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 WHAT CAN SHE Do? 
 
 REV. E. P. ROE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "BARRIERS BURNED AWAY," "PLAY AHB 
 PROFIT IN MY GARDEN." 
 
 Hail I honest toil, thy hard brown hand 
 May save the fairest in the land 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
 
 DODD & MEAD, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 IP I WERE 
 
 TO DEDICATE THIS 
 
 BOOK IT WOULD BE TO THOSK 
 
 GT3LS WHO RESOLVE THAT THEY WILL NOT 
 
 ?LAY THE POOH ROLE OF MIOAWBER, THEIR ONLY CHANCE BVB 
 
 LIFE BEING THAT SOME ONE WILL "TURN UP" 
 
 WHOM THEY MAY BURDEN WITH 
 
 THEIR HELPLESS 
 
 WEIGHT. 
 
 2047422
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THIS book was not written to amuse, to cieate 
 purposeless excitement, or secure a little 
 praise as a bit of artistic work. It would probably 
 fail in all these things. It was written with a 
 definite, earnest purpose, which I trust will be ap- 
 parent to the reader. 
 
 I have nothing to say tending to disarm the 
 critics. They will speak their mind, as they ought, 
 and it is wholesome for us to have our faults point- 
 ed out. 
 
 As society in our land grows older, and departs 
 from primitive simplicity, as many are becoming 
 rich, but more poor, the changes that I have sought 
 to warn against become more threatening. The 
 ordinary avenues of industry are growing thronged, 
 and it daily involves a more fearful risk for a woman 
 to be thrown out upon the world with unskilled 
 hands, an untrained mind, and an unbraced moral 
 nature. Impressed with this danger by some con- 
 siderable observation, by a multitude of facts that
 
 v { PREFACE. 
 
 might wring tears from stony eyes, I have tried to 
 write earnestly if not wisely. 
 
 Of necessity, it touches somewhat on a subject 
 delicate and difficult to treat the " skeleton in the 
 closet " of society. But the evil exists on every 
 side and at some time or other threatens every 
 home and life It is my belief that Christian 
 teachers should not timidly or loftily ignore it, for, 
 mark it well, the evil does not let us or ours alone. 
 It is my belief that it should be dealt with in a 
 plain, fearless, manly manner. Those who differ 
 have a right to their opinion. 
 
 There is one other thought that I wish to sug- 
 gest. Much of the fiction of our day, otherwise 
 strong and admirable, is discouraging in this re- 
 spect. In the delineation of character, some are 
 good, some are bad, and some indifferent. We have 
 a lovely heroine or a noble hero developing seem- 
 ingly in harmony with the inevitable laws of their 
 natures. Associated with them are those of the 
 commoner or baser sort, also developing in accord- 
 ance with the innate principles of their natures. 
 The first are presented as if created of different 
 and finer clay than the others. The first are the 
 flowers in the garden of society, the latter the 
 weeds. 
 
 According to this theory of character, the heroine 
 must grow as a moss-rose and the weed remain a
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 weed. Credit is not due to one ; blame should not 
 be visited on the other. Is this- true? Is not the 
 choice between good and evil placed before every 
 human soul, save where ignorance and mental 
 feebleness destroy free agency ? In the field of 
 the world which the angels of God are to reap, is it 
 not even possible for the. tares to become wheat ? 
 And cannot the sweetest and most beautiful natural 
 flowers of character borrow from the skies a 
 fragrance and bloom that is not of earth ? So God's 
 inspired Word teaches me. 
 
 I have turned away from many an exquisite and 
 artistic delineation of human life, sighing, God 
 might as well have never spoken words of hope, 
 warning, and strength for all there is in this book. 
 The Divine and human Friend might have re- 
 mained hi the Heavens, and never come to earth 
 in human guise, that He might press His great 
 heart of world-wide sympathy against the burdened, 
 suffering heart of humanity. He need not have 
 died to open a way of life for all. There is nothing 
 here but human motive, human strength, and 
 earthly destiny. We protest against this narrowing 
 down of life, though it be done with the faultless 
 skill and taste of the most cultured genius. The 
 children of men are not orphaned. Our Creator is 
 still ''Emmanuel God with us." Earthly existence 
 is but the first notes in the prelude of our life, and
 
 Viii PREFACE. 
 
 even from this the Divine artist can take much of 
 the discord, and give an earnest of the eternal 
 harmonies. 
 
 We all are honored with the privilege of " co- 
 working with Him." 
 
 If I, in my little sphere, can, by this book, lead 
 one father to train his children to be more strong 
 and self-reliant, one mother to teach her daughters 
 a purer, more patient, and heroic womanhood if 1 
 have placed one more barrier in the tempter's way, 
 and inspired one more wholesome fear and prin- 
 ciple in the heart of the tempted if, by lifting the 
 dark curtain a moment, I can reveal enough to keep 
 one country girl from leaving her safe native village 
 for unprotected life in great cities if I can add one 
 iota toward a public opinion that will honor useful 
 labor, however humble, and condemn and render 
 disgraceful idleness and helplessness, however gild- 
 ed if, chief of all, I lead one heavy-laden heart to 
 the only source of rest, I shall be well rewarded, 
 whatever is said of this volume.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 VMM 
 
 Three Girls i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A Future of Human Designing ... - 12 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Three Men ------ 28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Skies Darkening ...... 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Storm Threatening 5 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Wreck 77 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Among the Breakers -.--.--95 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Warped 7
 
 CONTENTS. 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A Desert Island 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Edith Becomes a Divinity - - 150 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Mrs. Allen's Policy ....... i?o 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Waiting for Some One to Turn up 181 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 They Turn up -.---.-. aor 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 We Can't Work 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Temptation -----. - ajl 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Black Hannibal's White Heart 256 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Changes of Two Short Months ... - 268 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Ignorance. Looking for Work .... 286
 
 CONTENTS. x i 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 r&M 
 A Falling Star 295 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Desolation ....305 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Edith's True Knight - -_-..,.._- 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 A Mystery - 327 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 A Dangerous Step ....... 334 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Scorn and Kindness ------- 338 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 A Horror of Great Darkness 345 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 Friend and Saviour ---.--.353 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 The Mystery Solved ----- . - 364 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 Edith Tells the Old, Old Story - 382
 
 x ii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 MM 
 
 Hannibal Learns how his Heart can be White 394 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 Edith's and Arden's Friendship .... 403 
 
 CHAPTER XXXL 
 
 423 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIL 
 Edith Brings the Wanderer Home ... 443 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII, 
 Edith's Great Temptation ----.. 473 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 Saved ......... 48! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 Closing Scenes - - - - . . 498 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVL 
 Ust Words ........ 50!
 
 WHAT CAN SHE Do? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THREE GIRLS. 
 
 I T was a very cold blustering day in early Janua- 
 ly, and even brilliant thronged Broadway felt 
 the influence of winter's harshest frown. There 
 had been a heavy fall of snow which, though in 
 the main cleared from the sidewalks, lay in the 
 streets comparatively unsullied and unpacked. 
 Fitful gusts of the passing gale caught it up and 
 whirled it in every direction. From roof, ledges, 
 and window sills, miniature avalanches suddenly 
 descended on the startled pedestrians, and the air 
 was here and there loaded with falling flakes from 
 wild hurrying masses of clouds, the rear guard of 
 the storm that the biting northwest wind was 
 driving seaward. 
 
 It was early in the afternoon, and the great 
 thoroughfare was almost deserted. Few indeed 
 would be abroad for pleasure in such weather, and 
 the great tide of humanity that must flow up and 
 down this channel every working day of the year 
 under all skies, had not yet turned northward.
 
 2 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 But surely this graceful figure coming up the 
 street with quick, elastic steps, has not the aspect 
 of one driven forth by grave business cares, nor in 
 the natural course of things would one expect so 
 young a lady to know much of life's burdens and 
 responsibilities. As she passes I am sure the 
 reader would not turn away from so pleasant a 
 vision, even if Broadway were presenting ail its 
 numberless attractions, but at such a time -would 
 make the most of the occasion, assured that noth- 
 ing as agreeable would greet his eyes again that 
 sombre day. 
 
 The fierce gusts make little impression on her 
 heavy, close-fitting velvet dress, and in her pro- 
 gress against the wind she appears so trim and 
 taut that a sailor's eye would be captivated. She 
 bends her little turbaned head to the blast, and 
 her foot strikes the pavement with a decision that 
 suggests a naturally brave, resolute nature, and 
 gives abundant proof of vigor and health. A trim- 
 ming of silver fox fur caught and contrasted the 
 snow crystals against the black velvet of her dress, 
 in which the flakes catch and mingle, increasing 
 the sense of lightness and airiness which her 
 movements awaken, and were you seeking a fanci- 
 ful idealization of the spirit of the snow, you might 
 rest satisfied with the first character that appears 
 upon the scene of my story. 
 
 But on nearer view there was nothing spirit-like 
 or even spirituelle in her aspect, save that an ex 
 tremely transparent complexion was rendered poa.
 
 THREE GIRLS, 3 
 
 Itively dazzling by the keen air and glow of exer- 
 cise ; and the face was much too full and blooming 
 to suggest the shadowy and ethereal. 
 
 When near 2 1st street she entered a fruit store 
 and seemed in search of some delicacy for an in- 
 valid. As her eye glanced around among the fra- 
 grant tropical fruits that suggested lands in wide 
 contrast to the wintry scene without, she suddenly 
 uttered a low exclamation of delight, as she turned 
 from them to old friends, all the more welcome 
 because so unexpected and out of season. These 
 were nothing less than a dozen strawberries, in 
 dainty baskets, decked out, or more truly eked 
 out, with a few green leaves. Three or four bas- 
 kets constituted the fruiterer's entire stock, and 
 probably the entire supply for the metropolis of 
 America that day. 
 
 She had scarcely time to lift a basket and in- 
 hale its delicious aroma, before the proprietor of 
 the store was in bowing attendance, quite as open- 
 ly admiring her carnation cheeks as she the ruby 
 fruit. The man's tongue was, however, more de- 
 corous than his eyes, and to her question as to 
 price he replied, 
 
 " Only two dollars a basket, Miss, and certainly 
 they are beauties for this season of the year. They 
 are all I could get and I don't believe there is an- 
 other strawberry in New York." 
 
 " I will take them all/' was the brief, decisive 
 answer, and from a costly portmonnaie she threw 
 down the price, a proceeding which the man noted
 
 4 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 in agreeable surprise, and again curiously scanned 
 the fair face as he made up the parcel with ostenta- 
 tious zeal. But his customer was unconscious, or 
 more truly, indifferent to his admiration, and seem- 
 ed much more interested in the samples of choice 
 fruit arranged on every side. From one to another 
 of these she flitted with the delicate sensuousness 
 of a butterfly, smelling them and touching them 
 lightly with the hand she had ungloved, (which was 
 as white as the snow without,) as if they had for 
 her a peculiar fascination. 
 
 " You seem very fond of fruit," said the mer- 
 chant, his amour propre pleased by her evident in- 
 terest in his stock. 
 
 " I have ever had a passion for fine fruits and 
 flowers," was the reply, spoken with that perfect 
 frankness characteristic of American girls. " No, 
 you need not send it ; I prefer to take it with me." 
 
 And with a slight smile, she passed out, leaving 
 the fruiterer chuckling over the thought that he 
 had probably had the pleasantest bit of trade of 
 any man on Broadway that dull day. 
 
 Plunging through the drifts, our nymph of the 
 snow resolutely crossed the street and passed down 
 to a flower store, but instead of buying a bouquet, 
 ordered several pots of budding and blooming 
 plants to be sent to her address. She then made 
 her way to Fifth Avenue and soon mounted a 
 broad flight of steps to one of its most stately 
 houses. The door yielded to her key, her thick 
 talking boots clattered fora moment on the mar-
 
 THREE GIRLS. 5 
 
 ble floor but could not disguise the lightness of hef 
 step as she tripped up the winding stair and push- 
 ed open a rosewood door leading into the upper 
 hall. 
 
 " Mother, mother," she exclaimed, " here is a 
 treat for you that will banish nerves, headache, and 
 horrors generally. See what I have found for you 
 out in the wintry snows. Now am I not a good 
 faiiy for once ? " 
 
 " O, Edith, child, not so boisterous, please," re- 
 sponded a querulous voice from a great easy chair 
 by the glowing grate, and a middle aged lady turn- 
 ed a white, faded face towards her daughter. 
 
 " Forgive me, mother, but my tramp in the 
 January storm has made me feel rampantly well. 
 I wish you could go out and take a run every day 
 as I do. You would then look younger and pret- 
 tier than your daughters, as you used to." 
 
 The invalid shivered and drew her shawl closer 
 around her, complaining, 
 
 " I think you have brought the whole month 
 of January in with you. You really must show 
 more consideration, my dear, for if I should take 
 cold '' and the lady ended with a weary, suggest- 
 ive sigh. 
 
 In fact, Edith had entered the dim heavily-per- 
 fumed room like a gust of wholesome air, her young 
 blood tingling and electric with exercise, and her 
 heart buoyant with the thought of the surprise and 
 pleasure she had in store for her mother. But the 
 manner in which she had been received had already
 
 6 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 chilled her more than the biting blasts on Broad* 
 way. She therefore opened her bundle and set 
 out the little baskets before her mother very quiet- 
 ly. The lady glanced at them for a moment and 
 then said, indifferently, 
 
 " It is very good of you to think of me, my 
 dear; they look very pretty. I am sorry I cannot 
 eat them, but their acid would only increase my 
 dyspepsia. Those raised in winter must be very 
 sour. Ugh! the thought of it sfcts my teeth on edge," 
 and the poor, nervous creature shrank deeper into 
 her wrappings. 
 
 " I am real sorry, mother, I thought they 
 would be a great treat for you," said Edith, quite 
 crestfallen. " Never mind ; I got some flowers, 
 and they will be here soon." 
 
 " Thank you, dear, but the doctor says they 
 are not healthy in a room Oh, dear that child 1 
 what shall I do!" 
 
 The front door banged, there was a step on the 
 stairs, but not so light as Edith's had been, and a 
 moment later the door burst open, and "the child" 
 rushed in like a mild whirlwind, exclaiming, 
 
 " Hurrah, hurrah, school to the shades. No 
 more teachers and tyrants for me," and down went 
 an armful of books with a bang on the table. 
 
 " O, Zell," cried Edith, " please be quiet, moth- 
 er has a headache." 
 
 " There, there, your baby will kiss it all away," 
 and the irrepressible young creature threw her 
 arms around the bundle that Mrs. Allen had mad<
 
 THREE GIRLS. J 
 
 herself into by her many wrappings, and before she 
 ceased, the red pouting lips left the faintest tinge 
 of their own color on the faded cheeks of the 
 mother. 
 
 The lady endured the boisterous embrace with 
 a martyr-like expression. Zell was evidently a 
 privileged character, the spoiled pet of the house- 
 hold. But a new voice was now heard that was 
 sharper than the " pet" was accustomed to. 
 
 " Zell, you are a perfect bear. One would think 
 you had learned your manners at a boys' boarding 
 school." 
 
 Zell's great black eyes blazed for a moment to- 
 wards the speaker, who was a young lady reclining 
 on a lounge near the window, and who in appear- 
 ance must have been the counterpart of Mrs. Allen 
 herself as she had looked twenty-three years be- 
 fore. In contrast with her sharp, annoyed tone, her 
 cheeks and eyes were wet with tears. 
 
 " What are you crying about ?'' was Zell's 
 brusque response. " Oh, I see, a novel. What a 
 ridiculous old thing you are. I never saw you 
 shed a tear over real trouble, and yet every few 
 days you are dissolved in brine over Adolph Moon- 
 shine's agonies, and Seraphina's sentiment, which 
 any sensible person can see is caused by dyspepsia. 
 No such whipped syllabub for me, but real life." 
 
 " And what does ' real life' mean for you, I 
 would like to know, but eating, dressing, and flut- 
 ing ? " was the acid retort. 
 
 " Though you call me ' child/ I have lived long
 
 g WHA T CAN SHE DOT 
 
 enough to learn that eating, dressing, and flirting, 
 and while you are about it you might as well add 
 drinking, is the ' real life ' of most of the ladies of 
 our set. Indeed, if my poor memory does not fail 
 me, I have seen you myself take a turn at these 
 things sufficiently often to make the sublime scorn 
 of your tone a little inconsistent." 
 
 As these barbed arrows flew, the tears rapidly 
 exhaled from the hot cheeks of the young lady on 
 the sofa. Her elegant languor vanished, and she 
 started up ; but Mrs. Allen now interfered, and in 
 tones harsh and high, very different from the pre- 
 vious delicate murmurs, exclaimed, 
 
 " Children, you drive me wild. Zell, leave the 
 room, and don't show yourself again till you can 
 behave yourself." 
 
 Zell was now sobbing, partly in sorrow, and 
 partly in anger, but she let fly a few more Parthian 
 arrows over her shoulder as she passed out. 
 
 " This is a pretty way to treat one on their birth- 
 day. I came home with heart as light as the snow- 
 flakes around me, and now you have spoiled every- 
 thing. I don't know how it is, but I always have 
 a good time everywhere else, but there is some- 
 thing in this house that often sets one's teeth on 
 edge," and the door banged appropriately with a 
 spiteful emphasis as the last word was spoken. 
 
 " Poor child," said Edith, " it is too bad that 
 the should be so dashed with cold water on hei 
 birthday.' 5 
 
 " She isn't a child," said the eldest sister, rising
 
 THREE GIRLS, g 
 
 from the sofa and sweeping from the room, 
 " though she often acts like one, and a very bad 
 one too. Her birthday should remind her that if 
 she is ever to be a woman, it is time to commence," 
 and the stately young lady passed coldly away. 
 
 Edith went to the window and looked dejected- 
 ly out into the early gloom of the declining winter 
 day. Mrs. Allen sighed and looked more nervous 
 and uncomfortable than usual. 
 
 The upholsterer had done his part in that ele- 
 gant home. The feet sank into the carpets as in 
 moss. Luxurious chairs seemed to embrace the 
 form that sank into them. Everything was pad- 
 ded, rounded, and softened, except tongues and 
 tempers. If wealth could remove the asperities 
 from these as from material things, it might well 
 be coveted. But this is beyond the upholsterer's 
 art, and Mrs. Allen knew little of the Divine art 
 that can wrap up words and deeds with a kindness 
 softer than eider-down. 
 
 " Mother's room," instead of being a refuge and 
 favorite haunt of these three girls, was a place 
 where, as we have seen, their " teeth were set on 
 edge." 
 
 Naturally they shunned the place, visiting the 
 invalid rather than living with her ; their reluctant 
 feet impelled across the threshold by a sense of 
 duty rather than drawn by the cords of love. The 
 mother felt this in a vague, uncomfortable way, 
 for mother love was there, only it had seemingly 
 turned sour, and instead of attracting her children
 
 10 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 by sweetness and sympathy, she querulously com. 
 plained to them and to her husband of their neg- 
 lect. He would sometimes laugh it off, sometimes 
 shrug his shoulders indifferently, and again harshly 
 chide the girls, according to his mood, for he varied 
 much in this respect. After 'being cool and wary 
 all day in Wall street, he took off the curb at 
 home. Therefore the variations that never could 
 be counted on. How he would be at dinner did 
 not depend on himself or any principle, but on 
 circumstances. In the main he was indulgent and 
 kind, though quick and passionate, brooking no 
 opposition ; and the girls were really more attached 
 to him and found more pleasure in his society 
 than in their mother's. Zelica, the youngest, was 
 his special favorite, and he humored and petted 
 her at a ruinous rate, though often storming at 
 some of her follies. 
 
 Mrs. Allen saw this preference of her husband, 
 and was weak enough to feel and show jealousy. 
 But her complainings were ineffectual, for we can 
 no more scold people into loving us than nature 
 could make buds blossom by daily nipping them 
 with frost. And yet she made her children un 
 comfortable by making them feel that it was un- 
 natural and wrong that they did not care more for 
 their mother. This was especially true of Edith, 
 who tried to satisfy her conscience, as we have seen, 
 by bringing costly presents and delicacies that 
 were seldom needed or appreciated. 
 
 Edith soon became so oppressed by her moth
 
 THREE GIRLS. lj 
 
 er's sighs and silence and the heavy perfumed air, 
 that she sprang up, and pressing a remorseful kiss 
 on the white thin face, said, 
 
 " I must dress for dinner, mamma ; I will send 
 your maid," an4 vanished also.
 
 CHAPTER JL 
 
 A FUTURE OF HUMAN DESIGNING. 
 
 *T*HE dining-room at six o'clock wore a far mere 
 cheerful aspect than the invalid's room up- 
 stairs. It was furnished in a costly manner, but 
 more ostentatiously than good taste would dic- 
 tate. You instinctively felt that it was a sacred 
 place to the master of the house, in which he 
 daily sacrificed to one of his chosen deities. 
 
 The portly colored waiter, in dress coat and 
 white vest, has just placed the soup on the table, 
 and Mr. Allen enters, supporting his wife. He 
 had a sort of manly toleration for all her whims 
 and weaknesses. He had never indulged in any 
 lofty ideas of womanhood, nor had any special 
 longings for her sympathy and companionship. 
 Business was the one engrossing thing of his life, 
 and this he honestly believed woman incapable of, 
 from her very nature. It was true of his wife, but 
 due to a false education rather than to any innate 
 difficulties, and he no more expected her to com- 
 prehend and sympathize intelligently with his 
 business operations, than to see her go down to 
 Wall street with him wearing his hat and coat. 
 
 She had been the leading belle in his set years 
 ago. He had admired her immensely as a stylish,
 
 A FUTURE OF HUMAN DESIGNING. 13 
 
 beautiful woman, and carried her off from dozens 
 of competitors, who were fortunate in their fail- 
 ure. He always maintained a show of gallantry 
 and deference; which, though but veneer, was 
 certainly better than open disregard and brutal 
 neglect. 
 
 So now, with a good-natured tolerance and 
 politeness, he seated the feeble creature in a 
 cushioned chair at the table, treating her more 
 like a spoiled child than a friend and companion. 
 The girls immediately appeared also, for they 
 knew their father's weakness too well to keep him 
 waiting for his dinner. 
 
 Zell bounded into his arms in her usual impul- 
 sive style, and the father caressed her in a way 
 that showed that his heart was very tender toward 
 his youngest child. 
 
 " And so my baby is seventeen to-day," he 
 said. " Well, well, how fast we are growing old." 
 
 The girl laughed ; the man sighed. The one 
 was on the threshold of what she deemed the 
 richest pleasures of life ; the other had well nigh 
 exhausted them, and for a moment realized it. 
 
 Still he was in excellent spirits, for he had 
 been unusually fortunate that day, and had seen 
 his way to an "operation" that promised a golden 
 future. He sat down therefore to the good cheer 
 with not a little of the spirit of the man in the 
 parable, whose complaisant exhortation to his 
 soul has ever been the language of false security 
 and prosperity.
 
 I 4 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 The father's open favoritism for Zell was 
 another source of jealousy, her sisters naturally 
 feeling injured by it. Thus in this household 
 even human love was discordant and perverted, 
 and the Divine love unknown. 
 
 What chance had character, that thing of slow 
 growth, in such an atmosphere r 
 
 The popping of a champagne cork took the 
 place of grace at the opening of the meal, and the 
 glasses were filled all around. In honor of Zell's 
 birthday they drank to her health and happiness. 
 By no better form or more suggestive ceremony 
 could this Christian (?) family wish their youngest 
 member " God speed " on entering the vicissitudes 
 of a new year of life. But what they did was 
 done heartily, and every glass was drained. To 
 them it seemed very appropriate, and her father 
 said, glancing admiringly at her flaming cheeks 
 and dancing eyes : 
 
 . " This is just the thing to drink Zell's health in, 
 for she is as full of sparkle and effervescence as 
 the champagne itself." 
 
 Had he been a wiser and more thoughtful man, 
 he would have carried the simile farther and 
 remembered the fate of champagne when exposed. 
 However piquant and pleasing Zell's sparkle might 
 be, it would hardly secure success and safety for 
 life. But in his creed a girl's first duty was to be 
 pretty and fascinating, and he was extremely 
 proud of the beauty of his daughters. It was his 
 plan to marry them to rich men who would main-
 
 A FUTURE OF HUMAN DESIGNING. \ 5 
 
 tain them in the irresponsible luxury that their 
 niDther had enjoyed. 
 
 Circumstances seemed to justify his security. 
 The son of a rich man, he had also inherited a 
 taste for business and the art of making money. 
 Years of prosperity had confirmed his confidence, 
 and he looked complaisantly around upon his 
 family and talked of the future In sanguine tones. 
 
 He was a man considerably past his prime, and 
 his florid face and portly form indicated that he 
 was in the habit of doing ample justice to the 
 good cheer before him. Intense application to 
 business in early years and indulgence of appetite 
 in later life had seriously impaired a constitution 
 naturally good. He reminded you of a flower 
 fully blown or of fruit overripe. 
 
 " Since you have permitted Zell to leave school, 
 I suppose she must make her debut soon," said 
 Mrs. Allen with more animation than usual in her 
 tone. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," cried Zell, " on Edith's birth- 
 day, in February. We have arranged it all, 
 haven't we, Edith?" 
 
 " Heigho, then I am to have no part in the 
 matter," said her father. 
 
 " Yes indeed, papa,'' cried the saucy girl, " you 
 are to have no end of kisses, and a very long bill." 
 
 This sally pleased him immensely, for it ex- 
 pressed his ideal of womanly return for masculine 
 affection, at least the bills had never been wanting 
 in his experience. But, mellowed by wine and
 
 15 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 elated by the success of the day, he n DW prepared 
 to give the coup that would make a far greater 
 sensation in the family circle than even a debut or 
 a birthday party. So, glancing from one eager 
 face to another, (for between the wine and the 
 excitement even Mrs. Allen was no longer a color- * 
 less, languid creature, ready to faint at the embrace 
 of her child,) he said with a twinkle in his eye, 
 
 " Well, go to your mother about the party 
 She is a veteran in such matters. But let there 
 be some limit to the length of the bill, or I can't 
 carry out another plan I have in view for you." 
 
 Chorus" What is that ? " 
 
 Coolly filling his glass, he commenced leisurely 
 sipping, while glancing humorously from one to 
 another, enjoying their impatient expectancy. 
 
 " If you don't tell us right away," cried Zell, 
 bouncing up, " I'll pull your whiskers without 
 mercy." 
 
 " Papa, you will throw mother into a fever. 
 See how flushed her face is ! " said Laura, the 
 eldest daughter, speaking at the same time two 
 vords for herself. 
 
 The face of Edith, with its dazzling complexion 
 all aglow, and large dark eyes lustrous with excite- 
 ment, was more eloquent than words could have 
 been, and the " bon vivant'' drank in their expres- 
 sion with as much zest as he sipped Irs wine, 
 Perhaps it was well for him to make the most of 
 that little keen-edged moment of bright anticipa- 
 tion and bewildering hope, for what he was about
 
 A FUTURE OF HUMAN DESIGNING. if 
 
 to propose would cost him many thousands, and 
 exile him from business, which to him was the very 
 breath of life. 
 
 But Mrs. Allen's matter-of-fact voice brought 
 things to a crisis, for with an injured air she said : 
 
 " How can you, George, when you know the 
 state of my nerves ? " 
 
 " What I propose, mamma, will cure your nerves 
 and everything else, for it is nothing less than a 
 tour through Europe." 
 
 There was a shriek of delight from the girls, in 
 which even the exquisite Laura joined, and Mrs. 
 Allen was trembling with excitement. Apart from 
 the trip itself, they considered it a sort of disgrace 
 that a family of their social position and wealth 
 had never been abroad. Therefore the announce- 
 ment was doubly welcome. Hitherto Mr. Allen's 
 devotion to business had made it impossible, and 
 he had given them no hint of the near consumma- 
 tion of their wishes. But he had begun to feel the 
 need of change and rest himself, and this weighed 
 more with him than all their entreaties. 
 
 In a moment Zell had her arms about his neck, 
 and her sisters were throwing him kisses across 
 the table. His wife, looking unusually gratified 
 said : 
 
 " You are a sensible man at last," which was a 
 great deal for Mrs. Allen to say. 
 
 " Why mamma" exclaimed her husband, eleva- 
 ting his eyebrows in comic surprise, " that I should 
 live to hear you say that 1 "
 
 Ig WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " Now don't be silly," she replied, joining 
 slightly in the laugh at her expense, "or we shall 
 think that you have taken too much champagne, 
 and that this Europe business is all a hoax." 
 
 " Wait till you have been outside of Sandy 
 Hook an hour, and you will find everything real 
 enough then. I think I see the elegant ladies of 
 my household about that time." 
 
 " For shame, papa, what an uncomfortable sug- 
 gestion over a dinner table," said the fastidious 
 Laura. " Picture the ladies of your household in 
 the salons of Paris. I promise we will do you 
 credit there." 
 
 " I hope so, for I fear I shall have need of credit 
 when you all reach that Mecca of women." 
 
 " It's no more the Mecca of women than Wall 
 street is the Jerusalem of men. What you are all 
 going to do in Heaven without Wall street, I 
 don't see." 
 
 Her husband gave his significant shrug and 
 said, " I don't meet notes till they are due,'' which 
 was his way of saying: " Sufficient unto the day is 
 the evil thereof." 
 
 " The salons of Paris 1" said Edith, with some 
 disdain. Think of the scenery, the orange-groves, 
 and vineyards that we shall see, the Alpine 
 flowers " 
 
 " I declare," interrupt ed Zell, " I believe that 
 Edith would rather see a grape vine and orange 
 tree, than all the toilets of Paris." 
 
 " I shall enjoy seeing both," was the reply,
 
 A FUTURE OF HUMAN DESIGNING. j g 
 
 " and so have the advantage of you in having two 
 strings to my bow." 
 
 " By the way, that reminds me to ask how 
 many beaux you now have on the string," said 
 her father. 
 
 Edith tossed her head with a pretty blush and 
 said : " Pity me, my father, you know I am always 
 poor at arithmetic." 
 
 " You will take up with a crooked stick after 
 all. Now Laura is a. sensible girl, like her mother, 
 and has picked out one of the richest, longest- 
 headed fellows on the street." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said his wife. " I do not see but 
 you are paying yourself a greater compliment than 
 either Laura or me." 
 
 " Oh no, mere business statement. Laura 
 means business, and so does Mr. Goulden." 
 
 Laura looked annoyed and said, 
 
 " Pa, I thought you never talked business at 
 home." 
 
 " Oh this is a feminine phase that women under- 
 stand. I want your sisters to profit by your good 
 example." 
 
 " I shall marry an Italian Count," cried Zell. 
 
 " Who will turn out a fourth-rate Italian barber, 
 and I shall have to support you both. But I won't 
 do it. You would have to help him shave." 
 
 " No, I should transform him into a leader of 
 banditti, and we would live in princely state in the 
 Apennines. Then we would capture you, papa, and 
 carry you off to the mountains, and I would be
 
 2Q WHAT CAN SHE DO t 
 
 your jailer, and give you nothing but turtle soup 
 champagne and kisses, till you paid a ransom that 
 would break Wall street." 
 
 " I would not pay a cent, b at stay and eat you 
 out of house and home." 
 
 "I never expect to marry, '' said Edith, "but 
 some day I am going to commence saving my 
 money now don't laugh, papa, for I could be eco- 
 nomical if I once made up my mind'' and the pret- 
 ty head gave a decisive little nod. " I am going to 
 save my money and buy a beautiful place in the 
 country and make it as near like the garden of 
 Eden as possible." 
 
 " Snakes will get into it as of old," was Mrs 
 Allen's cynical remark. 
 
 " Yes, that is woman's experience with a gar- 
 den," said her husband with a mock sigh. 
 
 Popping off the cork of another bottle, he add- 
 ed, " I have got ahead of you, Edith. I own a 
 place in the country, much as I dislike that kind of 
 property. I had to take it to-day in a trade, and 
 so am a landholder in Pushton, prospect, you see, 
 of my becoming a rural gentleman (Squire is the 
 title, I believe), and of exchanging stock in Wall 
 street for the stock of a farm. Here's to my es- 
 tate of three acres with a story and a half mansion 
 upon it ! Perhaps you would rather go up there 
 this summer than to Paris, my dear?' 5 to his wife. 
 
 Mrs. Allen gave a contemptuous shrug as if the 
 jest were too preposterous to be answered, bu* 
 Edith cried.
 
 A FUTURE OP HUMAN DESIGNING. 2 l 
 
 " Fill my glass ; I will drink to your country 
 (jlace. I know the cottage is a sweet rustic little 
 box, all smothered with vines and roses like one I 
 saw last June." Then she added in sport, " I wish 
 you would give it to me for my birthday present. 
 It would make such a nice porter's lodge at the 
 entrance to my future Eden." 
 
 " Are you in earnest ? " asked the father sud- 
 denly. 
 
 Both were excited by the wine they had 
 drank. She glanced at her father, and saw that 
 he was in a mood to say yes to anything, and 
 quick as thought, she determined to get the place, 
 if possible. 
 
 " Of course I am. I would rather have it than 
 all the jewelry in New York," (she was over-sup- 
 plied with that style of gifts.) 
 
 " You shall have it then, for I am sure I don't 
 want it, and am devoutly thankful to be rid of it." 
 
 Edith clapped her hands with a delight scarcely 
 less demonstrative than that of Zell in her wildest 
 moods. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Mrs. Allen, " the idea of giv- 
 ing a young lady such an elephant." 
 
 " But remember," continued her father, " you 
 must manage it yourself, pay the taxes, keep it re- 
 paired, insured, etc. There is a first-class summer 
 hotel near it. Next year, after we get back from 
 Europe, we will go up there and stay awhile. 
 You shall then take possession, employ an agent 
 to take care of it, who by the way will cheat yon
 
 22 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 to your heart s content. I will wager you a box 
 of g!.oves, that before a year passes, you will try to 
 sell the ivy-twined cottage for anything you can 
 get, and will be thoroughly cured of your mania 
 for country life." 
 
 ' I'll take you up," said Edith, in great excite- 
 meat, " but remember, I want my deed on my birth- 
 day." 
 
 *' All right," said Mr. Allen, laughing. " I will 
 transfer it to you to-morrow, while I think of it. 
 But don't try to trade it off to me before next month 
 for a new dress." 
 
 Edith was half wild over her present. Many 
 and varied were her questions, but her father only 
 said, 
 
 " I don't know much about it. I did not listen 
 to half the man said, but I remember he stated 
 there was a good deal of fruit on the place, for it 
 made me think of you at the time. Bless you, I 
 could not stop for such small game. I am negotia- 
 ting a large and promising operation which you 
 understand about as well as farming. It will take 
 some time to carry it through, but when finished, 
 we will start for the ' salons of Paris.' " 
 
 " I half believe," said Laura, with a covert 
 sneer, " that Edith would rather go up to her farm 
 of three acres." 
 
 " I am well satisfied as papa has arranged it,'* 
 said the practical girl. " Every thing in its place 
 and get all out of life you can, is my creed." 
 
 " That means, get all out of me you can, don't
 
 A FUTURE OF HUMAN DESIGNING. 23 
 
 it, sly puss," laughed the father, well pleased, 
 though, with the worldly wisdom of the speech. 
 
 " Kisses, kisses, unlimited kisses, and consider 
 yourself well repaid," was the arch rejoinder; and 
 not a few looking at her as she then appeared, but 
 would have coveted such bargains. So her father 
 seemed to think as he gazed admiringly at her. 
 
 But something in Zell's pouting lips and vexed 
 expression caught his eye, and he said good na- 
 turedly, 
 
 " Heigho, youngster, what has brought a thun- 
 der-cloud across your saucy face?" 
 
 " In providing for birthdays to come, I gue^s 
 you have forgotten your baby's birthday present.'* 
 
 " Come here, you envious elf," said her father, 
 taking something from his pocket. Like light she 
 flashed out from under the cloud and was at his 
 side in an instant, dimpling, smiling, and twinkling 
 with expectation, her black eyes as quick and rest- 
 less as her father was deliberate and slow in undo- 
 ing a dainty parcel. 
 
 " O, George, do be quick about it, or Zell will 
 explode. You both make me nervous,' 5 said Mrs. 
 Allen fretfully. 
 
 Suddenly pressing open a velvet casket, Mr. Al- 
 len hung a jewelled watch with a long gold chain 
 about his favorite's neck, while she improvised a 
 hornpipe around his chair. 
 
 -" There," said he, " is something that is worth 
 more than Edith's farm, tumble- down cottage,
 
 X| WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 roses and all. So remember that those lips were 
 made to kiss, not to pout with." 
 
 Zell put her lips to proper uses to that extent 
 that Mrs. Allen began to grow jealous, nervous, 
 and out of sorts generally, and having finished her 
 chocolate, rose feebly from the table. Her hus- 
 band offered his arm and the family dinner party 
 broke up. 
 
 And yet, take it altogether, each one was in 
 higher spirits than usual, and Zell and Edith in a 
 state of positive delight. They had received costly 
 gifts that specially gratified their peculiar tastes, 
 and these, with the promise of a grand party, a 
 trip to Europe, youthful buoyancy and champagne, 
 so dilated their little feminine souls, that Mrs. Al- 
 len's fears of an explosion of some kind were scarce- 
 ly groundless. They dragged their stately sister 
 Laura, now unwontedly bland and affable, to the 
 piano, and called for the quickest and most brill- 
 iant of waltzes, and a moment later their lithe fig- 
 ures flowed away into the rhythm of motion, that 
 from their exuberance of feeling, was as fantastic 
 as it was graceful. 
 
 Mr. Allen assisted his wife to her room and 
 soon left her in an unusually contented frame of 
 mind to develop strategy for the coming party. 
 Mrs. Allen's nerves utterly incapacitated her for the 
 care of her household, attendance upon church, and 
 such humdrum matters, but in view of a great oc- 
 casion like a " grand crush ball " where among the 
 luminaries of fashion she could become the reful-
 
 A FUTURE OF HUMAN DESIGNING. 2$ 
 
 gent centre of a constellation which her fair daugh- 
 ters would make around her, her spirit rose to the 
 emergency. When it came to dress and dressmakers 
 and all the complications of the campaign now 
 opening, notwithstanding her nerves, she could be 
 quite Napoleonic. 
 
 Her husband retired to the library, lighted a 
 choice Havana, skimmed his evening papers, and 
 then as usual, went to his club. 
 
 This, as a general thing, was the extent of the 
 library's literary uses. The best authors in gold 
 and Russia smiled down from the black walnut 
 shelves, but the books were present rather as fur- 
 niture than from any intrinsic value in themselves 
 to the family. They were given prominence on the 
 same principle that Mrs. Allen sought to give a 
 certain tone to her entertainments by inviting many 
 literary and scientific men. She might be unable 
 to appreciate the works of the savans, but as they 
 appreciated the labors of her masterly French cook, 
 many compromised the matter by eating the petit 
 soupers, and shrugging their shoulders over the 
 entertainers. 
 
 And yet the Aliens were anything but vulgar 
 upstarts. Both husband and wife were descended 
 from old and wealthy New York families. They 
 had all the polish which life-long association with 
 the fashionable world bestows. What was more, 
 they were highly intelligent, and in their own sphere, 
 gifted people. Mr. Allen was a leader in business 
 in one of the chief commercial centres, and to 
 a
 
 26 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 lead in legitimate business in our day requires as 
 much ability, indeed we may say genius, as to 
 lead in any other department of life. He would 
 have shown no more ignorance in the study, studio, 
 and laboratory, than their occupants would have 
 shown in the counting room. That to which he de- 
 voted his energies he had become a master in. It is 
 true he had narrowed down his life to little else than 
 business. He had never acquired a taste for art and 
 literature, nor had he given himself time for broad 
 culture. But we meet narrow artists, narrow clergy- 
 men, narrow scientists just as truly. If you do 
 not get on their hobby, and ride with them, they 
 seem disposed to ride over you. Indeed, in our 
 brief life with its fierce competitions, few other 
 than what are known as "one idea" men have time 
 to succeed. Even genius must drive with tre- 
 mendous and concentrated energy, to distance 
 competitors. Mr. Allen was quite as great in his 
 department as any of the lions that his wife lured 
 into her parlors were in theirs. 
 
 Mrs. Allen was also a leader in her own chosen 
 sphere, or rather in the one to which she had 
 been educated. Given a carte blanche in the 
 way of expense, few could surpass her in producing 
 a brilliant, dazzling entertainment. The coloring 
 and decorations of her rooms would not be more 
 rich, varied, or in better taste, than the diversity, 
 and yet harmony of the people she would bring 
 together by her adroit selections. She had studied 
 society, and for it she lived, not to make it better
 
 A FUTUXE OF HUMAN DESIGNING. 2? 
 
 not to elevate its character, and tone down its ex- 
 travagances, but simply to shine in it, to be talked 
 ' about and envied. 
 
 Both husband and wife had achieved no small 
 success, and to succeed in such a city as New York 
 in their chosen departments required a certain 
 amount of genius. The savans had a general ad- 
 miration for Mrs. Allen's style and taste, but found 
 on the social exchange of her parlors, she had noth- 
 ing to offer but fashion's smallest chit-chat. They 
 had a certain respect for Mr. Allen's wealth and 
 business power, but having discussed the news of 
 the day, they passed on, and the people during the 
 intervals of dancing, drifted into congenial schools 
 and shoals, like fish in a shallow lake. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Allen had a vague admiration for the learning of 
 the scholars, and culture of the artists, but would 
 infinitely prefer marrying their daughters to down- 
 town merchant princes. 
 
 Take the world over, perhaps all classes of peo- 
 ple are despising others quite as much as they are 
 despised themselves. 
 
 But when the French cook appeared upon the 
 scene, then was produced your true democracy. 
 Then was shown a phase of life into which all 
 entered with a zest that proved the common tie 
 of humanity.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THREE MEN? 
 
 "\XTHILE Mrs. Allen was planning the social 
 pyrotechnics that should dazzle the fashion- 
 able world, Edith and Zell were working off their 
 exuberant spirits in the manner described in the 
 last chapter, ai\d which was as natural to their city- 
 bred feet as a wild romp to a country girl. 
 
 The brilliant notes of the piano and the rustle 
 of their silks had rendered them oblivious of the 
 fact that the door-bell had rung twice, and that 
 three gentlemen were peering curiously through the 
 half open door. They were evidently at home as 
 frequent and favored visitors, and had motioned 
 the old colored waiter not to announce them, and 
 he reluctantly obeyed. 
 
