remorse of conscience, not from remorse of
love. No ! except as his deliverer, he would probably not be
pleased to see her. As soon as this thought had seized her
mind, then indeed all the bitterer scenes in the past started up
to life, and broke down the defences reared by love, and faith,
and hope, and let in the tide of anguish and despair that rolled
over her soul, shaking it as it had not been shaken for many
years. And her head fell upon her bosom, and her hands
were clasped convulsively, as she walked up and down the floor
striving with herself striving to subdue the rebel passions
)f her heart striving to attain her wonted calmness, aid
strength, and self-possession, and at last praying earnestly
" Oh, Father ! the rains descend, and the floods come, and the
winds blow and beat upon my soul ; let not its strength fall as
if built upon the sand." And so she walked up and do\\n,
striving and praying; nor was the struggle in vain once more
ghe " conquered a peace" in her own bosom.
She turned her eyes upon little Angel. The infant was
drooping over one arm of her rocking-chair, like a fading iily,
but her soft hazy eyes, full of vague sympathy, followed the lady
wherever she we^t.
606 M IE I AM, THE AVENGEE; OR,
Marian's heart smote her for her temporary forgetfulness of
the child's wants. It was now twilight, and Marian rang fot
lights, and Angel's milk and bread, which were soon brought.
And then with her usual quiet tenderness, she undressed the
little one, heard her prayers, took her up, and as she rocked,
sang a sweet low evening hymn, that soothed the child to sleep,
and her own heart to perfect rest. And early the next morning,
Mariaii and little Angel set out by the first coach for Baltimore,
on their way to St. Mary's county.
The Convent of Bethlehem was not only the sanctuary of pro-
fessed nuns, the school of girls, the nursery of orphans, but it
was also the temporary home of those Sisters of Mercy, who go
forth into the world only on errands of Christian love and
charity, and return to their convent often only to die, worn out
by toil among scenes and sufferers near which few but them-
selves would venture. And as they pass hence to Heaven,
their ranks are still filled up from the world not always by the
weary and disappointed. Often young Catholic girls volun-
tarily leave the untried world that is smiling fair before them to
enter upon a life of poverty, self-denial, and merciful ministra-
tions ; so even in this century the order of the Sisters of Mercj
is kept up.
Among the most active and zealous of the order of Bethlehem
was the Sister Then.sa, the youngest of the band. Youthful as
she was, however, this sister's heart was no sweet sacrifice of
" a flower offered in the bud " on the contrary I am afnud
that Sister Theresa had trifled with, and pinched, and bruised,
and trampled the poor budding heart, until she thought it good
for nothing upon earth, before she offered it to heaven. I fear
it was nothing higher than that strange revulsion of feeiing,
world weariness, disappointment, disgust, remorse, fanaticism
either, any, or all of these, call it what you will, that in past
ages and Catholic countries have filled monasteries with the
whilome gay, worldly and ambitious; that has sent many a
tfoman in the "rime of her beauty, and many a man at the acme
THE MISSING BRIDE. G07
of his power, into a convent; that transformed the mighty Em-
peror Charles Y. into a cowled and shrouded monk ; the reck
less swash-bueklar, Ignatius Loyola, into a holy saint, and the
beautiful Louise de la Valliere into an ascetic nun ; which
finally metamorphosed the gayest, maddest, merriest elf that
ever danced into the moonlight, into Sister Theresa.
Poor Jacquelina 1 for, of course, you can have no doubt that
it is of herwQ are speaking she perpetrated her last lugubrious
joke on the day that she was to have made her vows, for when
asked what patron saint she would select by taking that saint's
name iu religion, she answered St. Theresa, because St. The-
resa would understand her case the best, having been, like her-
self, a scamp and a rattle-brain before she took it into her head
to astonish her friends by becoming a saint. Poor Jiicko said
this with the solemnest face and the most serious earnestness,
out with such a reputation as she had had for pertness, of course
nobody would believe but that she was making fun of the
"Blessed Theresa," and so she was put upon farther probation,
with the injunction to say the seven penitential psalms seven
times a day, until she was in a holier frame of mind ; which she
did, though under protest, that she didn't think the words com-
posed by David, to express his remorse for his own enormous
sin, exactly suited her case. Sister Theresa, if the least steady
and devout, was certainly the most active and zealous and cou-
rageous among them all. She yawned horribly over the long
litanies and longer sermons ; but if ever there was a work of
mercy requiring extraordinary labor, privation, exposure and
danger, Sister Theresa was the one to face in the cause light-
ning and tempest; plague, pestilence, and famine; battle, and
murder, and sudden death ! Happy was she ? or content ? No
she was moody, hysterical, and devotional by turns some-
times a zeal for good works would possess her; sometimes the
old fun and quaintness would break out; and sometimes an
overwhelming fit of remorse ; each depending upou the acci-
dental cause that would chance to arouse the moods.
Humane creaf-res are Iik3 climates some of a temperati
608 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
atmosphere, take even life-long sorrow serenely never forget-
ting, and never exaggerating its cause never very wretched,
if never quite happy. Others of a more tcrrid nature, have
long sunny seasons of bird-like cheerfulness sad happy forget-
fulness, until some slight cause, striking "the electric Ciiain
wherewith we are darkly bound," shall startle up memory and
grief, intensely realized, shall rise to anguish, and a storm shall
pass through the soul, shaking it almost to dissolution, and the
poor subject thinks, if she can think, that her heart must go to
pieces this time ! But the storm passes, and nature, instead of
being destroyed, is refreshed and ready for the sunshine and
the song-birds again. The elastic heart throws off its weight,
the spirits revive, and life goes on joyously in harmony with
nature.
So it was with Jacquelina, with this sad difference, that as
her trouble was more than sorrow as it was remorse it waa
never quite thrown off. It was not that her conscience re-
proached her for the fate of Dr. Grimshaw, which was brought
on by his own wrong doing but Marian that a wild, wanton
frolic of her own should have caused the early death of one so
young, and beautiful, and good as Marian ! that was the thought
that nearly drove poor Jacquelina mad with remorse, whenever
she realized it. Dr. Grimshaw was forgiven, and forgotten ;
but the thought of Marian was the " undying worm," that preyed
upon her heart. And so, year after year, despite the arguments
and persuasions of nearest friends, and the constancy of poor
Cloudy, Jacquelina tearfully turned from love, friendship, wealth
and ease, and renewed her vows of poverty, celibacy, obedience,
and the service of the poor, sick and ignorant, in the hope of
expiating her offence, soothing the voice of conscience, and
gaining peace. Jacquelina would have made her vows pei-
petual, by taking the black veil, but her Superior constantly
dissuaded her from it she was young, and life, with its possi-
bilities, was all before her ; she must wait many years before she
took the step that could not be retracted without perjury. And
BO e-^ch year she renewed her vow a twelvemonth. The seventh
THE MISSING BRIDE. 609
year of her religious life was drawing to its close, and she bad
notified her superior of her wish now, after so many years of
probation, to take the black veil, and make her vows perpetual.
And the Abbess had, at length, listened favorably to her ex-
pressed wishes.
But a few days after this, as the good old Mother, Martha,
the portress, sat dozing over her rosary, behind the hall grating
the outer door was thrown open, and a young man, in a mid-
shipman's undress uniform, entered rather brusquely, and came
up to the grating. Touching his hat precisely as if the old
lady had been his superior officer, he said hastily,
"Madame, if yon please, I wish to see Mrs. ; you
know who I mean, I presume? my cousin, Jacquelina."
The portress knew well enough, for she had seen Cloudy there
several times before, but she replied,
" You mean, young gentleman, that pious daughter, called
in the world Mrs. Grinishs,7v, but in religion Sister Theresa?"
" Fal Iftl ! that is I beg your pardon, Mother, but I wish
to see the lady immediately ; can I do so ?
" The dear sister Theresa is at present making her retreat,
preparatory to taking the black veil."
"The what !" exclaimed Cloudy, with as much horror as if it
had been the ' Uack dose'' she was going to take.
" The black veil and so she cannot be seen."
"Madam I have a very pressing form of invitation here,
which people are not very apt to disregard. Did you ever hear
of a subpoena, dear Mother ?"
The good woman never had, but she thought it evidently
eomething " uncanny," for she said " I will send for the Ab-
bess ;" and she beckoned to a nun within, and sent her on the
errand and soon the Abbess appeared, and Cloudy made
known the object of his visit.
" Go into the parlor, sir, and Sister Theresa will attend
you," said that lady.
And Cloudy turned to a side door on his right hand, and
w.'nt into the little receiving room, three sides of which wera
610 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
like other rooms, but the fourth side was a grating instead of a
wall. Behind this grating appeared Jacquelina so white and
thin with confinement, fasting, and vigil, and so disguised by
her nun's dress, as to be unrecognizable to any but a lover's
eyes : with her was the Abbess.
Cloudy went up to the grating Jacquelina put her hand
through, and spoke a kind greeting; but Cloudy glanced at
ihe Abbess, looked reproachfully at Jacquelina, and then
turning to the former said,
" Madam, I wish to say a few words in confidence, to my
cousin here. Cau I be permitted to do so ?"
" Most certainly, young gentleman ; Sister Theresa is not
restricted. It was at her. own request that I attended her
hither."
" Thank you, dear lady that which I have to say to
Sister Theresa involves the confidence of others: else, I
Bhould not have made the request that you have so kindly
granted," said Cloudy, considerably mollified.
The Abbess curtsied in the old stately way, and retired.
Cloudy looked at Jacquelina reproachfully.
" Are you going to be a nun, Lina?"
" Yes. Oh 1 Cloudy, Cloudy, what do you come here to dis
turb my thoughts so for ! Oh ! Cloudy 1 every time you come
to see me, you do so upset and confuse my mind ! You have
no idea how many aves and paters, and psalms and litanies I
hare to say before I can quiet my mind down again 1 And
now this is worse than all. Dear, dear Cloudy ! St. Mary,
forgive me, I never meant that I meant plain Cloudy see
how you make me sin in words ! What did you send Mother
Ettienne away for?"