 For a moment they feasted their eyes on the 
 scene as the two girls, with twining arms and many 
 innovations on the regular step, whirled through 
 the rooms, and then Zell's quick eye detected 
 them. 
 
 Pouncing down upon the eldest gentleman of 
 the party, she dragged him from his ambush, while 
 the others also entered. One who was quite young 
 approached the blushing, panting Edith with an 
 almost boyish confidence of manner, as if assured
 
 THREE MEN. 29 
 
 of a welcome, \\hile the remaining gentleman, who 
 vas verging toward middle age, quietly glided to 
 the piano and gave his hand to Laura, who greeted 
 him with a cordiality scarcely to be expected from 
 so stately a young lady. 
 
 The laws of affinity and selection had evidently 
 been developed here, and as the reader must sur 
 mise, long previous acquaintance had led to the 
 present easy and intimate relations. 
 
 " What do you mean," cried Zell, dragging 
 under the gaslight her cavalier, who assumed much 
 penitence and fear, " by thus rudely and abruptly 
 breaking in upon the retirement of three secluded 
 females?" 
 
 " At their devotions," added the cynical voice 
 of the gentleman at the piano, who was no other 
 than Mr. Goulden, Laura's admirer. 
 
 Zell's attendant threw himself in the attitude 
 of a suppliant and said deprecatingly, 
 
 " Nay, but we are astronomers." 
 
 " That's a fib, and not a very white one either,' 
 she retorted, " I don't believe you ever look to- 
 wards heaven for anything." 
 
 11 What need of looking thither for heavenly 
 bodies," he replied in a low, meaning tone, regard- 
 ing with undisguised admiration her glowing cheeks. 
 " Moreover I don't believe in telescopic distances," 
 he continued, with a half-made motion to put bis 
 arm around her waist. 
 
 " Come," she said, pirouetting out of his reach,
 
 30 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 M remember I am no longer a child, I am seventeen 
 to-day." 
 
 " Would that you might never be a day older 
 in appearance and feelings." 
 
 "Are you willing to leave me so far behind?" 
 she asked with some maliciousness. 
 
 " No, but you would make me a boy again. If 
 old Ponce de Leon had met a Miss Zell, he would 
 soon have forsaken the swamps and alligators of 
 Florida." 
 
 " O what a watery, scaly compliment. Pre- 
 ferred to swamps and alligators! Who would 
 have believed it ? " 
 
 " I am not blind to your pretty wilful blindness. 
 You know I likened you to something too divine 
 and precious to be found on earth." 
 
 " Which is still true in the carrying out of your 
 marvellously mixed metaphors. I must lend you 
 my rhetoric book. But as your meaning dawns on 
 me, I see that you are symbolized by old Ponce. 
 I shall look in the history for the age of the ancient 
 Spaniard to-morrow and then I shall know how old 
 you are, a thing I could never find out." 
 
 As with little jets of silvery laughter and butter- 
 fly motion she hovered round him, the very em- 
 bodiment of life and beautiful youth, she woulA 
 have made, to an artist's eye, a very true idealiza- 
 tion of the far-famed mythical fountain. 
 
 And yet as a moment later she confidingly took 
 his arm and strolled toward the library, it was evi- 
 dent that all her flutter and hesitancy, her seeming
 
 THREE MEN. j| 
 
 freedom and mimic show of war, was like that of 
 some bright tropical bird fascinated by a remorse- 
 less serpent whose intent eyes and deadly purpose 
 are creating a spell that cannot be resisted. 
 
 Mr. Van Dam, upon whose arm she was leaning, 
 was one of the worst products of artificial metro- 
 politan life. He had inherited a name which 
 ancestry had rendered honorable, but which he to 
 the utmost dishonored, and yet so adroitly, so 
 shrewdly respecting fashion's code, though shun- 
 ning nothing wrong, that he did not lose the entre'e 
 into the gilded homes of those who call themselves, 
 " the best society." 
 
 True, it was whispered that he was rather fast, 
 that he played heavily and a trifle too successfully, 
 and that he lived the life of anything but a saint 
 at his luxurious rooms. " But then," continued 
 society, openly and complaisantly, " he is so fine 
 looking, so courtly and polished, so well-connected, 
 and what is still more to the point, my dear, he is 
 reputed to be immensely wealthy, so we must not 
 heed these rumors. After all it is the way of these 
 young men of the world.'' 
 
 Thus "the best society" that would have 
 politely frozen out of its parlors the Chevalier 
 Bayard, " sans peur et sans reproached had he not 
 appeared in the latest style, with golden fame 
 rather than golden spurs, welcomed Mr. Van Dam. 
 Indeed not a few forced exotic belles, who had pre- 
 maturely developed in the hot house atmosphere 
 of wealth and extravagance regarded him as a
 
 33 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 sort of social lion, and his reticence, with a certain 
 mystery in which he shrouded his evil life, made 
 him all the more fascinating. He was past the 
 prime of life, though exceedingly well preserved, 
 for he was one of those cool, deliberate votaries of 
 pleasure that reduce amusement to a science, and 
 carefully shun all injurious excess. While exceed- 
 ingly deferential toward the sex in general, and 
 bestowing compliments and attentions as adroitly 
 as a financier would place his money, he at the 
 same time permitted the impression to grow that 
 he was extremely fastidious in his taste, and had 
 never married because it had never been his for- 
 tune to meet the faultless being who could fill his 
 exacting eyes. Any special and continued admi- 
 ration on his part therefore made its recipient an 
 object of distinction and envy to very many in the 
 unreal world in which he glided serpent-like, rather 
 than moved as a man. To morbid unhealthful 
 minds the rumors of his evil deeds became piquant 
 eccentricities, and the whispers of the oriental 
 orgies that were said to take place in his bachelor 
 apartments made him an object of a curious inter- 
 est, and many sighed for the opportunity of reform 
 ing so distinguished a sybarite. 
 
 On Edith's entrance into society he had been 
 much impressed by her beauty, and had gradually 
 grown quite attentive, equally attracted by her 
 father's wealth. But she, though with no clear 
 perception of his character, and with no higher 
 moral standard than her set, instinctively shrank
 
 ' THREE MEN. 33 
 
 from the man. Indeed, in some respects, they 
 were too much alike for that mysterious attraction 
 that so often occurs between opposites. Not that 
 she had his unnatural depravity, but like him she 
 was shrewd, practical, resolute, and controlled more 
 by her judgment than impulses. Her vanity, of 
 which she had no little share, led her to accept his 
 attentions to a certain point, but the keen man of 
 the world soon saw that his " little game," as in 
 his own vernacular he styled it, would not be suc- 
 cessful, and he was the last one to sigh in vain or 
 mope an hour in love-lorn melancholy. While 
 ceasing to press his suit, he remained a frequent 
 and familiar visitor at the house, and thus his 
 attention was drawn to Zell, who, though young, 
 had developed early in the stimulating atmosphere 
 in which she lived. At first he petted and played 
 with her as a child, as she wilfully flitted in and 
 out of the parlors, whether her sisters wanted her 
 or not. He continually brought her bonbons and 
 like fanciful trifles, till at last, in jest, the family 
 called him Zell's " ancient beau." 
 
 But during the past year it dawned on him 
 that the child he petted on account of her beauty 
 and sprightliness was rapidly becoming a brilliant 
 woman, who would make a wife far more to his 
 taste than her equally beautiful but matter-of-fact 
 sister. Therefore he warily, so as not to alarm 
 the -jealous father, but with all the subtle skill of 
 which he was master, sought to win her affections
 
 34 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 knowing that she would have her own way when 
 she knew what way she wanted. 
 
 For Zell this unscrupulous man had a peculiar 
 fascination. He petted and flattered her to her 
 heart's content, and thus made her the envy of her 
 young acquaintances, which was incense indeed to 
 her vain little soul. He never lectured or preached 
 to her on account of her follies and nonsense, as 
 her elderly friends usually did, but gave to her wild, 
 impulsive moods free rein. Where a true friend 
 would have cautioned and curbed, he applauded 
 and incited, causing Zell to mistake extravagance 
 in language and boldness in manner for spirit and 
 brilliancy. Laura and Edith often remonstrated 
 with her, but she did not heed them. Indeed, she 
 feared no one save her father, and Mr. Van Dam 
 was propriety itself when he was present, which 
 was but seldom. Between his business and club, 
 and Mrs. Allen's nerves, the girls were left mainly 
 to themselves. 
 
 What wonder that there are so many ship- 
 wrecks, when young, heedless, inexperienced hands 
 must steer, unguided, through the most perilous 
 and treacherous of seas ? 
 
 Mr. Allen's elegant costly home was literally 
 an unguarded fold, many a laborer, living in a ten 
 ement house, doing more to shield his daughters 
 from the evil of the world. 
 
 To Mr. Van Dam, Zell was a perfect prize. 
 Though he had sipped at the cup of pleasure so 
 leisurely and systematically, he was getting down
 
 THREE MEN. 35 
 
 to the dregs. His taste was becoming palled and 
 satiety burdening him with its leaden weight. Rut 
 as the child he petted developed daily into a wom- 
 an, he became interested, then fascinated by the 
 process. Her beauty was so brilliant, her exces- 
 sive sprightliness so contagious, that he felt his 
 sluggish pulses stir and tingle with excitement the 
 moment he came into her presence. Her wild 
 varying moods kept him constantly on theguivive, 
 and he would say in confidence to one of his inti- 
 mate cronies, 
 
 " The point is, Hal, she is such a spicy, piquant 
 contrast to the insipid society girls, who have no 
 more individuality than fashion blocks in Broadway 
 windows.'' 
 
 He liked the kittenish young creature all the 
 more because her repartee was often a little cutting. 
 If she had always struck him with a velvet paw, 
 the thing would have grown monotonous, but he 
 occasionally got a scratch that made him wince, 
 cool and brazen as he was. But after all, he daily 
 saw that he was gaining power over her, and the 
 manner in which the frank-hearted girl took his 
 arm and leaned upon it, spoke volumes to the ex- 
 perienced man. While he habitually wore a mask, 
 Zell could conceal nothing, and across her April 
 face flitted her innermost thoughts. 
 
 If she had had a mot/ier, she might, even in the 
 wilderness of earth, have become a blossom fit fof 
 heavenly gardens, but as it was, her wayward na- 
 ture so full of dangerous beauty, was left to run wild,
 
 56 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Edith was beginning to be troubled at Zell's 
 intimacy with Mr. Van Dam, and had conceived a 
 growing suspicion and dislike for him. As for 
 I^aura, the eldest, she was like her mother, too 
 much wrapped up in herself, to have many 
 thoughts for any one else, and they all regarded 
 Zell as a mere child still. Mr. Allen, who would 
 have been very anxious had Zell been receiving 
 the attentions of some penniless young clerk or art- 
 ist laughed at her "flirtation with old Van Dam" 
 as -in eminently safe affair. 
 
 But on the present evening her sisters were too 
 mi'ch occupied with their own friends to give Zell 
 or her dangerous admirer much attention. As yet 
 no formal engagement had bound any of them, but 
 an intimacy and mutual liking tending to such a 
 rer ult, was rapidly growing. 
 
 In Edith's case the attraction of contrasts was 
 again shown. Augustus Elliot, the youth who 
 ftad approached her with such confidence and 
 grace, was quite as stylish a personage as herself, 
 and that was saying a great deal. But every line 
 of his full handsome face, as well as the expression 
 of his light blue eyes, showed that she had more 
 decision in her little finger than he in the whole of 
 his luxurious nature. Self-pleasing, self-indulgence, 
 good-natured vanity were unmistakably his charac- 
 teristics. To yield, not for the good of others, but 
 because not strong enough to stand sturdily alone, 
 was the law of his being. If he could ever have 
 been kept under the influence of good and strongef
 
 THREE MEN. yj 
 
 natures, who would have developed his naturally 
 kind heart and good impulses into something like 
 principle, he might have had a safe and creditable 
 career. But he was the idol of a foolish, fashiona- 
 ble mother, and the pet of two or three sisters 
 who were empty-brained enough to think their 
 handsome brother the perfection of mankind ; and 
 by eye, manner, and often the plainest words, they 
 told him as much, and he had at last come to 
 believe them. Why should they not ? He was 
 faultless in his own dress, faultless in his criticism 
 of a lady's dress, taking the prevailing fashion as 
 the standard. He was perfectly versed in the 
 polite slang of the day. He scented and announced 
 the slightest change in the mode afar off, so that 
 his elegant sisters could appear on the Avenue in 
 advance of the other fashion-plates. As they 
 sailed away on a sunny afternoon in their gorgeous 
 plumage, the envy of many a competing belle, they 
 would say, 
 
 " Isn't he a duck of a brother to give us a hint 
 of a change so early. After all there is no eye or 
 taste like that of man when once perfected." 
 
 And then they knew him to be equally au fail 
 on the flavor of wines, the points of horses, the 
 merits of every watering place and all the other 
 lore which in their world gave pre-eminence. They 
 had been educated to have no other ideal of man- 
 hood, and if an earnest, straight-forward man, with 
 a purpose, had spoken out before them, they would 
 have regarded him as an uncouth monster.
 
 ^g WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Notwithstanding all his vanity, " Gus " as he 
 was familiarly called, was a very weak man, and 
 though he would not acknowledge it, even to him 
 self, instinctively recognized the fact. He coritinu 
 ally attached himself to strong, resolute natures, 
 and where it was adroitly done, could easily be 
 made a tool of. He took a great fancy to Edith 
 from the first hour of their acquaintance, and she 
 soon obtained a strong influence over him. She 
 as instinctively detected his yielding disposition 
 and liked him the better for it, while his contagi- 
 ous good-nature and abundant supply of society 
 talk, made him a general favorite. 
 
 When every one whispered, " What a handsome 
 couple they would make,'' and she found him so 
 looked up to and quoted in the fashionable world, 
 she began to entertain quite an admiration as well 
 as liking for him, though she saw more and more 
 clearly that there was nothing in him that she 
 could lean upon. 
 
 Gus' parents, who knew that the Aliens were 
 immensely wealthy, nrged on the match, but Mr. 
 Allen, aware that the Elliots were living to the ex- 
 tent of their means, discouraged it, plainly telling 
 Edith his reasons. 
 
 " But,'' said Edith, at the same time showing 
 her heart in the practical suggestion, " could not 
 Gus go into business himself?" 
 
 "The worst thing he could do," said the keen 
 Mr. Allen. " He kas tried it a few times, I have 
 learned, but has not one business qualification. He
 
 THREE MEN. 
 
 39 
 
 could not keep himself in the gold tooth-picks he 
 sports. His mother and sisters have spoiled him. 
 He is nothing but a society man. Mr. Elliot has 
 not a word to say at home. His business is to make 
 money for them to spend, and a tough time he has 
 to keep up with them. You girls must marry men 
 who can take care of you, unless you wish to sup- 
 port your husbands." 
 
 Mr. Allen's verdict was true, and Edith felt that 
 it was. When a boy, Gus could get out of lessons 
 by running to his mother with the plea of head- 
 ache or any trifle, and in youth he had escaped 
 business in like manner. His father had tried him 
 a few times in his office, but was soon glad to fall 
 in with his wife's opinion, that her son " had too 
 much spirit and refinement for plodding humdrum 
 business, that he was a born gentleman and suited 
 only to elegant leisure," and as his gentleman son 
 only did mischief down-town, the poor over-worked 
 father was glad to have him out of the way, for he 
 with difficulty made both ends meet, as it was. 
 Hoping he would do better with strangers, he had, 
 by personal influence, procured him situations 
 elsewhere, but between the mother's weakness and 
 the young man's confirmed habits of idleness, it al- 
 ways ended by Gus saying to his employers, 
 
 " I'm going off on a little trip by-by," at 
 which they gave a sigh of relief. It had at last be- 
 come a recognized fact, that Gus must marry an 
 heiress, this being about the only way for so fine a 
 gentleman to achieve the fortune that he could not
 
 40 WHA T CAN SHE DO 
 
 stoop to toil for. As he admired himself complaf* 
 santly in the gilded mirror that ornamented his 
 dressing-room, he felt that a wise selection would 
 be his o^ily difficulty, and though an heiress is 
 something of a rara avis, he sternly resolved to cage 
 one with such heavy golden plumage that even his 
 mother, whom no one satisfied save himself, would 
 give a sigh of perfect content. When at last he met 
 Edith Allen, it seemed as if inclination might happi- 
 ly blend with his lofty sense of duty, and he soon 
 became Edith's devoted and favored attendant. 
 And yet, as we have seen, our heroine was not the 
 sentimental style of girl that falls hopelessly and 
 helplessly in love with a man for some occult reason, 
 not even known to herself, and who mopes and 
 pines till she is permitted to marry him, be he fool, 
 villain or saint. Edith was fully capable of appre- 
 ciating and weighing her father's words, and under 
 their influence about decided to chill her handsome 
 but helpless admirer into a mere passing acquaint- 
 ance ; but when he next appeared before her in his 
 uniform, as an officer in one of the " crack " city 
 regiments, her eyes, taste, and vanity, and some- 
 how her heart, so pleaded for him that, so far 
 from being an icicle, she smiled on him like a July 
 sun. 
 
 But whenever he sought to press his suit into 
 something definite, she evaded and shunned the 
 point, as only a feminine diplomatist can. In fact, 
 Gus, on account of his vanity, was not a very urgent 
 suitor, as the idea of final refusal was preposterous
 
 THREE MEN. $\ 
 
 He regarded himself as virtually accepted already 
 Meanwhile Edith for once in her life was playing 
 the role of Micawber, and "waiting for something 
 to turn up." And something had, for this trip to 
 Europe would put time and space between them, 
 and gently cure both of their folly, as she deemed 
 it. Folly ! She did not realize that Gus regarded 
 himself as acting on sound business principles, and 
 a strong sense of duty, as well as obeying the im- 
 pulses of what heart he had. The sweet approval 
 of conscience and judgment attended his action, 
 while both condemned her. 
 
 As Gus approached this evening, she felt a pang 
 of commiseration that not only her father's and 
 her own disapproval, but soon the briny ocean 
 would be between them, and she was unusually 
 kind. She decided to play with her poor little 
 mouse till the last, and then let absence remedy all. 
 Her mind was quick, if not very profound. 
 
 As Mr. Goulden leaned across the corner of 
 the piano, and paid the blushing Laura some 
 delicate compliments, one could not but think of 
 an adroit financier, skilfully placing some money. 
 There was nothing ardent, nothing incoherent and 
 lover-like, in his carefully modulated tones, and 
 nicely selected words that might mean much or 
 little as he might afterwards decide. Mr. Goulden 
 always knew what he was about, as truly in a 
 lady's..boudoir, as in Wall street. The stately, ele- 
 gant Laura suited his tastes, her father's financial 
 status had suited him also. But he, who, through
 
 4 2 WHAT CAN SHE DO 9 
 
 his agents, knew all that was going on in Wall street, 
 was aware that Mr. Allen had engaged in a very 
 heavy speculation, which, though promising well at 
 the time, might, by some unexpected turn of the 
 wheel, wear a very different aspect. He would see 
 that game through before proceeding with his own, 
 and in the meantime, by judicious attention, hold 
 Laura well in hand. 
 
 In that brilliantly lighted parlor none of these 
 currents and counter currents were apparent on 
 the surface. That was like the ripple and sparkle 
 of a summer sea in the sunlight. Every year 
 teaches us what is hidden under the fair but 
 treacherous seeming of life. 
 
 The young ladies were now satisfied with the 
 company they had, and the gentlemen, as can 
 well be understood, wished no farther additions. 
 Therefore they agreed to retire to the library for a 
 game of cards. 
 
 " Hannibal," said Edith, summoning the porten- 
 tous colored factotum who presided over the front 
 door and dining-room, " if any one calls, say we 
 are out or engaged.'' 
 
 That solemn dignitary bowed as low as his stiff 
 white collar would permit, but soliloquized, 
 
 " I guess I is sumpen too black to tell a white 
 lie, so I'se say dey is engaged." 
 
 As the ladies swept away, leaning heavily on 
 the arms of their favored gallants, he added, with 
 a slight grin illumining the gravity of his face. " I* 
 looks mighty like it."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SKIES DARKENING. 
 
 '"THE game of cards fared indifferently, for they 
 were all too intent on little games of their 
 own to give close attention. Mr. Van Dam won 
 when he chose and gave the game away when he 
 chose, but made Zell think the skill was mainly 
 hers. 
 
 Still, in the common parlance, they had a 
 " good time." From such clever men the jests 
 and compliments were rather better than usual, 
 and repartee from the ruby lips that smiled upon 
 them could not seem other than brilliant. 
 
 Edith soon added to the sources of enjoyment 
 by ordering cake and wine, for though not the 
 eldest she seemed to naturally take the lead. 
 
 Mr. Goulden drank sparingly. He meant that 
 not a film should come across his judgment. Mr. 
 Van Dam drank freely, but he was seasoned to 
 more fiery potations thaa sherry. Not so poor 
 Gus, who, while he could never resist the wine, 
 soon felt its influence. But he had sufficient con- 
 trol never to go beyond the point of tipsiness that 
 fashion allows in the drawing-room. 
 
 Of course through Zell's unrestrained Chattel 
 the recently *^ade plans soon came out.
 
 44 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Adroit Mr. Van Dam turned to Zell with an 
 expression of much pleased surprise exclaiming : 
 
 " How fortunate I am ! I had completed my 
 plans to go abroad some little time since." 
 
 Zell clapped her hands with delight, but an in- 
 voluntary shadow darkened Edith's face. 
 
 Gus looked nonplussed. He knew that his 
 father and mother with difficulty kept pace with 
 his home expenses and that a Continental tour 
 was impossible. Mr. Goulden looked a little 
 thoughtful, as if a new element had entered into 
 the problem. 
 
 "Oh, come," laughed Zell. "Let us all be 
 good, and go on a pilgrimage together to Paris I 
 mean Jerusalem." 
 
 " I will worship devoutly with you at either 
 shrine," said Mr. Van Dam. 
 
 " And with equal sincerity, I suppose," said 
 Edith, rather coldly. 
 
 " I sadly fear, Miss Edith, that my sincerity 
 will not be superior to that of the other devotees," 
 was the keen retort, in blandest tones. 
 
 Edith bit her lip, but said gayly, " Count me 
 out of your pilgrim band. I want no shrine with 
 relics of the past. I wish no incense rising about 
 me obscuring the view. I like the present, and 
 wish to see whit is beyond." 
 
 " But suppose you are both shrine and divinity 
 yourself? " said Gus, with what he meant for a ki& 
 ing look.
 
 THE SKIEL DARKENING. 45 
 
 "Do you mean that compliment for me?" 
 asked Edith, all sweetness. 
 
 Between wine and love Gus was inclined to be 
 sentimental, and so in a low, meaning tone 
 answered , 
 
 " Who more deserving ? " 
 
 Edith's eyes twinkled a moment, but with a 
 half sigh she ^plied, 
 
 "I fear you read my character rightly. A 
 shrine suggests many offerings, and a divinity 
 many worshippers." 
 
 Zell laughed outright, and said, " In that re- 
 spect all women would be shrines and divinities if 
 they could." 
 
 Van Dam and Goulden could not suppress a 
 smile at the unfortunate issue of Elliot's senti- 
 ment, while the latter glanced keenly to see how 
 much truth was hinted in the badinage. 
 
 " For my part," said Laura, looking fixedly at 
 nothing, " I would rather have one true devotee 
 than a thousand pilgrims who were gusJiing at 
 every shrine they met." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Mr. Goulden. " That was the 
 keenest arrow yet flown ;" for the other two 
 young men were notorious flirts. 
 
 " I do not think so. Its point was much too 
 broad," said Zell, with a meaning look at Mr. 
 Goulden, that brought a faint color into his im- 
 perturbable face, and an angry flush on Laura's. 
 
 A disconcerted manner had shown that even 
 Gus' vanity had not been impervious to Edith'i
 
 46 WHAT CAN SHE DO t 
 
 barb, but he had now recovered himself, and ven 
 tured again : 
 
 " I would have my divinity a patron saint suffi- 
 ciently human to pity human weakness, and so 
 come at last to listen to no other prayer than 
 mine." 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Elliot, you would wish your saint 
 to listen for some other reason than your weak- 
 ness only," said Edith. 
 
 "Come, ladies and gentlemen, I move this 
 party breaks up, or some one will get hurt," said 
 Gus, with a half vexed laugh. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Edith inno. 
 cently. 
 
 " Yes," echoed Zell, rising, " what is the matter 
 with you, Mr. Van Dam ? Are you asleep, that 
 you are so quiet? Tell us about your divinity." 
 
 " I am an astronomer and fire worshipper, 
 somewhat dazzled at present by the nearness and 
 brilliancy of my bright luminary." 
 
 " Nonsense, your sight is failing, and you have 
 mistaken a will-o'-the-wisp for the sun, 
 
 Dancing here, dancing there, 
 Catch it if you can and dare." 
 
 and she flitted away before him. 
 
 He followed with his intent eyes and graceful 
 serpent-like gliding, knowing her to be under a 
 spell that would soon bring her fluttering back. 
 
 After circling round him a few moments she
 
 THE SKIES DARKENING. 
 
 47 
 
 took his arm and he commenced breathing into 
 her ear the poison of his passion. 
 
 No woman could remain the same after being 
 with Mr. Van Dam. Out of the evil abundance 
 of his heart he spoke, but the venom of his, words 
 and manner were all the more deadly because so 
 subtle, so minutely and delicately distributed, that 
 it was like a pestilential atmosphere, in which 
 truth and purity withered. 
 
 No parent should permit to his daughters the 
 companionship of a thoroughly bad man, whatever 
 his social standing. His very tone and glance are 
 unconsciously demoralizing, and even if he tries, he 
 cannot prevent the bitter waters overflowing from 
 their bad source, his heart. 
 
 Mr. Van Dam did not try. He meant to secure 
 Zell, with or without her father's approval, believ- 
 ing that when the marriage was once consummated, 
 Mr. Allen's consent and money would follow 
 eventually. 
 
 For some little time longer the young ladies 
 and their favored attendants strolled about the 
 rooms in quiet tete-a-tete, and then the gentlemen 
 bowed themselves out. 
 
 The door-bell had rung several times during the 
 evening, but Hannibal, with the solemnity of a 
 funeral, had quenched each comer by saying with 
 the decision of the voice of fate, 
 
 " De ladies am engaged, sah,'' and no Cerberus 
 at the door, or mailed warder of the middle ages, 
 could have proved such an effectual barrier againsl
 
 48 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 all intruders as this old negro in his white waist- 
 coat and stiff necktie, backed by the usage of mod- 
 ern society. Indeed, in some respects he was a 
 greater potentate than old king Canute, for he 
 Could say to the human passions, inclinations and 
 desires that surged up to Mr. Allen's front door, 
 " Thus far and no farther.' 5 
 
 But upon this evening there was a caller who 
 looked with cool, undaunted eyes upon the stifl 
 necktie and solemn visage rising above it, and to 
 Hannibal's reiterated statement, " Dey am en- 
 gaged," replied in a quiet tone of command, 
 
 " Take that card to Miss Edith." 
 
 Even Hannibal's sovereignty broke down before 
 this persistent, imperturbable visitor, and scratching 
 his head with a perplexed grin he half soliloquized, 
 half replied, 
 
 " Miss Edith mighty 'ticlar to hab her orders 
 obeyed." 
 
 " I am the best judge in this case," was the 
 decisive response. " You take the card and I will 
 be responsible." 
 
 Hannibal came to the conclusion that for some 
 occult reason the gentleman, who was well known 
 to him, had a right to pronounce the " open sesame" 
 where the portal had remained closed to all others, 
 and being a diplomatist, resolved to know more 
 lully the quarter of the wind before assuming too 
 much. But his state-craft was sorely puzzled to 
 know why one of Mr. Allen's under-clerks should 
 suddenly appear in the role of social caller upon
 
 THE SKIES DARKENING. 49 
 
 the young ladies, for Mr. Fox, the gentleman 
 in question, ostensibly had no higher position. 
 His appearance and manner indicated a mystery. 
 Old Hannibal's wool had not grown white for noth- 
 ing, and he was the last man in the world to go 
 through a mystery, as a blundering bumblebee 
 would through a spider's web. He was for leaving 
 the web all intact till he knew who spun it and who 
 it was to catch. If it was Mr. Allen's work or Miss 
 Edith's, it must stand ; if not he could play bumble- 
 bee with a vengeance, and carry off the gossamer 
 of intrigue with one sweep. 
 
 So, showing Mr. Fox into a small reception 
 room, he made his way to the library door with a 
 motion that reminded you of a great, stealthy cat, 
 and called in a loud, impressive whisper, 
 
 " Miss Edith ! " 
 
 Edith at once rose and joined him, knowing 
 that her prime minister had some important ques- 
 tion of state to present when summoning her in 
 that tone. 
 
 Screened by the library door, Hannibal com- 
 menced in a deprecating way, 
 
 " I told Mr. Fox you'se engaged, but he say I 
 must give you dis card. He kinder acted as if he 
 own dis niggar and de whole establishment." 
 
 A sudden heavy frown drew Edith's dark eye- 
 brows together and she said loud enough for Mr. 
 Fox in his ambush to hear, 
 
 " Was there ever such impudence ! " and 
 straightway the frown passed to the listener, inten- 
 3
 
 jo WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 sified, like a flying cloud darkening one spot now 
 and another a moment later. 
 
 " Return the card, and say I am engaged," she 
 said haughtily. " Stay," she added thoughtfully 
 " Perhaps he wished to see papa, or there is some 
 important business matter which needs immediate 
 attention. If not, dismiss him," and Edith return- 
 ed to the library quite as much puzzled as Hannibal 
 had been. Two or three times recently she had 
 found Mr. Fox's card on returning from evenings 
 out. Why had he called ? She had only a cool, 
 bowing acquaintance with him, formed by his com- 
 ing occasionally to see her father on business, and 
 her father had not thought it worth while to form- 
 ally introduce Mr. Fox to any of his family at such 
 times, but had treated him as a sort of upper ser- 
 vant. He certainly was putting on strange airs, as 
 her old grand vizier had intimated. But in the 
 game of cards and her other little game with Gus, 
 she soon forgot his existence. 
 
 Meantime Hannibal, reassured, was regal again 
 and marched down the marble hall with some of 
 the feeling and bearing of his great namesake. If 
 there were a web here, the Aliens were not spin- 
 ning it, and he owed Mr. Fox nothing but a slight 
 grudge for his " airs." 
 
 Therefore with the manner of one feeling him- 
 self master of the situation he said, 
 
 " Hab you a message for Mr. Allen?" 
 
 " No," replied Mr Fox quietly. 
 
 44 Den I tell you again Miss Edith am engaged *
 
 THE SKIES DARKENING. j t 
 
 Looking straight into Hannibal's eyes, without 
 a muscle changing in his impassive face 1 , Mr. Fox 
 said in the steady tone of command, 
 
 " Say to Miss Edith I will call again,'' and he 
 pissed out of the door as if he were master of the 
 situation. 
 
 Hannibal rolled up his eyes till nothing but the 
 whites were seen, and muttered, 
 
 " Brass aint no name for it." 
 
 Mr. Fox's action can soon be explained. While 
 accustomed to operate largely in Wall street through 
 his brokers, Mr. Allen was also the head of a cloth- 
 importing firm. This in fact had been his regular 
 and legitimate business, but like so many others, he 
 had been drawn into the vortex of speculation and 
 after many lucky hits had acquired that over- 
 weening confidence that prepares a way for a fall. 
 He came to believe that he had only to put his 
 hand to a thing to give it the needful impulse to 
 success. In his larger and more exciting opera- 
 tions in Wall street he had left cloth business main- 
 ly to his junior partners and dependents, they em- 
 ploying his capital. Mr. Fox was merely a clerk 
 in this establishment, and not in very high stand- 
 ing either. He was also another unwholesome 
 product of metropolitan life. As office boy among 
 the lawyers, as a hanger-on of the criminal courts, 
 he had scrambled into a certain kind of legal knowl- 
 edge and gained a small pettifogging practice, when 
 an opening in Mr. Allen's business led to his pres- 
 ent connection. Mr. Allen felt that in his varied
 
 52 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 and extended business he needed a man of Mr 
 Fox's stamp to deal with the legal questions that 
 came up, look after the intricacies of the revenue 
 laws, and manage the immaculate saints of the 
 custom-house. As far as the firm had dirty, disa. 
 greeable, perplexing work to do, Mr. Fox was to 
 do it. Whenever it came in contact with the ma- 
 jesty (?) of the law and government, Mr. Fox was to 
 represent it. Whenever some Israelite in whom 
 was guile sought, on varied pretext, to wriggle 
 out of the whole or part of a bill, the wary Mr. 
 Fox met and skirmished on the same plane with 
 the adversary, and won the little fight with the 
 same weapons. 
 
 I would not for a moment give the impression 
 that Mr. Allen was in favor of sharp practice. 
 He merely wished to conduct his business on the 
 business principles and practice of the day, and 
 it was not his purpose, and certainly not his 
 policy, to pass beyond the law. But even the 
 judges disagree as to what the law is, and he was 
 dealing with many who thrived by evading it ; 
 therefore the need of a nimble Mr. Fox who could 
 burrow and double on his tracks with the best of 
 them. All went well for years and the firm was 
 saved many an annoyance, many a loss, and if this 
 guerilla of the house, as perhaps we may term 
 him, had been as devoted to Mr. Allen's interests 
 as to his own, all might have gone well to the end. 
 But these very sharp men are apt to cut both ways 
 and so it turned out in this case. The astute Mr.
 
 THE SKIES DARKENING 53 
 
 Fox determined to faithfully serve Mr. Allen as 
 long as he could faithfully and preeminently serve 
 himself. If he who had scrambled from the streets 
 to his present place of power could reach a higher 
 position by stepping on the great rich merchant, 
 such power would have additional satisfaction. 
 He was as keen-scented after money as Mr. Allen 
 only the latter hunted like a lion, and the former 
 like a fox. He mastered Mr. Allen's business 
 thoroughly in all its details. Until recently no 
 opportunity had occurred save work, which, though 
 useful, caused him to be half-despised by the others 
 who would not, or could not do it. But of late 
 he had gained a strong vantage point. He watch- 
 ed with intense interest Mr. Allen's attraction 
 toward, and entrance upon, a speculation that he 
 knew to be as uncertain of issue as large in pro- 
 portionsj for if the case ever became critical, he 
 was conscious of the power of introducing a very 
 important element into the problem. 
 
 In his care of the custom-house business he 
 had discovered technical violations of the revewue 
 laws which already involved the loss to the firm v>f 
 a million dollars, and with his peculiar loyalty *o 
 himself, thought this knowledge ought to be wort h 
 a great deal. As Mr. Allen went down into the 
 deep waters of Wall street, he saw that it might bfc, 
 In saving his employer from wreck he might vir 
 tually become captain of the ship. 
 
 After this brief delineation of character, it 
 would strike the reader as very incongruous to
 
 54 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 say that Mr. Fox had fallen in love with Edith. 
 Mr. Fox never stumbled or fell. He could slide 
 down and scramble up to any extent, and when 
 cornered could take as flying a leap as a cat. But, 
 he had been greatly impressed by Edith's beauty, 
 and to win her also would be an additional and 
 piquant feature in the game. He had absolute 
 confidence in money, much of which he might 
 have gained from Mr. Allen himself. He knew 
 a million of her father's money was in his power, 
 and this, in a certain sense, placed him in the 
 position of a suitor worth a million, and such 
 he knew to be almost omnipotent on the Avenue. 
 If this money could also be the means of causing 
 Mr. Allen's ruin, or saving him from it, he believed 
 that Edith would be his as truly as the bonds and 
 certificates of stock that he often counted and 
 gloated over. Even before Mr. Allen entered on 
 what he called his great and final operation for the 
 present, he was half inclined to show his hand and 
 make the most of it, but within the last few days 
 he had learned that perhaps a greater opportunity 
 was opening before him. Meantime in the full con- 
 sciousness of power he had commenced calling on 
 Edith, as we have seen, something as a cat likes 
 to play around and watch a caged oird, which it 
 expects to have in its claws before long. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast Edith mentioned 
 Mr. Fox's recent calls. 
 
 " What is he coming here for ? " growled Mr, 
 Allen, looking with a frown at his daughter.
 
 THE SKIES DARKENING. 55 
 
 1 I'm sure 1 don't know." 
 
 " I hope you don't see him." 
 
 " Certainly not. I was out the first two times, 
 an i last night sent word that I was engaged. 
 But he insisted on his card being given to me and 
 put on airs generally, so Hannibal seems to think." 
 
 That dignitary gave a confirming and indig- 
 nant grunt. 
 
 " He said he would call again, didn't he, Hanni- 
 bal?" 
 
 "Yes'm," blurted Hannibal, "and he looked 
 as if de next time he'd put us all in his breeches 
 pocket and carry us off." 
 
 "What's Fox up to now?" muttered Mr. 
 Allen, knitting his brows. " I must look into 
 this." 
 
 But even within a few hours the cloud land of 
 Wall street had changed some of its aspects. The 
 sereneness of the preceding day was giving place 
 to indications of a disturbance in the financial 
 atmosphere. He had tc buy more stock to keep 
 the control he was gaining on the market, and 
 things were not shaping favorably for its rise. He 
 was already carrying a tremendous load, and even 
 his Herculean shoulders began to feel the burden. 
 In the press and rush of business he forgot about 
 Fox's social ambition in venturing to call where 
 such men as Van Dam and Gus Elliot had undis- 
 puted rights. 
 
 Those upon whom society lays its hands are 
 orthodox of course.
 
 56 WHAT CAN LHE DOt 
 
 The wary Fox was watching the stock market 
 as closely as Mr. Allen, and chuckled over the 
 aspect of affairs; and he concluded to keep quietly 
 out of the way a little longer, and await further 
 developments. 
 
 Things moved rapidly as they usually do in the 
 maelstrom of speculation. Though Mr. Allen was 
 a trained athlete in business, the strain upon him 
 grew greater day by day. But true to his promise 
 and in accordance with his habit of promptness, he 
 transferred the deed for the little place in the 
 country to Edith, who gloated over its dry techni- 
 calities as if they were full of romantic hope and 
 suggestion to her. 
 
 One day when alone with Laura, Mr. Allen 
 asked her suddenly, 
 
 " Has Mr. Goulden made any formal proposal 
 yet?" 
 
 With rising color Laura answered, 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Why not ? He seems very slow about it." 
 
 " I hardly know how you expect me to reply to 
 such a question," said Laura, a little haughtily. 
 
 " Is he as attentive as ever ?" 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so, though he has not called 
 quite so often of late." 
 
 " Humph!" ejaculated Mr. Allen meditatively, 
 adding after a moment, " Can't you make him 
 speak out ? '' 
 
 " You certainly don't mean me to propose to 
 him ? " asked Laura, reddening.
 
 THE SKIES DARKENING. 57 
 
 " No no, no ! " said her father with some irri- 
 tation, " but any clever woman can make a man, 
 who has gone as far as Mr. Goulden, commit him- 
 self whenever she chooses. Your mother would 
 have had the thing settled long ago, or else would 
 have enjoyed the pleasure of refusing him." 
 
 " I am not mistress of that kind of finesse " 
 said Laura coldly. 
 
 " You are a woman," replied her father coolly, 
 " and don't need any lessons. It would be well for 
 us both if you would exert your native power in 
 this case." 
 
 Laura glanced keenly at her father and asked 
 quickly, 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Just what I say. A hint to the wise is suffi- 
 cient." 
 
 Having thus indicated to his daughter that 
 phase of Wall street tactics and principles that 
 could be developed on the Avenue, he took him- 
 self off to the central point of operations. 
 3*
 
 CHAP! ER V. 
 
 THE STORM THREATENING. 
 
 T AURA had a better motive than suggested by 
 her father for wishing to lead Mr. Goulden to 
 commit himself, for as far as she could love any one 
 beyond herself, she loved him, and also realized 
 fully that he could continue to her all that her ele- 
 gant and expensive tastes craved. Notwithstand- 
 ing her show of maidenly pride and reserve, she 
 was ready enough to do as she had been bidden. 
 Mr. Allen guessed as much. Indeed, as was quite 
 natural, his wife was the type of the average 
 woman to his mind, only he believed that she wai 
 a little cleverer in these matters than the majority, 
 The manner in which she had " hooked" him made 
 a deep and lasting impression on his memory. 
 
 But Mr. Goulden was a wary fish. He had no 
 objections to being hooked if the conditions were 
 all right, and until satisfied as to these, he would 
 play around at a safe distance. As he saw Mr. 
 Allen daily getting into deeper water, he grew 
 more cautious. His calls were not quite so fre- 
 quent. He always managed to be with Laura in 
 company with others, and while his manner was 
 very complimentary, it was never exactly lover-like. 
 Therefore, all Laura's feminine diplomacy was IP
 
 THE STORM THREATENING. 
 
 59 
 
 vain, and that which a woman can say frankly the 
 moment a man speaks, she could scarcely hint 
 Moreover, Mr. Goulden was adroit enough to chill 
 her heart while he flattered her vanity. There 
 was something about his manner she could not 
 understand, but it was impossible to take offence 
 at the polished gentleman. 
 
 Her father understood him better. He saw 
 that Mr. Goulden had resolved to settle the ques- 
 tion on financial principles only. 
 
 As the chances diminished of securing him 
 indirectly through Laura as a prop to his tottering 
 fortunes, he at last came to the conclusion to try 
 to interest him directly in his speculation, feeling 
 sure if he could control only a part of Mr. Goul- 
 den's large means and credit, he could carry his 
 operation through successfully. 
 
 Mr. Goulden warily listened to the scheme, 
 warily weighed it, and concluded within the brief 
 compass of Mr. Allen's explanation to have nothing 
 to do with it. But his outward manner was all 
 deference and courteous attention. 
 
 At the end of Mr. Allen's rather eager and 
 rose-colored statements, he replied in politest and 
 most regretful tones that he " was very sorry he 
 could not avail himself of so promising an opening, 
 but in fact, he was ' in deep' himself carrying all 
 he could stand up under very well, and was rathef 
 in the borrowing than in the lending line at pres- 
 ent." 
 