" That I might talk to you alone. Why do you deny me
that small consolation, Lina? How have I offended, that y3U
Bhould treat me so ?"
" In no way at all have you offended, dearest Cloudy
St. Peter! there it is again I mean only Cloudy."
" Never mind explaining the distinction. You are going to
THE MISSING BRIDE. 611
be a nun, you say ! Tery well let that pass, too ! But yoq
must leave your convent, and go into the world yet once more,
and then I shall have opportunities of talking to you before
your return."
" No, no ; never will I leave my convent never will I sub
ject my soul to such a temptation."
'' My dear Lin a, I have the cabalistic words that must draw
you forth listen ! Our cousin, Thurston Willcoxen, is in pri-
son, charged with the murder of Marian Mayfield" a stifled
shriek from Jacquelina " and there is circumstantial evidence
against him strong enough to ruin him forever, if it does not
cost him his life. Now, Lina, I cannot be wrong in supposing
that you know who struck that death-blow, and that your
evidence can thoroughly exonerate Thurston from suspicion 1
Am I right ?"
" Yes ! yes ! you are right," exclaimed Jacquelina, in great
agitation.
" You will go, then ?"
"Yes! yes."
41 When ?"
" In an hour this moment with you."
" With me ?"
" Yes ! 1 may do so in such a case. I must do so ! Oh !
Heaven knows, I have occasioned sin enough, without causing
more against poor Thurston !"
" You will get ready then immediately, dear Lina. Are you
sure there will be no opposition ?"
" Certainly not. Why, Cloudy, are you one of those who
credit ' raw head and bloody bones' fables about convents ? I
have no jailor but my own conscience, Cloudy. Besides, my
year's vows expired yesterday, and I am free for awhile, before
renewing them perpetually," said Jacquelina, hurrying away to
get ready.
" And may I be swung to the yard-arm if ever I let you
renew them," said Cloudy, while he waited for her.
Jacquelina was soon ready and Cloudy rejoined her in the
612 MIEIAM, THE AVENGEK; OK,
front entry behind the grating of which the good old portress,
as she watched the handsome middy drive off with hex young
postulant, devoutly crossed herself, and diligently told, her
beads
Commodore Waugh and his family were returning slowly
from the South, stopping at all the principal towns for long
rests on their way homeward.
The Commodore was now a wretched, helpless old man,
depending almost for his daily life, upon the care and tender-
ness of Mrs. Waugh.
Good Henrietta, with advancing years, had continued to
" wax fat," and now it was about as much as she could do, with
many grunts, to get up and down stairs. Since her double
bereavement of her " Hebe" and her " Lapwing," her kind,
motherly countenance had lost somewhat of its comfortable jol-
lity, and her hearty mellow laugh was seldom heard. Still good
Henrietta was passably happy, as the world goes, for she had
the lucky foundation of a happy temper and temperament she
enjoyed the world, her friends and her creature comforts her
sound, innocent sleep her ambling pony, or her easy carriage
her hearty meals and her dreamy doze in the soft arm-chair
of an afternoon, while Mrs. L'Oiseau droned, in a dreary voice,
long homilies for the good of the Commodore's soul.
Mrs. L'Oiseau had got to be one of the saddest and maddest
fanatics that ever afflicted a family. And there were hours
when, by holding up too graphic, terrific, and exasperating
pictures of the veteran's past and present wickedness and im-
penitence, and his future retribution, in the shape of an exter-
nal roasting in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone
she drove the old man half frantic with rage and fright! And
then she would nearly finish him by asking If hell was so hor-
rible to hear of for a little while, what must it be to feet
forever and ever?
They had reached Charleston, on their way home. Mrs
L'Oiseau, too much fatigued to persecute her uncle for his
good, had gone to her chamber.
THE MISSIXG BRIDE. 613
The Commodore was put comfortably to bed.
And Mrs. Wangh took the day's paper, and sat down by the
old man's side, to read him the news until he should get
sleepy. As she turned the paper about, her eyes fell upon the
same paragraph that had so agitated Marian. Now, Henrietta
was by no means excitable ou the contrary, she was rather
hard to be moved; but on seeing this announcement of the
arrest of Mr. Willcoxen, for the crime with which he was
charged, an exclamation of horror and amazement burst from
her lips. In another moment she had controlled herself, and
would gladly have kept the exciting news from the sick man
until the morning.
But it was too late the Commodore had heard the un-
wonted cry, and now, raised upon his elbow, lay staring at her
with his great fat eyes, and insisting upon knowing What the
foul fiend she meant by screeching out in that manner ?
It was in vain to evade the question the Commodore would
hear the news. And Mrs. Waugh told him.
" And by the bones of Paul Jones, I always believed it !"
falsely swore the Commodore; and thereupon he demanded to
hear " all about it."
Mrs. Waugh commenced, and in a very unsteady voice read
the long account quite through. The Commodore made no
comment, except an occasional grunt of satisfaction, until she
had finished it, when he growled out,
"Knew it! hope they'll hang him! d d rascal! Ii it
hadn't been for him, there'd been no trouble in the family ! now
call Festus to help to turn me over, and tuck me up, Hen-
rietta ; I want to go to sleep !"
That night Mrs. Waugh said nothing, but the next morning
she proposed hurrying homeward with all possible speed.
But the Commodore would hear of no such thing. He
swore roundly that he would not stir to save the necks of all
the scoundrels in the world, much less that of Thurston, who,
if he did not kill Marian, deserved richly to be hanged fa
giving poor Nace so much trouble.
614 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
Mrs. Wangh coaxed and argued in vain. The Comraodoi*
rather liked to hear her do so, and so the longer she pleaded,
the more obstinate and dogged he grew, until at last Henrietta
desisted telling him, Very well ! justice and humanity alike-
required her presence, near the unhappy man, and so, whether
the Commodore chose to budge or not, she should surely leave
Charleston in that very evening's boat for Baltimore, so as to
reach Leonardtown in time for the trial. Upon hearing this,
the Commodore 'swore furiously; but knowing of old that
nothing could turn Henrietta from the path of duty, and
dreading above, all things to lose her comfortable attentions,
and be left to the doubtful mercies of Mary L'Oiseau, he
yielded, though with the worst possible grace, swearing all the
time that he hoped the villain would swing for it yet.
And then the trunks were packed, and the travellers re-
gained their homeward journey.
CHAPTER XLV.
THE TRIAL.
"Through night to day!
When sullen darkness lowers,
And heaven and earth are hid from sight,
Cheer up ! cheer up I
Ere long the opening flowers,
With dewy eyes, shall shine in light,
Through storm to calm I
When over land and ocean
Roll the loud chariots of the wind,
Cheer up! Cheer up!
The voice of wild commotion
Proclaims tranquility at hand." Montgomery.
THE day of the trial came. It was a bright spring day, nnd
from an early hour in the morning the village was crowded to
overflowing with people collec'ed from all parts of the county
THE MISSING BRIDE. 615
The court-room was filled to suffocation. It was with the
greatest difficulty that order could be maintained when the
prisoner, in the custody of the high sheriff, was brought into
court.
The venerable presiding judge was supposed to be unfriendly
to the accused, and the state's attorney was known to bo per-
sonally, as well as officially, hostile to his interests. So strongly
were the minds of the people prejudiced, upon one side or the
other, that it was with much trouble twelve men could be found
who had not made up their opinions as to the prisoner's inno-
cence or guilt. At length, however, a jury was empaneled,
and the trial commenced. When the prisoner was placed at
the bar, and asked the usual question, " Guilty or Not Guilty ?"
some of the old haughtiness curled the lip and flashed from the
jye of Thurston Willcoxen, as though he disdained to answer a
charge so base ; and he replied in a low, scornful tone,
"Not Guilty, your honor."
The opening charge of the state's attorney had been carefully
prepared. Mr. Thomson had never in his life had so important
a case upon his hands, and he was resolved to make the most
of it. His speech was well reasoned, logical, eloquent. To
destroy in the minds of the jury every favorable impression left
by the late blameless and beneficent life of Mr. Willcoxen, he
did not fail to adduce, from olden history, and from later times,
every signal instance of depravity, cloaked with hypocrisy, in
high places ; he enlarged upon wolves in sheep's clothing
Satan in an angel's garb, and dolefully pointed out how many
times the indignant question of " Is thy servant a dog, that he
should do this thing ?" had been answered by results in the
affirmative. He raked up David's sin from the ashes of ages.
Where was the scene of that crime, and who was its perpetrator
in the court of Israel, by the King of Israel a man after
God's own heart. Could the gentlemen of the jury be sur-
prised at the appalling discovery so recently made, as if great
crimes in high places were impossible or new things under the
un ? He did not fail l o drav a touching picture of th* victim \
016 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
the beautiful young stranger-girl, whom they all remembered
and Icved who had come, an angel of mercy, on a mission of
mercy, to their shores. "Was not her beauty, her genius, her
goodness, by which all there had at some time been blessed
sufficient to save her from the knife of the assassin ? No ! aa
he should shortly prove. Yet all these years her innocent blood
had cried to Heaven in vain ; her fate was unavenged, her
manes unappeased.
All the women, and all the simple-hearted and unworldly
among the men, were melted into tears, very un propitious to the
*te of Thurston ; tears not called up by the eloquence of the-
prosecuting attorney, so much as by the mere allusion to the
/ate of Marian, once so beloved, and still so fresh in the memo*
,ies of all.
Thurston heard all this not in the second-hand style with
nrhich I have summed it up but in the first vital freshness,
when it was spoken with a logic, force, and fire, that carried
conviction to many a mind. Thurston looked upon the judge
his face was stern and grave. He looked upon the jury
they were all strangers, from distant parts of the county, drawn
by idle curiosity to the scene of trial, and arriving quite unpre-
judiced. They were not his " peers," but, on the contrary,
twelve as stolid-looking brothers as ever decided the fate of a
gentleman and scholar. Thence he cast his eyes over the crowd
in the court-room.
There were his parishioners ! hoary patriarchs and gray-haired
matrons, stately men and lovely women, who, from week to
week, for many years, had still hung delighted on his discourses,
as though his lips had been touched with fire, and all his words
inspired ! There they were around him again ! But oh ! how
different the relations and the circumstances I There they sat,
with stern brows and averted faces, or downcast eyes, and
"lips that scarce their scorn forbore." .No eye or lip among
them responded kindly to his searching gaze and Thurston
turned his face away again for an instant his soul sank under
the pall of d"5pa ; r that fell darkening upon it. It was not con-
THE MISSING BRIDE. 617
viction in the court he thought of he would probably be ac
quitted by the court but what should acquit him in pubho
opinion ? The evidence that might not be strong enough to
ilocm him to death, would still be sufficient to destroy forever
hie position and his usefulness. No eye thenceforth would meet
bis own in friendly confidence. No hand grasp his in brotherly
fellowship.
The stato's attorney was still proceeding with his speech.
He was now stating the case, which he promised to prove by
competent witnesses how the prisoner at the bar had long
pursued his beautiful but hapless victim how he had been
united to her by a private marriage that he had corresponded
with her from Europe that upon his return they had frequently
met that the prisoner, with the treachery that would soon be
proved to be a part of his nature, had grown weary of his wife,
and transferred his attentions to another and more fortune-
favored lady and finally, that upon the evening of the murder
he had decoyed the unhappy young lady to the fatal spot, and
then and there effected his purpose. The prosecuting attorney
made this statement, not with the brevity with which it is here
reported, but with a minuteness of detail and warmth of coloring
that harrowed up the hearts of all who heard it. He finished
by saying that he should call the witnesses in the order of time
corresponding with the facts they came to prove.
" Oliver Murray will take the stand."
This, the first witness called, after the usual oath, deposed
that he had first seen the prisoner and the deceased together in
the Library of Congress ; had overheard their conversation, and
suspecting some unfairness on the part of the prisoner, had
followed the parties to the navy-yard, where he had witnessed
their marriage ceremony.
"When was the next occasion upon which you saw the
prisoner ?"
" On the night of the 8th of April, 182-, on the coast, near
Pine Bluff. I had landed from a boat, and was going inland
I passed him. I did not see his face distinctly, but recog
618 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
nized him by his size and form, and peculiar air and gait. He
was hurrying away, with every mark of terror and agitation."
This portion of Mr. Murray's testimony was so new to all,
as to excite the greatest degree of surprise, and in no bosom
did it arouse more astonishment than in that of Thurston. The
witness was strictly cross-questioned by the counsel for the
prisoner, but the cross-examination failed to weaken his testi-
mony, or to elicit anything more favorable to the accused,
Oliver Murray was then directed to stand aside.
The next witness was Miriam Shields. Deeply veiled and
half fainting, the poor girl was led in betwoen Colonel and Miss
Thornton, and allowed to sit while giving evidence. When
told to look at the prisoner at the bar, she raised her death-
like face, and a deep, gasping sob broke from her bosom. But
Thurston fixed his eyes kindly and encouragingly upon her
his look said plainly " Fear nothing, dear Miriam ! Be cou-
rageous ! do your stern duty, and trust in God."
Miriam then identified the prisoner as the man she had twice
Been alone with Marian at night. She farther testified, that
upon the night of April 8th, 182, Marian had left home, late
in the evening to keep an appointment from which she had
never returned. That in the pocket of the dress she had laid
off, was found the note appointing the meeting upon the beach
for the night in question. Here the note was produced.
Miriam identified the handwriting as that of Mr. Willcoxen.
Paul Douglass was next called to the stand, and required to
give his testimony in regard to the handwriting. Paul looked
at the piece of paper that was placed before him, and he was
sorely tempted. How could he swear to the handwriting unless
he had actually seen the hand write it? he asked himself. He
looked at his brother. But Thurston saw the struggle in his
mind, and his countenance was stern and high, and his look
authoritative and commanding it said "Paul! do not dare
to deceive yourself. You know the handwriting. Speak the
truth if it kill me." And Paul did so.
The "ext witness tha* took the stand was Dr. Brightwell
THE MISSING BRIDE. 619
Ihe good old physician gave his evidence very reluctantly it
went to prove the fact of the prisoner's absence from the death-
bed of his grandfather upon the night of the reputed murder,
and his distracted appearance when returning late in the
morning.
" Why do you say reputed murder ?"
"Because, sir, I never consider the fact of a murder estab-
lished, until the body of the victim has been found."
"You may stand down."
Dr. Solomon Weismaun was next called to the stand, and
corroborated the testimony of the last witness.
Several other witnesses were then called in succession, whose
testimony being only corroborative, was not very important
And the prisoner was remanded, and the court adjourned until
ten o'clock the next morning.
" Life will be saved, but position and usefulness in this
neighborhood gone forever, Paul," said Thurston, as they
went out.
" Evidence very strong very conclusive to our minds, yet
not sufficient to convict him," said one gentleman to another.
" I am of honest Dr. Brightwell's opinion that the estab-
lishment of a murder needs as a starting point the finding of
the body ; and moreover, that the conviction of a murderer
requires an eye-witness to the deed. The evidence, so far as
we have heard it, is strong enough to ruin the man, but not
strong enough to hang him," said a third.
" Aye ! but we have not heard all, or the most important
part of the testimony. The state's attorney has not fired his
great gun yet," said a fourth, as the crowd elbowed, pushed,
and struggled out of the court-room.
Those from distant parts of the county remained in the vil-
lage all night those nearer returned home to come back in the
morning.
The second day of the trial, the village was ?core crowded
than before. At ten o'clock the court opened, the prisoner
r%8 shortly afterwards brought in, and the prosecution renewed
620 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
its examination of witnesses. The next witness that took the
stand was a most important one. John Miles, captain of the
schooner Plover. He deposed that in the month of April, 182-,
he was mate in the schooner Blanch, of which his father was
the captain. That in said month the prisoner at the bar had
hired his father's vessel to carry off a lady whom the prisoner
declared tc be his own wife ; that they were to take her to the
Bermudas. That to effect their object, his father and himself
had landed near Pine Bluff; the night was dark, yet he soon
discerned the lady walking alone upon the beach. They were
bound to wait for the arrival of the prisoner, and a signal from
him, before approaching the lady. They waited some time,
watching from their cover the lady as she paced impatiently up
and down the sands. At length they saw the prisoner ap-
proaching. He was closely wrapped up in his cloak, and his
hat was pulled over his eyes, but they recognized him well by
his air and gait. They drew nearer still, keeping in the shadow,
waiting for the signal. The lady and the prisoner met a few
words passed between them of which he, the deponent, only
heard " Thurston ?" " Yes, Thursion /" and then the prisoner
raised his arm and struck, and the lady fell. His father was a
cautious man, and when he saw the prisoner rush up the cliff
and disappear, that the lady was dead, and that the storm was
beginning to rage violently and the tide was coming in, and
fearing, besides, that he should get into trouble, he hurried
into the boat and put off and boarded the schooner, and as soon
as possible set sail for Bermuda. They had kept away from
this coast for years, that is to say, as long as the father lived.
John Miles was cross-examined by Mr. Romford, but without
effect.
Ttis testimony bore fatally upon the prisoner's cause tte
silence of consternation reigned through the crowd.
Thnrston Willcoxen, when he heard this astounding evidence,
first thought that the witness was perjured, but when he looked
closely upon his open, honest face, and fearless eye and free
bearing, he ^v that no consciousness of falsehood was i.herf
THE MISSING BHIDE. 621
.-nd he could but grant that the witness, naturally deceived by
"foregone conclusions," had inevitably mistaken the real mur-
derer for himself.
Darker and darker lowered the pall of fate over him the
awful stillness of the court was oppressive, was suffocating;
a deathly faintness came upon him, for now, for the first time,
he fully realized the awful doom that threatened him. Not long
his nature bowed under the burden his spirit rose to throw it
off, and once more the fine head was proudly raised, nor did it
once sink again. The last witness for the prosecution was now
called and took the stand, and deposed that he lived ten miles
down the coast in an isolated, obscure place ; that on the first
of May, 182-, the body of a woman had been found at low
tide upon the beach, that it had the appearance of having been
very long in the water the clothing was respectable, the dress
was dark blue stuff, but was faded in spots there was a ring on
the finger, but the hand was so swollen that it could not be got
off. His poor neighbors of the coast assembled. They made
an effort to get the coroner, but he could not be found. And
the state of the body demanded immediate burial. When cross-
questioned by Lawyer Romford, the witness said that they had
not then heard of any missing or murdered lady, but had be-
lieved the body to be that of a shipwrecked passenger, until
they heard of Miss Mayfield's fate.
Miriam was next recalled. She came in as before, supported
between Colonel and Miss Thornton. Every one who saw tho
poor girl, said that she was dying. When examined, she do-
posed that Marian, when she left home, had worn a blue merii.o
dress and yes, she always wore a little locket ring on hor
finger. Drooping and fainting as she was, Miriam was allowed
to lea^e the court-room. This closed the evidence of the pro-
went ion.
The defence was taken up and conducted with a great deal
of skill. Mr. Romford enlarged upon the noble character hia
client had ever maintained from childhood to the present time
they all knew him he had been born and had ever lived among
622 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
then? what man or woman of them all would have dared 'jc
suspect him of such a crime? he spoke warmly of his truth,
fiielity, Christian zeal, benevolence, philanthropy and great
public benefits.
I have no space nor time to give a fair idea of the logic and
eloquence with which Mr. Romford met the charges of the
state's attorney, nor the astute skill with which he tried to
break down" the force of the evidence for the prosecution.
Then ne called the witnesses for the defence. They were all
warm friends of Mr. Willcoxen, all had known him from boy-
nood, none would believe that under any possible circumstances
he could commit the crime for which he stood indicted. They
testified to his well-known kindness, gentleness and benevolence
his habitual forbearance and command of temper, even under
the most exasperating provocations they swore to his gene-
rosity, fidelity and truthfulness in all the relations of life. In a
word, they did the very best they could to save his life and
honor but the most they could do was very little before the
force of such evidence as stood arrayed against him. And all
men saw, that unless an alibi could be proved, Thurston Will-
coxen was lost I Oh ! for that alibi. Paul Douglass was again
undergoing an awful temptation. Why, he asked himnelf
why should he not perjure his soul, and lose it, too, to save hia
brother's life and honor from fatal wrong ? And if there had
not been in Paul's heart a love of truth greater than his fear of
hell, his affection for Thurston would have triumphed, he would
have perjured himself.