 Keen Mr. Allen saw through all. this in a
 
 60 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 moment, and his face flushed angrily in spite of 
 his efforts at self-control. Muttering something 
 to the effect, 
 
 " I thought I would give you a chance to make 
 a good thing," he bade a rather abrupt "good 
 morning." 
 
 As the pressure grew heavier upon him he was 
 led to do a thing, the suggestion of which a few 
 weeks previously, he would have regarded as an 
 insult. Mrs. Allen had a snug little property of 
 her own, which had been secured to her on first 
 mortgages, and in bonds that were quiet and safe. 
 These her husband held in trust for her, and now 
 pledged them as collateral on which to borrow 
 money to carry through his gigantic operation. 
 In respect to part of this transaction, Mrs. Allen 
 was obliged to sign a paper which might have re- 
 vealed to her the danger involved, but she lan- 
 guidly took the pen, yawned, and signed away the 
 result of her father's long years of toil without 
 reading a line. 
 
 " There," she said, " I hope you will not bother 
 me about business again. Now in regard to this 
 party" and she was about to enter into an eager 
 discussion of all the complicated details, when her 
 husband, interrupting, said, 
 
 " Another time, my dear I am very much 
 pressed by business at present." 
 
 " O, business, nothing but business," whined 
 his wife. " You never have time to attend to me or 
 your family."
 
 THE STORM THREA TENING. 6l 
 
 But Mr. Allen was out of hearing of the 
 querulous tones before the sentence was finished. 
 
 Of course he never meant that his wife should 
 lose a cent, and to satisfy his conscience, and im- 
 pressed by his danger, he resolved that as soon as 
 he was out of this quaking morass of speculation 
 he would settle on his wife and each daughter 
 enough to secure them in wealth through life and 
 arrange it in such a way that no one could touch 
 the principal. 
 
 The large sum that he now secured eased up 
 matters and helped him greatly, and affairs began 
 to wear a brightening aspect. He felt sure that 
 the stock he had invested in was destined to rise 
 in time, and indeed it already gave evidences of 
 buoyancy. He noticed with an inward chuckle 
 that Mr. Goulden began to call a little oftener. 
 He was the best financial barometer in Wall 
 street. 
 
 But the case would require the most adroit and 
 delicate management for weeks still, and this Mr. 
 Allen could have given. Success also depended 
 on a favorable state of the money market, and a 
 good degree of stability and quietness throughout 
 the financial world. Political changes in Europe, 
 a war in Asia, heavy failures in Liverpool, London 
 or Paris, might easily spoil all. Reducing Mr. 
 Allen's vast complicated operation to its final 
 analysis, he had simply bet several millions all he 
 had, that nothing would happen throughout the 
 world that could interfere with a scheme so prob
 
 63 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 lematical that the chances could scarcely be called 
 even. 
 
 But gambling is occasionally successful, and it 
 began to look as if Mr. Allen would win his bet ; 
 and so he might had nothing happened. The 
 world was quiet enough, remarkably quiet, consid- 
 ering the superabundance of explosive elements 
 everywhere. 
 
 The financial centres seethed on as usual, like 
 a witch's cauldron, but there were no infernal ebul- 
 litions in the form of " Black Fridays." The 
 storm that threatened to wreck Mr. Alkn was no 
 wide, sweeping tempest, but rather one of those 
 little local whirlwinds that sometimes in the West 
 destroy a farm or township. 
 
 For the last few weeks Mr. Fox had quietly 
 watched the game, matured his plans, and secured 
 his proof in the best legal form. He now con- 
 cluded it was time to act, as he believed Mr. Allen 
 to be in his power. So one morning he coolly 
 walked into that gentleman's office, closed the door 
 and took a seat. Mr. Allen looked up with an ex 
 pression of surprise and annoyance on his face. He 
 instinctively disliked Mr. Fox, as a lion might be 
 irritated by a cat, and the instinctive enmity waa 
 all the stronger, because of a certain family like- 
 ness. But Mr. Allen's astuteness had nothing 
 mean or cringing in it, while Mr. Fox heretofore 
 had been a sort of Uriah Heep to him. Therefore 
 his surprise and annoyance at his new role of cool 
 confidence.
 
 THE STORM THREA ThNING. Oj 
 
 " Well, sir," said he, rather impatiently, return* 
 ing to his writing, as a broad hint that communica* 
 lions must be brief if made at all. 
 
 " Mr. Allen," said Mr. Fox, in that clear cut 
 decisive tone, that betokens resolute purpose, and 
 a little anger also, " I must request you to give me 
 your undivided attention for a little time, and sure- 
 ly what I am about to say is important enough to 
 make it worth the while." 
 
 Though Mr. Allen flushed angrily, he knew that 
 his clerk would not employ such a tone and man- 
 ner without reason, so he raised his head and look- 
 ed steadily at his unwelcome visitor and again said' 
 oriefly, 
 
 " Well, sir." 
 
 " I wish, in the first place," said Mr. Fox, think- 
 ing to begin with the least important exaction, and 
 gradually reach a climax in his extortion, " I wish 
 permission to pay my addresses to your daughter 
 Miss Edith." 
 
 Knowing nothing of a father's pride and affec- 
 tion, he unwittingly brought in the climax first. 
 
 The angry flush deepened on Mr. Allen's face, 
 but he still managed to control himself, and to re- 
 member that the father of three pretty daughters 
 must expect some scenes like these, and the only 
 thing to do was to get rid of the objectionable suit- 
 ors as civilly as possible. He was also too much 
 of.an American to put on any of the high stepping 
 airs of the European aristocracy. Here it is sim 
 ply one sovereign proposing for the daughter of
 
 64 Wff* T CAN SHE DOf 
 
 another, and generally the young people practical- 
 ly arrange it all before asking any consent in the 
 case. After all, Mr. Fox had only paid his daugh* 
 ter the highest compliment in his power, and if 
 any other of his clerks had made a similar request 
 he would probably have given as kind and delicate 
 a refusal as possible. It was because he disliked 
 Mr. Fox, and instinctively gauged his character, 
 that he said with a short, dry laugh, 
 
 "Come, Mr. Fox, you are forgetting yourself. 
 You have been a useful employee in my store. If 
 you feel that you should have more salary, name 
 -what will satisfy you, and I will consult my part- 
 ners, and try and arrange it." " There," thought 
 he, " if he can't take that hint as to his place, I 
 shall have to give him a kick." But both surprise 
 and anger began to get the better of him when Mr. 
 Fox replied, 
 
 " I must really beg your closer attention ; I said 
 nothing of increased salary. You will soon see 
 that is no object with me now. I asked your per- 
 mission to pay my addresses to your daughter." 
 
 " I decline to give it," said Mr. Allen, harshly, 
 " and if I hear any more of this nonsense I will 
 discharge you from my employ.'' 
 
 "Why? "was the quiet response, yet spoken 
 with the intensity of passion. 
 
 " Because I never would permit my daughter 
 to marry a man in your circumstances, and if ycu 
 will have it, you are not the style of a man I would 
 wish to take into my family."
 
 THE STORM THREATENING. 65 
 
 a lf a man who was worth a million asked for 
 your daughter's hand, would you answer him in 
 this manner?" 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Mr. Allen, with another 
 of his short dry laughs, which expressed little save 
 irritation, " but you have my answer as respects 
 yourself." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," was the bold retort. 
 " I am practically worth a million indeed several 
 millions to you, as you are now situated. You 
 have talked long enough in the dark, Mr. Allen. 
 For some time back there have been in. your im- 
 portations violations of the revenue laws. I have 
 only to give the facts in my possession to the 
 proper authorities and the government would 
 legally claim from you a million of dollars, of which 
 I should get half. So you see that I am positively 
 worth five hundred thousand, and to you I am 
 worth a million with respect to this item alone." 
 
 Mr. Allen sprang excitedly to his feet. Mr. 
 Fox coolly got up and edged toward the door, 
 which he had purposely left unlatched. 
 
 " Moreover/' continued Mr. Fox, in his hard 
 metallic voice, " in view of your other operations in 
 Wall street, which I know all about, the loss of a 
 million would involve the loss of all you have." 
 
 Mr. Fox now had his hand on the door-knob, 
 and Mr. Allen was glaring at him as if purposing 
 to rush upon and rend him to pieces. 
 
 Standing in the passage-way, Mr. Fox conclu- 
 ded, in a low, meaning tone,
 
 66 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " You had better make terms with me within 
 twenty-four hours." 
 
 And the door closed sharply, reminding one of 
 the shutting of a steel trap. 
 
 Mr. Allen sank suddenly back in his chair and 
 stared at the closed door, looking as if he might 
 have been a prisoner and all escape cut off. 
 
 He seemed to be in a lethargy or under a par- 
 tial paralysis ; he slowly and weakly rubbed his 
 head with his hand, as if vaguely conscious that 
 the trouble was there. 
 
 Gradually the stupor began to pass off, his 
 blood to circulate, and his mind to realize his situ- 
 ation. 
 
 Rising feebly, as if a sudden age har" fallen on 
 him, he went to the door and gave orders that he 
 must not be disturbed, and then sat down to think. 
 Half an hour later he sent for his lawyer, stated 
 the case to him, enjoined secrecy, and asked him 
 to see Fox, hoping that it might be a case of mere 
 black-mailing bravado. Keen as Mr. Allen's law- 
 yer was, he had more than his match in the astute 
 Mr. Fox. Moreover the latter had everything in 
 his favor. There had been a slight infringement 
 of the revenue laws, and though involving but 
 small loss to the government, the consequences 
 were the same. The invoice would be confiscated 
 as soon as the facts were known. Mr. Fox had 
 secured ample proof of this. 
 
 Mr. Allen might be able to prove that there 
 was no intention to violate the law, as indeed there
 
 THE STORM THREATENING. 67 
 
 had not been. In fact, he had left those matters 
 to his subordinates, and they had been a little care- 
 less, averaging matters, contenting themselves with 
 complying with the general intent of the law, 
 rather than, with painstaking care, conforming to 
 its letter. But the law is very matter-of-fact, and 
 can be excessively literal when money is to be 
 made by those who live by enforcing or evading it, 
 as may suit them. Mr. Fox could carry his case, 
 if he pressed it, and secure his share of the plunder. 
 On account of a very slight loss, Mr. Allen might 
 be compelled to lose a million. 
 
 Before the day's decline the lawyer had asked 
 Mr. Fox to take no further steps, stating vaguely 
 that Mr. Allen would look into the matter, and 
 would not be unreasonable. 
 
 A sardonic grin gave a momentary lurid hue to 
 Mr. Fox's sallow face. Knowing the game to be 
 in his own hands, he could quietly bide his time ; 
 so, assuming a tone of much moderation and dig- 
 nity, he replied, he had no wish to be hard, and 
 could be reasonable also. '' But," added he, in a 
 meaning tone, " there must be no double work in 
 this matter. Mr. Allen must see what I am worth 
 to him nothing could be plainer. His best policy 
 now is to act promptly and liberally toward me. 
 for I pledge you my word that if I see any dispo- 
 sition to evade my requirements I will blow out 
 the bottom of everything," and a snaky glitter in 
 his small black eyes showed how remorselessly he 
 could scuttle the ship bearing Mr. Allen's fortunes
 
 68 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 A speedy investigation showed Mr. Fox's fatal 
 power, and Mr. Allen's partners were for paying 
 him off, bt when they found that he exacted an 
 interest in the business, that quite threw them 
 into the background ; they were indignant and in- 
 clined to fight it out. Mr. Allen could not tell 
 them that he was in no condition to fight. If his 
 financial status had been the same as some weeks 
 previously, he would rather have lost the million 
 than have listened one moment to Mr. Fox's repul- 
 sive conditions, but now to risk litigation and com- 
 mercial reputation on one hand, and total ruin on 
 the other, was an abyss from which he shrank back 
 appalled. 
 
 His only resource was to temporize, both with 
 his partners and Mr. Fox, and so gain time, hoping 
 that the Wall street scheme, that had caused so 
 much evil, might also cure it. Of course he could 
 not tell his partners how he was situated. The 
 slightest breath of suspicion might cause the 
 evenly balanced scales in which hung all chances 
 to hopelessly decline. It now showed a decided 
 tendency to rise. 
 
 If he could only keep things quiet a little 
 longer 
 
 Edith must help him. Calling her into the 
 library after dinner, he asked : 
 
 " Has Mr. Fox called lately ? " 
 
 " No, sir, not for some little time." 
 
 " Will you oblige me by seeing him and being 
 civil if he calls again ? "
 
 THE STORM THREA TEN ING. 6g 
 
 " Why, papa, I thought you did not wish me to 
 ee him." 
 
 "Circumstances have altered since then. Is 
 he very disagreeable to you ? " 
 
 " Well papa, I have scarcely thought of him, 
 but to tell you the truth when he has been here 
 on business, I have involuntarily thought of a mous- 
 ing cat or the animal he is named after, on the 
 scent of a hen-roost. But of course I can be civil 
 or even polite to him if you wish it." 
 
 A spasm of pain crossed her father's face and 
 he put his hand hastily to his head, a frequent act 
 of late. He rose and took a few turns up and down 
 the room, muttering, 
 
 " Curse it all, I must tell her. Half knowledge 
 is always dangerous, and is sure to lead to blunders, 
 and there must be no blunders now." 
 
 Stopping abruptly before his daughter, he said, 
 " He has proposed for your hand." 
 
 An expression of disgust flitted across Edith's 
 face, and she replied quickly, 
 
 " We both have surely but one answer to such 
 a proposition from him" 
 
 " Edith, you seem to have more sense in regard 
 to business and such matters than most young la- 
 dies. I must now test you, and it is for you to 
 show whether you are a woman or a shallow-brain- 
 ed girl. I am sorry to tell you these things. They 
 are not suited to your age or sex, but there is no 
 help for it," and he explained how he was situated. 
 
 Edith listened with paling cheek, dilating eyes
 
 70 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 and parting lips, but still with a rising courage and 
 growing purpose to help her father. 
 
 " I do not wish you to marry this villain,'* he 
 continued. "Heaven for bid; "(not that Mr. Al- 
 len referred this or any other matter to Heaven; it 
 was only a strong way of expressing his own dis- 
 approval.) " But we must manage to temporize and 
 keep this man at bay till I can extricate myself 
 from my difficulties. As soon as I stand on firm 
 ground I will defy him." 
 
 To Edith, with her standard of morality, the 
 course indicated by her father seemed eminently 
 filial and praiseworthy. The thought of marrying 
 Mr. Fox made her flesh creep, but a brief flirtation 
 was another affair. She had flirted not a little in 
 her day for the mere amusement of the thing, and 
 with the motives her father had presented, she 
 could do it in this case as if it were an act of devo- 
 tion. Of the pure and lofty morality of the Bible 
 she had as little idea as a Persian houri, and rugged 
 Roman virtue could not develop in the social at- 
 mosphere in which the Aliens lived. It was with 
 a clear conscience that she resolved to beguile Mr. 
 Fox, and signified as much to her father. 
 
 " Play him off," said this model father, " as Mr, 
 Goulden does Laura. Curse him ! how I would 
 like to slam the front door in his face. But my 
 time may come yet," he added with set teeth. 
 
 That morning Mr. Allen sent for Mr. Fox, as ha 
 dared brave him no longer without some definite 
 show of yielding, in order to keep back his fatal
 
 THE STORM THREATENING. j\ 
 
 disclosures. With a dignity and formality scarcely 
 in keeping with his fear and the import of his 
 words, he said, 
 
 " I have considered your statements, sir, and ad- 
 mit their weight. As I informed you through my 
 lawyer, I wish to be reasonable and hope you in- 
 tend to be the same, for these are very grave mat- 
 ters. In regard to my daughter, you have my per- 
 mission to call upon her as do her other gentleman 
 friends, and she will receive you. In this land, that 
 is all the vantage ground a gentleman asks, as in- 
 deed it is all that can be granted. I am not the 
 king of Dahomey or the Shah of Persia, and able 
 to give my daughters where interest may dictate. 
 A lady's inclination must be consulted. Bnt I give 
 you the permission you ask, you may pay your ad- 
 dresses to my daughter. You could scarcely ask 
 a father to say more." 
 
 " It matters little to me what you or others say, 
 but much what they do. My action shall be based 
 upon yours and Miss Edith's. I have learned in 
 your employ the value of promptness in all business 
 matters. I hope you understand me." 
 
 " I do, sir, but there can be no indecent haste 
 in these matters. In gaining the important posi- 
 tion in assuming the relations you desire, there 
 should be some show of dignity, otherwise society 
 will be disgusted, and you would lose the respect 
 which should follow such vast acquirements." 
 
 " Where I can secure the whole cloth, I shall *ot
 
 72 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 worry about the selvage of etiquette and passf.ig 
 opinion," was Mr. Fox's cynical reply. 
 
 Mr. Allen could not prevent an expression of 
 intense disgust from coming out upon his face, rnd 
 he replied with some heat, 
 
 " Well, sir, something is due to my own position, 
 and I can not treat my daughter like a bale of 
 cloth, as you suggest in your figurative speech. 
 However," he added, warily, " I will take the neces- 
 sary steps as soon as possible, and will trespass 
 upon your time no longer." 
 
 As Mr. Fox glided out of the office with his 
 sardonic smile, Mr. Allen felt for the moment that 
 he would rather break than make terms with him. 
 
 Meanwhile the month of February was rapidly 
 passing, though each day was an age of anxiety 
 and suspense to Mr. Allen. The tension was too 
 much for him, and he evidently aged and failed un- 
 der it. He drank more than he ate, and his temper 
 was very variable. From his wife he only received 
 chidings and complaints that in his horrid " mania 
 for business" he was neglecting her and his family 
 in general. She could never get Vim to sit down 
 and talk sensibly of the birthday and debut party 
 that was now so near. He would always say, testily, 
 " manage it to suit yourselves." 
 
 Laura and Zell were too much wrapped up in 
 their own affairs to give much thought to anything 
 else. But Edith, of late understood her father and 
 felt deeply for him. One evening rinding him sit
 
 THE STORM THREA TEN ING. 73 
 
 ting dejectedly alone in the library after dinner, she 
 said, 
 
 " Why go on with this party, papa? I am sure 
 I am ready to give it up if it will be any relief to 
 you." 
 
 The heart of this strong, confident man of the 
 world was sore and lonely. For perhaps the first 
 time he felt the need of support and sympathy. 
 He drew his beautiful daughter, that thus far he 
 had scarcely more than admired, down upon his 
 lap and buried his face upon her shoulder. A 
 breath of divine impulse swept aside for a moment 
 the narrow stifling curtains of his sordid life, and 
 he caught a glimpse of the large happy realm of 
 love. 
 
 " And would you really give up anything for 
 the sake of your old father?'' he asked in alow 
 tone. 
 
 " Everything,'' cried Edith, much moved by the 
 unusual display of affection and feeling on the part 
 of her father. 
 
 " The others would not/' said he bitterly. 
 
 " Indeed, papa, I think they would if they only 
 knew. We would all do anything to see you 
 your old jovial self again. Give up this wretched 
 struggle ; tell Mr. Fox to do his worst. I am not 
 afraid of being poor ; I am sure we could work up 
 again." 
 
 "You know nothing about poverty," sighed 
 her father. " When you are down, the world that 
 bowed at your feet, will run over and trample on 
 4
 
 74 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 you. I have seen it so often, but never thought 
 of danger to me and mine.'' 
 
 "But this party," said tne practical Edith, 
 "why not give this up? It wHl cost a great deal." 
 
 " By no means give it up," said her father. " It 
 may help me very much. My credit is everything 
 now. The appearance of wealth which such a 
 display insures, will do much to secure the wealth. 
 I am watched day and night, and must show no 
 sign of weakness. Go on with the party and make 
 it as brilliant as possible. If I fail, two or three 
 thousand will make no difference, and it may help 
 me to succeed. Whatever strengthens my credit 
 for the next few days is everything to me. My 
 stock is rising, only it is too slow. Things look 
 better if I could only gain time. But I am 
 very uneasy my head troubles me," and he put 
 his hand to his head, and Edith remembered how 
 often she had seen him do that of late. 
 
 " By the way," said he, abruptly, " tell me how 
 you get on with Mr. Fox." 
 
 " O, never mind about that now ; do rest a 
 little, mind and body." 
 
 " No, tell me," said her father sharply, showing 
 how little control he had over himself. 
 
 " Well, I think I have beaten him so far. He 
 is very demonstrative, and acts as if I belonged to 
 him. Did I not manage to always meet him in 
 company with others, he would come at once to an 
 open declaration. As it is, I cannot prevent it 
 much longer. He is coming this evening, and I
 
 THE STORM THREA TENING. 75 
 
 fear he will press matters. He seems to think that 
 the asking is a mere form and that our extremity 
 will leave no choice." 
 
 " You must avoid him a little longer. Come, 
 we will go to the theatre, and then you might be 
 sick for a few days/' 
 
 " In a few minutes they were off, and were 
 scarcely well away when Mr. Fox, dressed in more 
 style than he could carry gracefully, appeared. 
 
 " Miss Edith am out," said Hannibal loftily. 
 
 " I half believe you lie," muttered Mr. Fox, 
 looking very black. 
 
 " Sarch de house, sah. It am a berry gentle- 
 manly proceeding.'' 
 
 " Where has she gone, and who did she go 
 with?" 
 
 " I hab no orders to say," said Hannibal looking 
 fixedly at the ceiling of the vestibule. 
 
 The knightly suitor turned on his heel, muttering, 
 " They are playing me false." 
 
 'Twas a pity, and he so true. 
 
 The next day Edith was sick and Mr. Allen's 
 stock was rising. Hannibal again sent Mr. Fox 
 baffled away, but with a dangerous gleam in his 
 eyes. 
 
 On the following morning Mr. Allen found a note 
 on his desk. His face grew livid as he read it, and 
 he often put his hand to his head. He sat down 
 and wrote to this effect, however, 
 
 " I am arranging the partnership matter as rap- 
 'dly as possible. In. regard to my daughter you will
 
 76 trffA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 ruin all if you show no more discretion. I can not 
 compel her to marry you. You may make it im 
 possible to influence her in your favor. You have 
 been well received. What more can you ask? A 
 matter of this kind must be arranged delicately." 
 
 Mr Fox pondered over this with a peculiarly 
 foxy expression. " It sounds plausible. If I only 
 thought he was true," soliloquized this embodiment 
 of truth. 
 
 Mr. Allen's stock was higher, and Mr. Fox 
 watched the rise grimly, but he saw Edith, who 
 was all smiles, and graciousness, and gave him a 
 verbal invitation to her birthday-party which was 
 to take place early in the following week. 
 
 The fellow had considerable vanity, and was en- 
 snared, his suspicions quieted for the time. Valu- 
 ing money himself supremely, it seemed most ra- 
 tional that father and daughter should regard him 
 as the most eligible young man in the city. 
 
 Edith's friends, and Gus in particular, were 
 rather astonished at the new comer. Laura was 
 frigid and remonstrative, Zell and Mr. Van Dam 
 satirical, but Edith wilfully tossed her head and 
 said, " He was clever and well off, and she liked him 
 well enough to talk to him a little. Society had 
 made her a good actress. Meanwhile on the Tues- 
 day following (and this was Friday) the long ear 
 pected party would take place.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE WRECK. 
 
 f)N Saturday Mr. Allen's stock was rising, and 
 ^~ > ^ he ventured to sell a little in a quiet way. 
 If he "unloaded" rapidly and openly, he would 
 break down the market. 
 
 Mr. Fox watched events uneasily. Mr. Goul- 
 den grew genial and more pronounced in his atten- 
 tions. Gus, on Saturday, showed almost equal 
 solicitude for a decisively favorable answer as Mr. 
 Fox, if the language of his eyes could mean any- 
 thing; but Edith played him and Mr. Fox off 
 against each other so adroitly that they were learn- 
 ing to hate one another as cordially as they agreed 
 in admiring her. Though she inclined in her favor 
 to Mr. Fox, he was suspicious from nature, and 
 annoyed at never being able to see her alone. 
 
 As before, they were at cards together in the 
 library, Edith went for a moment into the parlor 
 to get something. With the excuse of obtaining 
 it for her, Mr. Fox followed, and the moment they 
 were alone, he seized her hand and pressed a kiss 
 upon it. An angry flush came into her face, but 
 by a -great effort she so far controlled herself as to 
 put her finger to her lips and point to the library, 
 as if her chief anxiety was that the attention of its
 
 78 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 occupants should not be excited. Mr. Fox was 
 delighted, though the angry flush was a little puz- 
 zling. But if Edith permitted that, she would 
 permit more, and if her only shrinking was that 
 others should not see and know at present, that 
 could soon be overcome. These thoughts passed 
 through his mind while the incensed girl hastily 
 obtained what she wished. But she, feeling that 
 her cheeks were too hot to return immediately to 
 the critical eyes in the library, passed out through 
 the front parlor, that she might have time to be 
 herself again when she appeared. On what little 
 links destiny sometimes hangs ! 
 
 That which changed all her future and that of 
 others that involving life and death, occurred in 
 the half moment occupied in her passing out of 
 the front parlor. The consequences she would 
 feel most keenly, terribly indeed at times, though 
 she might never guess the cause. Her act was a 
 simple, natural one under the circumstances, and 
 yet it told Mr. Fox, in his cat-like watchfulness, 
 that with all his cunning he was being made a fool 
 of. The moment Edith had passed around the 
 sliding door and thought herself unobserved, an 
 expression of intense disgust came out upon her 
 expressive face, and with her lace handkerchief she 
 rubbed the hand he had kissed, as if removing the 
 slime of a reptile ; and the large mirror at the 
 farther end of the room had faithfully reflected the 
 suggestive little pantomime. He saw and under- 
 stood all in a flash
 
 THE WRECK. 
 
 79 
 
 No words could have so plainly told her feeling 
 toward him, and he was one of those reptiles that 
 could sting remorselessly in revenge. The nature 
 of the imposition practiced upon him and the fact 
 that it was partially successful and might have 
 been wholly so, cut him in the sorest spot. He 
 who thought himself able to cope with the shrewd- 
 est and most artful, had been overreached by a girl, 
 and he saw at that moment, that her purpose to 
 beguile him long enough for Mr. Allen to extricate 
 himself from his difficulties, might have been suc- 
 cessful. He had had before an uneasy conscious- 
 ness that he ought to act decisively, and now he 
 knew it. 
 
 "I'm a fool a cursed fool," he muttered, 
 speaking the truth for once, " but it's not too late 
 yet." 
 
 His resolution was taken instantly, but when 
 Edith appeared after a moment in the library, 
 smiling and affable again, he seemed in good spir- 
 its also, but there was a steely, serpent-like glitter 
 in his eyes, that made him more repulsive than ever. 
 But he staid as late as the others, knowing that 
 it might be his last evening at the Aliens'. For 
 Edith had said as part of her plan for avoiding Mr 
 Fox, 
 
 " We shall be too busy to see any company till 
 Tuesday evening, and then we hope to see you 
 all." - 
 
 Her sisters had assented, expecting that it 
 would be the case.
 
 gO WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 With a refinement of malice, Mr. Fox sought 
 to give general annoyance, by a polite insolence 
 toward the others, which they with difficulty ignor- 
 ed, and a lover-like gallantry toward Edith, which 
 was like nettles to Gus, and nauseating to her ; 
 but she did not dare resent it. He could at least 
 torment her a little longer. 
 
 At last all were gone, and her father coming in 
 from his club said, drawing her aside, 
 
 "All right yet?" 
 
 " Yes, but I hope the ordeal will be over soon, 
 or I shall die with disgust, or like some I have read 
 of in fairy stories, be killed by a poisonous breath.'' 
 
 " Keep it up a little longer, that is a good brave 
 girl. I think that by another week, we will be 
 able to defy him/' said her father in cheerful tones. 
 " If my stock rises as much in the next few days, as 
 of late, I shall soon be on terra firma." 
 
 If he had known that the mine beneath his 
 feet was loaded, and the fuse fired, his full face 
 would have become as pale as it was florid with 
 wine, and the dissipation of the evening. 
 
 Monday morning came all seemed quiet. Hu 
 stock was rising so rapidly that he determined tc 
 hold on a little longer. 
 
 Goulden met and congratulated him, saying that 
 he had bought a little himself, and would take 
 more if Mr. Allen would sell, as now he was easier 
 in funds than when spoken to before on the subject 
 
 Mr. Allen replied rather coldly that he " would 
 not sell any stock that day."
 
 THE WRECK. 8l 
 
 Mr. Fox kept out of the way, and quietly at- 
 tended to his routine as usual, but there was 
 a sardonic smile on his face, as if he were gloating 
 over some secret evil. 
 
 Tuesday, the long expected day that the Al- 
 iens believed would make one of the most brilliant 
 epochs in their history, dawned in appropriate 
 brightness. The sun dissipated the few opposing 
 clouds and declined in undimmed splendor, and 
 Edith, who alone had fears and forebodings, took 
 the day as an omen that the storm had passed, and 
 that better days than ever were coming. 
 
 Invitations by the hundred, with imposing 
 monogram and coat of arms, had gone out, and 
 acceptances had flowed back in full current. All 
 that lavish expenditure could secure in one of the 
 most luxurious social centres of the world, had 
 been obtained without stint to make the entertain- 
 ment perfect. 
 
 But one knew it might become like Belshazzar's 
 feast. 
 
 The avalanche often hangs over the Alpine 
 passes so that a loud word will bring it whirling 
 down upon the hapless traveller, The avalanche 
 of ruin,impending over Mr. Allen, was so delicately 
 poised that a whisper could precipitate its crush- 
 ing weight, and that whisper had been spoken. < 
 
 All the morning of Tuesday his stock was ris- 
 ing, and he resolved that on the morning after the 
 party he would commence selling rapidly, and so
 
 82 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 far from being broken, he would realize much of 
 the profit that he had expected. 
 
 But a rumor was floating through the after- 
 noon papers that a well-known merchant, eminent 
 in financial and social circles, had been detected in 
 violating the revenue laws, and that the losses 
 which such violation would involve to him, would 
 be immense. The stock market, more sensitive 
 than a belle's vanity, paused to see what it meant. 
 One of Mr. Allen's partners of the cloth house 
 brought a paper to him. He grew pale as he read 
 it, put his hand suddenly to his head, but after a 
 moment seemingly found his voice and said, 
 
 "Could Fox have been so dastardly?" 
 
 Hir. partner shrugged his shoulder as much 
 as to say, " Fox could do anything in that line." 
 
 Mr. Allen sent for Fox, but he could not be 
 found. In the meantime the stock market closed 
 and the rise of his stock was evidently checked for 
 the moment. 
 
 Py reason of the party, Mr. Allen had to re- 
 turn up town, but he arranged with his partner to 
 rema r n and if anything new developed to send 
 word by special messenger. 
 
 By eight o'clock the Allen mansion on Fifth 
 Avenue was all aglow with light. By nine, car- 
 riages began to roll up to the awning that stretched 
 frorr the heavy arched doorway across the sidewalk, 
 and 'adies that would soon glide through the spa- 
 ciou rooms in elegant drapery, now seemed mis- 
 shaj en bundles in their wrapping, and gathered
 
 THE WRECK. 83 
 
 up dresses as they hurried out of the publicity of 
 the street. The dressing rooms where the sphe- 
 roidal bundles were undergoing metamorphose be- 
 came buzzing centres of life. 
 
 Before the long pier glasses there was a mar- 
 shalling of every charm, real or borrowed, (more cor- 
 rectly bought) in view of the hoped-for conquests 
 of the evening, and it would seem that not a few 
 went on the military maxim that success is often 
 secured by putting on as bold a front, and making 
 as great and startling display, as possible. But as 
 fragrant, modest flowers usually bloom in the gar- 
 den with gaudy scentless ones, so those inclined to 
 be loud made an excellent foil for the refined and 
 elegant, and thus had their uses. There is little in 
 the world that is not of value, looking at it from 
 some point of view. 
 
 In another apartment the opposing forces, if we 
 may so style them, were almost as eagerly investing 
 themselves in shall we say charms also ? or rather 
 with the attributes of manhood ? At any rate the 
 glass in each room seems quite as anxiously con- 
 sulted. One might almost imagine them the magic 
 mirrors of prophecy in which anxious eyes caught 
 a glimpse of coming fate. There were certain 
 youthful belles and beaux who turned away with 
 open complaisant smiles, vanity whispering plainly 
 to them of noble achievement in the parlors below. 
 There were others, perhaps not young, who turned 
 away with faces composed in the rigid and habitu- 
 al lines of pride. They were past learning any-
 
 i i WIIA T CAN SHE DO I 
 
 thl\> from the mirror, or from any other source 
 that might reflect disparagingly upon them. Pre- 
 judice in their own favor enveloped their minds as 
 with a Chinese wall. Cor.ceit had become a disease 
 with them, and those faculties that might have 
 let in wholesome, though unwelcome truth, were 
 paralyzed. 
 
 But the majority turned away not quite satis- 
 fied with an inward foreboding that all was not as 
 well as it might be that critical eyes would see 
 ground for criticism. Especially was this true of 
 those whom Time's interfering fingers had pulled 
 somewhat awry, even beyond the remedy of art, 
 and of those whose bank account, jewels, silks, etc., 
 were not quite up to the standard of some others 
 who might jostle them in the crush. Realize, my 
 reader, the anguish of a lady compelled to stand 
 by another lady wearing larger diamonds than her 
 own, or more point lace, or a longer train ? What 
 will the world think, as under the chandelier this 
 painful contrast comes out? Such moments of 
 deep humiliation cause sleepless nights, and the 
 next day result in bills that become as crushing as 
 criminal indictments to poor overworked men. 
 Under the impulse of such trying scenes as these, 
 many a matron has gone forth on Broadway with 
 firm lips and eyes in which glowed inexorable pur- 
 pose, and placed the gems that would be mill-stones 
 about her husband's neck, on the fat arms or fin- 
 gers that might have helped him forward. There 
 are many phases of heroism, but if you want your
 
 -. THE WRECK. 85 
 
 breath quite taken away, go to Tiffany's, and see 
 some large-souled woman, who will not even count 
 the cost or realize the dire consequences, how, like 
 some martyr of the past who would show to the 
 world the object of his faith though the heavens 
 fell, she marches to the counter, selects the costli- 
 est, and says in tones of majesty, 
 
 " Send the bill to my husband ! " 
 
 O acme of faith ! The martyrs knew that the 
 Almighty was equal to the occasion. She knows 
 that her husband is not ; yet she trusts, or what is 
 the same thing here, gets trusted. Men allied to 
 such women are soon lifted up to attics. It is 
 still true that great deeds bring humanity nearer 
 heaven ! 
 
 Therefore, my reader, deem it not trivial that I 
 have paused so long over the Aliens' party. It is 
 philosophical to trace great events and phenomenal 
 human action to their hidden causes. 
 
 There were also diffident men and maidens who 
 descended into the social arena of Mrs. Allen's 
 parlors, as awkward swimmers venture into deep 
 water, but this is fleeting experience in fashionable 
 life. And we sincerely hope that some believed 
 that the old divine parodox, " It is more blessed to 
 give than to receive," is as true in the drawing- 
 room as when the contribution-box goes round, 
 and proposed to enjoy themselves by contributing 
 to the enjoyment of others, and to see nothing 
 that would tempt to heroic conduct at Tiffany's 
 the next day.
 
 86 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 When the last finishing touches had been given, 
 and maids and hairdressers stood around in wrapt 
 politic breathlessness, and were beginning to pass 
 into that stage in which they might be regarded as 
 exclamation points, Mrs. Allen and her daughters 
 swept away to take their places at the head of the 
 parlors in order to receive. They liked the prelude 
 of applause upstairs well enough, but then it was 
 only like the tuning of the instruments before the 
 orchestra fairly opens. 
 
 Mrs. Allen, as she majestically took her position, 
 evidently belonged to that class whom pride mar- 
 bleizes. Her self-complacency on such an occasion 
 was habitual, her coolness and repose that of a 
 veteran. A nervous creature up stairs with her 
 family, excitement made her, under the eye of 
 society, so steady and self-controlled that she was 
 like one of the old French Marshals who could plan 
 a campaign under the hottest fire. Her blue eyes 
 grew quite brilliant and seemed to take in every- 
 thing, like your true general. Some natural color 
 shone where the cosmetics permitted, and her form 
 seemed to dilate with something more than the 
 mysteries of French modistes. Her manner and 
 expression said, 
 
 " I am Mrs. Allen. We are of an old New 
 York family. We are very, very rich. This enter- 
 tainment is immensely expensive and perfect in 
 kind. I defy criticism. I expect applause." 
 
 Of course this was all veiled by society's com- 
 pletest polish ; but still by a close observer it could
 
 THE WRECK. %y 
 
 be seen, just as a skilful sculptor drapes a form but 
 leaves its outlines perfect. 
 
 Laura was the echo of her mother, modified by 
 the element of youth. 
 
 Zell fairly blazed. Between sparkling jewelry, 
 flaming cheeks, flashing eyes, and words thrown off 
 like scintillating sparks, she suggested an exquisite 
 July firework, burning longer than usual and sur- 
 prising every one. Admiration followed her like a 
 torrent, and her vanity dilated without measure as 
 attention and compliments were almost forced 
 upon her, and yet it was frank, good-natured vanity, 
 as naturally to be expected in her case as a throng 
 of gaudy poppies where a handful of seed had been 
 dropped. Zell's nature was a soil where good or 
 bad seed would grow vigorously. 
 
 Mr. Van Dam was never far off, watching with 
 intent gloating eyes, saying in self-congratula- 
 tion, 
 
 " What a delicious morsel she will make," and 
 adding his mite to the general chorus of flattery, 
 by mild assertions like the following: 
 
 " Do you know that there is not a lady present 
 that for a moment can compare with you ? " 
 
 " How delightfully frank he is," thought Zell of 
 her distinguished admirer, who was as open as a 
 quicksand that can swallow up anything and leave 
 not a trace on its placid surface. 
 
 Edith was quite as beautiful as Zell, but nothing 
 like so brilliant and pronounced. Though quiet 
 and graceful, she was not stately like Laura. Her
 
 88 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 full dark eyes were lustrous rather than sparkling, 
 and they dwelt shrewdly and comprehendingly on 
 all that was passing, and conveyed their intelligence 
 to a brain that was judging quite accurately of 
 men and things at a time when so many people 
 "lose their head." 
 
 Zell was intoxicated by the incense she re- 
 ceived. Laura offered herself so much that she was 
 enshrouded in a thick cloud of complacency all the 
 time. Edith was told by the eyes and manner of 
 those around her that she was beautiful and highly 
 favored by wealth and position generally. But she 
 knew this, as a matter of fact, before, and did not 
 mean to make a fool of herself on account of it. 
 These points thoroughly settled and quietly real- 
 ized, she was in a condition to go out of herself and 
 enjoy all that was going on. 
 
 She was specially elated at this time also, as she. 
 had gathered from her father's words that his dan- 
 ger was nearly over and that before the week waa 
 out they could defy Mr. Fox, look forward to Eu- 
 rope and bright voyaging generally. 
 
 Mr. Allen did not tell her his terrible fear that 
 Mr. Fox had been a little too prompt, and that 
 crushing disaster might still be impending. He 
 had said to himself, " Let her and all of them make 
 the most of this evening. It may be the last of 
 the kind that they will enjoy." 
 
 The spacious parlors filled rapidly. If lavish 
 expenditure and a large brilliant attendance could 
 ensure their enjoyment, it was not wanting. Flow-
 
 THE WRECK. 89 
 
 crs in fanciful baskets on the tables and in great 
 banks on the mantels and in the fire-places, deserv- 
 edly attracted much attention and praise, though 
 the sum expended on their transient beauty was 
 appalling. Their delicious fragrance mingling with 
 perfumes of artificial origin, suggested a like inter- 
 mingling of the more delicate, subtile, but genu- 
 ine manifestations of character, and the graces of 
 mind and manner borrowed for the occasion. 
 
 The scene was very brilliant. There were mar- 
 vellous toilets dresses not beginning as promptly 
 as they should, perhaps, but seemingly seeking to 
 make up for this deficiency by elegance and costli- 
 ness, having once commenced. There was no 
 economy in the train, if there had been in the waist. 
 Therefore gleaming shoulders, glittering diamonds, 
 the soft radiaftce of pearls, the sheen of gold, and 
 lustrous eyes aglow with excitement, and later in 
 the evening, with wine, gave a general phosphores- 
 cent effect to the parlors that Mrs. Allen recognized, 
 from long experience, as the sparkling crown of 
 success. So much elegance on the part of the 
 ladies present would make the party the gem of 
 the season, and the gentlemen in dark dress made 
 a good black enamel setting. 
 
 There was a confused rustle of silks and a hum 
 of voices, and now and then a silvery laugh would 
 ring out above these like the trill of a bird in a 
 breezy grove. Later, light airy music floated 
 through the rooms, followed by the rhythmic ca- 
 dence of feet. A thinly clad shivering little match
 
 90 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 girl stopped on her weary tramp to her cellar and 
 caught glimpses of the scene through the oft open- 
 ing door and between the curtains of the windows. 
 It seemed to her that those glancing forms were 
 in heaven. Alas for this earthly paradise ! 
 
 Mr. Fox, with characteristic malice, had managed 
 that Mr. Allen and perhaps the family should have, 
 as his contribution to the entertainment, the sick- 
 ening dread which the news in the afternoon papers 
 would occasion. As the evening advanced he de- 
 termined to accept the invitation and watch the 
 effect. He avoided Mr. Allen, and soon gathered 
 that Edith and the rest knew nothing of the im- 
 pending blow. . Edith smiled graciously on him ; 
 she felt that like the sun, she could shine on all 
 that night. But as in his insolence, his attentions 
 grew marked, she soon shook him off by permitting 
 Gus Elliot to claim her for a waltz. 
 
 Mr. Fox glided around, Mephistopheles-like, 
 gloating on the sinister changes that he would soon 
 occasion. He was to succeed even better than he 
 dreamed. 
 