The defence here closed. The state's attorney did not even
deem it necessary to speak again, and the judge proceeded tc
charge the jury. They must not, he said, be blinded by the
social position, clerical character, youth, talents, accomplish-
ments or celebrity of the prisoner with however dazzling a
nalo these might surround him. They must deliberate ooolly
upon the evidence that had been laid before them, and afte* due
consideration of the case, if there was a doubt upon *hftii
taints, they were to let the prisoner have the full benefit n.f it-
THE MISSING BEIDE. 623
Wherever there was the least uncertainty *.t was right to lean
to the side of mercy.
The case was then given to the jury. T u e jury did not leave
their box, but counseled together in a low voice for hnlf-au
hour, during which a death-like silence, a suffocating atmo-
sphere filled the court-room.
Thnrston alone was calm, his soul had collected all its forcea
to meet the shock of whatever fate might come honor or dis-
honor, life or death I
Presently the foreman of the jury arose, followed by the
others.
Every heart stood still.
" Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon your ver-
dict?" demanded the judge.
" Yes, your honor," responded the foreman, on the part of
his colleagues.
" How say you is the prisoner at the bar ' Guilty or Not
Guilty ?'
" NOT GUILTY," cried the shrill tones of a girl, near the outer
door, towards which all eyes, in astonishment and inquiry, were
now turned, to see a slight female figure, in the garb of a Sister
of Mercy, clinging to the arm of Cloudesley Mornington, and
who was now pushing and elbowing his way through the crowd,
towards the bench.
All gave way many that were seated arose to their feet, and
spoke in eager whispers, or looked over each others' heads.
" Order! silence in the court!" shouted the marshal.
" Your honor this lady is a vitally important witness for
the defence," said Cloudy, pushing his way into the presence of
the judge, leaving his female companion standing before the
bench and then hurrying to the dock, where he grasped tho
hand of the prisoner, exclaiming, breathlessly, " Savrd Thurs-
toe I Saved I"
''Orde- 1 silence !" called out the marshal, by way of making
himself agreeable for there was silence in the court, where al
the audience it least were more anxious to hear than to speak
624 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OK,
" Tour honor, I move that the new witness be heard," said
Mr. Roraford.
" The defence is closed the charge given to the jury, who
have decided upon their verdict," answered the state's attorney
" The verdict has not been rendered, the jury have the pri-
Tilege of hearing this new witness," said the judge.
The jury were unanimous in the resolution to withhold their
fcrdict until they had heard.
This being decided, the Sister of Mercy took the stand,
threw aside her long, black veil, and revealed the features of
Jacquelina; but so pale, weary, anxious and terrified, as to be
scarcely recognizable.
The usual oath was administered.
And while Cloudy stood triumphantly by the side of Mr.
Willcoxen, Jacquelina prepared to give in her evidence.
She was interrupted by a slight disturbance near the door,
and the rather noisy entrance of several persons, whom the
crowd, on beholding, recognized as Commodore Waugh, his
vife, his niece, and his servant. Some among them seemed to
insist upon being brought directly into the presence of the
judge and jury but the officer near the door pointed ou+, to
them the witness on the stand, waiting to give testimony ; and
on seeing her they subsided into quietness, and suffered them-
selves to be set aside for a while.
When this was over a lady, plainly dressed, and close-veiled,
entered, and addressed a few words to the same janitor. But the
latter replied as he l iad to the others, by pointing to the witness
on the stand. The veiled lady seemed to acquiesce, ami sat
down where the officer directed her.
" Order! silence in the court!" cried the marshal, not to bo
behindhand.
And order and silence reigned when the Sister gave in her
evidence as follows :
" My name is Jacquelina L'Oiseau not Grimshaw for I
never was the wife of Dr. Grimshaw. I do not like to speak
farther of myself, yet it is necessary, to make my testimocj
THE MISSING BRIDE. 625
lear While yet a child I was contracted to Dr. Grimshaw in
a civil marriage, which was never ratified I was full of mischief
in those days, and my greatest pleasure was to torment and pro-
roke my would-be bridegroom ; alas ! alas ! it was to that wanton
spirit that all the disaster is owing. Thurston Willcoxeu and
Marian Mayfiekl were my intimate friends. On the morning
of the 8th of April, 182-, they were both at Luckenough.
Thursion left early. After he was gone, Marian chanced to
drop a note, which I picked up and read. It was in the hand-
writing of Thurston Willcoxen, and it appointed a meeting
with Marian upon the beach, near Pine Bluff, for that evening.
Here Mr. Romford placed in her hands the scrap of paper
that had already formed such an important part of the evidence
against the prisoner.
" Is that the note of which you speak ?"
" Yes that is the note. And when I picked it up the wan-
ton spirit of mischief inspired me with the wish to use it for
the torment of Dr. Grimshav, who was easily provoked to
jealousy ! Oh ! I never thought it would end so fatally 1 I
affected to lose the note, and left it in his way. I saw him pick
it up and read it. I felt sure he thought as I intended he should
think it was for me. There were other circumstances also to
lead him to the same conclusion. lie dropped the note where he
had picked it up, and pretended not to have seen it ; afterwards
/ in the same way restored it to Marian. To carry on my
fatal jest, I went home in the carriage with Marian, to Old
Field Cottage, which stands near the coast. I left Marian there
and sot out to return for Luckenough laughing all the time,
alas ! to think that Doctor Grimshaw had gone to the coast to
intercept what he supposed to be my meeting with Thurston 1
Ob, God I never thought such jests could be so dangerous 1
Alas ! alas 1 he met Marian MayGeld in the dark, and between
the storm without and the storm within the blindness of nigl t
and the blindness of ragt he stabbed her before he found out
his mistake, and he rushed home with her innocent blood on
his hands and clothing rushed home, and into my presence, to
89
626 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
"eproach me as the cause of his crime, to fill my bosom with
nndying remorse, and then to die ! He had in the crisis of his
passion, ruptured an artery and fell so that the blood found
rpou his hands and clothing was supposed to be his own. No
one knew the secret of his blood guiltiness but myself. In my
illness and delirium that followed, I believe I dropped somo
words that made my aunt, Mrs. Waugh, and Mr. Cloudlesley
Mornington, suspect something ; but I never betrayed my
knowledge of the dead man's unintentional crime, and would
not do so now, but so save the innocent. May I now sit
down ?"
No ! the state's attorney wanted to take her in hand, and
cross-examine her, which he began to do severely, unsparingly.
But as she had told the exact truth, though not in the clearest
style, the more the lawyer sifted her testimony, the clearer and
more evident its truthfulness and point became ; until there
Beemed at length nothing to do but acquit the prisoner. But
courts of law are proverbially fussy, and now the state's attor-
ney was doing his best to invalidate the testimony of the last
witness.
Turn we from them to the veiled lady, where she sat in her
obscure corner of the room, hearing all this.
Oh ! who can conceive, far less portray the joy, the unspeak-
able joy that filled her heart nearly to breaking ! He was
guiltless ! Thurston, her beloved, was guiltless in intention,
as he was in deed ! the thought of crime had not been near hia
heart 1 his long remorse had been occasioned by what he had
unintentionally made her suffer. He was all that he had lately
appeared to the world 1 all that he had atjirst appeared to her I
faithful, truthful, constant, noble, generous ! her heart was
f indicated! her love was not the madness, the folly, the weak-
ness that her intellectual nature had often stamped it to be !
Her love was vindicated, for he deserved it all ! Oh I joy un-
upcakable oh ! joy insupportable !
She was a strong, calm, self-governing woman not wont to
be o?ercorae by any event ol any emotion ye.t now her head.
THE MISSING BRIDE. 627
her whole form, drooped forward, and she sank upon the low
balustrade in front of her seat weighed down by excess of
happiness happiness so absorbing, that for a time she forgot
everything else ; but soon she remembered that her presenc
was required near the bench, to put a stop to the debate be-
tween the lawyers, and she strove to quell the tumultuous ex
citement of her feelings, and to recover self-command befora
going among them.
In the meantime, near the bench, the counsel for the priso-
ner had succeeded in establishing the validity of the chaaenged
testimony, and the case was once more about to be recommitted
to the jury, when the lady, who had been quietly making hei
way through the crowd towards the bench, stood immediately
in front of the judge, raised her veil, and Marian Mayfield
jtood revealed.
With a loud cry the prisoner sprang upon his feet ; but was
Immediately captured by two officers, who fancied he was about
to escape.
Marian did not speak one word, she could not do so, nor
was it necessary there she stood alive among them they all
knew her the judge, the officers, the lawyers, the audience
there she stood aliYe among them it was enough !
The audience arose in a mass, and "Marian!" "Marian
Mayfield 1" was the general exclamation, as all pressed towards
the new comer.
Jacquelina, stunned with the too sudden joy, swooned in the
arms of Cloudy, who, between surprise and delight, had nearly
lost his own senses.
The people pressed around Marian, with exclamations and
iLquirics.
The marshal forgot to be disorderly with vociferations of
" order !" and stood among the rest, agape for news.
Marian recovered her voice and spoke :
" I am not here to give any information ; what explanation I
have to make is due first of all to Mr. Willcoxen, who has th
right to claim it of me r hen he pleases," and turning around
628 MIEIAM, THE AVENGER; Oft,
sne moved towards the dock, raising her eyes to Thurston'i
face, and offering her hand.
Uow he met that look how he clasped that hand need not
be said their hearts were too full for speech.
The tumult in the court-room was at length subdued by tho
rising of the judge to make a speech a very brief one
" Mr. Willcoxen is discharged, and the court adjourned,"
and then the judge came down from his seat, and the officers
cried, "make way for the court to pass." And the way was
made. The judge came up to to the group, and shook hands
first with Mr. Willcoxen, whom he earnestly congratulated,
and then with Marian, who was an old and esteemed acquaint-
ance, and so bowing gravely, he passed out.
Still the crowd pressed on, and among them came Commo-
dore Waugh and his family, for whom way was immediately
made.
Mrs. "Waugh wept and smiled, and exclaimed : "Oh I Hebe 1
Oh ! Lapwing !"
The Commodore growled out certain inarticulate anathemas,
which he intended should be taken as congratulations, since the
people seemed to expect it of him.
And Mary L'Oiseau pulled down her mouth, cast up her
eyes, and crossed herself when she saw the consecrated hand
of Sister Theresa clasped in that of Cloudy 1
But Thurston's high spirit could not brook this scene an in-
Btant longer. And love as well as pride required its speedy
close. Marian was resting on his arm he felt the clasp of her
dear hand he saw her living face the angel brow the clear
eyes the rich auburn tresses, rippling around the blooming
cheek he heard her dulcet tones yet it seemed too like a
dream ! he needed to realize this happiness.
"Friends," he said, "I thank you for the interest you show
in us. For those whose faith in me remained unshaken in my
darkest hour, I find no words good enough to express what I
shall ever feel. But you must all know how exhausting this
day has been, and how needful repc^a is ''his eyes here fell
THE MISSING BRIDE. 629
fondly and proudly upon Marian " to this lady on my arm.
After to-raorro\v we shall be happy to see any of our frteudi
at Dell-Delight.'* And bowing slightly from right to left, ho
led his Marian through the opening crowd.
CHAPTER XL VI.
REUNION.
"0! my soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms!
My soul hfith her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to thi
Succeeds in unknown fate." Sliakspeare.
WHO thall follow them, or intrude on the sacredness of thei r
reconciliation, or relate with what broken tones, and frequent
stops and tears and smiles, and clinging embraces, their
mutual explanations were made ?
At last Marian, raising her head from his shoulder, said,
' But I come to you a bankrupt, dear Thurston ! I have in.
herited and expended a large fortune since we parted and now
I am more than penniless, for I stand responsible for large
sums of money owed by my 'Orphans' Home' and 'Emigrants'
Help' money that I had intended to raise by subscription."
" Now, I thank God abundantly for the wealth that He has
given me. Your fortune, dearest Marian, has been nobly ap-
propriated and for the rest, it is my blessed privilege to assume
all your responsibilities and I rejoice that they are great! for,
sweetest wife, and fairest lady, I feel that I never can sufficiently
prove how much I love and reverence you how much I would
and onght to sac-:nce for you !"
<: And even now, dear Thurston, I came hither, bound on a
mission to the western prairies, to find a suitable piece of land
<br a colony of emigrants."
^0 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
" I know it, fairest and dearest lady, I know it all. I will
aft that burden from your shoulders, too, and all liabilities of
yours do I assume oh! ray dear Marian ! with how much joy!
and I will labor with and for yon, until ail your responsibilities
of every sort are discharged, and my liege lady is free to live
her own life !"
This scene took place in the private parlor of the hotel, while
Paul Douglass was gone to Colonel Thornton's lodgings, to
carry the glad tidings to Miriam, and also to procure a carnage
for the conveyance of the whole party to Dell-Delight.
He returned at last, accompanied by Miriam, whom he ten-
derly conducted into the room, and who, passing by all others,
tottered forward, and sank, weeping, at the feet of Mr. Will-
ivxen, and clasping his knees, still wept, as if her heart would
break.
Thurston stooped and raised her, pressed the kiss of forgive-
ness on her young brow, and then whispering,
" Miriam, have you forgotten that there is another here who
claims your attention ?" took her by the hand, and led her to
Marian.
The ycuncr girl was shy and silent, but Marian drew her to
her bosom, saying,
"Has my ' baby' forgotten me? And so, you would have
been an avenger, Miriam. Remember, all your life, dear child,
that such an office is never to be assumed by an erring human
creature. 'TTengeance is mine, and I will repay, saith the
Lord.' " And kissing Miriam fondly, she resigned her to
Paul's care, and turned, and gave her own hand to Thurston,
whc conducted her to the carriage, and then returned for little
Angel, who all this time had sat demurely in a little parlor chair
They were followed by Paul and Miriam, and so set forth for
Dell-Delight.
But little more remains to be told.
Thurston resigned his pastoral charge of the village church ;
settled up his business in the neighborhood ; procured a discreet
womaa to keep house at Dell-Delight; left Paul, Miriam and
THE MISSING BRIDE. 631
poor Fanny in her care, and set out with Marian, on their west-
ern journey, to select the site for the settlement of her emigrant
proteges. After successfully accomplishing this mission, they
returned east, and embarked for Liverpool, and thence to Lon-
don, where "Marian dissolved her connection with the "Emi-
grant's Help," and bade adieu to her "Orphans' Home."
Thurston made large donations to both these institutions. And
Marian saw that her place was well supplied to the " Orphans'
Home" by another competent woman. Then they returned to
America. Their travels had occupied more than twelve months.
And their expenses, of all sorts, had absorbed more than a third
of Mr. Willcoxen's princely fortune yet with what joy was it
lavished by his hand, who felt he could not do too much for his
priceless Marian.
On their return home, a heartfelt gratification met them it
was that the parish had shown their undiminished confidence in
Mr. Willcoxen, and their high appreciation of his services, by
keeping his pulpit open for him. And a few days after his
settlement at home, a delegation of the vestry waited upon him,
to solicit his acceptance of the ministry. And after talking
with his "liege lady," as he fondly and proudly termed Marian,
Mr. Willcoxen was well pleased to return a favorable answer.
And in a day or two Thurston and Marian were called upon
to give decision in another cause, to wit :
Jacquelina had not returned to Bethlehem, nor renewed her
vows : but had doffed her nun's habit for a young lady's dress
and remained at Luckenough Cloudy had not failed to push
his suit with all his might. But Jacqueliua still hesitated she
did not know, she said, but she thought she had no right to be
happy, as other people had, she had caused so much trouble ic
the world, she reckoned she had better go back to her convent.
"And because you unintentionally occasioned some sorrow,
now happily over, to some people, you would atone for the
fault by adding one more to the list of victims, and making m
miserable Bad logic, Lina, and worse religion."
Jarquelina did not, know she could not decide after to
632' MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
many grave errors, she was afraid to trust herself. The matter
was then referred of all men in the world, to the Commodore,
who graciously replied, that they might all go to the demon
for him. But as Cloudy and Lina had no especial business
with his Satanic Majesty, they declined to avail themselves of
the permission, and consulted Mrs. Waugh, whose deep, mellow
laugh preceded her answer, when she said,
" Take heart, Lapwing ! take heart, and all the happiness you
can possibly get ! I have lived a long time, and seen a great
many people, good and bad, and though I have sometimes met
people who were not so happy as they merited yet I never
have seen any one happier than they deserved to be I and that
they cannot be so, seems to be a law of nature that ought to
reconcile us very much to the apparent flourishing of tho
wicked."
But Mrs. L'Oiseau warned her daughter not to trust to
"Aunty," who was so good natured, and altogether such a mis-
guided woman, that if she had her will she would do away with
all punishment yes, even with Satan and purgatory I But
Jacquelina had much less confidence in Mrs. L'Oiseau than in
Mrs. Waugh ; and so she told Cloudy, who thought that he had
waited already quite long enough, to wait until Marian and
Thurston came home, and if they thought it Avould be right for
her to be happy why then maybe she might be ! But the
matter must be referred to them.
And now it was referred to them, by the sorely tried Cloudy.
And they gave Jacquelina leave to be "happy." And she was
happy 1 And as for Cloudy, poor, constant fellow ! he was so
overjoyed, that he declared he would petition the Legislature to
change his name as no longer appropriate, for though his morn-
iug had been cloudy enough, his day was going to be a very
bright one 1
When Mrs. L'Oiseau heard of this engagement, she crossed
herself, and told her beads, and vqwed that the world was grow-
ing so wicked, that she could no longer live in it. And she
ecrameuced preparations to retire to a convent, to which in fact
THE MISSING BRIDE. 633
she soon after went, and where, in strict truth, die was likely
to be much happier than her nature would permit her to be
elsewhere.
Cloudy and Lina were very quietly married, and took up their
abode at the pleasant farm-house of Locust Hill, which was re-
paired and refurnished for their reception. But if the leopard
cannot change his spots, nor the Ethiope his skin neither can
the fairy permanently change her nature ; for no sooner was
Jacko's happiness secured, than the elfish spirit, the lightest
part of her nature, effervesced to the top for the torment of
Cloudy. Jacko and Cloudy even had one quarrel it was upon
the first occasion after their marriage, of his leaving her to join
his ship and when the whilome sister of charity drove Cloudy
nearly frantic by insisting whether in jest or earnest no one
on earth could tell upon donning the little middy's uniform
and going with him ! However, the quarrel happily was never
renewed, for before the next time of sailing, there appeared a
certain tiny Cloudy at home, that made the land quite as dear
as the sea to its mother. And this little imp became Mrs.
Waugh's especial pet. And if Jacquelina did not train the
little scion very straight, at least she did not twist him awry.
And she even tried, in her fitful capricious way, to reform her
own manners, that she might form those of her little children.
And Mrs. Waugh and dear Marian aided her and encouraged
her in her uncertain efforts.
About this time, Paul and Miriam were united, and went to
housekeeping in the pretty villa built for them upon the site of
Old Field Cottage by Thurston, and furnished for them by Mrs.
Waugh.
And a very pleasant country neighborhood they formed
these three young families of Dell-Delight, Locust Hill, and
the villa.
Two other important events occurred in their social circle
first, poor harmless Fanny passed smilingly to her heavenly
home, and all thought it very well.
And one night Commodore Waugh. after eating a good
634 MIRIAM, THE AVENGER; OR,
hearty supper, was comfortably tacked up in bed, and wenl
into a sound, deep sleep from which he never more awoke. Maj
he rest in peace. But do you think Mrs. Waugh did not cry
about it for two weeks, and ever after speak of him as the poor,
dear Commodore ?