 The evening went forward with music and danc- 
 ing, discussing, disparaging, flirting and skirmishing, 
 culminating in numbers and brilliancy as some gor- 
 geous flower might expand ; and seemingly it would 
 have ended by the gay company's rustling depart- 
 ure like the flower, as the varied colored petals drop 
 away from the stem, had not an event occurred 
 which was like a rude hand plucking the flower in 
 its fullest bloom and tearing the petals away in mass
 
 THE WRECK. 91 
 
 The magnificent supper had just been demol- 
 ished. Champagne had foamed without stint, 
 cause and symbol of the increasing but transient 
 excitement of the occasion. More potent wines and 
 liquors, suggestive of the stronger and deeper pas- 
 sions that were swaying the mingled throng, had 
 done their work, and all, save the utterly blase and 
 run down, had secured that noble elevation which 
 it is the province of these grand social combina- 
 tions to create. Even Mr. Allen regained his hab- 
 itual confidence and elevation as his waistcoat ex- 
 panded under, or rather over, those means of cheer 
 and consolation which he had so long regarded as 
 the best panacea for earthly ills. The oppressive 
 sense of danger gave place to a Consciousness of 
 the warm, rosy present. Mr. Fox and the custom 
 house seemed but the ugly phantoms of a past 
 dream. Was he not the rich Mr. Allen, the owner 
 of this magnificent mansion, the corner-stone of 
 this superb entertainment ? If by reason of wine 
 he saw a little double, he only saw double homage 
 on every side. He heard in men's tones, and saw 
 in women's glances, that any one who could pay 
 for his surroundings that night, was no ordinary 
 person. His wife looked majestic as she swept 
 through the parlors on the arm of one of his most 
 distinguished fellow-citizens. Through the library 
 door he could see Mr. Goulden leaning toward 
 Laura and saying something that made even her 
 pale face quite peony-like. Edith, exquisite as a 
 moss rose, was about to lead off in the German in
 
 ^2 WHA T CAN SHE DOf 
 
 the large front parlor. Zell was near him, the 
 sparkling centre of a breezy, merry little throng 
 that had" gathered round her. It seemed that all 
 that he loved and valued most all that he wished, 
 was grouped around him in the guise most attract- 
 ive to his worldly eyes. In this moment of un- 
 natural elation, hope whispered, " To-morrow 
 you can sell your stock, and instead of failing, in- 
 crease your vast fortune, and then away to new 
 scenes, new pleasures, free from the burden of care 
 and fear." It was at that moment of false confi- 
 dence and pride, when in suggestive words descrip- 
 tive of the ancient tragedy of Belshazzar he " had 
 drank wine and praised the gods of gold and of 
 silver," that he had so long worshipped, and which 
 had secured to him all that so dilates his soul with 
 exultation, that he saw the handwriting, not of 
 shadowy fingers " upon the wall," but of his partner, 
 sent, as agreed, by a special messenger. With re- 
 vulsion and chill of fear he had torn open the en- 
 velope and read, 
 
 " Fox has done his worst. We are out for a 
 million All will be in the morning papers." 
 
 Even his florid, wine-inflamed cheeks grew pale, 
 and he raised his hand tremblingly to his head, and 
 slowly lifted his eyes like a man who dreads seeing 
 something, but is impelled to look. The first ob- 
 ject they rested on was the sardonic, mocking 
 face of Mr. Fox, who, ever on the alert, had seen 
 the messenger enter, and guessed his errand. The 
 moment Mr. Allen saw this hated visage, a sudden
 
 THE WRECK. 
 
 93 
 
 fuiy took possession of him. He crushed the mis- 
 sive in his clenched fist, and took a hasty stride of 
 wrath toward his tormentor, stopped, put his hand 
 again to his head, a film came over his eyes, he reel- 
 ed a second, and then fell like a stone to the floor. 
 The heavy thud of the fall, the clash of the chande- 
 lier overhead, could be heard throughout the rooms 
 above the music and hum of voices, and all were 
 startled. Edith in the very act of leading off in 
 the dance, stood a second like an exquisite statue 
 of awed expectancy, and then Zell's shriek of fear 
 and agony, " Father ! " brought her to the spot, 
 and with wild, frightened eyes, and blanched faces 
 the two girls knelt above the unconscious man, 
 while the startled guests gathered round in helpless 
 curiosity. 
 
 The usual paralysis following sudden accident 
 was brief on this occasion, for there were two skill- 
 ful physicians present, one of them having long 
 been the family attendant. Mrs. Allen and Laura, 
 in a half hysterical state, stood clinging to each 
 other, supported by Mr. Goulden, as the medical 
 gentlemen made a slight examination and applied 
 restoratives. After a moment they lifted their 
 heads and looked gravely and significantly at each 
 other ; then the family adviser said, 
 
 " Mr. Allen had better be carried at once to his 
 room, and the house become quiet." 
 
 An injudicious guest, asked in a loud whisper, 
 ' Is it apoplexy ? " 
 
 Mrs. Allen caught the word, and with a stifled
 
 94 WHAT CAN SHE DOf 
 
 cry fainted dead away, and was borne to her apart- 
 ment in an unconscious state. Laura, who had in- 
 herited Mrs. Allen's nervous nature, was also con- 
 veyed to her room, laughing and crying in turns 
 beyond all control. Zell still knelt over her father, 
 sobbing passionately, while Edith, with her large 
 eyes dilated with fear, and her cheeks in wan con* 
 trast with the sunset glow they had worn all the 
 evening, maintained her presence of mind, and ask- 
 ed Mr. Goulden, Mr. Van Dam, and Gus Elliot, to 
 carry her father to his room. They, much pleased 
 in thus being singled out as special friends of the 
 family, officiously obeyed. 
 
 Poor Mr. Allen was borne away from the pinna- 
 cle of his imaginary triumph as if dead, Zell follow- 
 ing, wringing her hands, and with streaming eyes : 
 but Edith reminded you of some wild, timid crea- 
 ture of the woods, which, though in an extremity 
 of danger and fear, is alert and watchful, as if look- 
 ing for some avenue of escape. Her searching 
 eyes turned almost constantly towards the family 
 physician, and he as persistently avoided meeting 
 hen.
 
 CHAITER VII. 
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. 
 
 A FTER another brief but fuller examination of 
 Mr. Allen in the privacy of his own room, 
 Dr. Mark went down to the parlors. The guests 
 were gathered in little groups, talking in low, ex- 
 cited whispers ; those who had seen the reading of 
 the note and Mr. Allen's strange action, gaining 
 brief eminence by their repeated statements of 
 what they had witnessed, and their varied sur- 
 mises. The role of commentator, if mysterious 
 human action be the text, is always popular, and 
 as this explanatory class are proverbially gifted in 
 conjecture, there were many theories of explana- 
 tion. Some of the guests had already the good 
 taste to prepare for departure, and when Dr. 
 Mark appeared from the sick room, and said, 
 
 "-Mr. Allen and the family will be unable to 
 appear again this evening. I am under the pain- 
 ful necessity of saying that this occasion, that 
 opened so brilliantly, must now come to sad and 
 sudden end. I will convey your adieux and ex- 
 pressions of sympathy to the family" there was 
 a general move to the dressing-rooms. The 
 Doctor was overwhelmed for a moment with ex-
 
 96 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 pressions of sympathy, that in the main were felt, 
 and well questioned by eager and genuine curi- 
 osity, for Fox had dropped some mysterious hints 
 during the evening, which had been quietly circu- 
 lating But Dr. Mark was professionally non-com- 
 mittal, and soon excused himself that he might 
 attend to his patient. 
 
 The house, that seemingly a moment before 
 was ablaze with light and resounding with fashion- 
 able revelry, suddenly became still, and grew 
 darker and darker, as if the shadowing wings of the 
 dreaded angel were drawing very near. In the 
 large, elegant rooms, where so brief a time since 
 gems and eyes vied in brightness, old Hannibal 
 now walks alone with his silent tread, and a pecu- 
 liarly awed and solemn visage. One by one he ex- 
 tinguished the lights, leaving but faint glimmers 
 here and there, that were like a few forlorn hopes 
 struggling against the increasing darkness of dis- 
 aster. Under his breath he kept repeating fer- 
 vently, " De Lord hab mercy," and this, perhaps, 
 was the only intelligent prayer that went up from 
 that stricken household in this hour of sudden 
 danger and alarm. Though we believe the Divine 
 Father sees the dumb agony of his creatures, and 
 pities them, and often when they, like the drown- 
 ing, are grasping at straws of human help and 
 cheer, puts out His strong hand and holds them 
 up; still it is in accordance with His just law that 
 those who seek and value His friendship find it 
 and possess it in adversity. The height of the
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. j 
 
 storm and the middle of the angry Atlantic is a 
 poor time and a poor place to provide life-boats* 
 
 The Aliens had never looked to Heaven, save 
 as a matter of form. They had a pew in a fash- 
 ionable church, but were not very regular attend- 
 ants, and such attendance had done scarcely any- 
 thing to awaken or quicken their spiritual life. 
 They came home and gossiped about the appear- 
 ance of their " set," and perhaps criticized the 
 music, but one would never have dreamed from 
 manner or conversation that they had gone to a 
 sacred place to worship God in humility. Indeed, 
 scarcely a thought of Him seemed to have dwelt 
 in their minds. Religious faith had never been of 
 any practical help, and now in their extremity it 
 seemed utterly intangible, and in no sense to be 
 depended on. 
 
 When Mrs. Allen recovered from her swoon, 
 and Laura had gained some self-control, they sent 
 for Dr. Mark, and eagerly suggested both their 
 hope and fear. 
 
 "It's only a fainting fit, doctor, is it not? Will 
 he not soon be better?" 
 
 "My dear madam, we will do all we can," 
 said the doctor, with that professional solemnity 
 which is like reading a death warrant, " but it is my 
 painful duty to tell you to prepare for the worst. 
 Your husband has an attack of apoplexy." 
 
 He had scarcely uttered the words before she 
 was again in a swoon, and Laura also lost her tran- 
 sient quietness. Leaving his assistant and Mrs, 
 5
 
 gS WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Allen's maid to take care of them, he went back to 
 his graver charge. 
 
 Mr. Allen lay insensible on his bed, and one 
 could hardly realize that he was a dying man. 
 His face was as flushed and full as it often ap- 
 peared on his return from his club. To the girls' 
 unpracticed ears, his loud stertorous breathing only 
 indicated heavy sleep. But neither they nor the 
 doctor could arouse him, and at last the physician 
 met Edith's questioning eyes, and gravely and 
 significantly shook his head. Though she had 
 borne up so steadily and quietly, he felt more for 
 her than for any of the others. 
 
 "O, doctor, can't you save him? *' she pleaded. 
 
 " You must save him," cried Zell, her eyes 
 flashing through her tears, " I would be ashamed, 
 if I were a physician, to stand over a strong man, 
 and say helplessly, ' I can do nothing.' Is this all 
 your boasted skill amounts to? Either do some- 
 thing at once or let us get some one who will." 
 
 "Your feelings to-night, Miss Zell," said the 
 doctor quietly, " will excuse anything you say, how- 
 ever wild and irrational. I am doing all-" 
 
 " I am not wild or unreasonable," cried Zell. 
 " I only demand that my father's life be saved.' 
 Then starting up she threw off a shawl and stood 
 before Doctor Mark in the dress she had worn in 
 the evening, that seemed a sad mockery in that 
 room of death. Her neck and arms were bare, 
 and even the cool, experienced physician was 
 startled by her wonderful beauty and strange man-
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. 99 
 
 ner. Her white throat was convulsed, her bosom 
 heaved tumultuously, and on her face was the ex- 
 pression that might have rested on the face of a 
 maiden like herself centuries before, when shown 
 the rack and dungeon, and told to choose between 
 her faith and her life. 
 
 But after a moment she extended her white 
 rounded arm toward him and said steadily, 
 
 " I have read that if the blood of a young, vig- 
 orous person is infused into another who is feeble 
 and old, it will give renewed strength and health. 
 Open a vein in my arm. Save his life if you take 
 mine." 
 
 "You are a brave, noble girl," said Doctor 
 Mark, with much emotion, taking the extended 
 hand and pressing it tenderly, " but you are asking 
 what is impossible in this case. Do you not re- 
 member that I am an old friend of your father's? 
 It grieves me to the heart that his attack is so 
 severe that I fear all within the reach of human 
 skill is vain." 
 
 Zell, who was a creature of impulse, and often 
 of noblest impulse, as we have seen, now reacted 
 into a passion of weeping, and sank helplessly on 
 the floor. She was capable of heroic action, but 
 she had no strength for woman's lot, which is so 
 often that of patient endurance. 
 
 Edith came and put her arms around her, and 
 with gentle, soothing words, as if speaking to a 
 child, half carried her to her room, where she at 
 last sobbed herself asleep.
 
 100 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 For another hour Edith and the doctor watched 
 alone, and the dying man sank rapidly, going down 
 into the darkness of death without word or sign. 
 
 " Oh, that he would speak once Liore," moaned 
 Edith. 
 
 " I fear he will not, my dear," said the doctor, 
 pitifully. 
 
 A little later Mr. Allen was motionless, like one 
 who has been touched in unquiet sleep and be- 
 comes still. Death had touched him, and a deeper 
 sleep had fallen upon him. 
 
 ****** 
 
 One of the great daily bulletins will go to press 
 in an hour. A reporter jumps into a waiting hack 
 and is driven rapidly up town. 
 
 While the city sleeps preparations must go on 
 in the markets for breakfast, and in printing rooms 
 for that equal necessity in our day, the latest news. 
 Therefore all night long there are dusky figures 
 flitting hither and thither, seeing to it that when 
 we come down in gown and slippers, our steak and 
 the world's gossip be ready. 
 
 The breakfast of the Gothamites was furnished 
 abundantly with " sauce piquante " on the morn- 
 ing of the last day of February, for Hannibal had 
 shaken his head ominously, and wiped away a few 
 honest tears, before he could tremulously say to 
 the eager reporter: 
 
 " Mr. Allenhah just died." 
 
 Gathering what few particulars he could, and 
 imagining many more, the reporter was driven
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. JQI 
 
 back even more rapidly, full of the elation of a 
 man who has found a good thing and means to 
 make the most of it. Mr. Allen himself was noth- 
 ing to him, but news about him was. And this fact 
 crowning the story of his violation of the revenue 
 law and prospective loss of a million, would make 
 a brisk breeze in the paper to which he was at- 
 tached, and might waft him a little farther on as 
 an enterprising news-gatherer. 
 
 It certainly would be the topic of the day on 
 all lips, and poor Mr. Allen might have plumed 
 himself on this if he had known it, for few people, 
 unless they commit a crime, are of sufficient im- 
 portance to be talked of all day in large, busy New 
 York. In the world's eyes Mr. Allen had commit- 
 ted a crime. Not that they regarded his stock 
 gambling as such. Multitudes of church members 
 in good and regular standing were openly engaged 
 in this. Nor could the slight and unintentional 
 violation of the revenue law be regarded as such, 
 though so grave in its consequences. But he had 
 faltered and died when he should not have given 
 way. What the world demands is success: and 
 sometimes a devil may secure this where a true 
 man cannot. The world regarded Mr. Van Dam 
 and Mr. Goulden as very successful men. 
 
 Mr. Fox also had secured success by one adroit 
 wriggle we can describe his mode of achiev- 
 ing greatness by no better phrase. He was des- 
 tined to receive half a million for his treachery to 
 his employers. During the war, when United
 
 102 WHA T CAN SHE DO > 
 
 States securities were at their worst ; when men, 
 pledged to take them, forfeited money rather than 
 do so, Mr. Allen had lent the Government millions, 
 because he believed in it, loved it, and was resolved 
 to sustain it. That same government now rewards 
 him by putting it in the power of a dishonest clerk 
 to ruin him, and gives him $500,000 for doing so. 
 Thus it resulted; for we are compelled to pass 
 hastily over the events subsequent to Mr. Allen's 
 death. His partners made a good fight, showed 
 that there was no intention to violate the law, and 
 that it was often difficult to comply with it liter- 
 ally that the sum claimed to be lost to the gov- 
 ernment was ridiculously disproportionate with the 
 amount confiscated. But it was all in vain. 
 There was the letter of the law, and there were 
 Mr. Fox and his associates in the Custom-house, 
 " all honorable men,'' with hands itching to clutch 
 the plunder. 
 
 But before this question was settled, the fate of 
 the stock operation in Wall street was most effect- 
 ually disposed of. As soon as Mr. Goulden heard 
 of Mr. Allen's death, he sold all he had at a slight 
 loss ; but his action awakened suspicion, and it 
 was speedily learned that the rise was due mainly 
 to Mr. Allen's strong pushing, and the inevitable 
 results followed. As poor Mr. Allen's remains 
 were lowered into the vault, his stock in Wall 
 street was also going down with a run. 
 
 In brief, in the absence of the master's hand, and 
 by reason of his embarrassments, there was general
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. 103 
 
 wreck and ruin in his affairs; and Mrs. Allen was 
 soon compelled to face the fact, even more awful 
 to her, than her husband's death, that not a penny 
 remained of his colossal fortune, and that she had 
 yawningly signed away all of her own means. But 
 she could only wring her hands in view of these 
 blighting truths, and indulge in half uttered com- 
 plaints against her husband's " folly," as she termed 
 it. From the first her grief had been more emo- 
 tional than deep, and her mind recovering some 
 of its usual poise, had begun to be much occupied 
 with preparations for a grand funeral, which was 
 carried out to her taste. Then arose deeply in- 
 teresting questions as to various styles of mourn- 
 ing costume, and an exciting vista of dressmaking 
 opened before her. She was growing into quite a 
 serene and hopeful frame when the miserable and 
 blighting facts all broke upon her. When there 
 was little of seeming necessity to do, and multi- 
 tudes to do for her, Mrs. Allen's nerves permitted 
 no small degree of activity. But now as it became 
 certain that she and her daughters must do all 
 themselves, her hands grew helpless. The idea of 
 being poor was to her like dying. It was entering 
 on an experience so utterly foreign and unknown 
 that it seemed like going to another world and 
 phase of existence, and she shrank in pitiable 
 dread from it. 
 
 Laura had all her mother's helpless shrinking 
 from poverty, but with another and even bitterer 
 ingredient added. Mr. Goulden was extremely
 
 104 
 
 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 polite, exquisitely sympathetic, and in terms as 
 vague as elegantly expressed, had offered to do 
 anything (but nothing in particular) in his power 
 to show his regard for the family, and his esteem 
 for his departed friend. He was very sorry that 
 business would compel him to leave town for some 
 little time- 
 Laura had the spirit to interrupt him saying, 
 " It matters little, sir. There are no further Wall 
 street operations to be carried on here. Invest 
 your time and friendship where it will pay." 
 
 Mr. Goulden, who plumed himself that he would 
 slip out of this bad" matrimonial speculation with 
 such polished skill that he would leave only flatter- 
 ing regret and sighs behind, under the biting satire 
 of Laura's words suddenly saw what a contempt- 
 ible creature is the man whom selfish policy, rather 
 than honor and principle governs. He had brains 
 enough to comprehend himself and lose his self- 
 respect then and there, as he went away tingling 
 with shame from the girl he wronged, but who had 
 detected his sordid meanness. Sigh after him ! 
 She would ever despise him, and that hurt Mr. 
 Goulden's vanity severely. He had come very near 
 loving Laura Allen, about as near perhaps as he 
 ever would loving any one, and it had cost him a 
 little more to give her up than to choose between 
 a good and a bad venture on the street. With 
 compressed lips he had said to himself " No gush- 
 ing sentiment. In carrying out your purpose to be 
 rich you must marry rich." Therefore he had gone
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. IQ$ 
 
 to make what he meant to be his final call, feeling 
 quite heroic in his steadfastness his loyalty to 
 puipose, that is himself. But as he recalled du- 
 ring his homeward walk, her glad welcome, her 
 wistful pleading looks, and then, as she realized the 
 truth, her pain, contempt, and her meaning wordg 
 of scorn, his miserable egotism was swept aside, 
 and for the first time the selfish man saw the ques- 
 tion from her standpoint, and as we have said he 
 was not so shallow but that he saw and loathed 
 himself. He lost his self-respect as he never had 
 before, and therefore to a certain extent, his power 
 ever to be happy again. 
 
 Small men, full of petty conceit, can recover 
 from any wounds upon their vanity, but proud and 
 large minded men have a self-respect, even though 
 based upon questionable foundation. It is essen- 
 tial to them, and losing it, they are inwardly 
 wretched. As soldiers carry the painful scars of 
 some wounds through life, so Mr. Goulden would 
 find that Laura's words had left a sore place while 
 memory lasted. 
 
 Mr. Van Dam quite disarmed Edith's suspicions 
 and prejudices by being more friendly and intimate 
 with Zell than, ever, and the latter was happy and 
 exultant in the fact, saying, with much elation, 
 that her friend was " not a mercenary wretch, like 
 Mr. Goulden, but remained just as true and kind as 
 ever." 
 
 It was evident that this attention and show of 
 kindness to the warm-hearted girl, made a deep 
 5*
 
 ! 06 WffA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 impression and greatly increased Mr. Van Dam's 
 power over her. But Edith's suspicion and dislike 
 began to return as she saw more of the manner 
 and spirit of the man. She instinctively felt that 
 he was bad and designing. 
 
 One day she quite incensed Zell, who was 
 chanting his praises, by saying: 
 
 " I haven't any faith in him. What has he 
 done to show real friendship for us? He comes 
 here only to amuse himself with you ; Gus Elliot 
 is the only one who has been of any help." 
 
 But Edith had her misgivings about Gus also. 
 Now, in her trouble and poverty, his weakness 
 began to reveal itself in a new and repulsive light. 
 In fact, that exquisitely fine young gentleman 
 loved Edith well enough to marry her, but not to 
 work for her. That was a sacrifice that he could 
 not make for any woman. Though out of his 
 natural kindness and good-nature he felt very 
 sorry for her, and wanted to help and pet her, he 
 had been shown his danger so clearly that he was 
 constrained and awkward when with her, for, to 
 tell the truth, his father had taken him aside and 
 said, 
 
 " Look here, Gus. See to it that you don't 
 entangle yourself with Miss Allen, now her father 
 has failed. She couldn't support you now, and 
 you never can support even yourself. If you 
 would go to work like a man but one has got to 
 be a man to do that. It seems true, as your 
 mother says, that you are of too fine clay for com*
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. 107 
 
 mon uses. Therefore, don't make a fool of your- 
 self. You can't keep up your style on a pretty 
 face, and you must not wrong the girl by making 
 her think you can take care of her. I tell you 
 plainly, I can't bear another ounce added to my 
 burden, and how long I'll stand up under it as it 
 is, I can't tell." 
 
 Gus listened with a sulky, injured air. He felt 
 that his father never appreciated him as did his 
 mother a-nd sisters, and indeed society at large. 
 Society to Gus was the ultra-fashionable world of 
 which he was one of the shining lights. 
 
 The ladies of the family quite restored his 
 equanimity by saying, 
 
 " Now see here, Gus, don't dream of throwing 
 yourself away on Edith Allen. You can marry 
 any girl you please in the city. So, for heaven's 
 sake (though what heaven had to do with their 
 advice it is hard to say), don't let her lead you on 
 to say what you would wish unsaid. Remember 
 they are no more now than any other poor people, 
 except that they are refined, etc., but this will only 
 make poverty harder for them. Of course we are 
 sorry for them, but in this world people have got 
 to take care of themselves. So we must be on the 
 lookout for some one who has money which can't 
 be sunk in a stock operation as if thrown into the 
 sea." 
 
 After all this sound reason, poor, weak Gus, 
 vaguely conscious of his helplessness, as stated by 
 his father, and quite believing his mother's assur-
 
 108 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 ance that J< he could marry any girl he pleased, ' wf*9 
 in no mood to urge the penniless Edith to give him 
 her empty hand, while before the party, when he 
 believed it full, he was doing his best to bring her 
 to this point, though in fact, she gave him little 
 opportunity. 
 
 Edith detected the change, and before very 
 long, surmised the cause. It made the young girl 
 curl her lip, and say, in a tone of scorn that would 
 have done Gus good to hear, 
 
 " The idea of a man acting in this style." 
 
 But she did not care enough about him to re- 
 ceive a wound of any depth, and with a good- 
 natured tolerance, recognized his weakness, and 
 his genuine liking for her, and determined to make 
 him useful. 
 
 Edith was very practical, and possessed of a 
 brave, resolute nature. She was capable of strong 
 feelings, but Gus Elliot was not the man to awaken 
 such in any woman. She liked his company, and 
 proposed to use him in certain ways. Under her 
 easy manner, Gus also became at ease, and finding 
 that he was not expected to propose and be senti- 
 mental, was all the more inclined to be friendly. 
 
 " I want you to find me books, and papers also, 
 if there are any, that tell how to raise fruit, 5 ' she 
 said to him one day. 
 
 " What a funny request ! I would as soon ex- 
 pect you would ask for instruction how to drive 
 four-in-hand.' 5 
 
 "Nothing of that style, henceforth. I must
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. log 
 
 learn something useful now, Only the rich can 
 afford to be good-for-nothing., and we are not rich 
 now." 
 
 " For which I am very sorry," said Gus, with 
 some feeling. 
 
 " Thank you. Such disinterested sympathy is 
 beautiful," said Edith dryly. 
 
 Gus looked a little red and awkward, but has- 
 tened to say, " I will hunt up what you wish, and 
 bring it as soon as possible." 
 
 " You are very good. That is all at present " 
 said Edith, in a tone that made Gus feel that It 
 was indeed all that it was in his power to do for 
 her at that time, and he went away with a dim 
 perception that he was scarcely more than her 
 errand boy. It made him very uncomfortable. 
 Though he wished her to understand he could not 
 marry her now, he wished her to sigh a little after 
 him. Gus' vanity rather resented that, instead of 
 pining for him, she should set him to work with a 
 little quiet satire. He had never read a romance 
 that ended so queerly. He had expected that 
 they might have a little tender scene over the in- 
 exorable fate that parted them, give and take a 
 memento, gasp, appeal to the moon, and see each 
 other's faces no more, she going to the work and 
 poverty that he could never stoop to from the in- 
 nate refinement and elegance of his being, and he 
 to hunt up the heiress to whom he would give the 
 honor of maintaining him in his true sphere. 
 
 But his little melodrama was entirely spoiled
 
 HO WHAT CAN SHE DO* 
 
 by her matter-of-fact way, and what was worse still 
 he felt in her presence as if he did not amount to 
 much, and that she knew it ; and yet, like the 
 poor moth that singes its wings around the lamp, 
 he could not keep away. 
 
 The prominent trait of Gus' character, as of so 
 many others in our luxurious age of self-pleasing, 
 was weakness ; and yet one must be insane with 
 vanity to be at ease, if he can do nothing reso- 
 lutely, and dare nothing great. He is a cripple, 
 and if not a fool, knows it. 
 
 During the eventful month that followed Mr. 
 Allen's death, Mrs. Allen and her daughters led, 
 what seemed to them, a very strange life. While 
 in one sense it was real and intensely painful, in 
 another the experiences were so new and strange, 
 it all seemed an unreal dream, a distressing night- 
 mare of trouble and danger, from which they might 
 awaken to their old life. 
 
 Mrs. Allen, from her large circle of acquaintances, 
 had numerous callers, many coming from mere 
 morbid curiosity, more from mingled motives, and 
 not a few from genuine tearful sympathy. To 
 these " her friends," as she emphatically called 
 them, she found a melancholy pleasure in recount- 
 ing all the recent woes, in which she ever appeared 
 as chief sufferer, and chief mourner, though her 
 husband seemed among the minor losses, and thus 
 most of her time was spent during the last few 
 weeks at her old home. Her friends appeared to 
 find a melancholy pleasure in listening to these de-
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS, m 
 
 tails and then in recounting them again to ct'r.er 
 "friends' with a running commentary of their own, 
 until that little fraction of the feminine world ac- 
 quainted with the Aliens, had sighed, surmised, 
 and perhaps gossiped over the " afflicted family** 
 so exhaustively that it was really time for some- 
 thing new. The men and the papers down town 
 also had their say, and perhaps all tried as far as 
 human nature would permit, to say nothing but 
 good of the dead and unfortunate. 
 
 Laura, after the stinging pain of each successive 
 blow to her happiness, sank into a dreary apathy, 
 and did mechanically the few things Edith asked 
 of her. 
 
 Zell lived in varied moods and conditions, now 
 weeping bitterly for her father, again resenting with 
 impotent passion the change -in their fortunes, but 
 ending usually by comforting herself with the 
 thought that Mr. Van Dam was true to her. He 
 was as true and faithful as an insidious, incurable 
 disease when once infused into the system. His 
 infernal policy now was to gradually alienate her 
 interest from her family and centre it in him. 
 Though promising nothing in an open, manly way, 
 he adroitly made her believe that only throvgh 
 him could she now hope to reach brighter days 
 again, and to Zell he seemed the one means of es- 
 cape from a detested life of poverty and privation. 
 She became more infatuated with him than ever, 
 and cherished a secret resentment against Edith 
 because of her distrust and dislike of him.
 
 1 1 2 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 The Aliens had but few near relatives in the 
 city at this time, and with these they were not on 
 very good terms, nor were they the people to be 
 helpful in adversity. Mr. Allen's partners were men 
 of the world like himself, and they were also in- 
 censed that he should have been carrying on pri- 
 vate speculations in Wall street to the extent of 
 risking all his capital. His fatal stock operation, 
 together with the government confiscation, had in- 
 volved them also in ruin ; and they had enough to 
 do to look after themselves. They were far more 
 eager to secure something out of the general wreck 
 than to see that anything remained for the family. 
 The Aliens were left very much to themselves in 
 their struggle with disaster, securing help and 
 advice chiefly as they paid for it. 
 
 Mr. Allen was accustomed to say that women 
 were incapable of business, and yet here are the 
 ladies of his own household compelled to grapple 
 with the most perplexing forms of business or 
 suffer aggravated losses. Though all of his family 
 were of mature years, and thousands had been 
 spent on their education, they were as helpless as 
 four children in dealing with the practical questions 
 that daily came to them for decision. At first all 
 matters were naturally referred to the widow, but 
 she would only wring her hands and say, 
 
 " I don't know anything about these horrid 
 things. Can't I be left alone with my sorrow in 
 peace a few days ? Go to Edith." 
 
 And to Edith at last all came till the poor girl
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. nj 
 
 was almost distracted. It was of no use to go to 
 Laura for advice, for she would only say in dreary 
 apathy, 
 
 " Just as you think best. Anything you say.** 
 She was indulging in unrestrained wretchedness 
 to the utmost. Luxurious despair is so much easi- 
 er than painful perplexing action. 
 
 Zell was still " the child " and entirely occupied 
 with Mr. Van Dam. So Edith had to bear the 
 brunt of everything. She did not do this in un- 
 complaining sweetness, like an angel, but scolded 
 the others soundly for leaving all to her. They 
 whined back that they " couldn't do anything, and 
 cV-dn't know how to do anything.'' 
 
 " You know as much as I do,'' retorted Edith 
 And this was true. Had not Edith possessed 
 a practical resolute nature, that preferred any kind 
 of action to apathetic inaction and futile grieving, 
 she would have been as helpless as the rest. 
 
 Do you say then that it was a mere matter of 
 chance that Edith should be superior to the others, 
 and that she deserved no credit, and they no 
 blame ? Why should such all important condi- 
 tions of character be the mere result of chance and 
 circumstance? Would not Christian education and 
 principle have vastly improved the Edith that ex- 
 isted ? Would they not have made the others 
 helpful, self-forgetting, and sympathetic ? Why 
 should the world be full of people so deformed, or 
 morally feeble, or so ignorant, as to be helpless? 
 Why should the naturally strong work with only
 
 1 14 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 contempt and condemnation for the weak ? While 
 many say, " stand aside, I am holier than thou,* 5 
 perhaps more say, " stand aside, I am wiser 
 stronger than thou," and the weak are made more 
 hopelessly discouraged. This helplessness on one 
 hand, and arrogant fault-finding strength on the 
 other, are not the result of chance, but of an 
 imperfect education. They come from the neg- 
 lect and wrong-doing of those whose province it 
 was to train and educate. 
 
 If we find among a family of children reaching 
 maturity, one helpless from deformity, and another 
 from feebleness, and are told that the parents, by 
 employing surgical skill, might have removed the 
 deformity, and overcome the weakness by tonic 
 treatment, but had neglected to do so, we would 
 not have much to say about chance. I know of a 
 poor man who spent nearly all that he had in the 
 world, to have his boy's leg straightened, and he 
 was called a " good father." What are these phys- 
 ical defects compared with the graver defects of 
 character ? 
 
 Even though Mr. Allen is dead, we cannot say 
 that he was a good father, though he spent so 
 many thousands on his daughters. We certainly 
 cannot call Mrs. Allen a good mother, and the 
 proof of this is that Laura is feeble and selfish, Zell 
 deformed through lack of self-control, and Edith 
 hard and pitiless in her comparative strength. 
 They were unable to cope with the practical ques* 
 tions of their situation. They had been launched
 
 AMONG THE BREAKERS. 115 
 
 upon the perilous uncertain voyage oflife, without 
 the compass of a true faith, or the charts of princi- 
 ple to guide them, and in case of disaster, they 
 had been provided with no life-boats of knowledge 
 to save them. They are now tossing among the 
 breakers of misfortune, almost utterly the sport of 
 the winds and waves of circumstances. If these 
 girls never reached the shore of happiness and 
 safety, could we wonder? 
 
 How would your daughter fare, my reader, if 
 you were gone and she were poor, with her hands 
 and brain to depend on for bread, and her heart 
 culture for happiness ? In spite of all your provi- 
 dence and foresight, such may be her situation. 
 Such becomes the condition of many men's daugh- 
 ters every day. 
 
 But time and events swept the Aliens forward, 
 as the shipwrecked are borne on the crest of a 
 wave, and we must follow their fortunes. Hungry 
 creditors, especially the petty ones up town, strip- 
 ped them of everything they could lay their hands 
 on, and they were soon compelled to leave their 
 Fifth Avenue mansion. The little place in the 
 country, given to Edith partly in jest by her father 
 as a birthday present, was now their only refuge, 
 and to this they prepared to go the first of April. 
 Edith, as usual, took the lead, and was to go in 
 advance of the others with such furniture as they 
 had been able to keep, and prepare for their com- 
 ng. Old Hannibal, who had grown grey in the 
 service of the family, and now declined to leave it,
 
 1 16 WHA T CAN SHE DC f 
 
 was to accompany her. On a dark, lowering day, 
 symbolic of their fortunes, some loaded drays took 
 down to the boat that with which they would 
 commence the meagre housekeeping of their pov- 
 erty. Edith went slowly down the broad steps 
 leading from her elegant home, and before she 
 entered the carriage turned for one lingering, tear- 
 ful look, such as Eve may have bent upon the gate 
 of Paradise closing behind her, then sprang into 
 the carriage, drew the curtains, and sobbed all the 
 way to the boat. Scarcely once before, during 
 that long, hard month, had she so given way to her 
 feelings. But she was alone now and none could 
 see her tears and call her weak. Hannibal took 
 his seat on the box with the driver, and looked 
 and felt very much as he did when following hit 
 master to Greenwood.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WARPED. 
 
 TT is the early breakfast hour at a small fiame 
 house, situated about a mile from the staid but 
 thriving village of Pushton. But the indications 
 around the house do not indicate thrift. Quite 
 the reverse. As the neighbors expressed it, " there 
 was a screw loose with Lacey/' the owner of this 
 place. It was going down hill like its master. A 
 general air of neglect and growing dilapidation im- 
 pressed the most casual observer. The front gate 
 hung on one hinge ; boards were off the shackly 
 barn, and the house had grown dingy and weather- 
 stained from lack of paint. But as you entered 
 and passed from the province of the master to that 
 of the mistress, a new element was apparent, strug- 
 gling with, but unable to overcome, the predomi- 
 nant tendency to unthrift and seediness. But 
 everything that Mrs. Lacey controlled was as neat 
 and cleanly as the poor overworked woman could 
 keep it. 
 
 At the time our story becomes interested in 
 her fortunes, Mrs. Lacey was a middle-aged woman, 
 but appeared older than her years warranted, from 
 the long-continued strain of incessant toil, and 
 from that which wears much faster still, the depres-
 
 1 1 8 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 sion of an unhappy, ill-mated life. Her face wore 
 the pathetic expression of confirmed discourage- 
 ment. She reminded you of soldiers fighting when 
 they know it is of no use, and that defeat will be 
 the only result, but who fight on mechanically, in 
 obedience to orders. 
 
 She is now placing a very plain but wholesome 
 and well-prepared breakfast on the table, and it 
 would seem that both the eating and cooking were 
 carried on in the same large and general living 
 room. Her daughter, a rosy-cheeked, half-grown 
 girl of fourteen, was assisting her, and both mother 
 and daughter seemed in a nervous state of expect- 
 ancy, as if hoping and fearing the result of a near 
 event. A moment's glance showed that this event 
 related to a lad of about seventeen, who was walk- 
 ing about the room, vainly trying to control the 
 agitation which is natural even to the cool and ex- 
 perienced when feeling that they are at one of the 
 crisis periods of life. 
 
 It could not be expected of Arden Lacey at his 
 age to be cool and experienced while light curling 
 hair, blue eyes, and a mobile sensitive mouth, ex- 
 pressed anything but a stolid self poise, or cheerful 
 endurance. Any one accustomed to observe char- 
 acter could see that he was possessed of a nervous 
 fine-fibred nature capable of noble achievement 
 under right influences, but also easily warped a/id 
 susceptible to sad injury under brutal wrong. He 
 was like those delicate and somewhat complicated 
 musical instruments that produce the sweetest
 
 WARPED. yi$ 
 
 harmonies when in tune and well played upon, but 
 the most jangling discords when unstrung and in 
 rough ignorant hands. He had inherited his nervous 
 temperament, his tendency to irritation and excess, 
 from the diseased over-stimulated system of his 
 father, who was fast becoming a confirmed inebri- 
 ate, and who had been poisoning himself with bad 
 liquors all his life. From his mother he obtained 
 what balance he had in temperament, but owed 
 more to her daily influence and training. It was 
 the one struggle of the poor woman's life to shield her 
 children from the evil consequences of their father's 
 life. For her son she had special anxiety, knowing 
 his sensitive high-strung nature, and his tendency 
 to go headlong into evil if his self-respect and con- 
 trol were once lost. His passionate love for her 
 had been the boy's best trait, and through this she 
 had controlled him thus far. But she had thought 
 that it might be best for him to be away from his 
 father's presence and influence if she could only 
 find something that accorded with his bent. And 
 this eventually proved to be a college education. 
 The boy was of a quick and studious mind. From 
 earliest years he had been fond of books, and as 
 time advanced, the passion for study and reading 
 grew upon him. He had a strong imagination, 
 and his favorite styles of reading were such as 
 appealed to this. In the scenes of history and 
 romance he escaped from the sordid life of toil and 
 shame to which his father condemned him, into a 
 large realm that seemed rich and glorified in con-
 
 170 WHIT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 trast. When he was but fourteen the thought of 
 a liberal education fired his ambition and became 
 the dream of his life. He made the very most of 
 the district school to which he was sent in winter. 
 The teacher happened to be a well educated man, 
 and took pride in his apt, eager scholar. Between 
 the boy's and the mother's savings they had ob- 
 tained enough to secure private lessons in Latin 
 and Greek, and now at the age of seventeen, he 
 was tolerably well prepared for college. 
 
 But the father had no sympathy at all with 
 these tastes, and from the incessant labor he re- 
 quired of his son, and the constant interruptions 
 he occasioned in his studies even in winter, he had 
 been a perpetual bar to all progress. 
 
 On the day previous to the scene described in 
 the opening of this chapter, the winter term had 
 closed, and Mr. Rule, the teacher, had declared that 
 Arden could enter college, and with natural pride 
 in his own work as instructor, intimated that he 
 would lead his class if he did. 
 
 Both mother and son were so elated at this 
 that they determined at once to state the fact to 
 the father, thinking that if he had any of the natu- 
 ral feelings of a parent, he would take some pride 
 in his boy, and be willing to help him obtain the 
 education he longed for. 
 
 But there is little to be hoped from a man who 
 Is completely under the influence of ignorance 
 and rum. Mr. Lacey was the son of a small farmer 
 lik-i himself, and never had anything to recommend
 
 WARPED li\ 
 
 him but his fine looks, which had captivated poor 
 Mrs. Lacey to her cost. Unlike the majority of his 
 class, who are fast becoming a very intelligent part 
 of the community, and are glad to educate their 
 children, he boasted that he liked the "old ways," 
 and by these he meant the worst ways of his father's 
 day, when books and schools were scarce, and few 
 newspapers found their way to rural homes. He 
 was, like his father before him, a graduate of the 
 village tavern, and had imbibed bad liquor and his 
 ideas of life at the same time from that objection- 
 able source. With the narrow-mindedness of his 
 class, he had a prejudice against all learning 
 that went beyond the three R's, and had watched 
 with growing disapprobation his son's taste for 
 books, believing that it would spoil him as a farm 
 hand, and make him an idle dreamer. He was less 
 and less inclined to work himself as his frame be- 
 came diseased and enfeebled from intemperance, and 
 he determined now to get as much work as possi- 
 ble out of that " great hulk of a boy," as he called 
 Arden. He had picked up some hints of the col- 
 lege hopes, and the very thought angered him. 
 He determined that when the boy broached the sub- 
 ject he would give him such a "jawing '' (to use his 
 own vernacular) " as would put an end to that non- 
 sense." Therefore both Arden and his mother, 
 who were waiting as we have described in such per- 
 turbed anxious state for his entrance, were doomed 
 to bitter disappointment. At last a heavy red-faced 
 man entered the kitchen, stalking in on the white 
 6
 
 122 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 floor out of the drizzling rain with his muddy boots 
 leaving tracks and blotches in keeping with his 
 character. But he had the grace to wash his grimy 
 hands before sitting down to the table. He was 
 always in a bad humor in the morning, and the 
 chilly rain had not improved it. A glance around 
 showed him that something was on hand, and he 
 surmised that it was the college business. He at 
 once thought within himself, 
 
 " I'll squelch the thing now, once for all." 
 
 Turning to his son, he said, " Look here, young- 
 ster, why haint you been out doing your chores ? 
 D'ye expect me to do your work and mine too ?" 
 
 " Father," said the impulsive boy with a voice 
 of trembling eagerness, "if you w ; !l let me go to 
 college next fall, I'll do my work and yours too. 
 I'll work night and day '' 
 
 "What cussed nonsense is this?" demanded 
 the man harshly, clashing down his knife and fork 
 and turning frowningly toward his son. 
 
 " No, but father, listen to me before you refuse. 
 Mr. Rule says I'm fit to enter college and that I 
 can lead my class too. I've been studying for this 
 three years. I've set my heart upon it," and in hij 
 earnestness, tears gathered in his eyes. 
 
 " The more fool you, and old Rule is another,' 
 was the coarse answer. 
 
 The boy's eyes flashed angrily, but the mothei 
 here spoke. 
 
 "You ought to be proud of your son, John ; if 
 you were a true father you would be. If you'd en-
 
 WARPED. I2j 
 
 courage and help him now, he'd make a man 
 that" 
 
 "Shut up! little you know about it. Ile'd 
 make one of your snivelling white fingered loafers 
 that's too proud to get a living by hard work. Per- 
 haps you'd like to make a parson out of him. Now 
 look here old woman, and you too, my young cock, 
 I've suspicioned that something of this kind was 
 up, but I tell you once for all it won't go. Just as 
 this hulk of a boy is gettin of some use to me, you 
 want to spoil him by sending him to college. I'll 
 see him hanged first," and the man turned to his 
 breakfast as if he had settled it. But he was start 
 led by his son's exclaiming passionately, 
 
 " I will go." 
 
 " Look a here, what do you mean ? " said the 
 father, rising with a black ugly look. 
 
 " I mean I've set my heart on going to college 
 and I will go. You and all the world shan't hinder 
 me. I won't stay here and be a farm drudge all 
 my life." 
 
 The man's face was livid with anger, and in a 
 low hissing tone he said, 
 
 " I guess you want taking down a peg, my col- 
 lege gentleman. Perhaps you don't know I'm 
 master till you're twenty one," and he reached down 
 a large leather strap. 
 
 " You strike me if you dare," shouted the 
 boy. 
 
 " If I dare ! haw ! haw ! If I don't cut the cus- 
 sed nonsense out of yer this morning, then I never
 
 124 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 did," and he took an angry stride toward his son 
 who sprang behind the stove. 
 
 The wife and mother had stood by growing 
 whiter and whiter, and with lips pressed closely to- 
 gether. At this critical moment she stepped be. 
 fore her infuriated husband and seized his arm, 
 exclaiming, 
 
 " John, take care. You have reached the end." 
 
 " Stand aside," snarled the man, raising the 
 strap, " or I'll give you a taste of it, too." 
 
 The woman's grasp tightened on his arm, and 
 in a voice that made him pause and look fixedly at 
 her, she said, 
 
 " If you strike me or that boy I'll take my chil- 
 dren and we will leave your roof this hateful day 
 never to return." 
 
 " Haint I to be master in my own house ? " said 
 the husband sullenly. 
 
 " You are not to be a brute in your own house. 
 I know you've struck me before, but I endured it 
 and said nothing about it because you were drunk, 
 but you are not drunk now, and if you lay a finger 
 on me or my son to-day, I will never darken your 
 doors again." 
 
 The unnatural father saw that he had gone too 
 far. He had not expected such an issue. He had 
 long been accustomed to follow the lead of his 
 brutal passions, but had now reached a point 
 where he felt he must stop, as his wife said. Turn- 
 ing on his heel, he sullenly took his place at the 
 table mattering,
 
 WARPED. I2J 
 
 " It a pretty pass when there s mutiny in a 
 man's o\vn house." Then to his son, "You won't 
 get a d n cent out of me for your college busi- 
 ness, mind that." 
 
 Rose, the daughter, who had been crying and 
 wringing her hands on the door-step, now came 
 timidly in, and at a sign from her mother, she and 
 her brother went into another room. 
 
 The man ate for a while in dogged silence, but 
 at last in a tone that was meant to be somewhat 
 conciliatory, said, 
 
 " What the devil did you mean by putting the 
 boy up to such foolishness?" 
 
 " Hush ! " said his wife imperiously, " I'm in no 
 mood to talk with you now." 
 
 " Oh, ah, indeed, a man can't tven speak in his 
 own house, eh ? I guess I'll take myself off to 
 where I can have a little more liberty," and he 
 went out, harnessed his old white horse, and start- 
 ed for his favorite groggery in the village. 
 
 His father had no sooner gone than Arden 
 came out and said passionately, 
 
 " It's no use, mother, I can't stand it ; I must 
 leave home to-day ; I guess I can make a living, 
 at any rate I'd rather starve than pass through 
 such scenes." 
 
 The poor, overwrought woman threw herself 
 down in a low chair and sobbed, rocking herself 
 back and forth. 
 
 " Wait till I die, Arden, wait till I die, I feel it 
 won't be long. What have I to live for but you
 
 126 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 and Rosy ? And if you, my pride, and joy, go away 
 after what has happened, it will be worse than 
 death," and a tempest of grief shook her gaunt 
 frame. 
 
 Arden was deeply moved. Boylike he had 
 been thinking only of himself, but now as never 
 before he realized her hard lot, and in his warm 
 impulsive heart there came a yearning tenderness 
 for her such as he had never felt before. He took 
 her in his arms and kissed and comforted her, till 
 even her sore heart felt the healing balm of love 
 and ceased its bitter aching. At last she dried her 
 eyes with a faint smile, and said, 
 
 " With such a boy to pet me, the world isn't 
 all flint and thorns yet." 
 
 And Rosy came and kissed her too, for she was 
 an affectionate child, though a little inclined to be 
 giddy and vain. 
 
 " Don't worry, mother," said Arden. " I will 
 stay and take such good care of you, that you will 
 have many years yet, and happier ones, too, I 
 hope," and he resolved to keep this promise, cost 
 what it might. 
 
 " I hardly think I ought to ask it of you, though 
 even the thought of your going away breaks my 
 heart." 
 
 " I will stay," said the boy, almost as passion- 
 ately as he had said, " I will go." " I now see 
 how much you need a protector." 
 
 That night the father came home so stupidly 
 drunk that they had to half carry him to bed
 
 WARPED. 
 
 12? 
 
 where he slept heavily till morning, and rose con- 
 siderably shaken and depressed from his debauch. 
 The breakfast was as silent as it had been stormy 
 on the previous day. After it was over, Arden fol- 
 lowed his father to the door and said, 
 
 " I was a boy yesterday morning, but you made 
 me a man, and a rather ugly one too. I learned 
 then for the first time, that you occasionally strike 
 my mother. Don't you ever do it again, or it will 
 be worse for you, drunk or sober. I am not going 
 to college, but will stay home and take care of her. 
 Do we'understand each other?'' 
 
 The man was in such a low shattered condition 
 that his son's bearing cowed him, and he walked 
 off muttering, 
 
 " Young cocks crow mighty loud,'' but from 
 that time forward he never offered violence to his 
 wife or children. 
 
 Still his father's conduct and character had a 
 most disastrous effect upon the young man. He 
 was soured, because disappointed in his most cher- 
 ished purpose, at an age when most youths scarce- 
 ly have definite plans. Many have a strong natu- 
 ral bent, and if turned aside from this, they are 
 more or less unhappy, and their duties instead of 
 being wings to help life forward, become a galling 
 yoke. 
 
 This was the case of Arden. Farm work, as he 
 had learned it from his father, was coarse, heavy 
 drudgery, with small and uncertain returns, and 
 these were largely spent at the village rum shopf
 
 I 2 g WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 in purchasing slow perdition for the husband, and 
 misery and shame for his wife and children. 
 
 In respectable Pushton, a drunkard's family, es- 
 pecially if poor, had a very low social status. Mrs. 
 Lacey and her children would not accept of bad as- 
 sociations, so they had scarcely any. This ostra- 
 cism, within certain limits is perhaps right. The 
 preventive penalties of vice can scarcely be too great, 
 and men and women must be made to feel that 
 wrong doing is certain to be followed by terrible 
 consequences. The fire is merciful in that it always 
 burns, and sin and suffering are inseparably linked. 
 But the consequences of one person's sin so often 
 blight the innocent. The necessity of this from 
 our various ties, should be a motive, a hostage 
 against sinning, and doubtless restrains many a one 
 who would go headlong under evil impulses. But 
 multitudes do slip off the paths of virtue, and help- 
 less wives, and often helpless husbands and children, 
 writhe from wounds made by those under sacred 
 obligations to shield them. Upon the families of 
 criminals, society visits a mildew of coldness and 
 scorn that blights nearly all chance of good fruit 
 But society is very unjust in its discriminations, 
 and some of the most heinous sins in God's sight 
 are treated as mere eccentricities, or condemned in 
 the poor, but winked at in the rich. Gentlemen 
 will admit to their parlors, men about whom they 
 know facts, which if true of a woman, would close 
 every respectable door against her, and God frowns 
 on the Christian (?) society that makes such arbi
 
 WARPED. 129 
 
 trary and unjust distinctions. Cast both out, till 
 they bring forth fruits meet for repentance. 
 
 But we hope for little of a reformative tendency 
 from the selfish society of the world. Changing hu- 
 man fashion rules it, rather than the eternal truth 
 of the God of love The saddest feature of all, is 
 that the shifting code of fashion is coming more 
 and more to govern the church. Doctrine may re- 
 main the same, profession and intellectual belief 
 the same, while practical action drifts far astray. 
 There are multitudes of wealthy churches, that 
 will no more admit associations with that class 
 among which our Lord lived and worked, than 
 will select society. They seem designed to help 
 only respectable, well-connected sinners, toward 
 heaven. 
 
 This tendency has two phases. In the cities 
 the poor are practically excluded from worshipping 
 with the rich, and missions are established for them 
 as if they were heathen. I have no objection to 
 costly magnificent churches. Nothing is too good 
 to be the expression of our honor and love of God. 
 But they should be like the cathedrals of Europe, 
 where prince and peasant may bow together on the 
 same level they have in the Divine presence. Cli rist 
 made no distinction between the rich and poor 
 regarding their spiritual value and need, nor should 
 the Christianity named after him. To the degree 
 that-it does, it is not Christianity. The meek and 
 lowly Nazarene is not its inspiration. Perhaps 
 the personage he told to get behind him when 
 6*
 
 130 
 
 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 promising the " kingdoms of the world and the 
 glory of them," has more to do with it. 
 
 The second phase of this tendency as seen in 
 the country, is kindred but unlike. Poverty may 
 not be so great a bar, but moral delinquencies are 
 more severely visited, and the family under a cloud, 
 through the wrong-doing of one or more of its 
 members, is treated very much as if they had a 
 perpetual pestilence. The highly respectable keep 
 aloof. Too often the quiet country church is not a 
 sanctuary and place of refuge for those wounded, 
 either by their own or another's sin, a place where 
 the grasp of sympathy and words of encourage- 
 ment are given ; but rather a place where they 
 meet the cold critical gaze of those who are 
 hedged about with virtues and good connections. 
 I hope I am wrong, but how is it where you live, 
 my reader? If a well-to-do thriving man of integ- 
 rity takes a fine place in your community, we all 
 know how church people will treat him. And 
 what they do is all right. But society the world, 
 will do the same. Is Christianity are the followers 
 of the " Friend of publicans and sinners," to do no 
 more? 
 
 If in contrast a drunken wretch like Lacey 
 with his wife and children come in town on top of 
 a wagon-load of shattered furniture, and all are 
 dumped down in a back alley to scramble into the 
 shelter of a tenement house as best they c.in, do 
 you call upon them ? Do you invite them to your 
 pew ? Do you ever urge and encourage them into
 
 WARPED 131 
 
 your church and make even one of its corners home- 
 like and inviting? 
 
 I hope so ; but alas, that was not the general 
 custom in Pushton, and poor Mrs. Lacey had ac- 
 quired the habit of staying at home, her neighbors 
 had formed the habit of calling her husband a 
 " dreadful man," and the family " very irreligious," 
 and as the years passed they seemed to be more 
 and more left to themselves. Mr. Lacey had 
 brought his wife from a distant town where he had 
 met and married her. She was a timid, retiring 
 woman, and time and kindness were needed to 
 draw her out. But no one had seemingly thought 
 it worth while, and at the time our story takes an 
 interest in their affairs, there was a growing isola- 
 tion. 
 
 All this had a very bad effect upon Arden. As 
 he grew out of the democracy of boyhood he met 
 a certain social coldness and distance which he 
 learned to understand only too early, and soon re- 
 turned this treatment with increased coldness and 
 aversion. Had it not been for the influence of his 
 mother and the books he read, he would have in- 
 evitably fallen into low company. But he had 
 promised his mother to shun it. He saw its result in 
 his father's conduct, and as he read, and his mind 
 matured, the narrow coarseness of such company 
 became repugnant. From time to time he was 
 sorely tempted to leave home which his father 
 made hateful in many respects, and try his fortunes 
 among strangers who would not associate him \vith
 
 132 WHAT CAN SHE DO f 
 
 a sot ; but his love for his mother kept him at her 
 side, for he saw that her life was bound up in him, 
 and that he alone could protect her and his sister 
 and keep some sort of a shelter for them. In his 
 unselfish devotion to them his character was noble 
 In his harsh cynicism toward the world and espe- 
 cially the church people, for whom he made no al- 
 lowance whatever in his utter hatred and detesta- 
 tion of hrs father, it was faulty, though allowance 
 must be made for him. He was also peculiar in 
 other respects, for his unguided reading was of a 
 nature that fed his imagination at the expense of 
 his reasoning faculties. Though he drudged in a 
 narrow round, and his life was as hard and real as 
 poverty and his father's intemperance could make 
 it, ne mentally lived and found his solace in a world 
 as large and unreal as an uncurbed fancy could cre- 
 ate. Therefore his work was hurried through me- 
 chanically in the old slovenly methods to which he 
 had been educated, he caring little for the results, 
 his father squandering these ; and when the neces- 
 sary toil was over, he would lose all sense of the 
 sordid present in the pages of some book obtained 
 from the village library. As he drove his milk cart 
 to and from town he would sit in the chill drizzling 
 rain, utterly oblivious of discomfort, with a half 
 smile upon his lips, as he pictured to himself some 
 scene of sunny aspect or gloomy castellated gran- 
 deur of which his own imagination was the archi- 
 tect. The famous in history, the heroes and hero- 
 ines of fiction, and especially the characters of
 
 WARPED. 133 
 
 Shakspeare were more familiar to him than the 
 people among whom he lived. From the latter he 
 stood more and more aloof, while with the former 
 he held constant intercourse. He had little in 
 common even with his sister, who was of a very dif- 
 ferent temperament. But his tenderness toward 
 his mother never failed, and she loved him with 
 the passionate intensity of a nature to which 
 love was all, but which had found little to satisfy it 
 on earth, and was ignorant of the love of God. 
 
 And so the years dragged on to Arden, and his 
 twenty-first birthday made him free from his fath- 
 er's control as he practically long had been, but it 
 also found him bound more strongly than ever by 
 his mother's love and need to his old home life.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A DESERT ISLAND. 
 
 *"PHE good cry that Edith indulged in on her 
 way to the boat was a relief to her heart which 
 had long been overburdened. But the necessity 
 of controlling her feelings, and the natural buoy- 
 ancy of youth enabled her by the time they reach- 
 ed the wharf to see that the furniture and baggage 
 were properly taken care of. No one could detect 
 the traces of grief through her thick veil, or guess 
 from her firm, quiet tones, that she felt somewhat 
 as Columbus might when going in search of a new 
 world. And yet Edith had a hope and expecta- 
 tion from her country life which the others did 
 not share at all. 
 
 When she was quite a child her feeble health 
 induced her father to let her spend an entire sum- 
 mer in a farm house of the better class, whose 
 owner had seme taste for flowers and fruit. These 
 she had enjoyed and luxuriated in as much as any 
 butterfly of the season, and as she romped with the 
 farmer's children, roamed the fields and woods 
 after berries, arid tumbled in the fragrant hay, 
 health came tingling back with a fullness and vigot 
 that had never been lost. With all her subsequent 
 enjoyment, that summer still dwelt in her memory
 
 A DESEXT ISLAND. I3 j 
 
 as the halcyon period of her life, and it was with 
 the country she associated it. Every year she had 
 longed for July, for then her father would break 
 away from business for a couple of months and 
 take them to a place of resort. But the fashion- 
 able watering places were not at all to her taste as 
 compared with that old farm-house, and whenever 
 it was possible she would wander off and make 
 " disreputable acquaintances," as Mrs. Allen term- 
 ed them, among the farmers and laborers' families 
 in the vicinity of the hotel. But by this means 
 she often obtained a basket of fruit or bunch of 
 flowers that the others were glad to share in. 
 
 In accordance with her practical nature she 
 asked questions as to the habits, growth and cul- 
 ture of trees and fruits, r,o that few city girls situ- 
 ated as she had been, knew as much about the pro- 
 ducts of the garden. She had also haunted con- 
 servatories and green-houses as much as her sisters 
 had the costly Broadway temples of fashion, where 
 counters are the altars to which the women of the 
 city bring their daily offerings ; and as we have 
 seen, a fruit store was a place of delight to her. 
 
 The thought that she could now raise fruit, 
 flowers, and vegetables on her own place without 
 limit, was some compensation even for the trouble 
 they had passed through and the change in their 
 fortunes. 
 
 Moreover she knew that because of their pov- 
 erty she would have to secure from her ground 
 substantial returns, and that her garJcnip^ wvs*
 
 136 WHAT CAN SHE DO t 
 
 be no amateur trifling, but earnest work. There 
 fore having found a seat in the saloon of tne boat, 
 she drew out of her leather bag one of her garden- 
 books, and some agricultural papers, and com- 
 menced studying over for the twentieth time the 
 labors proper for April. After reading a while, 
 she leaned back and closed her eyes and tried to 
 form such crude plans as were possible in her 
 inexperience and lack of knowledge of a place that 
 she had not even seen. 
 
 Opening her eyes suddenly she saw old Hanni- 
 bal sitting near and regarding her wistfully. 
 
 "You are a foolish old fellow to stay with us," 
 she said to him. " You could have obtained plenty 
 of nice places in the city. What made you do it ? " 
 
 " Is'e couldn't gib any good reason to de world, 
 Miss Edie, but de one I hab kinder satisfies my 
 ole black heart." 
 
 " Your heart isn't black, Hannibal." 
 
 " How you know dat ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 " Because I've seen it often and often. Some- 
 times I think it is whiter than mine. I now and 
 then feel so desperate and wicked, that I am afraid 
 of myself." 
 
 " There now, you'se worried and worn out and 
 you thinks dat's being wicked." 
 
 " No, I'm satisfied it is something worse than 
 that. I wonder if God does care about people who 
 are in trouble, I mean practically, so as to help 
 them any?" 
 
 Well, I specs he does," said Hannibal vaguely.
 
 A DESER T I SLA ND. 137 
 
 4 But den dere's so many in trouble dat I m afearrf 
 some hab to kinder look arter thesselves." Then 
 as if a bright thought struck him, he added, " I specs 
 he sorter lumps 'em jes as Massa Allen did when 
 he said he was sorry for de people burned up in 
 Chicago. He sent 'em a big lot ob money and den 
 seemed to forget all about 'em." 
 
 Hannibal had never given much attention to 
 religion, and perhaps was not the best authority 
 that Edith could have consulted. But his conclu- 
 sion seemed to secure her consent, for she leaned 
 back wearily and again closed her eyes saying, 
 
 " Yes, we are mere human atoms, lost sight of 
 in the multitude." 
 
 Soon her deep regular breathing showed that 
 she was asleep, and Hannibal muttered softly, 
 
 " Bress de child, dat will do her a heap more 
 good dan asking dem deep questions," and he 
 watched beside her like a large faithful Newfound- 
 land dog. 
 
 At last he touched her elbow and said, " We 
 get off at de next landing, and I guess we mus be 
 pretty nigh dare." 
 
 Edith started up much refreshed and asked, 
 " What sort of an evening is it?" 
 
 "Well, Fse sorry to say it's rainin' hard and 
 berry dark." 
 
 To her dismay she also found that it was nearly 
 nine o'clock. The boat had been late in starting, 
 and was so heavily laden as to make slow progress 
 against wind and tide. Edith's heart sank within
 
 138 IV a AT CAN SHE DOT 
 
 her at-the thought of landing alone in a strange 
 place that dismal night. It was indeed new ex- 
 perience to her. But she donned her waterproof 
 and the moment the boat touched the wharf, hur- 
 ried ashore, and stood under her small umbrella, 
 while her household gods were being hustled out 
 into the drenching rain. She knew the injury that 
 must result to them unless they could speedily be 
 carried into the boat-house near. At first there 
 seemed no one to do this save Hannibal, who at 
 once set to work, but she soon observed a man with 
 a lantern gathering up some butter-tubs that the 
 boat was landing, and she immediately appealed to 
 him for help. 
 
 " I'm not the dock-master/' was the gruff reply. 
 
 " You are a man, are you not, and one that will 
 not turn away from a lady in distress. If my things 
 stand long in this rain they will be greatly injured." 
 
 The man thus adjured turned his lantern on 
 the speaker, and while we recognize the features 
 of our acquaintance, Arden Lacey, he sees a 
 face on that old dock that quite startles him. If 
 Edith had dropped down with the rain, she could 
 not have been more unexpected, and with her 
 large dark eyes flashing suddenly on him, and her 
 appealing yet half indignant voice breaking in upon 
 the waking dream, with which he was beguiling the 
 outward misery of the night, it seemed as if one of 
 the characters of his fancy had suddenly become 
 real. He who would have passed Edith in surly 
 unnoting indifference on the open street in the
 
 A DESERT ISLAND. 1 39 
 
 garish light of day, now took the keenest interest 
 in her. He had actually been appealed to, as an 
 ancient knight might have been, by a damsel in 
 distress, and he turned and helped her with a will, 
 which, backed by his powerful strength, soon placed 
 her goods under shelter. The lagging dock-master 
 politicly kept out of the way till the work was 
 almost done and then bustled up and made some 
 show of assisting in time for any fees, if they were 
 offered, but Arden told him that since he had kept 
 out of sight so long, he might remain invisible," 
 which was the unpopular way the young man had. 
 
 When the last article had been placed under 
 shelter Edith said, 
 
 " I appreciate your help exceedingly. How 
 much am I to pay you for your trouble ? " 
 
 " Nothing," was the rather curt reply. 
 
 The appearance of a lady like Edith, with a 
 beauty that seemed weird and strange as he caught 
 glimpses of her face by the fitful rays of his lantern, 
 had made a sudden and strong impression on his 
 morbid fancy and fitted the wild imaginings with 
 which he had occupied the dreary hour of waiting 
 for the boat. The presence of her sable attendant 
 had increased these impressions. But when she 
 took out her purse to pay him his illusions van- 
 ished. Therefore the abrupt tone in which he 
 said " Nothing," and which was mainly caused by 
 vexation with the matter of fact world that con- 
 tinually mocked his unreal one. 
 
 " I don't quite understand you, ' said Edith,
 
 140 WffAl CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " I had no intention of employing your time and 
 strength without remuneration." 
 
 ** I told you I was not the dock-master," said 
 Arden rather coldly. " He'll take all the fees you 
 will give him. You appealed to me as a man, and 
 said you were in distress. I helped you as a man. 
 Good evening." 
 
 " Stay," said Edith hastily. "You seem not 
 only a man, but a gentleman, and I am tempted, 
 in view of my situation, to trespass still further on 
 your kindness/' but she hesitated a moment. 
 
 It perhaps had never been intimated to Arden 
 before that he was a gentleman, certainly never in 
 the tone with which Edith spoke, and his fanciful 
 chivalric nature responded at once to the touch of 
 that chord. With the accent of voice he ever used 
 toward his mother, he said, 
 
 " I am at your service." 
 
 "We are strangers here," continued Edith. 
 " Is there any place near the landing where we can 
 get safe comfortable lodging ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to say there is not. The village ia 
 a mile away." 
 
 " How can we get there? " 
 
 " Isn't the stage down ? " asked Arden of the 
 dock-master. 
 
 " No ! " was the gruff response* 
 
 " The night is so bad I suppose they didn't 
 come. I would take you myself in a minute if I 
 had a suitable wagon." 
 
 " Necessity knows no choice," said Edith
 
 A DESERT ISLAND. \^\ 
 
 quickly. " I will go with you in any kind of a 
 wagon, and I surely hope you won't leave me on 
 this lonely dock in the rain." 
 
 ."Certainly not," said Arden, reddening in the 
 darkness that he could be thought capable of such 
 an act. " But I thought I could drive to the vil- 
 lage and send a carriage for you." 
 
 " I would rather go with you now, if you will kt 
 me," said Edith decidedly. 
 
 " The best I have is at your service, but I fear 
 you will be sorry for your choice. I've only a 
 board for a seat, and my wagon has no springs 
 Perhaps I could get a low box for you to sit on." 
 
 " Hannibal can sit on the box. With your per 
 mission I will sit with you, for I wish to ask you 
 some questions." 
 
 Arden hung his lantern on a hook in front of 
 his wagon, and helped or partly lifted Edith over 
 the wheel to the seat, which was simply a board 
 resting on the sides of the box. He turned a 
 butter-tub upside down for Hannibal, and then 
 they jogged out from behind the boat-house where 
 he had sheltered his horses. 
 
 This was all a new experience to Arden. He 
 had, from his surly misanthropy, little familiarity 
 with society of any kind, and since as a boy, he 
 had romped with the girls at school, he had been 
 almost a total stranger to all women save those in 
 his own home. Most young men would have been 
 awkward louts under the circumstances. But this 
 was not true of Arden, for he hal daily been
 
 I 4 2 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 holding converse in the books he dreamed over 
 with women of finer clay than he could have found 
 at Pushton. He \\ ould have been excessively 
 awkward in a drawing-room or any place of con- 
 ventional resort, or rather he would have been 
 sullen and bearish, but the place and manner in 
 which he had met Edith, accorded with his roman 
 tic fancy, and the darkness shielded his rough ex- 
 terior from observation. 
 
 Moreover, the presence of this flesh and blood 
 woman at his side gave him different sensations 
 from the stately dames, or even the most piquant 
 maidens that had smiled upon him in the shadowy 
 scenes of his imagination ; and when at times, as 
 the wagon jolted heavily, she grasped his arm for 
 a second to steady herself, it seemed as if the 
 dusky little figure at his side was a sort of human 
 electric battery charged \vith that subtle fluid 
 which some believe the material life of the uni- 
 verse. Every now and then as they bounced over 
 a stone, the lantern would bob up and throw a ray 
 on a face like those that had looked out upon 
 him from the plays of Shakspeare whose scenes 
 are laid in Italy. 
 
 Thus the dark, chilly, rainy night, was becom- 
 ing the most luminous period of his life. Reason 
 and judgment act slowly, but imagination takes 
 fire. 
 
 But to poor Edith, all was real and dismal 
 enough, and she often sighed heavily. To Arden 
 each sigh was an appeal for sympathy. He had
 
 A DESERT ISLAND. 143 
 
 driven as rapidly as he dared in the darkness to 
 get hei out of the rain, but at last she said clinging 
 to his arm, 
 
 " Won't you drive slowly, the jolting has given 
 me a pain in my side." 
 
 He was conscious of a new and peculiar sensa- 
 tion there also, though not from jolting. He had 
 been used to that in many ways all his life, but, 
 thereafter they jogged forward on a walk through 
 the drizzling rain, and Edith, recovering her 
 breath, and a sense of security, began to ask the 
 questions. 
 
 " Do you know where the cottage is that was 
 formerly owned by Mr. Jenks?" 
 
 " Oh yes, it's not far from our house between 
 our house and the village." Then as if a sudden 
 thought, struck him he added quickly, " I heard it 
 was sold, are you the owner? " 
 
 " Yes," said Edith a little coolly, she had ex- 
 pected to question and not be questioned. And 
 yet she was very glad she had met one who knew 
 about her place. But she resolved to be non-com- 
 mittal till she knew more about him. 
 
 "What sort of a house is it? " she asked after 
 a moment. " I have never seen it." 
 
 " Well, it's not very large and I fear it is some- 
 what out of repair at least it looks so, and I 
 should think a new roof was needed.'' 
 
 Edith could not help saying pathetically, " Oh, 
 dear, I'm so sorry." 
 
 Arden then added hastily. " But it's a kind of
 
 144 WHAT CAN SHE DO t 
 
 a pretty place too a great many fruit trees and 
 grape vines on it." 
 
 " So I've been told," said Edith. " And that 
 will be its chief attraction to me." 
 
 *' Then you are going to live there ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Arden's heart gave a sudden throb. Then he 
 would see this mysterious stranger often. But he 
 smiled half bitterly in the darkness as he queried, 
 "What will she appear like in the daylight?" 
 
 Her next question broke the spell he was under 
 utterly. They were passing through the village 
 and the little hotel was near, and she naturally 
 asked, 
 
 " To whom am I indebted for all this kindness? 
 I am glad to know so much as that you are my 
 neighbor." 
 
 Suddenly and painfully conscious of his out- 
 ward life and surroundings, he answered briefly, 
 
 " My name is Arden Lacey. We have a small 
 farm a little beyond your cottage." 
 
 Wondering at his change of tone and manner, 
 Edith still ventured to ask, 
 
 " And do you know of any one who could bring 
 my furniture and things up to-morrow? 5 ' 
 
 As he sometimes did that kind of work, an 
 impulse to see more of her impelled him to say, 
 
 " I suppose I can do it. I work for a living." 
 
 " I am sure that is nothing against you," said 
 Edith kindly. 
 
 " You will not live long in Pushton before learn-
 
 A DESERT ISLAND. 145 
 
 Ing that there is something against us," was the 
 bitter reply. " But that need not prevent my 
 working for you, as I do for others. If you wish, 
 I will make a fire in your house early, to take off 
 the chill and dampness, and then go for your furni- 
 ture. The people here will send you out in a car- 
 riage." 
 
 " I will be greatly obliged if you will do so and 
 let me pay you.'' 
 
 " Oh certainly, I will charge the usual rates.'' 
 
 " Well, then, how much for to-night ? " said 
 Edith as she stood in the hotel door. 
 
 "To-night is another affair, 3 ' and he jumped 
 into his wagon and rattled away in the darkness, 
 his lantern looking like a "will-o'-the-wisp"' that 
 might vanish altogether. 
 
 The landlord receive i Edith and her attendant 
 with a gruff civility, and gave her in charge of his 
 wife, who was a bustling red-faced woman with a 
 sort of motherly kindness about her. 
 
 " Why you poor child," she said to Edith, turning 
 her round before the light, " you're half drowned. 
 You must have something hot right away, cr you'll 
 take your death o' cold," and with something of 
 her husband's faith in whiskey, she soon brought 
 Edith a hot popch that for a few moments seemed 
 to make the girl's head spin, but as it was fol- 
 lowed by strong tea and toast, she felt none the 
 worse, and danger from the chill and wet was 
 effectually disposed of. 
 
 As she sat sipping her tea before a red-hot 
 7
 
 I 4 6 
 
 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 stove, she told, in answer to the landlady's quca 
 tions, how she had got up from the boat. 
 
 " Who is this Lacey, and what is there against 
 them ? '' she asked suddenly. 
 
 The hostess went across the hall, opened the 
 bar-room door, and beckoned Edith to follow her. 
 
 In a chair by the stove sat a miserable bloated 
 wreck of a man, drivelling and mumbling in a 
 drunken lethargy. 
 
 " That's his father," said the woman in a whis* 
 per, " When he gets as bad as that he comes here 
 because he knows my husband is the only one as 
 won't turn him out of doors." 
 
 An expression of intense disgust flitted across 
 Edith's face, and by the necessary law of associa- 
 tion, poor Arden sank in her estimation, through 
 the foulness of his father's vice. 
 
 " Is there anything against the son ? " asked 
 Edith in some alarm. " I've engaged him to bring 
 up my furniture and trunks. I hope he's honest/' 
 
 "Oh, yes, he's honest enough, and he'd be 
 mighty mad if any body questioned that, but he's 
 kind o' soured and ugly, and don't notice nobody nor 
 nothing. The son and Mrs. Lacey keep to them- 
 selves, the man does as you see, but the daughter, 
 who's a smart pretty girl, tries to rise above it all, 
 and make her way among the rest of the girls ; but 
 she has a hard time of it, I guess, poor child." 
 
 "I don't wonder," said Edith, "with such a 
 father." 
 
 But between the punch and fatigue, she wai
 
 A DESERT ISLAND 147 
 
 glid to take refuge from the landlady's garrulous- 
 ness, and all her troubles, in quiet sleep. 
 
 The next morning the storm was passing 
 away in broken masses of clouds, through which 
 the sun occasionally shone in April-like uncertainty. 
 
 After an early breakfast she and Hannibal were 
 driven in an open wagon to what was to be her fu- 
 ture home the scene of unknown joys and sorrows. 
 
 The most memorable places, where the mighti- 
 est events of the world have transpired, can never 
 have for us the interest of that humble spot, where 
 the little drama of our own life, will pass from act 
 to act till our exit. 
 
 Most eagerly did Edith note everything as re- 
 vealed by the broad light of day. The village, 
 though irregular, had a general air of thriftiness 
 and respectability. The street, through which 
 she was riding, gradually fringed off from stores and 
 offices, into neat homes, farm-houses, and here 
 and there the abodes of the poor, till at last three- 
 quarters of a mile out, she saw a rather quaint lit- 
 tle cottage with a roof steeply sloping and a long 
 low porch. 
 
 " That's your place, Miss," said the driver. 
 
 Edith's intent eyes took in the general effect 
 with something of the practiced rapidity with 
 which she mastered a lady's toilet on the Avenue. 
 
 In spite of her predisposition to be pleased, the 
 prospect was depressing. The season was late and 
 patches of discolored snow lay here and there, and 
 were piled up along the fences. The garden and
 
 148 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 trees had a neglected look. The vines that clanv 
 bered up the porch had been untrimmed of the 
 last year's growth, and sprawled in every direction. 
 The gate hung from one hinge, and many pal- 
 ings were off the fence, and all had a sodden, dingy 
 appearance from the recent rains. The house it- 
 self looked so dilapidated and small in contrast 
 with their stately mansion on Fifth Avenue, that 
 irrepressible tears came into her eyes, as she mur- 
 mured, 
 
 " It will kill mother just to see it." 
 
 Old Hannibal said in a low, encouraging tone, 
 " It'll look a heap better next June, Miss Edie." 
 
 But Edith dropped her veil to hide her feelings, 
 and shook her head. 
 
 They got down before the shackly gate, took 
 out the basket of provisions which Hannibal had 
 secured, paid the driver, who splashed away through 
 the mud as a boat might that had landed and left 
 two people on a desert island. They walked up 
 the oozy path with hearts about as chill and empty 
 as the unfurnished cottage before them. 
 
 But utter repulsiveness had been taken away 
 by a bright fire that Arden had kindled on the 
 hearth of the largest room ; and when ligntmg it 
 he had been so romantic as to dream of the possi- 
 bility of kindling a more sacred fire in a heart that 
 he knew now to be as cold to him as the chilly 
 room in which he shivered. 
 
 Poor Arden ! If he could have seen the ex4 
 pression on Edith's face the night previous, as she
 
 A DESERT ISLAND. 149 
 
 looked on his besotted father, he would have 
 cursed what he termed the blight of his life, more 
 bitterly than ever.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 EDITH BECOMES A "DIVINITY." 
 
 A S the wrecked would hasten up the strand 
 and explore eagerly in various directions in 
 order to gain some idea of the nature and resources 
 of the place where they might spend months and 
 even years, so Edith hurriedly passed from one 
 room to another, looking the house over first, as 
 their place of refuge and centre of life, and then 
 went out to a spot from whence she could obtain a 
 view of the garden, the little orchard, and pasture 
 field. 
 
 The house gave them three rooms on the first 
 floor, as many on the second, and a very small 
 attic. There was also a pretty good cellar, though 
 it looked to Edith a black dismal hole, full of rub- 
 bish and old boxes. 
 
 The entrance of the house was at the com- 
 mencement of the porch, which ran along under the 
 windows of the large front room. Back of this 
 was one much smaller, and doors opened from both 
 the apartments named into a long and rather nar- 
 row room running the full depth of the house, and 
 which had been designed as the kitchen. With 
 the families that would naturally occupy a house 
 of this character, it would have been the general
 
 EDITH BECOMES A " DIVINITY? \ 5 \ 
 
 living room. To Edith's eyes, accustomed to mag- 
 nificert spaces and lofty ceilings, they seemed 
 stifling dingy cells. The walls were broken in 
 places and discolored by smoke, and with the ex- 
 ception of the large room there were no places for 
 open fires, but only holes for stovepipes. 
 
 " How can such a place as this ever look home- 
 like?" 
 
 The muddy garden, with its patches of snow, 
 its forlorn and neglected air ; its spreading vines 
 and thickly standing stalks of last year's weeds, 
 was even less inviting. Edith had never seen the 
 country in winter, and the gardens of her experi- 
 ence were full of green, beautiful life. The orchard 
 not only looked gaunt and bare, but very untidy. 
 The previous year had been most abundant in fruit, 
 and the trees were left to bear at will. Therefore 
 many of the limbs were wholly or partly broken off, 
 and lay scattered where they fell, or still hung by 
 a little of the woody fibre and bark. 
 
 Edith came back to the fire from the survey 
 of her future home, not only chilled in body by 
 the raw April winds, but more chilled in heart. 
 Though she had not expected summer greenness 
 and a sweet inviting home, yet the reality was so 
 dreary and forbidding from its necessary contrast 
 with the past, that she sank down on the floor, and 
 buried her head in her lap in an uncontrollable 
 .passion of grief. Hannibal was out gathering 
 wood to replenish the fire, and it was a luxury to 
 be alone a fe\v minutes with her sorrow.
 
 IJ2 WHAT CAN SHE DOf 
 
 But soon she had the consciousness that she 
 was not alone, and looking up, saw Arden in the 
 door, with a grave troubled face. Hastily turning 
 from him, and wiping away her tears, she said 
 rather coldly : 
 
 " You should have knocked. The house is 
 my home, if it is empty." 
 
 His face changed instantly to its usual hard 
 sullen aspect, and he said briefly, 
 
 "I did knock." 
 
 " The landlady has told her all about us," he 
 thought, " and she rejects symypathy and fellow- 
 ship from such as we are." 
 
 But Edith's feeling had only been annoyance 
 that a stranger had seen her emotion, so she said 
 quickly, " I beg your pardon. We have had 
 trouble, but I don't give way in this manner often. 
 Have you brought a load ? " 
 
 " Yes. If your servant will help me I will 
 bring the things in." 
 
 As he and Hannibal carried in heavy rolls of 
 carpet and other articles, Edith removed as far as 
 possible the traces of her grief, and soon began to 
 scan by the light of day with some curiosity her 
 acquaintance of the previous evening. He was 
 the very opposite to herself in appearance. Her 
 eyes were large and dark. He had a rather small 
 but piercing blue eye. His locks were light and 
 curly, and his beard sandy. Her hair was brown 
 and straight. He was full six feet, while she was 
 only of medium height. And yet Edith was not a
 
 EDITH BECOMES A " DIVINITY." 153 
 
 brunette, but possessed a complexion of transpa- 
 rent delicacy which gave her the fragile appearance 
 characteristic of so many American girls. His 
 face was much tanned by exposure to March 
 winds, but his brow was as white as hers. In his 
 morbid tendency to shun every one, he usually 
 kept his eyes fixed on the ground so as to appear 
 not to see people, and this, with his habitual 
 frown, gave a rather heavy and repelling expres- 
 sion to his face. 
 
 " He would make a very good representative 
 of the laboring classes," she thought, " if he hadn't 
 so disagreeable an expression.' 5 
 
 It had only dimly dawned upon poor Edith as 
 yet, that she now belonged to the " laboring 
 classes." 
 
 But her energetic nature soon reacted against 
 idle grieving, and her pale cheeks grew rosy, and her 
 face full of eager life as she assisted and directed. 
 
 " If I only had one or two women to help me 
 we could soon get things settled,' 1 she said, " and 
 I have so little time before the rest come." 
 
 Then she added suddenly to Arden, " Haven't 
 you sisters ? " 
 
 " My sister does not go out to service,' 5 said 
 Arden proudly. 
 
 " Neither do I, 55 said the shrewd Edith, " but I 
 would be willing to help any one in such an emer- 
 gency as I am in," and she glanced keenly to see 
 the effect of this speech, while she thought, " What 
 airs these people put on ' 
 7*
 
 154 WHAT CAN SHE DO t 
 
 Arden's face changed instantly. Her words 
 seemed like a ray of sunlight falling on a place 
 before shadowed, for the sullen frowning expres- 
 sion passed into one almost of gentleness, as he 
 said, 
 
 " That puts things in a different light. I am sure 
 Rose and mother both will be willing to help you 
 as neighbors," and he started after another load, 
 going around by the way of his home and readily 
 obtaining from his mother and sister a promise to 
 assist Edith after dinner. 
 
 Edith smiled to herself and said, " I have found 
 the key to his surly nature already." She had, 
 and to many other natures also. Kindness and 
 human fellowship will unbar and unbolt where all 
 other forces may clamor in vain. 
 
 Arden went away in a maze of new sensations. 
 This one woman of all the world beside his mother 
 and sister that he had come to know somewhat, 
 was to him a strange beautiful mystery. Edith 
 was in many respects conventional, as all society 
 girls are, but it was the conventionality of a sphere 
 of life that Arden knew only through books, and 
 she seemed to him utterly different from the ladies 
 of Pushton as he understood them from his slight 
 acquaintance. This difference was all in her favor, 
 for he cherished a bitter and unreasonable pre- 
 judice against the young girls of his neighborhood 
 as vain shallow creatures who never read, and 
 thought of nothing save dress and beaux. His own 
 sister in fact had helped to confirm these impressions,
 
 EDITH BECOMES A " DIVINITY \ 5 5 
 
 for vhile he was fond of her and kind, he had no 
 great admiration for her, saying in his sweeping 
 cynicism, " She is like the rest of them." If he 
 had met Edith only in the street and in conven- 
 tional ways, stylishly dressed, he would scarcely 
 have noticed her. But her half indignant, half pa- 
 thetic appeal to him on the dock, the lonely ride in 
 which she had clung to his arm for safety, her 
 tears, and the manner in which she had last spoken 
 to him, had all combined thoroughly to pierce his 
 shell of sullen reserve ; and, as we have said, his 
 vivid imagination had taken fire. 
 
 Edith and Hannibal worked hard the rest of 
 the forenoon, and her experienced old attendant 
 was invaluable. Edith herself, though having little 
 practical knowledge of work of any kind, had vigor 
 and natural judgment, and her small white hands 
 accomplished more than one would suppose. 
 