Bat Henrietta was of too healthful a nature to break her
heart for the loss of a very good man, and it was not likely she
was going to do so for the missing of a very uncomfortable
one ; and so in a week or two more her happy spirits returned,
and she began to realize to what freedom, ease, and cheerfulness
she had fallen heir ! Now she could live and breathe, and go
and come without molestation. Now when she wished to open
her generous heart to the claims of affection in the way of help-
ing "Lapwing" or Miriam, who were neither of them very
rich or to the greater claims of humanity in the relief of the
suffering poor, or the pardon of delinquent servants, she could
do so to her utmost content, and without having to accompany
her kind act with a deep sigh at the anticipation of the parlor
storm it would raise at home. And though Mrs. Henrietta
still "waxed fat," her good flesh was no longer an incumbrance
to her the leaven of cheerfulness lightened the whole mass.
Mrs. Waugh had brought her old maid Jenny back. Jenny
had begged to come home to "old mistess," for she said it was
" 'stonishin' how age-able," she felt, though nobody might be-
lieve it, she was "gettin' oler and oler, ebery singly day" of
her life, and she wanted to end her days '"long o' ole mistess."
Old mistress was rich and good, and Luckenough was a
quiet, comfortable home, where the old maid was very sure
of being lodged, boarded, and clothed almost as well as cald
mistress herself not that these selfish considerations entered
largely into Jenny's mind, for she really loved Mrs. Henrietta.
And old mistress and old maid were never happier than on
gome fine, clear day, when seated on their two old mules, they
ambled along through forest and over field, to spend a day with
' Lapwing" or with " Hebe" or perhaps with the " Pigeon
Pair," a they called the new married couple at the villa.
THE MISSING BEIDE. 635
Yes! there was a time when Mrs. Henrietta was happier
still ! It was, when upon some birthday or other festival, she
would gather all the young families Thurston and Hebe,
Clowdy and Lapwing, the Pigeons, and all the babies, in the big
parlor of Luckenough, and sit surrounded by a flock of tiny
lapwings, hebes and pigeons, forming a group that our fairy
saucily called, " The old hen and chickens."
And what shall we say in taking leave of Thurston and Ma-
rian ? He had had some faults, as you have seen but the
conquering of faults is the noblest conquest, and he had
achieved such a victory. He called Marian the angel of his
salvation. Year by year their affection deepened and strength-
ened, and drew them closer in heart and soul and purpose.
From their home as from a centre emanated a healthful,
beneficent and elevating influence, happily felt through all
their social circle. A lovely family grew around them and
among the beautiful children, none were more tenderly nursed
or carefully trained, than the little waif Angel. And in all
the pleasant country neighborhood, the sweetest and the hap-
piest home is that of Dell-Delight.
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The Three Beauties,
A Noble Lord, 1 75
Lost Heir of Linlith^ow, 1 75
Tried for her Life, 1 75
The Gipsy's Prophecy,
The Maiden Widow, 1 75
The Family Doom, I 75
The Brido's Fate 1 75
The Chan"ed Brides, 1 75
The Christmas Guest,
Haunted Homestead,
Wife's Victory
Allworth Abbey,
Fallen Pride 1 75
India ; Pearl of Pearl River,..
Curse of Clifton
Discarded Daughter . . ...
The Widow's Son 1 75
The Bride of Llewellyn, 1 75
The Fatal Marriage,. 1 75
The Mystery of Dark Hollow,..
The Missing Bride; or, Miriam, the
The Phantom Wedding; or, The Fall
Above are each in cloth, or each o
Self-Made; or, Out of the Depths. ]
Complete in two volumes, cloth, pt
of the House of Flint,
le is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
3y Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth.
ice $1.75 each, or $3.50 a set.
MRS! CAROLINE LEE HENTZ'S WORKS.
Qmplete in twelve targe duo'lf.imn volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gili back,
price $1.75 each ; or $21.(X) a. set, each set is put up in a neat box.
Ernest Linwood, $1 75
The Planter's Northern Bride,.. 1 75
Courtship and Marriage, 1 75
Rena; or, the Snow Bird, 1 75
Marcus Warland 1 75
Linda ; or, the Y<
Love after Marriage $1 75
Eoline; or Magnolia Vale, I 75
The Lost Daughter, 1 7i
The Banished Son, 1 75
Helen and Arthur, 1 75
1 75
3 YoYing'p'iiotof the Belle Creole, .'."'.!.'..'.'...'"."
Robert Graham; the Sequel to " Linda; or Pilot of Belle Creole,"... 1 75
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
(jT Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price.
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa, (1)
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS.
MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS,
Comple.it in twenty-three large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt back,
price. $1.75 each ; or $40.25 a set, eac/t set is put up in a neat box.
Norston's Rest,... $1 751 The Solders' Orphans, $171
Bertha's Engagement,
75IA Noble Woman
I 75
75
75
75
75
75
75
75
75
75
Bcllchood and Bondage
The Old Countess,
Lord Hope's Choice,
The Reio-ninf Belle,
75
75
75
7*>
Silent Struggles,
The Rejected Wife,..
The AVife's Secret,
Palaces and 1'risons,
7^
Fashion and Famine,
Married in H;iste,
Wives and Widows,
75
75
75
ires
The Curse of Gold,
M libel's Mistake
Ruby Gray's Strategy,
Duubly False, 1 75 | The H
The Old Homestead,
s, 1 75 | The Gold Brick,...
Above aro each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
MISS ELIZA A. DUPUY'S WORKS.
Complete in fourteen large dnoile.cit
$1.75 eac/i; or $24.50
volumes, bound iii morocco cloth, gilt back, prict
set, eac/t set is put up in a neat box.
A New Way to Win a Fortune$l 75 , Why Did He Marry Her? $1 75
i'ho Discarded Wife,
The Clandestine Marriage
The Hidden Sin
The Dethroned Heiress,
'J he Gipsy's Warning
All For Love,...
Who Shall be Victor?
The Mysterious Guest,
75 Was He Guilty?
75 I The Cancelled Will,
75 I The Planter's Daughter,
75 ! Michael Rudolph,
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
LIST OF THE BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED.
Every housekeeper should posses.* at least one. of tl/e follmoin/j Cook Books, as they
would save the price of it in a week's cooking.
Miss Leslie'* Cook Book, a Complete Manual to Domestic Cookery
in all its Branches. Paper cover, SI. 00, or bound in cloth, $1 50
The Queen of the Kitchen; or, The Southern Cook Book. Con-
taining 1007 Old Southern Family Receipts for Cooking,. ..Cloth,
Mrs. Hale's New Cook Book, '. Cloth,
Petersons' New Cook Book Cloth,
Widdifield's New Cook Book, Cloth,
Mrs. Goodfellow's Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth,
The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth,
The Young Wife's Cook Book, Cloth,
Miss Leslie's New Receipts for Cookin", Cloth,
Mrs. Hale's Receipts for the Million Cloth,
The Family Save-All. By author of "National Cook Book," Cloth,
Francatelli's Modern Cook Book. With the most approved methods
of French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty-
two Illustrations. One vol., 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth, 5 00
fcCT Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Fries,
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa.
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 3
MRS. C. A. WARFIELD'S WORKS.
Qmplele innim- large duodecimo volumes. Imund in morocco doth, gilt back, priet
SI. 7.") eac/i ; or 815.75 a srt, each set is put tip in a neat box.
The Cardinal's Daughter, $1 75 Miriam's Memoirs, $1 75
Feme Fleming 1 75 Monfort Hall, 1 75
The Household of Bouverie,.... 1 75 Sea and Shore, 1 75
A Double Wedding, 1 75 Hester Howard's Temptation,... 1 74
Lady Ernestine; or, The Absent Lord of Rocheforte, 1 75
FREDRIKA BREMER'S DOMESTIC NOVELS.
Complete in six lai -ge duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 <o#A;
or $lu.50 a set, each set is put tip in a neat box.
Father and Daughter, $1 75 I The Neighbors, $1 75
The Four Sisiers 1 75 1 The Home, 1 75
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
Life in the OH World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 50
a K. PHILANDER DOESTICKS' WORKS.
Complete in four large, duodecimo volumes:, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $l.7C
each ; or $7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box.
Doestieks' Letters, $1 75 I The Elephant Club, $1 75
Plu-Ri-Bus-Tah 1 75 | Witches of New York 1 75
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
JAMES A. MAITLAND'S WORKS.
Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in clnth. gilt liack, price $1.75
each ; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box.
SI 75
Diary of an Old Doctor,....
....$1 75
The Wanderer
1 75
.... 1 75
The Lawyer's Story
... 1 75
The Three C<m.-ins
... 1 75
The Old Patro.on; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 75
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE'S NOVELS-
Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, prtce $1.75
each; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box.
The Sealed Packet, $1 75 Dream Numbers, $1 75
Garstang Grange, 1 75 Beppo, the Conscript, 1 75
Leonora Casaloni,... 1 75 | Gemma 1 75 | Marietta, 1 75
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
FRANK FORESTER'S SPORTING SCENES.
Frank Forester's Sporting Scenes and Characters. By Henry William
Herbert. A New, Revised, and Enlarged Edition, with a Life of the
Author, a New Introductory Chapter, Frank Forester's Portrait and
Autograph, wi'h a t'ull length picture of him in his shooting costume,
nnd seventeen other illustrations, from original designs by Darley and
Frank Forester. Two vols., morocco cloth, bevelled boards, $4.00.
<^ Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prioa,
by T. B. Petsrson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa.
4 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS.
WILKIE COLLINS' BEST WORKS.
Basil; or, The Crossed Path..$l 50 | The Dead Secret. 12mo $1 50
Above ure each in one large duodecimo volume, hound in cloth.
The Dead Secret, 8vo 75 , The Queen's Revenge, 75
Ua*il; or, the Crossed Path 75 | Miss or Mrs ? 6
Hide and Seek, 75 Mad Munkton, 59
After Dark 75 I Sights a-Foot 50
The Stolen Mask, 26 | The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,... 2*
The above books are each iss-eJ in paper cover, in octavo form.