 So Arden wonderingly thought on his return 
 with a second load, as he saw her lift and handle 
 things that he knew to be heavy. Her short close- 
 fitting working-dress outlined her fine figure to ad- 
 vantage, and with complexion bright and dazzling 
 with exercise, she seemed to him some frail fairy 
 like creature doomed by a cruel fate to unsuited 
 toil and sorrows. But Edith was very mattef 
 of fact, and had never in all her life thought of 
 herself as a fairy. 
 
 Arden went home to dinner, and by one o'clock 
 Edith said to Hannibal, 
 
 " There IF one good thing about the place if no
 
 j 56 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 other. It gives one a savage appetite. What hive 
 you got in the basket ? " 
 
 " A scrumptious lunch, Miss Edie. I told de 
 landlady you'se used to having things mighty nice, 
 and den I found a hen's nest in de barn dis 
 morninV 
 
 " I hope you didn't take the eggs, Hannibal," 
 said Edith slyly. 
 
 " Sartirr I did, Miss Edie, cause if I didn't de 
 rats would." 
 
 " Perhaps the landlady would also if you had 
 shown them to her." 
 
 " Miss Edie," said Hannibal solemnly, " finding 
 a hen's nest is like finding a gold mine. It belongs 
 to de one dat finds it." 
 
 " I'm afraid that wouldn't stand in law. Sup- 
 pose we were arrested for robbing hen's nests. 
 That wouldn't be a good introduction to our new 
 neighbors." 
 
 " Now, Miss Edie," said Hannibal, with an in- 
 jured air, " you don't spec I do a job like dat so 
 bungly as to get cotched at it ? " 
 
 " Oh, very well," said Edith, laughing, " since 
 you have conformed to the morality of the age, it 
 must oe all right, and a fresh egg would be a rich 
 treat now that it can be eaten with a clear con- 
 science. But Hannibal, I wish you would find a 
 gold mine out in the garden." 
 
 " I guess you'se find dat with all your read in 
 about strawberries and other yarbs." 
 
 " I hope so," :*d Edith with a sigh, " for I
 
 EDITH BECOMES A * DIVINITY? 157 
 
 don't see how we are going to live here year aftei 
 year." 
 
 " You'se be rich again. De men wid de long 
 pusses aint agoin' to look at your black eyes for 
 nothin','' and Hannibal chuckled knowingly. 
 
 The color faintly deepened in Edith's cheeks, but 
 she said with some scorn, " Men with long purses 
 want girls with the same But who are these?" 
 
 Coming up the path they saw a tall middle-aged 
 woman, and by her side, a young girl of about 
 eighteen who was a marked contrast in appearance. 
 
 " Dey's his mother and sister. You will drive 
 tings dis arternoon." 
 
 Mrs. Lacey and her daughter entered with 
 some little hesitancy and embarrassment, but 
 Edith, with the poise of an accomplished lady, at 
 once put them at ease by saying, 
 
 " It is exceedingly kind of you to come and 
 help, and I appreciate it very much." 
 
 " No one should refuse to be neighborly," said 
 Mrs. Lacey quietly. 
 
 " And to tell the truth I was delighted to come," 
 said Rose, " the winter has been so long and dull." 
 
 " Oh dear," thought Edith, " if you find them 
 so, what will be our fate?" 
 
 Mrs. Lacey undid a bundle and took out a tea- 
 pot from which the steam yet oozed faintly, and 
 Rose undid another containing some warm buttered 
 biscuits, Mrs. Lacey saying, ' I thought your lunch 
 might seem a little cold and cheerless > so I brought 
 these along."
 
 I S 8 
 
 WHAT CAN SHE DCt 
 
 " Now that is kind," said Edith, so cordially 
 that their faces flushed with that natural pleasure 
 which we all feel when our little efforts for others 
 are appreciated. To them it was intensified, for 
 Edith was a grand city lady, and the inroads that 
 she made on the biscuits and the zest with which 
 she sipped her tea showed that her words had the 
 ring of truth. 
 
 " Do sit down and eat, while things are nice 
 and warm," she said to Hannibal. " There's no use 
 of our putting on airs now," but Hannibal insisted 
 on waiting upon her as when butler in the great 
 dining room on the Avenue, and when she was 
 through, carried the things off to the empty kitch- 
 en, and took his " bite" on a packing box, prefa- 
 cing it as his nearest approach to grace by an in- 
 dignant grunt and profession of his faith. 
 
 " Dis ole niggah eat before her ? Not much ! 
 She's quality now as much as eber." 
 
 But the world and Hannibal were at variance 
 on account of a sum of subtraction which had taken 
 away from Edith's name the dollar symbol. 
 
 Edith set to work, with her helpers now in- 
 creased to three, with renewed zest, and from time 
 to time stole glances at the mother and daughter 
 to see what the natives were like. 
 
 They were very different in appearance : the 
 mother looking prematurely old, and she also 
 seemed bent and stooping under the heavy bur- 
 dens of life. Her dark blue eyes had a weary 
 pathetic look, as if some sorrow was ever before
 
 EDITH BECOMES A " DIVINIT K." 1 59 
 
 them. Her cheek bones were prominent and 
 cheeks sunken, and the thin hair, brushed plainly 
 under her cap, was streaked with grey. Her quiet- 
 ness and reserve seemed more the result of a 
 crushed, sad heart than from natural lack of fetl 
 ing. 
 
 The daughter was in the freshest bloom of 
 youth, and was not unlike the flower she was 
 named after, when, as a dewy bud, it begins to de- 
 velop under the morning sun. Though not a 
 beautiful girl, there was a prettiness, a rural breezi- 
 ness about her, that would cause any one to look 
 twice as she passed. The wind ever seemed to be 
 in her light flaxen curls, and her full rounded 
 figure suggested superabundant vitality, an im- 
 pression increased by her quick, restless motions. 
 Her complexion reminded you of strawberries and 
 cream, and her blue eyes had a slightly bold and 
 defiant expression. She felt the blight of her 
 fathers course also, but it acted differently on her 
 temperament. Instead of timidly shrinking from 
 the world like her mother, or sullenly ignoring it 
 like her brother, she was for going into society and 
 compelling it to recognize and respect her. 
 
 " I have done nothing wrong," she said ; " I 
 insist on people treating me in view of what I am 
 myself; '' and in the sanguine spirit of youth she 
 hoped to carry her point. Therefore her manner 
 was a little self-asserting, which would not have 
 freen the case had she not felt that she had preju- 
 dice to overcome. Unlike her brother, she cared
 
 I&O WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 little for books, and had no ideal world, but lived 
 vividly in her immediate surroundings. The older 
 she grew, the duller and more monotonous did her 
 home life seem. She had little sympathy from her 
 brother ; her mother was a sad, silent woman, and 
 her father a daily source of trouble and shame. 
 Her education was very imperfect, and she had no 
 resource in this, while her daily work seemed a 
 tiresome round that brought little return. Her 
 mother attended to the more important duties and 
 gave to her the lighter tasks, which left her con- 
 siderable leisure. She had no work that stimu- 
 lated her, no training that made her thorough in 
 any department of labor, however humble. From 
 a friend, a dressmaker in the village she obtained a 
 little fancy work and sewing, and the proceeds re- 
 sulting, and all her brother gave her, she spent in 
 dress. The sums were small enough in all truth, 
 and yet with the marvellous ingenuity that some 
 girls, fond of dress, acquire, she made a very little 
 go a great way, and she would often appear in toil- 
 ets that were quite effective. With those of her 
 own age and sex in her narrow little circle, she 
 was not a special favorite, but she was with the 
 young men, for she was bright, chatty, and had the 
 knack of putting awkward fellows at ease. She 
 kept her little parlor as pretty and inviting as her 
 limited materials permitted, and with a growing 
 imperiousness gave the rest of the family, and es- 
 pecially her father, to understand that this parlor 
 was her domain, and that she would permit no in-
 
 EDITH BECOMES A "DIVINITY? 161 
 
 trusion. Clerks from the village and farmers' sons 
 would occasionally drop in of an evening, though 
 they preferred taking her out to ride where they 
 could see her away from her home. But the more 
 respectable young men, with anxious mothers and 
 sisters were rather shy of poor Rose, and none 
 seemed to care to go beyond a mild flirtation with 
 a girl whose father was on a "rampage," as they 
 expressed it, most of the time. On one occasion, 
 when she had two young friends spending the 
 evening, her father came home reckless and wild 
 with drink, and his language toward the young 
 men was so shocking, and his manner in general 
 so outrageous, that they were glad to get away. 
 If Arden had not come home and collared his 
 father, carrying him off to his room by his almost 
 irresistible strength, Rose's parlor might have be- 
 come a sad wreck, literally as well as socially. As 
 it was it seemed deserted for a long time, and she 
 felt very bitter about it. In her fearless frankness, 
 her determination not to succumb to her sinister 
 surroundings,(and perhaps from the lack of a sensi- 
 tive delicacy^she reproached the same young men 
 when she met them for staying away, saying, " It's 
 a shame to treat a girl as if she were to blame for 
 what she can't help." 
 
 But Rose's ambition had put on a phase against 
 which circumstances were too strong, and she was 
 made, to feel in her struggle to gain a social foot- 
 ing that her father's leprosy had tainted her, and 
 her brothel's " ugly, sullen disposition," as it was
 
 1 62 WHAT CAN SHE DO f 
 
 termed, ,vas a hindrance also. She had an increas 
 ing desire to get away among strangers, where she 
 could make her own way on her own merits, and 
 the city of New York seemed to her a great Eldo- 
 rado, where she might find her true career. Some 
 very showily dressed, knowing-looking girls, that 
 she had met at a picnic, had increased this longing 
 for the city. Her mother and brother thought 
 her restless, vain, and giddy, but she was as good 
 and honest a girl at heart as breathed, only her 
 vigorous nature chafed at repression, wanted out- 
 lets, and could not settle down for life to cook, 
 wash and sew for a drunken father, a taciturn 
 brother, or even a mother whose companionship 
 was depressing, much as she was loved. 
 
 Rose welcomed the request of her brother, as 
 helping Edith would cause a ripple in the current 
 of her dull life, and give her a chance of seeing one 
 of the grand city ladies, without the dimness and 
 vagueness of distance, and she scanned Edith with 
 a stronger curiosity than was bestowed upon her- 
 self. The result was rather depressing to poor 
 Rose, for, having studied with her quick nice eye, 
 Edith's exquisite manner and movements, she sigh- 
 ed to herself, 
 
 " I'm not such a lady as this girl, and perhaps 
 never can be." 
 
 While Edith was very kind and cordial to the 
 Laceys, she felt, and made them feel, that there 
 was a vast social distance between them. Even 
 practical Edith had not yet realized her poverty,
 
 EDITH BECOMES A " Dl VINITY." \ 63 
 
 and it would take her some time to doff the man* 
 ner of the condescending lady. 
 
 They accomplished a great deal that afternoon, 
 but it takes much time and labor to make even a 
 small empty house look home-like. Edith had taken 
 the smallest room up stairs, and by evening it was 
 quite in order for her occupation, she meaning to 
 take Zell in with her. Work had progressed in 
 the largest upper room, which she designed for 
 her mother and Laura. Mrs. Lacey and Hannibal 
 were in the kitchen getting that arranged, they 
 very rightly concluding that this was the main 
 spring in the mechanism of material living, and 
 should be put in readiness at once. Arden had 
 been instructed to purchase and bring from the 
 village a cooking stove, and Hannibal's face shone 
 with something like delight, as by five o'clock 
 he had a wood fire crackling underneath a pot of 
 water, feeling that the terra firma of comfort was 
 at last reached. He could now soak in his favorite 
 beverage of tea, and make Miss Edie quite " pert- 
 like" too when she was tired. 
 
 Mrs. Lacey worked silently. Rose was inclined 
 to be chatty and draw Edith out in regard to city 
 life. She responded good naturedly as long as Rose 
 confined herself to generalities, but was inclined to 
 be reticent on their own affairs. 
 
 Before -dark the Laceys prepared to return, the 
 mother saying gravely, 
 
 " You may feel it too lonely to stay by yourself. 
 Our house is not very inviting, and my husband's
 
 104 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 manner is not always what I could wish, but such aa 
 it is, you will be welcome in it till the rest of your 
 family comes.'' 
 
 " You are very kind to a stranger," said Edith, 
 heartily, " but I am not a bit afraid to stay here 
 since I have Hannibal as protector,'' and Hannibal, 
 elated by this compliment, looked as if he might be 
 a very dragon to all intruders. " Moreover," con- 
 tinued Edith, " you have helped me so splendidly 
 that I shall be very comfortable and they will be 
 here to-morrow night." 
 
 Mrs. Lacey bowed silently, but Rose said in 
 her sprightly voice, from the doorway : 
 
 " I'll come and help you all day to-morrow." 
 
 Arden was still to bring one more load. The 
 setting sun, with the consistency of an April 
 day, had passed into a dark cloud which soon came 
 driving on with wind and rain, and the thick drops 
 dashed against the windows as if thrown from a 
 vast syringe, while the gutter gurgled and groaned 
 with the sudden rush of water. 
 
 "Oh dear, how dismal!" sighed Edith looking 
 out in the gathering darkness. Then she saw that 
 the loaded wagon had just stopped at the gate, and 
 in dim outline, Arden sat in the storm as if he had 
 been a post. " It's too bad," she said impatiently, 
 " my things will all get wet." After a moment she 
 added : " Why don't he come in ? Don't he know 
 enough to come in out of the rain?" 
 
 "Well, Miss Edie, he's kind o' quar," said 
 Hannibal, " I'se jes done satisfied he's quar.'
 
 EDITH BECOMES A " DIVINITY." 165 
 
 But the shower ceased suddenly, and Ardcn 
 dismounted, secured his horses, and soon appeared 
 at the door with a piece of furniture. 
 
 " Why it's not wet," said Edith with surprise. 
 
 " I saw appearances of rain, and so borrowed a 
 piece of canvas at the dock." 
 
 " But you didn't put the canvas over yourself," 
 said Edith, looking at his dripping form, grateful 
 enough now to bestow a little kindness without 
 the idea of policy. " As soon as you have brought 
 in the load I insist on your staying and taking a 
 cup of tea." 
 
 He gave his shoulders an indifferent shrug say- 
 ing, " a little cold water is the least of my troub- 
 les." Then he added, stealing a timid glance at 
 her, " but you are very kind. People seldom think 
 of their teamsters. " 
 
 " The more shame to them then," said Edith. 
 " I at least can feel a kindness if I can't make 
 much return. It was very good of you to protect 
 my furniture and I appreciate your care. Besides 
 your mother and sister have been helping me all 
 the afternoon, and I am oppressed by my obliga- 
 tions to you all." 
 
 " I am sorry you feel that way," he said briefly, 
 and vanished in the darkness after another load. 
 
 Soon all was safely housed, and he said, about 
 to depart, " There is one more load ; I will bring 
 that to-morrow." 
 
 From the fire she called, ' Stay, your tea will 
 be read) ir. a moment."
 
 166 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 "Do not put yourself to that trouble," he 
 answered, at the same time longing to stay. 
 " Mother will have supper ready forme." He was 
 so diffident that he needed much encouragement, 
 and moreover, he was morbidly sensitive. 
 
 But as she turned, she caught his wistful glance, 
 and thought to herself, " Poor fellow, he's cold 
 and hungry." With feminine shrewdness she said, 
 " Now Mr. Lacey, I shall feel slighted if you don't 
 take a cup of my tea, for see, I have made it my- 
 self. It's the one thing about housekeeping that 
 I understand. Your mother brought me a nice 
 cup at noon, and I enjoyed it very much. I am 
 going to pay that debt now to you." 
 
 " Well if you really wish it" said Arden 
 hesitatingly, with another of his bright looks, and 
 color even deeper than the ruddy firelight war- 
 ranted. 
 
 " My conscience !" thought Edith, " how sud- 
 denly his face changes. He is 'quar' as Hannibal 
 says." But she settled matters by saying, " I 
 shall feel hurt if you don't. You must let there 
 be at least some show of kindness on my part, as 
 well as yours and your friends." 
 
 There came in again a delicate touch of that 
 human fellowship which he had never found in the 
 world, and had seemingly repelled, but which his 
 soul was thirsting for with an intensity never so 
 realized before, and this faintest semblance of 
 human companionship and sympathy, seemed in- 
 expressibly sweet to his sore and lonely heart.
 
 EDITH BECOMES A " DIVfNIT Y." 167 
 
 He took the cup from her as if it had been a 
 sacrament, and was about to drink it standing, but 
 she placed a chair at the table and said, 
 
 " No, sir, you must sit down there in comfort 
 by the fire." 
 
 He did so as if in a dream. The whole scene 
 was taking a powerful hold on his imagination. 
 
 " Hannibal," she cried, raising her voice in a 
 soft, birdlike call, and from the dim kitchen whence 
 certain spluttering sounds had preceded him, Han- 
 nibal appeared with a heaping plate of buttered 
 toast. 
 
 " With your permission," she said, " I will sit 
 down and take a cup of tea with you, in a neigh- 
 borly way, for I wish to ask you some more ques- 
 tions, and tea, you know, is a great incentive to 
 talk," and she took a chair on the opposite side of 
 the table, while Hannibal stood a little in the back 
 ground to wait on them with all the formality of 
 olden time. 
 
 The wood fire blazed and crackled, and thre\> 
 its flickering light over Edith's fair face, and inten- 
 sified her beauty, as her features gleamed out, or 
 faded, as the flames rose and fell. Hannibal stood 
 motionless behind her chair as if he might have 
 been an Ethiopian slave attendant on a young sul- 
 tana. To Arden's aroused imagination, it seemed 
 like one of the scenes of his fancy, and he was 
 almost afraid to move or speak, lest all should van- 
 ish, and he find himself plodding along the dark 
 muddy road.
 
 168 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she asked curiously. 
 " Why don't you drink your tea ?'' 
 
 " It all seems as strange and beautiful as a fairy 
 tale/' he said in a low tone, looking at her earn- 
 estly. 
 
 Her hearty laugh and matter-of-fact tone dis- 
 pelled his illusion, as she said, 
 
 " It's all dreadfully real to me. I feel as if I had 
 done more work to-day than in all my life before, 
 and we have only made a beginning. I want to ask 
 you about the place and the garden, and how to 
 get things done," and she plied him well with the 
 most practical questions. 
 
 Sometimes he answered a little incoherently fof 
 through them all he saw a face full of strange weird 
 beauty, as the firelight flickered upon it, and gave a 
 star-like lustre to the large dark eyes. 
 
 Hannibal in the background, grinned and 
 chuckled to himself, as he saw Arden's dazed won- 
 dering admiration, saying to himself, " Dey ain't 
 used to such young ladies as mine, up here it kind 
 o' dazzles 'em." 
 
 At last as if breaking away from the influence of 
 a spell, Arden suddenly rose, turning upon Edith 
 one of those warm bright looks, that he sometimes 
 gave his mother, and said, " You have been very 
 kind, good-night," and was gone in a moment. But 
 the night was luminous about him. Along the 
 muddy road, in the old shackly barn as he cared 
 for his horses, in his poor little room at home, to 
 which he soon retired, he saw only the fair face of
 
 EDITH BECOMES A "DIVINITY." 169 
 
 Edith, with the firelight playing upon it, with the 
 vividness of one looking directly upon an exquisite 
 cabinet picture, and before that picture his heart 
 was inclined to bow, in the most devoted homage. 
 
 Edith's only comment was, " He is ' quar" Han- 
 nibal, as you said/' 
 
 Wearied with Ihe long day's work, she soon 
 found welcome and dreamless rest- 
 8
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MRS. ALLEN'S POLICY. 
 
 T^RUE to her promise, Rose helped Edith all the 
 next day, and while she worked, the frank- 
 hearted girl poured out the story of her troubles, 
 and Edith came to have a greater respect and sym- 
 pathy for her " kind and humble neighbors" as she 
 characterized them in her own mind. Still with 
 her familiarity with the farming class, kept up 
 since her summer in the country as a child, she 
 made a broad distinction between them and the 
 mere laborer. Moreover the practical girl wished 
 to conciliate the Laceys and eveiy one else she 
 could, for she had a presentiment that there were 
 many trials before them, and that they would need 
 friends. She said in answer to Rose, 
 
 " I never realized before that the world was so 
 full of trouble. We have seen plenty of late." 
 
 "One can bear any kind of trouble better than 
 a daily shame," said Rose bitterly. 
 
 For some unexplained reason Edith thought 
 of Zell and Mr. Van Dam with a sudden pang. 
 
 Arden brought his last load and watched eager- 
 ly for her appearance, fearing that there might be 
 some great falling off in the vision of the past 
 evening.
 
 MRS. ALLEN'S POLICY. j^I 
 
 But to his eyes the girl he was learning to glo- 
 rify, presented as fair an exterior in the garish day, 
 and the reality of her beauty became a fixed fact 
 in his consciousness, and his fancy had already be- 
 gun to endow her with angelic qualities. With 
 all her vanity, even sorrowful Edith would have 
 laughed heartily at his ideal of her. It was one of 
 the hardest ordeals of his life to take the money 
 she paid him, and she saw and wondered at his 
 repugnance. 
 
 " You will never get rich," she said, " if you are 
 so prodigal in work, and spare in your charges." 
 
 " I would rather not take anything," he said 
 dubiously holding the money, as if it were a coal 
 of fire, between his thumb and finger. 
 
 "Then I must find some one who will do busi- 
 ness on business principles," she said coldly. " If 
 the fellow has any sentimental nonsense about 
 him, I'll soon cure that," she thought. 
 
 Arden colored, thrust his money carelessly into 
 his pocket as if it were of no account, and said 
 briefly, " Good morning." 
 
 But when alone he put the money in the inner- 
 most part of his pocketbook, and when his father 
 asked him for some of it, he sternly answered, 
 
 " No sir, not a cent." Nor did he spend it 
 himself; why he kept it, could scarcely have been 
 explained. He was simply acting according to the 
 impulses of a morbid romantic nature that had been 
 suddenly and deeply impressed. The mother's 
 quick eye detected a change in him and she asked,
 
 72 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " What do you think of our new neighbor?" 
 
 " Mother,'' said he fervently, " she is an angel.* 1 
 
 " My poor boy," said she anxiously, " take care. 
 Don't let your fancy run away with you." 
 
 "Oh," said he with assumed indifference, " one 
 can have a decided opinion of a good thing as well 
 as a bad thing, without making a fool of oneself." 
 
 But the mother saw with a half jealous pang 
 that her son's heart was awaking to a new and 
 stronger love than her own. 
 
 Mrs. Allen with Zell and Laura were to come 
 by the boat that evening, and Edith's heart yearned 
 after them as her kindred. Now that she had had 
 a little experience of loneliness and isolation, she 
 deeply regretted her former harshness and impa- 
 tience, saying to herself, " It is harder for them 
 than for me. They don't like the country, and 
 don't care anything about a garden," and she pur- 
 posed to be very gentle and long suffering. 
 
 If good resolutions were only accomplished cer- 
 tainties as soon as made, how different life would be ! 
 
 Arden had ordered a close carriage that she 
 might go down and meet them, and had agreed to 
 bring up their trunks and boxes in his large wagon. 
 
 The boat fortunately landed under the clear 
 starlight on this occasion, and feeble Mrs. Allen 
 was soon seated comfortably in the carriage. But 
 her every breath was a sigh, and she regarded the 
 martyrs as a favored class in comparison with her- 
 self. Laura still had her look of dreary apathy; 
 but Zell's face wore an expression of interest in the
 
 AfXS. ALLEN'S POLICY. 173 
 
 new scenes and experiences, and she plied Edith 
 with many questions as she rode homeward. Mrs. 
 Allen brought a servant up with her who was con- 
 demned to ride with Arden, much to their mutual 
 disgust. 
 
 " Oh dear," sighed Edith as they rode along. 
 " It's a dreadful come down for us all and I don't 
 know how you are going to stand it, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Allen's answer was a long unspeakable sigh. 
 
 When she reached the house and entered the 
 room where supper was awaiting them, she glanced 
 around as a prisoner might on being thrust into a 
 cell in which years must be spent, and then she 
 dropped into a chair sobbing. 
 
 " How different how different from all my 
 past ! " and for a few moments they all cried to- 
 gether. As with Edith at first, so now again the 
 new home was baptized with tears as if dedicated 
 to sorrow and trouble. 
 
 Edith then led them up stairs to take off their 
 things, and Mrs. Allen had a fresh outburst of 
 sorrow as she recognized the contrast between this 
 bare little chamber and her luxurious sleeping 
 apartment and dressing-room in the city. Laura 
 soon regained her air of weary indifference, but 
 Zell, hastily throwing off her wraps, came down to 
 explore, and question Hannibal. 
 
 " Bress you, chile, it does my eyes good to see 
 you all, ony you'se inusn't take on as if we'se all 
 dyin' with slow 'sumption." 
 
 Zell put her hand on the black's shoulder and
 
 174 WHA T CAN SHE DO 
 
 looked up into his face with a wondei fully gentle 
 and grateful expression, saying, 
 
 " You are as good as gold, Hannibal. I am so 
 glad you stayed with us, for you seem like one of 
 the best bits of our old home. Never mind, I'll 
 have a grander house again soon and you shall 
 have a stiffer necktie and higher collar than ever." 
 
 " Bress you," said Hannibal with moist eyes, 
 " it does my ole black heart good to hear you. 
 But Miss Zell, I say," he added in a loud whisper, 
 " when is it gwine to be ? '' 
 
 "Oh!" said poor Zell, asked for definiteness, 
 "Some day," and she passed into the large room 
 where Arden was just setting down a trunk. 
 
 " Don't leave it there in the middle of the 
 floor," she said sharply. " Take it up stairs." 
 
 Arden suddenly straightened himself as if he 
 had. received a slight cut from a whip, and turned 
 his sullen face full on Zell, and it seemed veiy 
 repulsive to the imperious little lady. 
 
 " Don't you hear me ? '' she asked sharply. 
 
 4i Perhaps it would be well for you not to ask 
 favors of your neighbors in that tone," he replied 
 curtly. 
 
 Edith, coming down, saw the situation and said 
 with oil in her voice, " You must excuse my sis- 
 ter, Mr. Lacey. She does not know who you are. 
 Hannibal will assist with the trunks if you will be 
 so kind as to take them up stairs." 
 
 " She is different from the rest," thought Arden, 
 readily complying with her request.
 
 MXS. ALLEYS POLICY. 175 
 
 But Zell said as she turned away, loud enough 
 for him to hear : " What airs these common coun 
 try people do put on ! " Zell might have loaded 
 Arden's wagon with gold, and he would not have 
 lifted a finger for her after that. If he had known 
 that Edith's kindness had been half policy, his face 
 would have been more sullen and forbidding than 
 ever. But she dwelt glorified and apart in his 
 consciousness, and if she could only maintain that 
 ideal supremacy, he would be her slave. But in 
 his morbid sensitiveness she would have to be very 
 careful. The practical girl at this time did not 
 dream of his fanciful imagining about her, but she 
 was bent on securing friends and helpers, however 
 humble might be their station, and she had shrewd- 
 ly and quickly learned how to manage Arden. 
 
 The next day was spent by the family in get- 
 ting settled in their narrow quarters, and a dreary 
 time they had of it. It was a long rainy day, and 
 the roof leaked badly, and every element of dis- 
 comfort seemed let loose upon them. 
 
 Her mother had a nervous headache, and one 
 of her worst touches of dyspepsia, and Zell and 
 Laura were so weary and out of sorts that little 
 could be accomplished. Between the tears and 
 sighs within, and the dripping rain without, Edith 
 looked back on the first two days when the Laceys 
 were helping her, as bright in contrast. But Mrs. 
 Allen was already worrying over the Laceys' con- 
 nection with their settlement in the neighborhood. 
 
 " We shall be associated with these low people,"
 
 Ijb WHAT CAX SHE DOt 
 
 said she to Edith querulously. " Your first acquaint* 
 ances in a new place, are of great importance." 
 
 Edith was not ready for any such association, 
 and she felt that there was force in her mother' 
 words. She had thought of the Laceys chiefly in 
 the light of their usefulness. 
 
 She was glad when the long miserable day came 
 to a close, and welcomed the bright sunniness of 
 the following morning, hoping it would dispel some 
 of the gloom that seemed gathering round them 
 more thickly than ever. 
 
 After discussing a rather meagre breakfast, for 
 Hannibal's materials were running low, Edith push- 
 ed back her chair, and said, 
 
 " I move we hold a council of war, and look the 
 situation in the face. We are here, and we've got 
 to live here. Now what shall we do ? I suppose 
 we must go to work at something that will bring in 
 money." 
 
 " Go to work, and for money ! '* said Mrs. Al- 
 len sharply from her cushioned arm-chair. " I hope 
 we haven't ceased to be ladies.' 5 
 
 " But, mother, we can't live forever on the ti- 
 tle. The ' butchers, bakers, and candlestick-mak- 
 ers, won't supply us long on that ground. What 
 did the lawyer, who settled father's estate, say be- 
 fore you left ?" 
 
 " Well, replied Mrs. Allen vaguely, he said he 
 had placed to our credit in Bank, what there was 
 left, and he gave me a check-book and talked econ- 
 omy as men always do. Your poor father, aftef
 
 MRS. ALLEIfS POLICY. \fj 
 
 losing hundreds at the club, would talk economy 
 the next morning, in the most edifying way. He 
 also said that there was some of that hateful stock 
 remaining that ruined your father, but that it was 
 of uncertain value, and he could not tell how much 
 it would realize, but he would sell it and place the 
 proceeds also to our credit. It will amount to con- 
 siderable, I think, and it may rise." 
 
 " Now girls," continued Mrs. Allen, settling her- 
 self back among the cushions, and resting the fore- 
 finger of her right hand impressively on the palm 
 of the left, " this is the proper line of policy for us 
 to pursue. I hope in all these strange changes, I 
 am still mistress of my own family. You certainly 
 don't think that I expect to stay in this miserable 
 hovel all my life. If you two girls, Laura and 
 Edith, had made the matches you might, we would 
 still be living on the Avenue. But I certainly can- 
 not permit you now to spoil every chance of get- 
 ting out of this slough. You may not be able to 
 do as well as you could have done, but if you are 
 once called working girls, what can you do ? 
 
 In the first place we must go into the best society 
 of this town. Our position warrants it of course. 
 Therefore, for heaven's sake don't let it get abroad 
 that we are associating with these drunken La- 
 ceys." (Mrs. Allen in her rapid generalization 
 might give the impression that the entire family 
 were habitually " on the rampage, 3 ' and Edith re* 
 membered with misgivings that she had drunk tea 
 with Arden Lacey on that very spot.) " More- 
 s'*
 
 1^8 WHAT CAN t>HE DOT 
 
 over-" continued Mrs. Allen, " there is a large sum* 
 mer hotel near here and ' my friends' have prom- 
 ised to come and see me this summer. We must 
 try to present an air of pretty rural elegance, and 
 your young gentlemen fiiends from the city will 
 soon be dropping in. Then Gus Elliot and Mr 
 Van Dam continue very kind and cordial, I am sure. 
 Zell, though so young, may soon become engaged 
 to Mr. Van Dam, and it's said, he is very rich " 
 
 " I can't get up much faith in these two men,' 1 
 interrupted Edith, " and as for Gus, he can't sup- 
 port himself." 
 
 " I hope you don't put Gus Elliot and my 
 friend on the same level," said Zell indignantly. 
 
 " I don't know where to put ' your friend,' " 
 said Edith curtly. "Why don't he speak out? 
 Why don't he do something open, manly, and de- 
 cided ? It seems as if he can see nothing and 
 think of nothing but your pretty face. If he would 
 become engaged to you and frankly take the place of 
 lover and brother, he might be of the greatest help 
 to us. But what has he done since father's death 
 but pet and flatter you like an infatuated old " 
 
 "Hush!" cried Zell, blazing with anger and 
 starting up, " no one shall speak so of him. What 
 -more has Gus Elliot done? " 
 
 " He has been useful as my errand bey," said 
 Edith contemptuously, "and that's all he amounts 
 to as far as I'm concerned. I am disgusted with 
 men. Who in all our trouble has been noble and 
 knightly toward us? "
 
 MKS. ALLEN'S POLICY. 
 
 179 
 
 44 Be still, children, stop your quarreling,' broke 
 in Mrs. Allen. "You have got to take the world 
 as you find it. Men of our day don't act like 
 knights any more than they dress like them. The 
 point I wish you to understand is that we must 
 keep every hold we have on our old life and society. 
 Next winter some of my friends will invite you to 
 visit them in the city and then who knows what 
 may happen" and she nodded significantly. 
 Then she added, with a regretful sigh, " What 
 chances you girls have had. There's Cheatem, 
 Argent, Livingston, Pamby, and last and best, 
 Goulden, who might have been secured if Laura 
 had been more prompt, and a host of others. 
 Edith had better have taken Mr. Fox even, than 
 have had all this happen." 
 
 An expression of disgust came out on Edith's 
 face, and she said, " It seems to me that 1 would 
 rather go to work than take any of them." 
 
 " You don't know anything about work,'* said 
 Mrs. Allen. " It's a great deal easier to marry a 
 fortune than to make one, and a woman can't make 
 a fortune. Marrying well is the only chance you 
 girls have now, and it's my only chance to live 
 again as a lady ought, and I want to see to it that 
 nothing is done to spoil these chances/' 
 
 Laura listened with a dull assent, conscious 
 that she would marry any man now who would 
 give "her an establishment and enable her to sweep 
 past Mr. Goulden in elegant scprn. Zell listened, 
 purposing to marry Mr. Van Dam though Edith's
 
 l8o WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 words raised a vague uneasiness in her mind, and 
 she longed to see him again, meaning to make him 
 more definite. Edith listened with a cooling ad* 
 herence to this familiar faith and doctrine of the 
 world in which the mother had brought up her 
 children. She had a glimmering perception that 
 the course indicated was not sound in general, nor 
 best for them in particular. 
 
 " And now," continued Mrs. Allen, becoming 
 more definite, " we must have a new roof put on 
 the house right away, or we will all be drowned 
 out, and the house must be painted, a door-bell put 
 in, and fences and things generally put in order. 
 We must fit this room up as a parlor, and we can 
 use the little room there as a dining and sitting 
 room. Laura and I will take the chamber over 
 the kitchen, and the one over this can be kept as a 
 spare room, so that if any of our city friends come 
 out to see us, they can stay all night." 
 
 " O mother, the proposed arrangements will 
 make us all uncomfortable, you especially," remon- 
 strated Edith. 
 
 " No matter, I've set my heart on our getting 
 back to the old life, and we must not stop at 
 trifles." 
 
 " But are you sure we have money to spare for 
 all these improvements,'' continued Edith anx- 
 iously. 
 
 "Oh yes, I think so," said Mrs. Allen indefi- 
 nitely. " And as your poor father used to say, to 
 spend money is often the best way to get money."
 
 MRS. ALLEYS POLICY. jgi 
 
 " Well mother," said Edith dubiously, " I sup- 
 pose you know best, but it don't look very clear to 
 me. There seems nothing definite or certain that 
 we can depend on." 
 
 " Perhaps not, to-day, but leave all to me. 
 Some one will turn up, who will fill your eye and 
 fill your hand, and what more could you ask in a 
 husband? But you must not be too fastidious. 
 These difficult girls are sure to take up with 
 'crooked sticks' at last." (Mrs. Allen's views as to 
 straight ones were not original.) " Leave all to 
 me. I will tell you when the right ones turn up."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURK UP. 
 
 A ND so the girls were condemned tc idleness 
 and ennui, and they all came to suffer from 
 these as from a dull toothache, especially Laura and 
 Zell. Edith had great hopes from her garden, and 
 saw the snow finally disappear and the mud dry up, 
 as the imprisoned inmates of the ark might have 
 watched the abatement of the waters. 
 
 The afternoon of the council wherein Mrs. Al- 
 len had marked out the family policy, Edith and 
 Zell walked to the village, and going to one of the 
 leading stores, made arrangements with the pro- 
 prietor to have his wagon stop daily at their house 
 for orders. They also asked him to send them a 
 carpenter. They made these requests with the 
 manner of olden time, when money seemed to flow 
 from a full fountain, and the man was very polite, 
 thinking he had gained profitable customers. 
 
 While they were absent, Rose stepped in to 
 see if she could be of any further help. Mrs. Al- 
 len surmised who she was and resolved to snub 
 her effectually. To Rose's question as to their 
 need of assistance, she replied frigidly " that they 
 had two servants now, and did not wish to employ 
 any more help."
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 183 
 
 Rose colored, bit her lip, then said with an 
 open smile, 
 
 " You are under mistake. I am Miss Lacey, 
 and helped your daughter the first two days after 
 she came." 
 
 " Oh, ah, Miss Lacey. I beg your pardon," 
 said Mrs. Allen, still more distantly. " My daughter 
 Edith is out. Did she not pay you?" 
 
 Rose's face became scarlet, and rising hastily 
 she said, "Either I misunderstand, or am greatly 
 misunderstood. Good afternoon." 
 
 Mrs. Allen slightly inclined her head, while 
 Laura took no notice of her at all. When she was 
 gone, Mrs. Allen said complaisantly, " I think we 
 will see no more of that bold faced fly-away crea- 
 ture. The idea of her thinking that we would live 
 on terms of social equality with them." 
 
 Laura's only reply was a yawn, but at last she 
 got up, put on her hat and shawl and went out to 
 walk a little on the porch. Arden, who was re- 
 turning home with his team, stopped a moment 
 to inquire if there was anything further that he 
 could do. He hoped the lady he saw on the porch 
 was Edith, and the wish to see her again led him 
 to think of any excuse that would take him to the 
 house. 
 
 As Laura turned to come toward him, he sur- 
 mised that it was another sister, and was disap- 
 pointed and embarrassed, but it was too late to 
 turn back, though she scarcely appeared to heed 
 him.
 
 1 84 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 " I called to ask Miss Edith if I could do any- 
 thing more that would be of help to her," he said 
 diffidently. 
 
 Giving him a cold careless glance, Laura said, 
 " I believe my sister wants some work done 
 around the house before long. I will tell her that 
 you were here looking for employment, and I have 
 no doubt she will send for you if she needs your ser- 
 vices," and Laura turned her back on him and 
 continued her walk. 
 
 He whirled about on his heel as if she had 
 struck him, and when he got home his mother 
 noted that his face looked more black and sullen 
 than she had ever seen it before. Rose was open 
 and strong in her indignation, saying: 
 
 " Fine neighbors you have introduced us to 1 
 Nice return they make for all our kindness ; not 
 that I begrudge it. But I hate to see people get 
 all out of you they can, and then about the same 
 as slap your face and show you the door." 
 
 "Did you see Miss Edith?" asked Arden 
 quickly. 
 
 " No, I saw the old lady and a proud pale-faced 
 girl who took no more notice of me than if I had 
 come for cold victuals." 
 
 " I suppose they have heard," said Arden 
 dejectedly. 
 
 "They have heard nothing against me, nor 
 you, nor mother," said Rose hotly " If I ever 
 see that Miss Edith again, I will give her a piece 
 of my mind."
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 185 
 
 " You will please do nothing of the kind," said 
 her brother. " She has not turned her back on 
 you. Wait till she does. We are the last people 
 to condemn one for the sake of another." 
 
 " I guess they are all alike ; but as you say, 
 it's fair to give her a chance," answered Rose 
 quietly. 
 
 With his habit of reticence he said nothing 
 about his own experience. But it was a cruel 
 shock that those connected with the one who was 
 becoming the inspiration of his dreams, should be 
 so contemptible as he regarded them, and as we 
 are all apt to regard those who treat us with con- 
 tempt. His faith in her was also shaken, and he 
 resolved that she must "send for him," feeling 
 her need, before he would go near her again. 
 But after all, his ardent fancy began to paint her 
 more gentle and human on the back-ground of 
 the narrow pride shown by the others. He longed 
 for some absolute proof that she was what he be- 
 lieved her, but was too proud to put himself in 
 the way of receiving it. 
 
 When Edith heard how the Lacey acquaint- 
 ance had been nipped in the bud, she said with 
 honest shame, " It's too bad, after all their kind- 
 ness." 
 
 " It was the only thing to be done,'* said Mrs. 
 Allen. " It is better for such people to talk against 
 you, than to be claiming you as neighbors, and all 
 that. It would give us a very bad flavor with the 
 best people of the town.'*
 
 186 WHAT CAN SHE DOf 
 
 " I only wish then," said Edith, " that I had never 
 let them do anything for me. I shall hate to meet 
 them again," and she sedulously avoided them. 
 
 The next day a carpenter appeared after break, 
 fast, and seemed the most affably suggestive man 
 in the world. " Of course he would carry out Mrs. 
 Allen's wishes immediately," and he showed her 
 several other improvements that might be made at 
 the same time, and which would cost but little 
 more while they were about it. 
 
 "But how much will it cost?" asked Edith 
 directly. 
 
 " Oh well," said the man vaguely, " it's hard to 
 estimate on this kind of jobbing work." Then 
 turning to Mrs. Allen, he said with great deference, 
 " I assure you, madam, I will do it well, and be 
 just as reasonable as possible." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," said Mrs. Allen majes- 
 tically, pleased with the deference, " I suppose that 
 is all we ought to ask.'' 
 
 " I think there ought to be something more 
 definite as to price and time of completing the work," 
 still urged Edith. 
 
 " My dear," said Mrs. Allen with depressing 
 dignity, " pray leave these matters to me. It is not 
 expected that a young lady like yourself should 
 understand them." 
 
 Mrs. Allen had become impressed with the idea 
 that if they ever reached the haven of Fifth Avenue 
 again, she must take the helm and steer their storm- 
 tossed bark. As we have seen before, she was
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 18; 
 
 capable of no small degree of exertion when the 
 motive was to attain position and supremacy in the 
 fashionable world. She was great in one direction 
 only the one to which she had been educated, and 
 to which she devoted her energies. 
 
 The man chuckled as he went away. " Lucky 
 I had to deal with the old fool rather than that 
 sharp black-eyed girl. By jove ! but they are a 
 handsome lot though ; only they look like the 
 houses we build nowadays more paint and finish 
 than solid timber." 
 
 The next day there were three or four mechan- 
 ics at work and the job was secured. The day fol- 
 lowing there were only two, and the next day none. 
 Edith sent word by the grocer, asking what was 
 the matter. The following day one man appeared, 
 and on being questioned, said " the boss was veiy 
 busy, lots of jobs on hand." 
 