EMERSON BENNETT'S INDIAN STORIES.
Onmpletr in seven large duoilecimn volumes, bnund in cloth, gilt back, price $1.TI
each ; or $12.25 a set, tack set is put up in a neat box.
The Border Rover, $1 75
Clara Moreland 1 75
The Orphan's Trials 1 75
Bride of the Wilderness, $1 75
Ellen Norbury 1 75
Kate Clarendon, 1 75
Viola: or Adventures in the Far South-West, 1 75
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
The Heiress of Bellefonte, 75 | The Pioneer's Daughter, 75
GREEN'S WORKS ON GAMBLING.
Complete in four large tluotlecimo volumes, bound in clot/i, gilt back, price $1.7>
each ; or $7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box.
Gambling Exposed $1 75 i The Reformed Gambler, $1 75
The Gambler's Life 1 75 | Secret Band of Brothers, 1 7*
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each.
DOW'S PATENT SERMONS.
Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50
eacli ; or $6.00 a. set, each set is put up in a neat box.
Dow's Patent Sermons, 1st i Dow's Patent Sermons, 3d
Series, cloth, $1 50
Dow's Patent Sermons, 2d
Series, cloth 1 50
Series, cloth, $1 50
Dow's Patent Sermons, 4th
Series, cloth 1 50
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each.
GEORGE SAND'S GREATEST WORKS.
Consuelo, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 Jealousy, 12uio., cloth, $1 50
Countess of Rudolstadt, 1 50 Indiana, 12mn., cloth 1 59
Above are each published in 12ino., cloth, gilt side and back.
Fanchon, the Cricket, paper cover, 50 cents, or fine edition, in cloth. 1 50
First and True Love. With 11 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00
Consuelo. Paper cover,
Simon. A Love Story, 50
The Corsair 60
The Last Aldini, 50
The Countess of Rudolstadt. The Sequel to Consuelo. Paper cover, 75
MISS BRADDON'S WORKS.
Aurora Floyd, 75 I The Lawyer's Secret, 2a
Aurora Floyd, cloth 1 00 | For Better, For Worse, 74
0&* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Frioa,
by T. B. Peterson it Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa.
T.B PETERSON & BROTHERS 1 PUBLICATIONS. 6
PETERSONS' "DOLLAR SERIES."
persons' "Dollar Series " of Good Novels are, the. cheapest books at One Dollar eatk
tter published. They art all issued t>_ uniform style, in I'Zmo. form, and art
bound in red, blue and tan vellum, with gold and black sides and back, and are sold
at the low price of One Dollar each, while they are as large as any books puMitkat
at $1.75 and $2.00 each. The following have already been issued in this seritu:
uady Edith; or, Alton Towers. A very charming :ind fascinating work.
Myrtle Lawn; or, True Love Never Did Run Smooth. A Love Story.
A. Woman's Thoughts About Women. By Miss Mulock.
Two Ways to Matrimony; or, Is It Love, or, False Pride?
Tha Story of " Elizabeth." By Miss Thackeray.
Flirtations in Fashionable Life. By Catharine Sinclair.
The Matchmaker. A Society Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds.
Rose Douglas, the Bonnie Scotch Lass. A Companion to " Family PrieU."
The Earl's Secret. A Charming Love Story. By Miss Pardoe.
Family Secrets. A Companion to "Family Pride," and very fascinating.
The Macderinots of Ballycloran. An Exciting Novel, by A. Trollope.
The Family Save-All. With Economical Receipts for the Household.
Self-Sacrifice. A Charming Work. By author of "Margaret Maitland."
The Pride of Life. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott.
The Rival Belles; or, Life in Washington. Author " Wild Western Scenes."
The Clyffards of Clyffe. By James Payn, author " Lost Sir Massingberd."
The Orphan's Trials; or, Alone in a Great City. By Emerson Bennett.
The Heiress of Sweetwater. A Love Story, abounding with exciting scenes.
The Refugee. A delightful book, full of food for laughter, and information.
Lost Sir Massingberd. A Love Story. By author of " Clyffards of Clyffe."
Cora Belmont; or, The Sincere Lover. A True Story of the Heart.
The Lover's Trials ; or, The Days Before the Revolution. By Mrs. Denison,
My Son's Wife. A strong, bright, interesting and charming Novel.
Aunt Patty's Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of " Rena."
Saratoga! and the Famous Springs. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life.
Country Quarters. A Chiirminjr Love Story. By Countess of Blessington.
Self-Love. A Book for Young Lndies, with prospects in Life contrasted.
The Devoted Bride; or, Faith and Fidelity. A Love Story.
Colley Gibber's Life of Edwin Forrest, with Reminiscences of the Actor.
Out of the Depths. The Story of a Woman's Life, and a Woman's Book.
The Queen's Favorite ; or, Ths Price of a Crown. A Romance of Don Juan.
Six Nights with the Washingtonians. By T. S. Arthur. Illustrated.
The Coquette; or, the L'fe' and Letters of the beautiful Eliza Wharton.
Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople. By Euimeline Lott.
The Old Patroon; or, The Great Van Broek Property, by J. A. Maitlnnd.
Nana. By Emile Zola. Gambling Exposed. By J. H. Green.
L'Assommoir. By Ernile Zola. Woodburn Grange. By W. Howitt.
D -earn Numbers. By Trollope. The Cavalier. By G. P. R. James.
A Lonely Life. Across the Atlantic.
The Beautiful Widow. ShouMer-Strnps. By II. Morferd.
Love and Duty. By Mrs. Hubback. The Brothers' Secret.
The Heiress in the Family. The Rector's Wife.
Woman's Wi-ong. A Woman's Book. The Man of the World
JBS~ Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Eetail Pria*
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa.
6 T. B, PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS.
PETERSONS' "STERLING SERIES."
"Peternons' Sterling Series " of New and Good Book* are the Cheapest Novell
in the world. They are all invited in uniform xtyle, in octnm form, price
One Dollar each, bound in morocco cloth, black and yold ; or 7 5 cents each
in paper cover, with the edyes cut open (ill ai'onnd. The following
celebrated works hace already been issued in this eerie* :
Corinne; or, Italy. By Madame De Stael. This is a Wonderful Book.
The Man in Black; or the Days of Queen Anne. By G. P. R. James.
Edina; or, Missing Since Midnight. A Love Story. 'By Mrs. Henry Wood.
Cyrilla. A Love Story. By the author of " The Initials."
Popping the Question,- or, Belle of the Ball. By author of "The Jilt."
Marrying for Money. A Charming Love Story in Real Life.
Aurora Floyd. An Absorbing Love Story. By Miss M. E. Braddon.
Salnthiel ; or, The Wandering Jew. By Rev. George Croly.
Harry Lorrequer. Full of Fun, Frolic and Adventure. By Charles Lever.
Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon. Charles Lever's Greatest Novel.
The Flirt. A Fashionable Novel. By author of " The Gambler's Wife."
The Dead Secret. Wilkie Collins' Greatest Work.
Thackeray's Irish Sketch Book, with Thirty-eight Illustrations.
The Wife's Trials. Dramatic and Powerful. By Miss Julia Pardoe.
The Man With Five Wives. By Alexander Dumas, author of " Camille."
Pickwick Abroad. Illustrated by Cruikshank. By G. W. M. Reynolds.
First and True Love. Beautifully rich in style. By George Sand.
The Mystery; or, Anne Hereford. A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood.
The Steward. Illustrated. By the author of " Valentine Vox."
Basil : or, The Crossed Path. By Wilkie Collins. Told with great power.
The Jealous Wife. Great originality of plot. By Miss Julia Pardoe.
Sylvester Sound. By the author of " Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquiut."
Whitefriars; or, The Days of Charles the Second. Equal to "Ivanhoe,"
Webster and Hayne's Speeches on Foot's Resolution & Slavery Compromise.
The Rival Beauties. A Beautiful Love Story. By Miss Pardoe.
The Confessions of a Pretty Woman. By Miss Julia Pardoe.
Flirtations in America; or, High Life in New York.
The Coquette. A Powerful and Amusing Tale of Love and Pride.
The Latimer Family. T. S. Arthur's Great Temperance Story, illustrated.
Above books are $1.00 each in cloth, or 75 cents each in paper cover.
The Creole Beauty. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Price Fifty cents.
Agnes Graham. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Price Fifty cents.
HENRY MORFORD'S AMERICAN NOVELS.
Shoulder-Straps, $1 75 I The Days of Shoddy. A His-
The Coward ] 75 I tory of the late War, $1 IS
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, price $1.50 each
THE SHAKSPEARE NOVELS.
Shakspeare arid his Friends,. ..$1 00 I The Secret Passion, $1
The Youth of Shakspeare, 1 001
Above three Books are also bound in morocco cloth. Price $1.25 each,
(^" Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price,
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa.
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 7
CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. ILLUSTRATED,
Thiii edition is printed from large ti/pe, octavo size, each book being cnmplett
in one larrje o,:1vo volume, bound in Morocco Cloth, with Gilt ' Character
Figures on back, and Medallion on side, price $1.50 each, or $27.00 a net,,
contained in eighteen volumes, the whole containing near Six Hundred
Illustration*, by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Jluctise, and other artists.
The Pickwick Papers. By Charles Dickens. With 32 Hlustrations,.$L50
Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles Dickens. With 37 Illustrations,.... 50
David Copperfinld. By Charles Dickens. With 8 Illustrations, 50
Oliver Twist. By Charles Dickens. With 24 Illustrations 50
Bleak House. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 50
Domhey and Son. By Chnrles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 50
Sketches by "Boz." By Charles Dickens. With 20 Illustrations,... 50
Little Dorrit. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations 50
Our Mutual Friend. By Charles Dickens. With 42 Illustrations.... 50
Great Expectations. By Charles Dickens. With 34 Illustrations,... 50
Lamplighter'.-' Story. By Charles Dickens. With 7 Illustrations,... 50
Barnaby Rudge. By Charles Dickens. With 50 Illustrations, 50
Martin Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dickens. With 8 Illustrations, 50
Old Curiosity Shop. By Ch.-irles Dickens. With 101 Illustrations,. 50
Christmas Stories. By Charles Dickens. With 12 Illustrations, 50
Dickens' New Stories. By Charles Dickens. AVith portrait of author, 50
A Tale of Two Cities. By Charles Dickens. AVith 64 Illustrations,. 50
Charles Dickens's American Notes aud Pic-Nic Papers, 1 50
WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS.