 " Why did he take our work then ? " asked 
 Edith indignantly. 
 
 " Oh, as to that, the boss takes every job he 
 can get," said the man with a grin. 
 
 "Well, tell the boss I want to see him," she 
 replied sharply. 
 
 The man chuckled and went on with his work 
 in a snail-like manner, as if that were the only job 
 " the boss 1 ' had, or was like to have, and he must 
 make the most of it. 
 
 The house was hers, and Edith felt anxious 
 about it, and indeed it seemed that they were 
 going to great expense with no certain retuin in
 
 1 88 WffA T CAN SHE DOT 
 
 view. That night one corner of the roof was left 
 open and rain came in and did considerable dam 
 age. 
 
 Loud and bitter we're the complaints of the 
 family, but Edith said little. She was too incensed 
 to talk about it. The next day it threatened rain 
 and no mechanics appeared. Donning her water- 
 proof and thick shoes, she was soon in the village, 
 and by inquiry, found the man's shop. He saw 
 her coming and dodged out. 
 
 "Very well, I will wait," said Edith, sitting 
 down on a box. 
 
 The man finding she would not go away, soon 
 after bustled in, and was about to be very polite, 
 but Edith interrupted him with a question that 
 was like a blow between the eyes, 
 
 " What do you mean, sir, by breaking your 
 word ? " 
 
 "Great press of work just now, Miss Allen " 
 
 " That is not the question," interrupted Edith, 
 "you said you would do our work immediately, 
 you took it with that distinct understanding, and be- 
 cause you have been false to your word, we have 
 suffered much loss. You knew the roof was not all 
 covered. You knew it, when it rained last night, 
 but the rain did not fall on you, so I suppose you 
 did not care. But is a person who breaks his word 
 in that style a gentleman? Is he even a man, 
 when he breaks it to a lady, who has no brother or 
 husband to protect her interests?" 
 
 The man became very red. He was gccustonv
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 189 
 
 ed, as his workman said, to secure every job he 
 could, then divide and scatter his men so as to 
 keep everything going, but at a slow aggravating 
 rate, that wore out every one's patience, save his 
 own. He was used to the annual faultfinding and 
 grumbling of the busy season, and bore it as he 
 would a northeast storm as a disagreeable necessity, 
 and quite prided himself on the good-natured equa- 
 nimity with which he could stand his customers' 
 scoldings ; and the latter had become so accustom- 
 ed to being put off that they endured it also as they 
 would a northeaster, and went into improvements 
 and building, as they might visit a dentist. 
 
 But when Edith turned her scornful face, and 
 large indignant eyes full upon him, and asked prac- 
 tically, what he meant by lying to her, and said 
 that to treat a woman so proved him less than a 
 man, he saw his habit of " putting off," in a new 
 light. At first he was a little inclined to bluster, 
 but Edith interrupted him sharply, 
 
 " I wish to know in a word what you will do. 
 If that roof is not completed and made tight to- 
 day, I will put the matter in a lawyer's hands and 
 make you pay damages.'' 
 
 This would place the man in an unpleasant 
 business aspect, so he said gruffly, 
 
 " I will send some men right up." 
 
 " And I will take no action till I see whethef 
 they come," said Edith significantly. 
 _ They came, aad in a few days the work was all 
 finished. But a bill double the amount they ex-
 
 I90 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 pected came promptly also. They paid no atteiu 
 tion to it. 
 
 In the meantime Edith had asked the village 
 merchant, who supplied them with provisions, and 
 who had also become a sort of agent for them, to 
 send a man to plough the garden. The next day an 
 old slouchy fellow with two melancholy shacks of 
 horses that might well tremble at the caw of a crow, 
 was scratching the garden with a worn out plough 
 when she came down to breakfast. He had al- 
 ready made havoc in the flower borders, and Edith 
 was disgusted with the outward aspect of himself 
 and team to begin with. But when in her morn- 
 ing slippers she had picked her way daintily to 
 where she could look in the shallow furrows, her 
 vexation knew no bounds. She had been reading 
 about gardening of late, and she had carefully no- 
 ted how all the writers insisted on deep ploughing 
 and the thorough loosening of the soil. This man's 
 furrows did not average six inches, and with a 
 frowning brow, and dress gathered up, she stood 
 perched on a little stone like a bird, that had just 
 alighted with ruffled plumage, while Zeli was on 
 the porch laughing at her. The mar with his 
 shackly team soon came round again opposite her, 
 with slow automatic motion as if the whole thing 
 was one crazy piece of mechanism. The man's 
 head was down and he paid no heed to Edith. 
 The rim of his old hat flapped over his face, the 
 horses jogged on with drooping head and ears, as 
 if unable to hold them up, and all seemed going
 
 WAITING FOR SOAfE ONE TO TURN UP. ig | 
 
 down, save the plough. This light affair skimmed 
 and scratched along the ground like the sharpened 
 sticks of oriental tillage. 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Edith sharply. 
 
 " Whoa ! " shouted the man, and he turned to- 
 ward Edith a pair of watery eyes, and a face that 
 suggested nothing but snuff. 
 
 " Who sent you here ? " asked Edith in the 
 same tone. 
 
 " Mr. Hard, mum." (Mr. Hard was the mer- 
 chant who was acting as their agent.) 
 
 " Am I to pay you for this work, or Mr. Hard ? " 
 
 " I guess you be, mum." 
 
 " Who's to be suited with this work, you, Mr. 
 Hard or I?" 
 
 " I haint thought nothin' about that." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that it makes no differ- 
 ence whether I am suited or not ? " 
 
 " What yer got agin the work ? " 
 
 " I want my garden ploughed, not scratched 
 You don't plough half deep enough, and you are 
 injuring the shrubs, and flowers in the borders." 
 
 " I guess I know more about ploughin' than you 
 do. Gee up thar ! " to the horses, that seemed in- 
 clined to be Edith's allies by not moving. 
 
 " Stop ! " she cried, " I will not pay you a cent 
 for this work, and wish you to leave this garden 
 instantly." 
 
 " Mr. Hard told me to plough this garding and 
 I'm agoin' to plough it. I never seed the day's work 
 I didn't git paid for yit, and you'll pay for this. Git
 
 193 , 
 
 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 up thar, you cussed old critters," and the man struck 
 the horses sharply with a lump of dirt. Away went 
 the crazy rattling old automaton round and round 
 the garden in spite of all she could do. 
 
 She was half beside herself with vexation which 
 was increased by Zell's convulsed laughter on the 
 porch, but she stormed at the old ploughman as 
 vainly as a robin remonstrating with a windmill. 
 
 " Mr. Hard told me to plough it, and I'm 
 a-goin' to plough it," said the human phase of the 
 mechanism as it passed again where Edith stood 
 without stopping. 
 
 Utterly baffled, Edith rushed into the house 
 and hastily swallowed a cup of coffee. She was too 
 angry to eat a mouthful. 
 
 Zell followed with her hand upon her side that 
 was aching from laughter, and as soon as she found 
 her voice said, 
 
 " It was one of the most touchingly beautiful 
 rural scenes I ever looked upon. I never had so 
 close and inspiring a view of one of the " sons of 
 the soil" before." 
 
 "Yes," snapped Edith, " he is literally a clod." 
 
 11 1 can readily see," continued Zell, in a mock 
 sentimental tone, " how noble and refining a sphere 
 the " garding" (as your friend, out there, terms it) 
 must be, even for women. In the first place there 
 are your associates in labor " 
 
 "Stop!" interrupted Edith sharply. "You 
 all leave everything for me to do, but I won't be 
 teased and tormented in the bargain."
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 
 
 '93 
 
 " But really," continued the incorrigible Zell, 
 * I have been so much impressed by the first scene 
 in the creation of your Eden, which I have just 
 witnessed, that I am quite impatient for the second. 
 It may be that our sole acquaintances in this 
 delightful rural retreat, the ' drunken Laceys/ as 
 mother calls them, will soon insist on becoming 
 inspired with the spirit of the corn they raise in 
 our arbor.'' 
 
 Edith sprang up from the table, and went to 
 her room. 
 
 " Shame on you, Zell," said Mrs. Allen sharply, 
 but Laura was too apathetic to scold. 
 
 Impulsive Zell soon relented, and when Edith 
 came down a few moments later in walking trim, 
 and with eyes swollen with unshed tears, Zell 
 threw her arms around her neck and said, 
 
 " Forgive your naughty little sister." 
 
 But Edith repulsed her angrily, and started to- 
 ward the village. 
 
 " I do hate to see people sullenly hoard up 
 things, 5 ' said Zell snappishly. Then she dawdled 
 about the house, yawning and saying fretfully, " I do 
 wish I knew what to do with myself." 
 
 Laura reclined on the sofa with a novel, but 
 Zell was not fond of reading. Her restless nature 
 craved continual activity and excitement, but it 
 was part of Mrs. Allen's policy that they should do 
 nothing. 
 
 " Some one may call," she said, " and we must 
 be ready to receive them,' 3 but at that season of 
 9
 
 I<j4 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 the year, when roads were muddy, there was bat 
 little social visiting in the country. 
 
 So, consumed with ennui, Zell listened to the 
 pounding of the carpenters overhead, and watched 
 the dogged old ploughman go round the small gar- 
 den till it was all scratched over, and then the 
 whole crazy mechanism rattled off to parts un- 
 known. The two servants did not leave her even 
 the resource of housework of which she was natu- 
 rally fond. 
 
 Edith went straight to Mr. Hard and was so 
 provoked that she scarcely avoided the puddles in 
 her determined haste. 
 
 Mr. Hard looked out upon his customers with 
 cold hard little eyes that changed their expression 
 only in growing more cold and hard. The rest 
 of his person seemed all bows, smirks and smiles, 
 but it was noticed that these latter diminished and 
 his eyes grew harder as he wished to remind some 
 lagging patron that his little account needed set- 
 tling. This thrifty citizen of Pushton was soon 
 in polite attendance on Edith, but was rather 
 taken back, when she asked sharply, what he 
 meant by sending such a good-for-nothing man to 
 plough her garden. 
 
 " Well, Miss Allen," he said, his eyes growing 
 harder but his manner more polite, " Old Gideon 
 does such little jobs around, and I thought he wag 
 just the one." 
 
 44 Does he plough your garden ? " asked Edit* 
 abruptly.
 
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 
 
 '95 
 
 " I keep a gardener," said Mn Hard with some 
 dignity. 
 
 *' I believe it would pay me to do the same," 
 said Edith, " if I could find one on whom I could 
 depend. The man you sent was very impudent, 
 I told him the work didn't suit me that he didn't 
 plough half deep enough, and that he must leave. 
 But he just kept right on, saying you sent him, 
 and he would plough it, and he injured my flower- 
 borders besides. Thereforb he must look to you 
 for payment." (Mr. Hard's eyes grew very hard 
 at this.) " Because I am a woman I am not going 
 to be imposed upon. Now do you know of a man 
 who can really plough my garden ? If not, I must 
 look elsewhere. I had hoped when you took our 
 business you would have some interest in seejng 
 that we were well served." 
 
 Mr. Hard with eyes like two flint pebbles, made 
 a low bow and said with impressive dignity: 
 
 " It is my purpose to do so. There is Mr 
 Skinner, he does ploughing." 
 
 " I don't want Mr. Skinner," said Edith im- 
 patiently, " I don't like his name in reference to 
 ploughing." 
 
 " Oh, ah ! excellent reason, very good, Miss 
 Allen. Well, there's Mr. McTrump, a Scotchman, 
 who has a small green-house and nursery, he looks 
 after gardens for some people." 
 
 " I will go and see him," said Edith taking hi* 
 address. 
 
 As she plodded off to find his place, she sighed
 
 Ig6 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 * Oh dear it's dreadful to have no men in the fam- 
 ily That Arden Lacey might have helped me so 
 much, if mother was not so particular, I fear we 
 are all on the wrong track, throwing away substan- 
 tial and present good for uncertainties." 
 
 Mr. McTrump was a little man with a heavy 
 sandy beard, and such thick bushy eyebrows and 
 hair, that he reminded Edith of a Scotch terrier. 
 But her first glance around convinced her that he 
 was a gardener. Neatness, order, thrift, impressed 
 her the moment she opened his gate, and she per- 
 ceived that he was already quite advanced in his 
 spring work. Smooth seed-sown beds were emerg- 
 ing from winter's chaos. Crocuses and hyacinths 
 were in bloom, with tulips budding after them, 
 and on a sunny slope in the distance she saw 
 long, green rows of what seemed some growing 
 crop. She determined if possible to make this 
 man her ally, or by stratagem to gain his secret of 
 success. 
 
 The little man stood in the door of his green- 
 house with a transplanting trowel in his hand. 
 He was dressed in clay colored nankeen, and could 
 get down in the dirt without seeming to get dirty. 
 His small eyes twinkled shrewdly, but not unkind- 
 ly as she advanced toward him. He was fond of 
 flowers, and she looked like one herself that spring 
 morning. 
 
 " I was directed to call upon you," she said, 
 with conciliatory politeness, "understanding that 
 you sometimes assist people with their gardens."
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. \Q] 
 
 *' Weel, noo and then I do, but I canna give 
 mooch time with a' my ain work." 
 
 " But you would help a lady who has no one 
 else to help her, wouldn't you ? " said Edith 
 sweetly. 
 
 Old Malcom was not to be caught with a sugar- 
 plum, so he said with a little Scotch caution, 
 
 " I canna vera weel say till I hear mair aboot 
 it." 
 
 Edith told him how she was situated, and in 
 view of her perplexity and trouble, her voice had a 
 little appealing pathos in it. Malcom's eyes 
 twinkled more and more kindly, and as he explained 
 afterwards to his wife, " Her face was sae like a 
 pink hyacinth beent doon by the storm and a 
 wantin propin oop," that by the time she was done 
 he was ready to accede to her wishes. 
 
 " Weel," said he, " I canna refuse a blithe young 
 leddy like yoursel, but ye must let me have my 
 ain way." 
 
 Edith was inclined to demur at this, for she had 
 been reading up and had many plans and theories 
 to carry out. But she concluded to accept the 
 condition, thinking that with her feminine tact 
 and coaxing she would have her own way after all. 
 She d : ,d not realize that she was dealing with a 
 Scotchman. 
 
 " I'll send ye a mon as will plow the garden and 
 not scratch it, the morrow, God willin," for Mr. 
 McTrump was a very pious man, his only fault be 
 ing that he would take a drop too much occasionally.
 
 198 WHAT CAN SHE DO t 
 
 " May I stay here awhile and watch you work 
 and look at things ?" asked Edith. " I don't want 
 to go back till that hateful old fellow has done his 
 mischief and is gone." 
 
 "Why not?" said Malcom, " an ye don't tech 
 anything. The woman folk from the village as 
 come here do pick and pull much awry." 
 
 " I promise you I will be good," said Edith 
 eagerly. 
 
 " That's mair than ony on us can say of oursel/' 
 said Malcom, showing the doctrinal bias of his 
 mind, " but I ken fra' ye bonny face ye mean weel." 
 
 " O Mr. McTrump, that is the first compliment 
 I have received in Pushton," laughed Edith. 
 
 " I'm a thinkin it'll not be the last. But I hope 
 ye mind the Scripter where it says, " We do all 
 fade as a flower,' and ye will not be puffed oop." 
 
 But Edith, far more intent on horticultural than 
 scriptural knowledge, asked quickly, 
 
 " What were you going to set out with that 
 trowel ? " 
 
 " A new strawberry bed. I ha' more plants the 
 spring than I can sell, sae I thought to put oot a 
 new bed, though I ha' a good mony." 
 
 " I am so glad. I wish to set out a large bed 
 and can get the plants of you." 
 
 " How mony do ye want ? " said Malcom, with 
 a quick eye to business. 
 
 " I shall leave that to you when you see my 
 ground. Now see how I trust you, Mr. McTrump." 
 
 " An ye'll not lose by it, though I would na like
 
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 195 
 
 a* my coostomers to put me sae strictly on my hon- 
 esty." 
 
 Edith spent the next hour in looking around 
 the garden and green houses and watching the old 
 man put out his plants. 
 
 " These plants are to be cooltivated after the 
 hill seestem," he said. " They are to stand one 
 foot apart in the row, and the rows two feet 
 apart, and not a rooner or weed to grow on, or 
 near them, and it would do your bright eyes good 
 to see the great red berries they'll bear." 
 
 " Shall I raise mine that way ? " said Edith. 
 
 " Weel, ye might soom, but the narrow row 
 coolture will be best for ye, I'm thinkin." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " Weel, just let the plants run togither and 
 make a thick close row a foot wide, an' two feet 
 between the rows. That'll be the easiest for ye, 
 but I'll show ye." 
 
 " I'm so glad I found you out,'' said Edith, 
 heartily, " and if you will let me, I want to come 
 here often and see how you do everything, for to 
 tell you the truth, between ourselves, we are poor, 
 and may have to earn our living out of the garden, 
 or some other way, and I would rather do it out of 
 the garden." 
 
 " Weel noo, ye're a canny lass to coom and filch 
 all old Malcom's secrets to set oop opposition to him. 
 But then sin' ye do it sae openly I'll tell ye all I 
 know. The big wourld ought to be wide enough 
 for a bonnie lassie like yoursel, to ha a char.ce i
 
 200 WffA T CAN SHE DOT 
 
 it, and though I'm a little mon, I would na be sas 
 mean a one as to hinder ye. Mairover the gar- 
 dener's craft be a gentle one, and I see na reason 
 why, if a white lily like yoursel must toil and spin, 
 it should na be oot in God's sunshine, where the 
 flowers bloom, instead o' pricking the bluid oot o* 
 ye're body, and the hope oot o' ye're heart, wi' the 
 needle's point, as I ha seen sae mony o' my ain 
 coontry lassies do. Gude-by, and may the roses in 
 ye'r cheeks bloom a' the year round." 
 
 Edith felt as if his last words were a blessing, 
 and started with her heart cheered and hopeful- 
 and yet beyond her garden, with its spring prom- 
 ise, its summer and autumn possibilities, there was 
 little inspiring or hopeful in her new home. 
 
 In accordance with their mother's policy, they 
 were waiting for something to turn up waiting, in 
 utter uncertainty, and with dubious prospects, to 
 achieve by marriage the security and competence 
 which they must not work for, or utterly lose caste 
 in the old social world in which they had lived. 
 
 Be not too hasty in condemning Mrs. Allen, my 
 reader, for you may, at the same time, condemn 
 yourself. Have you no part in sustaining that 
 public sentiment which turns the cold shoulder of 
 society toward the woman who works ? Many are 
 growing rich every year, but more are growing 
 poor. What does the " best society," in the 
 world's estimation, say to the daughters in these 
 families ? 
 
 " Keep your little hands white, my dears, as long
 
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 2OI 
 
 as you can, because as soon as the traces of toil are 
 seen on them, you become a working woman, and 
 our daughters can't associate with you, and our 
 sons can't think of you, that is for wives. No othel 
 than little and white hands can enter our heaven." 
 
 So multitudes struggle to keep their hands white, 
 though thereby, the risk that their souls will be- 
 come stained and black, increases daily. A host 
 of fair girls find their way every year to darker 
 stains than ever labor left, because they know how 
 coldly society will ignore them the moment they 
 enlist in the army of honest workers. But you, 
 respectable men and women in your safe pleasant 
 homes, to the extent that you hold and sustain this 
 false sentiment, to the extent that you -make the 
 paths of labor hard and thorny, and darken them 
 from the approving smile of the world, you are 
 guilty of these girls' ruin. 
 
 Christian matron, with your husband one of the 
 pillars of church and state, do you shrink with dis- 
 gust from that poor creature who comes flaunting 
 down Broadway. None but the white-handed enter 
 your parlors, and the men (?) who are hunting such 
 poor girls to perdition, will sit on the sofa with 
 your daughters this evening. Be not too confident. 
 Your child, or one in whom your blood flows, at a 
 little later remove, may stand just where honor to 
 toil would save, but the practical dishonoring of it, 
 which "you sustain, eventually blot out the light of 
 earth and heaven. 
 
 Mrs. Allen knew that even if her daughters 
 9*
 
 7 ,02 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 commenced teaching, which, with all the thousands 
 spent on their education, they, were incapable of 
 doing, their old sphere on Fifth Avenue would be 
 as unapproachable as the pearly gates, between 
 which and the lost a " great gulf is fixed." 
 
 But Mrs. Allen knew also of a very respectable 
 way, having the full approval of society, by which 
 they might regain their place in the heaven from 
 which they had fallen. Besides it was such a 
 simple way, requiring no labor whatever, though a 
 little scheming perhaps, no amount of brains or 
 culture worth mentioning, no heart or love, and 
 least of all a noble nature. A woman may sell 
 herself, or if of a waxy disposition, having little 
 force, might be sold at the altar to a man who 
 would give wealth and luxury in return. This, 
 society, in full dress, would smile upon and civil 
 law and sacred ceremony sanction. 
 
 With the forefinger of her right hand resting 
 impressively on the palm of her left, Mrs. Allen 
 had indicated this back door into the Paradise, the 
 gates of which were guarded against poor working 
 women by the flaming sword of public opinion, 
 turning every way. 
 
 And the girls were waiting yawningly, wearily, 
 as the long unoccupied days passed. Laura's cheek 
 grew paler than even her delicate style of beauty 
 demanded. She seemed not only a hot-house plant, 
 but a sickly one. The light was fading from her 
 eye as well as the color from her cheek, and all 
 vigor vanishing from her languid soul and body.
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 203 
 
 The resemblance to her mother grew more striking 
 daily. She was a melancholy result of that artifi- 
 cial luxurious life that so enervates the whole 
 nature that there seems no stamina left to resist 
 the first cold blast of adversity. Instead of being 
 like a well-rooted hardy native of the soil she 
 seemed a tender exotic that would wither even in 
 the honest sunlight. As a gardener would say, 
 she needed "hardening off." This would require 
 the bracing of principle, the incentive of hope, and 
 the development of work. But Mrs. Allen could 
 not lead the way to the former, and the latter she 
 forbade, so poor Laura grew more sickly and 
 morbid every day of her weary idle waiting. 
 
 Mrs. Allen's policy bore even more heavily on 
 Zell. We have all thought something perhaps of 
 the cruelty of that imprisonment which places a 
 young vigorous person, abounding in animal life 
 and spirits, in a narrow cell, which forbids all action 
 and stifles hope. It gives the unhappy victim the 
 sensation of being buried alive. There comes at 
 last to be one passionate desire to get out and 
 away. Impulsive, restless, excitable Zell, with 
 every vein filled with hot young blood, was shut 
 out from what seemed to her, the world, and no 
 other world of activity was shown to her. Her 
 hands were tied by her mother's policy, and she sat 
 moping and chafing like a chained captive, waiting 
 till MT. Van Dam should come and deliver her 
 from as vile durance as was ever suffered in the 
 moss-grown castles of the old world. The hope of
 
 204 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 his coming was all that sustained her. Her sad 
 situation was the result of acting on a false view 
 of life from beginning to end. Any true parent 
 would have shuddered at the thought of a daugh- 
 ter marrying such a man as Van Dam, but Zeli 
 was forbidden to do one useful thing lest it might 
 mar her chance of union with this resume of all 
 vice and uncleanness, and though she had heard 
 the many reports of his evil life, her moral sense 
 was so perverted that he seemed a lion rather than 
 a reptile to her. It is true, she looked upon him 
 only in the light of her future husband, but that 
 she did not shrink from any relationship with such 
 a man, shows how false and defective her education 
 had been. 
 
 Edith had employment for mind and hand, 
 therefore was happier and safer than either of her 
 sisters. Malcom had her garden thoroughly plough- 
 ed, and helped her plant it. He gave her many 
 flower roots and sold others at very low prices. 
 In the lower part of the garden, where the ground 
 was rather heavy and moist, he put out quite a 
 large number of raspberries ; and along a stone 
 fence, where weeds and bushes had been usurping 
 the ground, he planted two or three varieties of 
 blackcaps. He also lined another fence with Kit- 
 tatinny blackberries. There were already quite a 
 large number of currants and gooseberries on the 
 place. These he trimmed, and put in cuttings for 
 new bushes. He pruned the grapevines also some- 
 what, but not to any extent, on account of the
 
 WAITING FOR SOME ONE TO TURN UP. 2O$ 
 
 lateness of the season, meaning to get them into 
 shape by summer cutting. The orchard also was 
 made to look clean and trim, with dead wood and 
 interfering branches cut away. Edith watched 
 these operations with the deepest interest, and 
 when she could, without danger of being observed 
 from the road, assisted, though in a very dainty 
 amateur way. But Malcom did not work to put 
 in hours, but seemed to do everything with a 
 sleight of hand, that made his visits appear too 
 brief, even though she had to pay for them. As 
 a refuge from long idle hours, she would often go 
 up to Malcom's little place, and watch him and his 
 assistant as they deftly dealt with nature in ac- 
 cordance with her moods, making the most of the 
 soil, sunlight, and rain. Thus Malcom came to 
 take a great interest in her, and shrewd Edith was 
 not slow in fostering so useful a friendship. But 
 in spite of all this, there were many rainy idle 
 days that hung like lead upon her hands, and 
 upon these especially, it seemed impossible to 
 carry out her purpose to be gentle and forbearing, 
 and it often occurred that the dull apathy of the 
 household was changed into positive pain by sharp 
 words and angry retorts that should never have 
 been spoken. 
 
 About the last Sabbath of April, Mrs. Allen 
 sent .for a carriage and was driven with her daugh- 
 ters to one of the most fashionable churches of 
 Pushton. Marshalled by the sexton, they rustled 
 in toilets more suitable for one of the gorgeous
 
 2o6 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 temples of Fifth Avenue, than even the most am 
 bitious of country churches. Mrs. Allen hoped to 
 make a profound impression on the country peo- 
 ple, and by this one dress parade, to secure stand 
 ing and cordial recognition among the foremost 
 families. But she overshot the mark. The fail- 
 ure of Mr. Allen was known. The costly mourn- 
 ing suits and the little house did not accord, and 
 the solid, sensible people were unfavorably im- 
 pressed, and those of fashionable and aristocratic 
 tendencies felt that considerable investigation was 
 needed before the strangers could be admitted 
 within their exclusive circles. So, though it was 
 not a Methodist church that they attended, the 
 Aliens were put on longer probation by all classes, 
 when if they had appeared in a simple unassum- 
 ing manner, rating themselves at their true worth 
 and position, many would have been inclined t* 
 take them by the hand.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THEY TURN UP. 
 
 /^\NE morning, a month after the Aliens had 
 ^" > ^ gone into poverty's exile, Gus Elliot lounged 
 into Mr. Van Dam's luxurious apartments. There 
 was everything around him to gratify the eye of 
 sense, that is, such sense as Gus Elliot had culti- 
 vated, though an angel might have hidden his face. 
 We will not describe these rooms we had better 
 not. It is sufficient to say that in their decorations, 
 pictures, bacchanal ornaments, and general sug 
 gestion, they were a reflex of Mr. Van Dam's char- 
 acter, in the more refined and aesthetic phase which 
 he presented to society. Indeed, in the name of 
 art, whose mantle, if at times rather flimsy, is 
 broader than that of charity, not a few would have 
 admired the exhibitions of Mr. Van Dam's taste, 
 which, though not severe, were bare in a bad sense. 
 We are a little skeptical in regard to these enthu- 
 siasts for nude art. 
 
 But concerning Gus Elliot, no doubt exists in 
 our mind. The atmosphere of Mr. Van Dam's room 
 was entirely congenial and adapted to his chosen 
 direction of development. He was a young man 
 of leisure and fashion and was therefore what even 
 the fashionable would be horrified at their daugh-
 
 208 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 ters ever becoming. This nice distinction between 
 son and daughter does not result well. It leaves men 
 in the midst of society unbranded as vile, unmarked 
 so that good women may shrink in disgust from 
 them. It gives them a chance to prey upon the 
 v r eak, as Mr. Van Dam purposed to do, and as he 
 Intended to induce Gus Elliot to do, and as multitudes 
 of exquisitely dressed scoundrels are doing daily. 
 
 If Mr. and Mrs. Allen had done their duty as 
 parents, they would have kept the wolf (I beg the 
 wolfs pardon) the jackal, Mr. Van Dam, with his 
 thin disguise of society polish, from entering their 
 fold. Gus Elliot was one of those mean curs that 
 never lead, and could always be drawn into any evil 
 that satisfied the one question of his life, " Will it 
 give me what /want." 
 
 Gus was such an exquisite that the smell of 
 garlic made him sick, and the sight of blood made 
 him faint, and the thought of coarse working hands 
 was an abomination, but in worse than idleness he 
 could see his old father wearing himself out, he 
 could get "gentlemanly drunk," and commit any 
 wrong in vogue among the fast young men with 
 whom he associated. And now Mephistopheles 
 Van Dam easily induces him to seek to drag down 
 beautiful Edith Allen, the woman he meant to 
 marry, to a life compared with which the city 
 gutters are cleanly. 
 
 Van Dam in slippers and silken robe was smok- 
 ing his meerschaum after a late breakfast and read- 
 ing a French novel.
 
 THEY TURN UP. 209 
 
 "What is the matter?" he said, noting Gus* 
 expression of ennui and discontent. 
 
 " There is not another girl left in the city to be 
 mentioned the same day with Edith Allen," said 
 Gus, with the pettishness of a child from whom 
 something had been taken. 
 
 " Well spooney, what are you going to do about 
 it?" asked Mr. Van Dam coolly. 
 
 " What is there to do about it ? you know well 
 enough that I can't afford to marry her. I sup- 
 pose it's the best thing for me that she has gone 
 off to the backwoods somewhere, for while she 
 was here I could not help seeing her, and after all 
 it was only an aggravation." 
 
 "I can't afford to marry Zell," replied Van 
 Dam, "but I am going up to see her to-morrow. 
 After being out there by themselves for a month, 
 I think they will be glad to see some one from the 
 civilized world." The most honest thing about Van 
 Dam was his sincere commiseration for those com- 
 pelled to live in quiet country places, without 
 experience in the highly spiced pleasures and ex- 
 citements of the metropolis. In his mind they were 
 associated with oxen innocent, rural and heavy, 
 these terms being almost synonymous to him, and 
 suggestive of such a forlorn tame condition, that 
 it seemed only vegetating, not living. Mr. Van 
 Dam believed in a life, like his favorite dishes, that 
 abounded in cayenne. Zell's letters had confirmed 
 this opinion, and he saw that she was half desper- 
 ate with ennui and disgust with their loneliness.
 
 2 10 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 " I imagine we have staid away long enough,* 1 
 he continued. " They have had sufficient of the 
 miseries of mud, rain, and exile, not to be very 
 nice about the conditions of return to old haunts 
 and life. Of course I can't afford to marry Zell 
 any more than you can Edith, but for all that I 
 expect to have her here with me before many 
 months pass, and perhaps weeks." 
 
 " Look here, Van Dam, you are going too far. 
 Remember how high the Aliens once stood in soci- 
 ety,'' said Gus, a little startled. 
 
 " ' Once stood ; ' where do they stand now ? 
 Who in society has, or will lift a finger for them, 
 and they seem to have no near relatives to stand 
 by them. I tell you they are at our mercy. Lux- 
 ury is a necessity, and yet they are not able to earn 
 their bare bread. 
 
 " Let me inform you," he continued, speaking 
 with the confidence of a hunter, who from long 
 experience knows just where the game is most ea- 
 sily captured, " that there is no class more helpless 
 than the very rich when reduced to sudden poverty. 
 They are usually too proud to work, in the first 
 place, and in the second, they don't know how to 
 do anything. What does a fashionable education 
 fit a girl for, I would like to know, if, as it often oc- 
 curs, they have to make their own way in the world ? 
 a smattering of everything, mistress of nothing." 
 
 " Well Van Dam," said Gus, "according to your 
 showing, it fits them for little schemes like the one 
 you are broaching."
 
 THEY TURN UP. fell 
 
 " Precisely, girls who know how to work and 
 who are accustomed to it, will snap their fingeis in 
 your face, and tell you they can take care of them, 
 selves, but the class to which the Aliens belong, 
 unless kept up by some rich relations, are soon al- 
 most desperate from want. I have kept up a cor- 
 respondence with Zell. They seem to have no 
 near relatives or friends who are doing much for 
 them. They are doing nothing for themselves, 
 save spend what little there is left, and their mo- 
 notonous country life has half-murdered them 
 already. So I conclude I have waited long enough 
 and will go up to-morrow. Instead of pouting like 
 a spoiled child, over your lost Edith, you had better 
 go up and get her. It may take a little time and 
 management. Of course they must be made to 
 think we intend to marry them, but if they once 
 elope with us, we can find a priest at our leisure. 
 
 *' I will go up to-morrow with you any way," 
 said Gus, who, like so many others, never made a 
 square bargain with the devil, but was easily " led 
 captive" from one wrong and villany to another. 
 
 It was the last day of April one on which the 
 rawness and harshness of early spring was melting 
 into the mildness of May. The buds on the trees 
 had perceptibly swollen. The flowering maple was 
 still aflame, the sweet centre of attraction to in- 
 numerable bees, the hum of whose industry rose 
 and Cell on the languid breeze. The grass had the 
 delicate green and exquisite odor belonging to its 
 first growth, and was rapidly turning the brown,
 
 213 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 withered sward of winter into emerald. The sun 
 shone through a slight haze, but shone warmly. 
 The birds had opened the day with full orchestra, 
 but at noon there was little more than chirp and 
 twitter, they seeming to feel something of Edith's 
 languor, as she leaned on the railing of the porch, 
 and watched for the coming of Malcom. She 
 sighed as she looked at the bare brown earth of the 
 large space that she purposed for strawberries, and 
 work there and every where seemed repulsive. 
 The sudden heat was enervating and gave her the 
 feeling of luxurious languor that she longed to enjoy 
 with the sense of security and freedom from care. 
 But even as her eyelids drooped with momentary 
 drowsiness, there was a consciousness, like a dull 
 half recognized pain, of insecurity, of impending 
 trouble and danger, and of a need for exertion 
 that would lead to something more certain than 
 anything her mother's policy promised. 
 
 She was startled from her heaviness by the 
 sharp click of the gate latch, and Malcom entered 
 with two large baskets of strawberry plants. He 
 had said to her, 
 
 " Wait a bit. The plants will do weel, put oot 
 the last o' the moonth. An ye wait I'll gi(. ye the 
 plants I ha' left oover and canna sell the season. 
 But dinna be troobled, I'll keepit enoof for ye ony 
 way." 
 
 By this means Edith obtained half her plants 
 without cost, save for Malcom's labor of transplant- 
 ing them.
 
 THEY TURN UP. 
 
 213 
 
 The weather had little influence on Malcom's 
 wiry frame, and his spirit of energetic, cheerful in- 
 dustry was contagious. Once aroused and inter- 
 ested, Edith lost all sense of time, and the after- 
 noon passed happily away. 
 
 At her request Malcom had brought her a pair 
 of pruning nippers, such as she had seen him use, 
 and she kept up a delicate show of work, trimming 
 the rose bushes and shrubs, while she watched 
 him. She could not bring her mind to anything 
 that looked like real work as yet, but she had a 
 feeling that it must come. She saw that it would 
 help Malcom very much if she went before and 
 dropped the plants for him, but some one might 
 see her, and speak of her doing useful work. The 
 aristocratically inclined in Pushton would frown on 
 the young lady so employed, but she could snip at 
 roses and twine vines, and tkat would look pretty 
 and rural from the road. 
 
 But it so happened that the one who caught a 
 glimpse of her spring day beauty and saw the 
 pretty rural scene she crowned, was not the critical 
 occupant of some family carriage ; for when, while 
 near the road, she was reaching up to clip off 
 the topmost spray of a bush, her attention was 
 drawn by the rattle of a wagon, and in this pictur- 
 esque attitude her eyes met those of Arden Lacey. 
 The sudden remembrance of the unkind return 
 made to him, and the fact that she had therefore 
 dreaded meeting him, caused her to blush deeply. 
 Her feminine quickness caught his expression, a tin>
 
 2 14 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 id questioning look, that seemed to ask if she would 
 act the part of the others. Edith was a society 
 and city girl, and her confusion lasted but a sec- 
 ond. Policy whispered, " you can still keep him as 
 a useful friend, though you must keep him at a 
 distance, and you may need him." Some sense 
 of gratitude and of the wrong done him and his, 
 also mingled with these thoughts, passing with the 
 marvellous rapidity with which a lady's mind acts 
 in social emergencies. She also remembered that 
 they were alone, and that none of the Pushton 
 notables could see that she was acquainted with 
 the " drunken Laceys.'' Therefore before the dif- 
 fident Arden could turn away, she bowed and 
 smiled to him in a genial, conciliatory manner. 
 His face brightened into instant sunshine and to 
 her surprise he lifted his old weather-stained felt 
 hat like a gentleman. Though he had received no 
 lessons in etiquette, he was inclined to be a little 
 courtly and stately in manner, when he noticed a 
 lady at all, from unconscious imitation of the high 
 bred characters in the romances he read. He said 
 to himself in glad exultation, 
 
 " She is different from the rest. She is AS 
 divinely good as she is divinely beautiful," and 
 away he rattled toward Pushton as happy as if his 
 old box wagon were a golden chariot, and he a 
 caliph of Arabian story on whom had just shone 
 the lustrous eyes of the Queen of the East. Then 
 as the tumult in his mind subsided, questioning 
 thoughts as to the cause of her blush came troop
 
 THEY TURN UP. 215 
 
 Ing through his mind, and at once there arose a 
 long vista of airy castles tipped with hope as with 
 sunlight. Poor Arden! What a wild uncurbed 
 imagination had mastered his morbid nature, as he 
 lived a hermit's life among the practical people of 
 Pushton ! If he had known that Edith, had she seen 
 him in the village, would have crossed the street 
 rather than have met, or recognized him, it would 
 have plunged him into still bitterer misanthropy. 
 She and his mother only stood between him and 
 utter contempt and hatred of his kind, as they ex- 
 isted in reality, and not in his books and dreams. 
 
 She forgot all about him before his wagon turn- 
 ed the corner of the road, and chatted away to 
 Malcom, questioning and nipping with increasing 
 zest. As the day grew cooler, her spirits rose un 
 der the best of all stimulants, agreeable occupa- 
 tion. The birds ceased at last their nest-build- 
 ing, and from orchard and grove came many an 
 inspiring song. Edith listened with keen enjoy- 
 ment, and country life and work looked differ- 
 ently from what it had in the sultry noon. She 
 saw the long rows of strawberry vines increasing 
 under Malcom's labors with deep satisfaction. In 
 the still humid air the plants scarcely wilted and 
 stood up with the bright look of those well started 
 in life. 
 
 As it grew towards evening and no carriage of 
 note had passed, Edith ventured to get her trans- 
 planting trowel, doff her gloves, and commence di 
 viding her flower roots that she might put them
 
 2i6 WHAJ CAN SHE DOt 
 
 elsewhere. She became so interested in her work 
 that she was positively happy, and soft hearted 
 Malcom, with his eye for the beauties of nature, was 
 getting his rows crooked, because of so many ad- 
 miring glances toward her as she went to and fro. 
 
 The sun was low in the west and shone in crimson 
 through the soft haze. But the color in her cheeks 
 was richer as she rose from the ground, her little 
 right hand lost in the scraggly earth-covered roots 
 of some hardy phlox, and turned to meet exquis- 
 ite Gus Elliot, dressed with finished care, and 
 hands encased in immaculate gloves. Her broad 
 rimmed hat was pushed back, her dress looped up, 
 and she made a picture in the evening glow that 
 would have driven a true artist half wild with ad- 
 miration ; but poor Gus was quite shocked. The 
 idea of Edith Allen, the girl he had meant to 
 marry, grubbing in the dirt and soiling her hands in 
 that style ! It was his impression that only Dutch 
 women worked in a garden ; and for all he knew of 
 its products she might be setting out a potato 
 plant. Quick Edith caught his expression, and 
 while she crimsoned with vexation at her plight, 
 felt a new and sudden sense of contempt for the 
 semblance of a man before her. 
 
 But with the readiness of a society girl she 
 smoothed her way out of the dilemma, saying with 
 vivacity, 
 
 " Why Mr. Elliot, where did you drop from ? 
 You have surprised me among my flowers, you see." 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Edith," said Gus, in rather un.
 
 THEY TURN UP. 21? 
 
 happily phrased gallantry, " to see you thus em- 
 ployed makes me feel as if we both had dropped 
 into some new and strange sphere. You seem the 
 lovely shepherdess of this rural scene, but where is 
 your flock?" 
 
 Shrewd Malcom, near by, watched this scene 
 as the terrier he resembled might, and took instant 
 and instinctive dislike to the new comer. With a 
 contemptuous sniff he thought to himself, "There's 
 mateerial enoof in ye for so mooch toward a flock 
 as a calf and a donkey." 
 
 " A truce to your lame compliments,'' she said, 
 concealing her vexation under badinage. " I do 
 not live by hook and crook yet, whatever I may 
 come to, and I remember that you only appreciate 
 artificial flowers made by pretty shop girls, and 
 these are not in the country. But come in. Moth- 
 er and my sisters will be glad to see you." 
 
 Gus was not blind to her beauty, and while the 
 idea of marriage seemed more impossible than ever, 
 now that he had seen her hands soiled, the evil 
 suggestion of Van Dam gained attractiveness with 
 every glance. 
 
 Edith found Mr. Van Dam on the porch with 
 Zell, who had welcomed him in a manner that 
 meant much to the wily man. He saw how neces- 
 sary he was to her, and how she had been living 
 on the hope of seeing him, and the baseness of his 
 nature was shown that instead of being stirred to 
 one noble kindly impulse toward hei, he simply ex 
 ulted in his power
 
 Jig WHAT CAN SHE DO 7 
 
 " Oh," said she, as with both hands she greeted 
 him, her eyes half filling with tears, "we have been 
 living like poor exiles in a distant land, and you 
 seem as if just from home, bringing the best part 
 of it with you.'' 
 
 " And I shall carry you back to it ere long," he 
 whispered. 
 