The following books are each issued in one large duodecimo rnJume,
bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover, at 1.50 each.
The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tnutphoeus, $1 75
Married Beneath Him. By author of " Lost Sir Miissingberd," 1 75
Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of "Zaidee," 1 75
Family Pride. By author of " Pique," "Family Secret?," etc 1 75
The Autobiography of Edward Wortley Montagu, 1 75
The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to "Linda," 1 75
Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75
The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Ilosmer, 1 75
The Rich Husband. By author of " George Gcith," 1 75
The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 75
My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 75
The Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 75
Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 75
The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lnsselle, 1 75
High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75
Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,... 1 50
The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Maillard, 1 75
The Conscript ; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Alex. Dumas,.... 1 75
Cousin Harry. By Mrs. Grey, author of " The^Gatr.bler's Wife," etc. 1 75
Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each,
' AboTa Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Betail Pviae,
bv X. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Fa,
9 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS.
WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS.
The following books are each issued in one large rlunffffimo cofamq
touml in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper covtr ai 1.50 each.
The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Dumas, Illustrated, paper $1.00,..$! 7i
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or cloth,.. 1 75
Camille; or, the Fato of a Coquette. By Alexander Dumas, I 76
Love and Money. By J. B. Jones, author of the " Rival Belles,"... 75
The Brother's Secret ; or, the Count De Mara. By William Godwin, 75
The Lost Love. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of " Margaret. Maitland," T5
The Roman Traitor. By Henry William Herbert. A Roman Story, 75
The Last Athenian. By Victor Rydberg. From the Swedish, 75
The Bohemians of London. By Edward M. Whitty, 75
Wild Sports and Adventures in Africa. By Major W. C. Harris, 75
The Lite, Writings, and Lectures of the late " Fanny Fern," 75
The Life and Lectures of Lola Montez, with her portrait, 75
Wild Southern Scenes. By author of Wild Western Scenes," 75
Currer Lyle ; or, the Autobiography of an Actress. By Louise Reeder. 75
The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 75
The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Grey, 75
Li/.zie Glenn; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur 75
Lady Maud; or, the Wonder of Kingswood Chase. By Pierce Egan, 75
Wilfred Montressor ; or, High Life in New York. Illustrated 75
Lorrimcr Littlegood, by author " Harry Coverdale's Courtship," 75
Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thomas, 75
Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of " Days of Shoddy," 75
t):iys of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of " Shoulder Straps," 75
the Coward. By Henry Morford, author of " Shoulder Straps," 75
Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1 .50
MRS. HENRY WOOD'S BEST BOOKS, IN CLOTH.
The following are cloth editions of Mrs. Henry Wood's lest books, and
ars each isxned in large octavo volumes, bound in cloth, pi-ice $1.75
Within the Maze. By Mrs. Henry AVood, author of " East Lynne," 3
The Master of Greylands. By Mrs. Henry Wood,
Dene Hollow. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of" Within the Maze,"
Bessy Rane. By Mrs. Henry AVood, author of " The Chaunings,"....
George Canterbury's Will. By Mrs. Wood, author "Oswald Cray,"
The Channings. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of " Dene Hollow,"...
Roland Yorke. A Sequel to " The Channings." By Mrs. Wood,
Shadow of Ashlydyatt. By Mrs. Wood, author of'" Bessy Rane,"....
Lord Oakburn's Daughters; or The Earl's Heirs. By Mrs. Wood,...
Verner's Pride. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of " The Channings,"
The Castle's Heir; or Lady Adelaide's Oath. By Mrs. Henry Wood,
Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of " Roland Yorke,"....
Squire Trevlyn's Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry Wood,
The Red Court Farm. Bv Mrs. Wood, author of "Verner's Pride,"
Elster's Folly. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of" Castle's Heir."...
8t Martin's Eve. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "Dene Hollow,'
Mildred Arkell. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "East Lynue,"..,
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS 9
ALEXANDER DUMAS' WORKS, BOUND IN CLOTH.
The following are cloth editions of Alexander Damns' work*, and they art
each issued in large octavo volumes, bound in cloth, price $1.75 each.
The Three Guardsmen ; or. The Three Mousquetaires. By A. Dumas, 51 75
twenty Years After; or the "Second Series of Three Guardsmen,"... 1 75
Bragelonne; Sn of Athos ; or " Third Series of Three Guardsmen," 1 7&
The Iron Mask ; or the " Fourth Series of The Three Guardsmen.".... 1 7
Louise La Valliere; or the "Fifth Series and End of the Three
Guardsmen Series," 1 75
The Memoirs of a Physician ; or, Joseph Bulsarao. Illustrated, 1 75
Queen's Necklace; or " Second Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75
Six Years Later; or the " Third Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75
Countess of Charny; or " Fourth Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75
Andree Da Taverney; or "Fifth Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75
The Chevalier; or the "Sixth Series and End of the Memoirs of a
Physician Series," 1 75
The Adventures of a Marquis. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75
The Count of Monte-Cri?to. By Alexander Dutnas, 1 75
Edmond Dantes. A Sequel to the " Count of Monte-Cristo," 1 75
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. A Companion to "Monte-Cristo,".... 1 75
The Forty-Five Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75
Diana of Meridor, or Lady of Monsoreau. By Alexander Dumas,... 1 75
The Iron Hand. By Alex. Dumas, author "Count of Monte-Cristo," 1 75
Caraille; or the Fate of a Coquette. (La Dame aux Camelias,) 1 75
The Conscript. A novel of the Days of Napoleon the First, 1 75
Love and Liberty. A novel of the French Revolution of 1792-1793, 1 75
GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS' WORKS, IN CLOTH,
The following are cloth editions of G. W. M. Reynolds' works, and they are
each issued in large oc-tavo volumes, bound in cloth, price $1.75 each.
The Mysteries of the Court of London. By George W. M. Reynolds, 1 75
Rose Foster; or the "Second Series of Mysteries nf Court of London," 1 75
Caroline of Brunswick ; or the " Third Series of the Court of London," 1 75
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YT
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T T
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7 1 )
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23 VOLUMES, AT $1.75 EACH ; OR $40.25 A SET,
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NORSTON'S REST.
BERTHA'S ENGAGEMENT.
BELLEHOOD AND BONDAGE) or, Bought with a Price.
LORD HOPE'S CHOICE ; OP, More Secrets Than One.
THE OLD COUNTESS. Sequel to " Lord Hope's Choice."
THE REIGNING BELLE.
PALACES AND PRISONS; or, The Prisoner of the Bastile.
A NOBLE WOMAN ; or, A Gulf Between Them.
THE CURSE OF GOLD ; or, The Bound Girl and Wife's Trials.
MABEL'S MISTAKE ; or, The Lost Jewels.
WIVES AND WIDOWS; or, The Broken Life,
THE OLD HOMESTEAD; or. Pet From th Poor House.
THE REJECTED WIFE; or, The Ruling Passion.
THE WIFE'S SECRET; or, Gillian.
THE HEIRESS; or, The Gipsy's Legacy.
THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS.
SILENT STRUGGLES ; or, Barbara Stafford.
RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY; or, Married by Mistak*.
FASHION AND FAMINE.
MARRIED IN HASTE.
DOUBLY FALSE ; or, Alike and Not Alike.
THE GOLD BRICK.
MARY DERWENT.
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30G CHESTNUT STKEET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
MES. EHA D. E. If. SODTOm W(M
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THE PHANTOM WEDDiNG ; or, the Fall of the House of Flint.
SELF-RAISED; or, From the Depths. Sequel to " Ishmael."
ISHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being " Se!f-Made.")
THE "MOTHER-IN-LAW;" or, MAKhlED IN HASTE.
THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER.
VICTOR'S TRIUMPH. Sequel to " A Beautiful Fiend."
A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; cr, THROUGH THE FIRE.
LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER.
HOW HE WON HER. A Seque! to "Fair Play."
THE CHANGED BRIDES ; or, Winning Her Way.
THE BRIDE S FATE. Sequel to "The Changed Brides."
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery.
TRIED FOR HER LIFE. A Seque! to "Cruel as the Grave."
THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or, The Crime and the Curse.
THE BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN.
THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers.
A NOBLE LORD. Sequel to " Lost Heir of Linlithgow."
THE FAMILY DOOM: or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS.
THE MAIDEN WIDOW. Sequel to " Family Doom."
THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY; or, The Eride of an Evening.
THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea. The Bridal Day.
THE THREE BEAUTIES ; or, SHANNONDALE.
ALLW03TH ABBEY ; or, EUDCRA.
FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL'S LOVE.
INDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER.
VIVIA; or. THE SECRET OF POWER.
THE BRSDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER.
THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, The Children of the Isle.
THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS ; or, HICKORY HALL. /
THE TWO SISTERS; or, Virginia and Magdalene.
THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, ORV1LLE DEVILLE.
THE WIDOW'S SON: or, LEFT ALONE.
THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. ,
THE DESERTED WIFE. THE WIFE'S VICTORY.
THE LOST HEIRESS. THE ARTIST'S LOVE.
THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. LOVE'S LABOR WON.
THE SPECTRE LOVER. CURSE OF CLIFTON,
THE FATAL SECRET. RETRIBUTION.
flS$i~ Above books are for sale, by all Booksellers, or copies will be sent
to any one, at once, pout-paid, on remitting price of ones wanted to
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Publishers,
306 CHESTNUT STKEKT, PHILADELPHIA, PA,
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
Los Angeles
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
- D1SCH/RGE
OCT2
KEC'D
..i
271984
NOV 171986
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DATE RECEIVED
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003
Form L9-Series 4939
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