 Her face grew bright and rosy with the deepest 
 happiness she had ever known. He had never 
 spoken so plainly before. " Edith can never taunt 
 me again with his silence," she thought. Though 
 sounding well enough to the ear, how false were 
 his words ! When Satan would do work that will 
 sink to lowest perdition, he must commence as an 
 angel of light. Zell was giving the best love of 
 which her heart was capable in view of her defect- 
 ive education and character. In a sincere and 
 deep affection there are great possibilities of good. 
 Her passion, so frank and strong, in the hands of a 
 true man, was a lever that might have lifted her 
 up into the noblest life. Van Dam sought to use 
 it only to force her down. He purposed to cause 
 one of God's little ones to offend. 
 
 Edith soon appeared, dressed with the taste 
 and style of a Fifth Avenue belle of the more 
 sensible sort, and Gus was comforted. Her pictur- 
 esque natural beauty in the garden was quite lost 
 on him, but now that he saw the familiar touches 
 of the artificial in her general aspect, she seemed 
 to him the peerless Edith of old. And yet his 
 nice eye noted that even a month of absence from
 
 THEY TURN UP. 
 
 219 
 
 the fashionable centre, had left her ignorant of 
 some of the shadings off of one mode into another, 
 and the thought passed over the polished surface 
 of his mind (all Gus' thoughts were on the surface, 
 there being no other accommodation for them) 
 " why, a year in this out of the world life, and she 
 would be only a country girl." 
 
 But all detracting thoughts of each other, all 
 mean, vile, and deadly purposes, were hidden 
 under smiling exteriors. Mrs. Allen was the 
 gracious, elegant matron who would not for the 
 world let her daughters soil their hands, but 
 schemed to marry one to a weak apology for a 
 man, and another to a villain out and out, and the 
 fashionable world would cordially approve and 
 sustain Mrs. Allen's tactics if she succeeded. 
 
 Laura brightened up more than she had since 
 her father's death. Anything that gave hope of 
 return to the city, and the possibility of again 
 meeting and withering Mr. Goulden with her scorn, 
 was welcome. 
 
 And Edith, while she half despised Gus, found 
 it very pleasant to meet those of her old set again, 
 and repeat a bit of the past. The young crave 
 companionship, and in spite of all his weakness, 
 she half liked Elliot. With youth's hopefulness 
 she believed that he might become a man if he 
 only would. At any rate, she half-consciously 
 formed the reckless purpose to shut her eyes to all 
 presentiments of coming trouble and enjoy thfl 
 evening to the utmost.
 
 220 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 Hannibal was enjoined to get up as fine a sup 
 per as possible, regardless of cost, with Mrs. Allen 
 maid to assist. 
 
 In the long purple twilight, Edith and Zeli, on 
 the arms of their pseudo lovers, strolled up and 
 down the paths of the little garden and dooryard. 
 As Edith and Gus were passing along the walk 
 that skirted the road, she heard the heavy rumble 
 of a wagon that she knew to be Arden Lacey's. 
 She did not look up or recognize him, but appeared 
 so intent on what Gus was saying, as to be obliv- 
 ious to all else, and yet through her long lashes, she 
 glanced toward him in a rapid flash, as he sat in 
 his rough working garb on the old board where 
 she, on the rainy night of her advent to Pushton, 
 had clung to his arm in the jolting wagon. Mo- 
 mentary as the glance was, the pained, startled 
 expression of his face as he bent his eyes full upon 
 her, caught her attention and remained with 
 her. 
 
 His manner and appearance secured the atten- 
 tion of Gus also, and with a contemptuous laugh, 
 he said loud enough for Arden to hear partially, 
 
 " That native comes from pretty far back, I im- 
 agine. He looks as if he never saw a lady and 
 gentleman before. The idea of living like such a 
 cabbage head as that." 
 
 If Gus had not been with Edith, his good 
 clothes and good looks would have been spoiled 
 within the next five minutes. 
 
 Edith glanced the other way and pointed to
 
 THEY TURN UP. 2 ^ f 
 
 hei strawberry bed as if not noticing his icmark or 
 its object, saying, 
 
 "If you will come and see us a year from next 
 June, I can give you a dainty treat from these 
 plants." 
 
 " You will not be here next June," said Gus 
 tenderly. " Do you imagine we can spare you 
 from New York ? The city has seemed dull since 
 robbed of the light of your bright eyes." 
 
 Edith rather liked sugar plums of such make, 
 even from Gus, and she, as it were, held out her 
 h^nd again by the rather sentimental remark, 
 
 " Absent ones are soon forgotten." 
 
 Gus, from much experience, knew how to flirt 
 beautifully, and so with some aptness and show of 
 feeling, replied, 
 
 " From my thoughts you are never absent." 
 
 Edith gave him a quick questioning look. 
 What did he mean? He had avoided everything 
 tending to commit him to a penniless girl after her 
 father's death. Was this mere flirtation? Or had 
 he, in absence, learned his need of her for happi- 
 ness, and was now willing to marry her even 
 though poor. 
 
 " If he is man enough to do this, he is capable 
 of doing more," she thought quickly, and circum- 
 stances pleaded for him. She felt so troubled 
 about the future, so helpless and lonely, and he 
 seemed so inseparably associated with her old 
 bright life, that she was tempted to lean on such a 
 swaying reed as she knew Gus to be. She did no*.
 
 222 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 reply, but he could see the color deepen in hei 
 cheeks even in the fading twilight, her bosom rose 
 and fell more quickly, and her hand rested upon 
 his arm with a more confiding pressure. What 
 more could he ask ? and he exulted. 
 
 But before he could speak again they were 
 summoned to supper. Van Dam touched Gus* 
 elbow as they passed in and whispered, 
 
 " Don't be precipitate. Say nothing definite 
 to-night. I gather from Zell that a little more of 
 their country purgatory will render them wholly 
 desperate." 
 
 Edith noticed the momentary detention and 
 whispering, and the thought there was some un- 
 derstanding between the two occurred to her. 
 For some undefined reason she was always inclined 
 to be suspicious and on the alert when Mr. Van 
 Dam was present. And yet it was* but a pass- 
 ing thought, soon forgotten in the enjoyment of 
 the evening, after so long and dull an experience. 
 Zell was radiant, and there was a glimmer of color 
 in Laura's pale cheeks. 
 
 After supper they sat down to cards. The 
 decanter was placed on the side table, and heavy 
 inroads were made on Mrs. Allen's limited stock of 
 wine, for the gentlemen, feeling that they were off 
 on a lark, were little inclined to self-control. They 
 also insisted on the ladies drinking health with 
 them, which foolish Zell, and more foolish Mrs. 
 Allen were too ready to do, and for the first time 
 since their coming, the little cottage resounded
 
 THEY TURN UP. 223 
 
 with laughter that was too loud and frequent to 
 be inspired by happiness only. 
 
 If guardian angels watched there, as we believe 
 they do everywhere, they might well veil their faces 
 in sadness and shame. 
 
 But the face of poor innocent Hannibal shone 
 with delight, and nodding his head toward Mrs. 
 Allen's maid with the complacency of a prophet 
 who saw his predictions fulfilled, he said : 
 
 " I told you my young ladies wasn't gwine to 
 stay long in Bushtown," (as Hannibal persisted in 
 calling the place). 
 
 To Arden Lacey, the sight of Edith listening 
 with glowing cheeks and intent manner to a stran- 
 ger with her hand within his arm a stranger too 
 that seemed the embodiment of that convention- 
 ality of the world which he despised and hated, was 
 a vision that pierced like a sword. And then 
 Gus' contemptuous words, Edith's non-recognition, 
 though he tried to believe she had not seen him, 
 was like vitriol to a wound. At first there was a 
 mad impulse of anger toward Elliot, and as we 
 have intimated, only Edith's presence prevented 
 Arden from demanding instant apology He knew 
 enough of his fiery nature to feel that he must get 
 away as fast as possible, or he might forever dis- 
 grace himself in Edith's eyes. 
 
 As he rode home his mind was in a sad chaos. 
 He was conscious that his airy castles were falling 
 about him with a crash, which though unheard by 
 all the world, shook his soul to the centre.
 
 224 
 
 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Too utterly miserable to face his mother, loath* 
 ing the thought of food, he put up his horses and 
 rushed out into the night. 
 
 In his first impulse he vowed never to look 
 toward Edith again, but before two hours of fruit- 
 less wandering had passed, a fascination drew his 
 feet toward Edith's cottage, only to hear that de- 
 tested voice again, only to hear even Edith's laugh 
 ring out too loud and reckless to come from the 
 lips of the exquisite ideal of his dreams. Though 
 the others had spoken in thunder tones, he had 
 ears for these two voices only. He rushed away 
 from the spot, as one might from some torturing 
 vision, exclaiming, 
 
 " The real world is a worse mockery than the 
 one of my dreams. Would to heaven I had never 
 been born ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 WE CAN'T WORK. 
 
 HTHE gentlemen agreed to meet the ladies the 
 next day at church. Mrs. Allen insisted upon 
 it, as she wished to show the natives of Pushton 
 that they were visited by people of style from the 
 city. As yet they had not received many calls, 
 and those venturing had come in a reconnoiter- 
 ing kind of way. She knew so little of solid coun- 
 try people as to suppose that two young men, like 
 Gus Elliot and Van Dam, would make a favorable 
 impression. The latter with a shrug and grimace at 
 Zell, which she, poor child, thought funny, promis- 
 ed to do so, and then they took leave with great 
 cordiality. 
 
 So they were ready to hand the Aliens out of 
 their carriage the next morning, and were, with the 
 ladies, who were dressed even more elaborately 
 than on the previous Sabbath, shown to a promi- 
 nent pew, the centre of many admiring eyes, as they 
 supposed. But where one admired, ten criticised. 
 The summer hotel at Pushton had brought New 
 York too near and made it too familiar for Mrs. Al- 
 len's tactics. Visits to town were easily made and 
 frequent, and by brief diversions of their attention 
 from the service, the good church people soon sat- 
 10*
 
 226 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 isfied themselves that the young men belonged to 
 the bold fast type, an impression strengthened by 
 the parties themselves who had devotion only for 
 Zeli and Edith, and a bold stare for any pretty girl 
 that caught their eyes. 
 
 After church they parted with the understand- 
 ing that the gentlemen should come out toward 
 night and spend the evening. 
 
 Mr. Van Dam and Gus Elliot dined at the vil- 
 lage hotel, having ordered the best dinner that the 
 landlord was capable of serving, and a couple 
 of bottles of wine. Over this they became so 
 exhilarated as to attract a good deal of atten- 
 tion. A village tavern is always haunted by idle 
 clerks, and a motley crowd of gossips, on the Sab- 
 bath, and to these the irruption of two young 
 bloods from the city, was a slight break in the mo- 
 notony of their slow shuffling jog toward perdi- 
 tion ; and when the fine gentlemen began to get 
 drunk and noisy it was really quite interesting. A 
 group gathered round the bar, and through the 
 open door could see into the dining-room. Soon 
 with unsteady step, Van Dam and Elliot joined 
 them, the latter brandishing an empty bottle, and 
 calling in a thick loud voice, 
 
 " Here landlord (hie) open a bottle (hie) of 
 wine, for these poor (hie) suckers. (hie) I don't sup- 
 pose (hie) they ever tasted (hie) anything better 
 than corn whiskey, (hie) But I'll moisten (hie) 
 their gullets to-day (hie) with a gentleman's drink." 
 
 The crowd was mean Enough, as the loafers
 
 WE CAN'T WORK. 22? 
 
 about a tavern usually are, to give a faint cheer 
 in the prospect of a treat, even though accompa- 
 nied with words synonymous with a kick. But one 
 big raw-boned fellow who looked equal to any 
 amount of corn-whiskey, or anything else, could 
 not swallow Gus's insolence, and stepped up say- 
 ing, 
 
 " Look here Capen, I'm ready enough to drink 
 with a chap when he asks me like a gentleman, but 
 I feel more like puttin' a head on you than drinkin' 
 with yer." 
 
 Gus had the false courage of wine and prided 
 himself on his boxing. In the headlong fury of 
 drunkenness he flung the bottle at the man's head, 
 just grazing it, and sprang toward him, but stum- 
 bled and fell. The man, with a certain rude sense 
 of chivalry, waited for him to get up, but the mean 
 loafers, who had cheered were about to manifest 
 their change of sentiment toward Gus, by kicking 
 him in his prostrate condition. Van Dam, who 
 also had drunk too much to be his cool careful self, 
 now drew a pistol, and with a savage volley of oaths, 
 swore he would shoot the first man who touched 
 his friend. Then helping Gus up, he carried him 
 off to a private room, and with the skill of an old 
 experienced hand, set about righting himself and 
 Elliot up so that they might be in a presentable 
 condition for their visit at the Aliens. 
 
 "-Curse it all, Gus, why can you not keep with- 
 in bounds ? If this gets to the girls' ears it may 
 spoil everything."
 
 J28 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 By five o clock Gus had so far recovered as to 
 venture to drive to the Aliens, and the fresh ail 
 restored him rapidly. Before leaving, the landlord 
 said to Van Dam, 
 
 " You had better stay out there all night. 
 From what I hear the boys are going to lay for you 
 when you come home to-night. I don't want any 
 rows connected with my house. I'd rather you 
 wouldn't come back.'' 
 
 Van Dam muttered an oath, and told the driver 
 to go on. 
 
 As a matter of course they were received very 
 cordially. Gus was quite himself again. He only 
 seemed a little more inclined to be sentimental and 
 in higher spirits than usual. 
 
 They walked again in the twilight through the 
 garden and under the budding trees of the orchard. 
 Gus assumed a caressing tone and manner, which 
 Eaith half received and half resented. She felt 
 that she did not know her own mind and did not 
 understand him altogether, and so she took a diplo- 
 matic middle course that would leave her free to 
 go forward or retreat. Zell, under the influence of 
 Mr. Van Dam's flattering manner, walked in a beau- 
 tiful but lurid dream. At last they all gathered in 
 the parlor and chatted and laughed over old times, 
 
 On this Sabbath evening one of the officers of 
 the church seeing that the Aliens had twice wor- 
 shipped with them, felt that perhaps he ought to 
 call and give some encouragement. As he came 
 up the path he was surprised at the confused sound
 
 WE CAN'T WORK. 229 
 
 of voices. With his hand on the door-bell he 
 paused, and through an opening between the cur- 
 tains saw the young men of whose bar-room per- 
 formance he had happened to hear. Not caring to 
 meet any of their ilk he went silently away shaking 
 his head with ill-omened significance. Of course 
 the good man told his wife what sort of company 
 their new neighbors kept, and whom didn't she tell ? 
 
 The evening grew late, but no carriage came 
 from the village. 
 
 " It's very strange," said Van Dam. 
 
 " If it don't come you must stay all night," said 
 Mrs. Allen graciously. " We can make you quite 
 comfortable even if we have a little house." 
 
 Mr. Van Dam, and Gus also, were profuse in 
 their thanks. Edith bit her lip with vexation. 
 She felt that gentlemen who to the world would 
 seem so intimate with the family, in reality held no 
 relation, and that she and Zell were being placed 
 in a false position. But no scruples of prudence 
 occurred to thoughtless Zell. With an arch look 
 toward her lover she said, 
 
 " I think it threatens rain so of course you can- 
 not go." 
 
 " Let us go out and see," he said. 
 
 In the darkness of the porch he put his anr 
 around and drew the unresisting girl to him, but 
 he did not say like a true man, 
 
 " Zell, be my wife." . 
 
 But poor Zell thought that was what all his 
 attention and show of affection meant.
 
 230 WffA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 Edith and Gus joined them, and the lattef 
 thought also to put his regard in the form of ca- 
 ressing action, rather than in honest outspoken 
 words, but she turned and said a little sharply, 
 
 " You have no right." 
 
 " Give me the right then," he whispered. 
 
 " Whether I shall ever do that I cannot say. It 
 depends somewhat on yourself. But I cannot now 
 and here." 
 
 The warning hand of Van Dam was reached 
 through the darkness and touched Gus' arm. 
 
 The next morning they walked back to the 
 village, were driven two or three miles to the near- 
 est railway station, and took the train to the city, 
 having promised to come again soon. 
 
 The week following their departure was an 
 eventful one to the inmates of the little cottage, 
 and all unknown the most unfavorable influences 
 were at work against them. The Sunday hangers 
 on of a tavern have their points of contact with 
 the better classes, and gossip is a commodity 
 always in demand, whatever brings it to market. 
 Therefore the scenes in the, dining and bar-rooms, 
 in which Mrs. Allen's " friends" had played so 
 prominent a part were soon portrayed in hovel 
 and mansion alike, with such exaggerations and 
 distortions as a story inevitably suffers as passed 
 along. The part acted by the young men was 
 C-rtainly bad enough, but rumor made it much 
 worse. Then this stream of gossip was met by 
 another coming from the wife of the good man,
 
 WE CAN'T WORK. 2JI 
 
 who had called with the best intentions Sunday 
 evening, but pained at the nature of the Aliens, 
 associations, had gone lamenting to his wife, and 
 she had gone lamenting to the majority of the 
 elder ladies of the church. These two streams 
 uniting, quite a tidal wave of" I want to knows," 
 and " painful surprises," swept over Pushton, 
 and the Aliens suffered wofully through their 
 friends. They had already received some recon- 
 noitering calls, and a few from people who wanted to 
 be neighborly. But the truth was the people of 
 Pushton had been somewhat perplexed. They 
 did not know where to put the Aliens. The fact 
 that Mr. Allen had been a rich merchant, and 
 lived on Fifth Avenue, counted for something. 
 But then even the natives of Pushton knew that 
 all kinds of people lived on Fifth Avenue, as else- 
 where, and that some of the most disreputable 
 were the richest. A clearer credential than that 
 was therefore needed. Then again there was 
 another puzzle. The fact that Mr. Allen had 
 failed, and that they lived in a little house indica- 
 ted poverty. But their style of dressing and order- 
 ing from the store also suggested considerable 
 property left. The humbler poi tion of the com- 
 munity doubted whether they were the style of 
 people for them to call on, and the rumor of Rose 
 Lacey's treatment getting abroad in spite of Ar- 
 den's- injunction to the contrary, confirmed these 
 doubts, and alienated this class. The more wealthy 
 and fashionably incli led, doubted the grounds fof
 
 332 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 their calling, having by no means made up their 
 minds whether they could take the Aliens into 
 their exclusive circle. So thus far Mrs. Allen and 
 her daughters had given audience to a sort of mid- 
 dle class of skirmishers and scouts representing no 
 one in particular save themselves, who from a pen- 
 chant in that direction went ouC and obtained infor- 
 mation, so that the more solid ranks behind could 
 know what to do. In addition, *..s we have intimated, 
 there were a few good kindly people who said, 
 
 " These strangers have come to live among us, 
 and we must give them a neighborly welcome." 
 
 But there was something in their homely hon- 
 est heartiness that did not suit Mrs. Allen's arti- 
 ficial taste, and she rather snubbed them. 
 
 " Heaven deliver us soon from Pushton," she 
 said, " if the best people have no more air of quality 
 than these outlandish tribes. They all look and act" 
 as if they had come out of the ark." 
 
 If the Aliens had frankly and patiently accepted 
 their poverty and misfortunes, and by close economy 
 and some form of labor had sought to maintain 
 an honest independence, they could soon through 
 this latter class, have become en rapport with, not 
 the wealthy and fashionable, but the finest people 
 of the community ; people having the refinement, 
 intelligence, and heart to make the best friends we 
 can possess. It might take some little time. It 
 ought to. Social recognition and esteem should 
 be earned. Unless strangers bring clear letters of 
 credit, or established reputation, they must expect
 
 WE CAN'T WORK. 233 
 
 to be put on probation. But if they adopt a course 
 of simple sincerity and dignity, and especially one 
 of great prudence, they are sure to find the right 
 sort of friends, and win the social position to which 
 they are justly entitled. But let the finger of 
 scandal and doubt be pointed toward them, and 
 all having sons and daughters will stand aloof on the 
 ground of self-protection, if nothing else. The 
 taint of scandal, like the taint of leprosy, causes a 
 general shrinking away. 
 
 The finger of doubt and scandal in Pushton was 
 now most decidedly pointed toward the Aliens. 
 It was reported around, 
 
 " Their father was a Wall street gambler who 
 lost all in a big speculation and died suddenly or 
 committed suicide. They belonged to the ultra 
 fast fashionable set in New York, and the events 
 of the past Sabbath show that they are not the 
 persons for self-respecting people to associate with." 
 
 Some of the rather dissipated clerks and semi- 
 loafers of the village were inclined to make the ac- 
 quaintance of such stylish handsome girls, but the 
 Aliens received the least advance from them with 
 ineffable scorn. 
 
 Thus within the short space of a month Mrs. 
 Allen had, by her policy, contrived to isolate het 
 family as completely as if they had a pestilence. 
 
 Even Mrs. Lacey and Rose were inclined to pass 
 from indignation to contempt ; for Mr. Lacey was 
 present at the scene in the bar-room, and reported 
 that the " two young bucks were friends of their
 
 234 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 new neighbors, the Aliens, and had staid there 
 all Sunday-night because they darsn't go back to 
 town." 
 
 " Well," said Rose, " with all their airs, I haven't 
 got to keeping company with that style of men 
 yet." 
 
 " Cease to call yourself my sister if you ever do 
 knowingly," said Arden sternly. " I don't believe 
 Edith Allen knows the character of these men. 
 They would not report themselves, and who is to 
 do it ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you had better," said Rose mali- 
 ciously. 
 
 Arden's only answer was a dark frowning look. 
 A severe conflict was progressing in his mind. One 
 impulse was to regard Edith as unworthy of an- 
 other thought. But his heart pleaded for her, and 
 the thought that she was different from the rest, 
 and capable of developing a character as beautiful 
 as her person, grew stronger as he dwelt upon it. 
 
 Like myself she is related to others that drag 
 her down, he 'thought, and she seems to have no 
 friend or brother to protect or warn her. Even if 
 this over-dressed young fool is her lover, if she 
 could have seen him prostrate on the bar-room 
 floor, she would never look at him again. If so I 
 would never look at her. 
 
 His romantic nature became impressed with the 
 idea that he might become in some sense her un- 
 known knight and protector, and keep her from 
 marrying a man that would sink to what his father
 
 WE CAN'T IVOR 1C. 235 
 
 was. Therefore he passed the house as often as he 
 could in hope that there might be some opportu- 
 nity of seeing her. 
 
 To poor Edith, troubles thickened fast, for as 
 we have seen, the brunt of everything came on her. 
 Early on the forenoon of Monday the carpenter 
 appeared asking with a hard determined tone, for 
 his money, adding with satire, 
 
 " I suppose it's all right of course. People who 
 want everything done at once must expect to pay 
 promptly.'' 
 
 " Your bill is much too large much larger than 
 you gave us any reason to suppose it would be/ 
 said Edith. 
 
 " I've only charged you regular rates, Miss, and 
 you put me to no little inconvenience besides." 
 
 " That's not the point. It's double the amount 
 you gave us to understand it would be, and if you 
 should deduct the damage caused by your delay, 
 it would greatly reduce it. I do not feel willing 
 that this bill should be paid as it stands." 
 
 " Very well then," said the man, coolly rising. 
 " You threatened me with a lawyer, I'll let my 
 lawyer settle with you." 
 
 "Edith," said Mrs. Allen majestically, "bring 
 iry check-book." 
 
 " Don't pay it, mother. He can't make us pay 
 such a bill in view of the fact he left our roof open 
 in the rain.' 1 
 
 " Do as I bid you," said Mrs. Allen impressively. 
 
 " There," she said to the chuckling builder, in
 
 236 If A T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 lofty scorn, throwing toward him a check as if it 
 were dirt. " Now leave the presence of ladies 
 whom you don't seem to know much about." 
 
 The man reddened and went out muttering 
 that "he had seen quite as good ladies before." 
 
 Two days later a letter from Mrs. Allen's bank 
 brought dismay by stating that she had overdrawn 
 her account. 
 
 The next day there came a letter from their 
 lawyer saying that a messenger from the bank had 
 called upon him that he was sorry they had spent 
 all their money that he could not sell the stock 
 he held at any price now and they had better sell 
 their house in the country and board. 
 
 This Mrs. Allen was inclined to do, but Edith 
 s>aid almost fiercely, 
 
 " I won't sell it. I am bound to have some 
 place of refuge in this hard pitiless world. I hold 
 the deed of this property, and we certainly can get 
 something to eat off of it, and if we must starve, no 
 one at least can disturb us." 
 
 " What can we do," said Mrs. Allen, crying and 
 wringing her hands. 
 
 " We ought to have saved our money and gone 
 to work at something," answered Edith sternly. 
 
 " I am not able to work," whined Laura. 
 
 " I don't know how to work, and I won't starve 
 either," cried Zell passionately. " I shall write to 
 Mr. Van Dam this very day and tell him all about 
 it." 
 
 " I would rather work my fingers off," retorted
 
 WE CAN'T WORK. 237 
 
 Edith scornfully, 4< than have a man come and 
 marry me out of chanty, finding me as helpless as 
 if I were picked up off the street, and on the street 
 we would soon be without shelter or friends if we 
 sold this place." 
 
 And so the blow fell upon them, and such was 
 the spirit with which they bore it.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE TEMPTATION, 
 
 **PHE same mail brought them a long bill froia 
 A Mr. Hard, accompanied with a very polite but 
 decisive note saying that it was his custom to have 
 a monthly settlement with his customers. 
 
 The rest of the family looked with new dismay 
 and helplessness at this, and Edith added bitterly, 
 
 " There are half a dozen other bills also." 
 
 "What can we do?" again Mrs. Allen cried 
 piteously. " If you girls had only accepted some of 
 your splendid offers " 
 
 " Hush, mother,'* said Edith imperiously. " I 
 have heard that refrain too often already," and the 
 resolute practical girl went to her room and shut 
 herself up to think. 
 
 Two hours later she came down to lunch with 
 the determined air of one who had come to a con- 
 clusion. 
 
 " These bills must be met or in part at least," 
 she said, " and the sooner the better. After that 
 we must buy no more than we can pay for, if it's 
 only a crust of bread. I shall take the first train 
 to-morrow, and dispose of some of my jewelry. 
 Who of you will contribute some also ? We all 
 have more than we shall ever need."
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 339 
 
 " Pawn our jewelry ! " they all shrieked. 
 
 " No, sell it," said Edith firmly. 
 
 " You hateful creature," sobbed Zell, " if Mr. 
 Van Dam heard it he would never come near me 
 again." 
 
 " If he's that kind of a man, he had better not, * 
 was the sharp retort. 
 
 " I'll never forgive you, if you do it. You shall 
 not spoil all my chances and your own too. He as 
 good as offered himself to me, and I insist on your 
 giving me a chance to write to him before you take 
 one of your mad steps." 
 
 They all clamored against her purpose so strong- 
 ly that Edith was borne down and reluctantly gave 
 way. Zell wrote immediately a touching pathetic 
 letter that would have moved a man of one knight- 
 ly instinct to come to her rescue. Van Dam read 
 it with a look of fiendish exultation, and calling on 
 Gus, said, 
 
 " We will go up to-morrow. The right time 
 has come. They won't be nice as to terms any 
 longer." 
 
 It was an unfortunate thing for Edith that she 
 had yielded at this time to the policy of waiting 
 one hour longer. In the two days that intervened 
 before the young men appeared there was time for 
 that kind of thought that tempts and weakens. 
 She was in that most dangerous attitude of irreso- 
 lutiorj. The toilsome path of independent labor 
 looked very hard and thorny more than that it 
 looked lonely. This latter aspect causes multitudes
 
 240 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 to shrink, where the work would not. She knew 
 enough of society to feel sure that her mother was 
 right, and that the moment she entered on bread 
 winning by any form of honest labor, her old fash- 
 ionable world was lost to her forever. And she 
 knew of no other world, she had no other friends 
 save those of the gilded past. She did not with 
 her healthful frame and energetic spirit, shrink so 
 much from labor as from association with the la- 
 boring classes. She had been educated to think 
 of them only as coarse and common, and to make 
 no distinctions. 
 
 " Even if a few are good and intelligent as these 
 Laceys seem, they can't understand my feelings and 
 past life, so there will be no congeniality, and I 
 shall have to work practically alone. Perhaps in 
 time I shall become coarse and common like the 
 rest," she said with a half shudder at the thought 
 of old fashioned garb, slipshod dressing, and long 
 monotonous hours at one thing. All these were 
 inseparable in her mind from poverty and labor. 
 
 Then after a long silence, during which she had 
 sat with her chin resting on her hands, she con- 
 tinued, 
 
 " I believe I could stand it if I could earn a 
 support out of the garden with such a man as 
 Malcom to help me. There is variety and beauty 
 there, and scope for constant improvement. But 
 I fear a woman can't make a livelihood by such out 
 of door, man-like work. Good heavens ! what will 
 my Fifth Avenue friends say if it should get to theif
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 241 
 
 ears that Edith Allen is raising cabbage for mar- 
 ket." 
 
 Then in contrast, as the alternative to labor, 
 Gus Elliot continually presented himself. 
 
 " If he were only more of a man,' 5 she thought, 
 " but if he loves so well as to marry me in view of 
 my poverty, he must have some true manhood 
 about him. I suppose I could learn to love him 
 after a fashion, and I certainly like him as well as 
 any one I know. Perhaps if I were with him to 
 cheer, incite and scold, he might become a fair 
 business man after all." 
 
 And so Edith in her helplessness and fear of 
 work was tempted to enter on that forlorn experi- 
 ment which so many energetic women of decided 
 character have made that of marrying a man who 
 can't stand alone, or do anything but dawdle, in 
 the hope that they may be able to infuse some of 
 their own moral and intellectual backbone. 
 
 But Gus Elliot was not man enough, had not 
 sense enough, to give her this poor chance of 
 matrimonial escape from labor that seemed to her 
 like a giant taskmaster, waiting with grimy, horny 
 hand to claim her as another of his innumerable 
 slaves. Though a life of lonely, ill-paid toil would 
 have been better for Edith, than marriage to Gus, 
 he was missing the one golden opportunity of his 
 life, when he thought of Edith Allen in other char- 
 acter than his wife. God uses instruments, and 
 she alone could give him a chance of being a man
 
 242 
 
 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 among men. In his meditated baseness toward her, 
 he aimed a fatal blow at his own life. 
 
 And this is ever true of sins against the human 
 brotherhood. The recoil of a blow struck at 
 another's interests, has often the vengeful wrath of 
 heaven in it, and the selfish soul that would de- 
 stroy a fellow-creature for its own pleasure, is it- 
 self destroyed. 
 
 False pride, false education, helpless unskilled 
 hands, an untaught, unbraced moral nature, made 
 strong, resolute, beautiful Edith Allan so weak, so 
 untrue to herself, that she was ready to throw her- 
 self away on so thin a shadow of a man as Gus El- 
 liot. She might have known, indeed she half 
 feared that wretchedness would follow such a union. 
 It is torment to a large strong-souled woman to 
 despise utterly the man to whom she is chained. 
 His weakness and irresolution nauseates her, and 
 the probabilities are that she will sink into that 
 worst phase of feminine drudgery, the supporting 
 of a husband, who though able, will not work, and 
 become that social monster, of whom it is said with 
 a significant laugh, 
 
 " She is the man of the house.'' 
 
 The only thing that reconciled her to the 
 thought of marrying Gus was the hope that she 
 could inspire him to better things and he seemed 
 the only refuge from the pressing troubles that en- 
 x'ironed her and a lonely life of labor; for the 
 thought that she could bring herself to marry among 
 the laboring classes had never occurred to her
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 343 
 
 So she came to the miserable conclusion on the 
 afternoon of the second day, 
 
 " I'll take him if he will me, knowing how I am 
 situated." 
 
 If Gus could have been true and manly one 
 evening he might have secured a prop that would 
 have kept him up though it would have been at 
 sad cost to Edith. 
 
 On the afternoon of Friday, Zell returned from 
 the village with radiant face, and waving a letter 
 before Edith where she sat moping in her room 
 exclaimed with a thrill of ecstacy in her tone, 
 
 " They are coming. Help make me irresistible.'* 
 
 Edith felt the contagion of Zell's excitement, 
 and the mysteries of the toilet commenced. Na- 
 ture had done much for these girls, and they knew 
 how to enhance every charm by art. Edith good- 
 naturedly helped her sister, weaving the pure 
 shimmering pearls in the heavy braids of her hair, 
 whose raven hue made the fair face seem more 
 fair. The toilet-table of a queen had not the 
 secrets of Zell's beauty, for the most skilful art 
 must deal with the surface, while Zell's loveliness 
 glowed from within. Her rich young blood man- 
 tled her cheek with a color that came and went 
 with her passing thoughts, and was as unlike the 
 flaming unchanging red of a painted face, as sun- 
 light that flickers through a breezy grove differs 
 from a gas-jet. Her eyes shone with the deep ex- 
 citement of a passionate love, and the feeling that 
 the crisis of her life was near. Even Edith gazed
 
 244 WHAT CAN SHE DOf 
 
 with wondering admiration at her beauty, as she 
 gave the finishing touches to her toilet, before she 
 commenced her own. 
 
 Discarded Laura had a sorry part in the poor 
 little play. She was to be ill and unable to appear, 
 and so resigned herself to a novel and solitude. 
 Mrs. Allen was to discreetly have a headache and 
 retire early, and thus all embarrassing third par- 
 ties should be kept out of the way. 
 
 The late afternoon of Friday (unlucky day for 
 once) brought the gentlemen, dressed as exquisite- 
 ly as ever, but the visions on the rustic little porch 
 almost dazzled even their experienced eyes. They 
 had seen these girls more richly dressed before and 
 more radiant. There was, however, a delicious 
 pensiveness hanging over them now, like those del- 
 icate veils that enhance beauty and conceal noth- 
 ing. And there was a deep undertone of excite- 
 ment that gave them a magnetic power that they 
 could not have in quieter moods. 
 
 Their appearance and manner of greeting caus- 
 ed secret exultation in the black hearts that they 
 expected would be offered to them that night, but 
 Edith looked so noble as well as beautiful, that 
 Gus rather trembled in view of his part in the pro- 
 posed tragedy. As warm and gentle as had been 
 her greeting, she did not appear like a girl that 
 could be safely trifled with. However, Gus knew 
 his one source of courage and kept up on brandy 
 all day, and he proposed a heavier onslaught than 
 ever on poor Mrs. Allen's wine. But Edith did
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 245 
 
 not bring it out. She meant that all that was said 
 that night should be spoken in sober earnest. 
 
 They sat down to cards for a while after tea, 
 during which conversation was rather forced, con- 
 sisting mainly of extravagant compliments from 
 the gentlemen, and tender, meaning glances which 
 the girls did not resent. Mrs. Allen languidly 
 joined them for a while, and excused herself say- 
 ing, 
 
 " Her poor head had been too heavily taxed 
 of late," though how, save as a small distillery of 
 helpless tears, we do not remember. 
 
 The regret of the young men at being depriv- 
 ed of her society was quite affecting in view of 
 the fact that they had often wished her dead and 
 out of the way. 
 
 " Why should we shut ourselves up within 
 walls this lovely spring evening, this delicious earn- 
 est of the coming summer," said Mr. Van Dam to 
 Zell. " Come, put on your shawl and show me your 
 garden by moonlight." 
 
 Zell exultingly complied, believing that now 
 she would show him, not their poor little garden, 
 but the paradise of requited love. A moment later 
 her graceful form, bending like a willow toward 
 him, vanished in the dusky light of the rising 
 moon, down the garden path which led to the little 
 arbor. 
 
 Gus having the parlor to himself, went over to 
 the sofa, seated himself by the side of Edith and 
 Bought to pass his arm around her waist.
 
 246 WHA T CAN SHE DOf 
 
 " You have no right," again said Edith with 
 dignity, shrinking away. 
 
 " But will you not give the right ? Behold me 
 a suppliant at your feet," said Gus tenderly, but 
 comfortably keeping his seat. 
 
 " Mr. Elliot," said Edith earnestly, " do you real- 
 ize that you are asking a poor girl to marry you ? " 
 
 " Your own beautiful self is beyond all gold,'* 
 said Gus gushingly. 
 
 " You did not think so a month ago," retorted 
 Edith bitterly. 
 
 " I was a fool. My friends discouraged it, but 
 I find I cannot live without you." 
 
 This sounded well to poor Edith, but she said 
 half sadly, 
 
 " Perhaps your friends are right. You cannot 
 afford to marry me." 
 
 " But I cannot give you up," said Gus with 
 much show of feeling. " What would my life be 
 without you ? " I admit to you that my friends are 
 opposed to my marriage, but am I to blight my life 
 for them ? Am I, who have seen the best of New 
 York for years, to give up the loveliest girl I have 
 ever seen in it ? I cannot and I will not,'' con. 
 eluded Gus tragically. 
 
 " And are you willing to give up all for me ? " 
 said Edith feelingly, her glorious eyes becoming 
 gentle and tender. 
 
 "Yes, if you will give up all for me," said Gus 
 languishingly, taking her hand and drawing hef 
 toward him.
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 247 
 
 Edith did not resist now, but leaned her head 
 on his shoulder with the blessed sense of rest and 
 at least partial security. Her cruelly harassed 
 heart and burdened, threatened life could welcome 
 even such poor shelter as Gus Elliot offered. 
 The spring evening was mild and breathless and 
 its hush and peace seemed to accord with her 
 feelings. There was no ecstatic thrilling' of her 
 heart in the divine rapture of mutual and open 
 recognition of love, for no such love existed on 
 her part. It was only a languid feeling of con- 
 tentment, moon-lighted with sentiment, not sun- 
 lighted with joy, that she had found some one 
 who would not leave her to labor and struggle 
 alone. 
 
 " Gus," she said pathetically, " we are very poor, 
 vre have nothing. We are almost desperate from 
 want. Think twice ere you engage yourself to a 
 girl so situated. Are you able to thus burden 
 yourself? " 
 
 Gus thought these words led the way to the 
 carrying out of Van Dam's instructions, for he said 
 eagerly, 
 
 " I know how you are situated. I learned all 
 from Zell's letter to Van Dam, but our hearts only 
 cling the closer to you, and you must let me take 
 care of you at once. If you will only consent to a 
 secret marriage I can manage it." 
 
 Edith slowly raised her head from his shoulder 
 Gus could not meet her eyes, but felt them search- 
 uigly on his face. There was a distant mutter of
 
 248 w HA T CAN SHE D0? 
 
 thunder like a warning voice. He continued hur 
 riedly, 
 
 " I think you will agree with me, when you think 
 of it, that such a marriage would be best. It 
 would be hard for me to break with my family at 
 once. Indeed I could not afford to anger my father 
 now k But I would soon get established in business 
 myself, and I would work so hard if I knew that 
 you were dependent on me." 
 
 " Then you would wish me to remain here 
 in obscurity your wife," said Edith in a low con- 
 strained tone that Gus did not quite like. 
 
 " Oh, no, not for the world," replied Gus hur- 
 riedly. " It is because I so long for your daily and 
 hourly presence that I urge you to come to the 
 city at once." 
 
 " What is your plan then ? " asked Edith in the 
 same low tone. 
 
 " Go with me to the city, on the boat that 
 passes here in the evening. I will see that you are 
 lodged where you will have every comfort, yes 
 luxury. We can there be quietly married, and 
 when the right time comes, we can openly acknowl- 
 edge it." 
 
 There was a trcrnble in Edith's voice when she 
 again spoke, it might be from feeling, mere excite- 
 ment, or anger. At any rate Gus grew more and 
 more uncomfortable. He had a vague feeling that 
 Edith suspected his falseness, and that her seem- 
 ing calmness might presage a storm, and he found 
 it impossible to meet her full searching gaze,
 
 THE TEMPTATION 249 
 
 feaiing that his face would betray him. He \vaa 
 bad enough for his project, but not quite brazen 
 enough. 
 
 She detached herself from his encircling arm, 
 went to a book-stand near and took from it a richly 
 bound Bible. With this she came and stood before 
 Gus who was half trembling with fear and perplexi- 
 ty, and said in a tone so grave and solemn, that 
 his weak impressible nature was deeply moved, 
 
 " Mr. Elliot, perhaps I do not understand you. 
 I have received several offers before, but never one 
 like yours this evening. Indeed I need not re- 
 mind you that you have spoken to me in a differ- 
 ent vein. I know circumstances have greatly 
 altered with me. That I am no longer the 
 daughter of a millionaire, I am learning to my sor- 
 row, but I am the same Edith Allen that you knew 
 of old. I would not like to misjudge you, one of 
 my oldest, most intimate friends of the happy past. 
 And yet, as I have said. I do not quite understand 
 your offer. Place your hand on this sacred book 
 with me, and as you hope for God's mercy, answer 
 me this truly. Would you wish your own sister to 
 accept such an offer, if she were situated like my- 
 self? Look me, an honest girl with all my faults 
 and poverty, in the face, and tell me as a true 
 brother." 
 
 Gus felt himself in an awful dilemma. Some- 
 thing in Edith's solemn tone and manner convin- 
 ced him that both he and Van Dam had misjudged 
 her. His knees trembled so that he could scarcely 
 n*
 
 250 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 rise. A fascination that he could not resist drevr 
 his face, stamped with guilt, toward her, and slowly 
 he raised his fearful eyes and for a moment met 
 Edith's searching, questioning gaze, then dropped 
 them in confusion. 
 
 " Why do you not put your hand on the book 
 and speak?" she asked in the low concentrated 
 voice of passion. 
 
 Again he looked hurriedly at her. A flash of 
 lightning illumined her features, and he quailed 
 before an expression such as he had never seen be- 
 fore on any woman's face. 
 
 "I I cannot," he faltered. 
 
 The Bible dropped from her hands, they clasp- 
 ed, and for a moment she seemed to writhe in ag- 
 ony, and in a low shuddering tone she said, 
 
 " There are none to trust not one." 
 
 Then as if possessed by a sudden fury, she seiz- 
 ed him roughly by the arm and said hoarsely, 
 
 " Speak, man, what then did you mean ? What 
 have all your tender speeches and caressing actions 
 meant?" 
 
 Her face grew livid with rage and shame as the 
 truth dawned upon her, while poor feeble Gus lost 
 his poise utterly and stood like a detected criminal 
 before her. 
 
 " You asked me to marry you," she hissed. 
 " Must no one ask your immaculate sisters to do 
 this, that you could not answer my simple ques- 
 tion? Or, did you mean something else? How 
 dare you exist longer in the semblance of a man ?
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 251 
 
 Vou have broken the sacred law of hospitality, and 
 here in my little home that has sheltered you, you 
 purpose my destruction. You take mean advan- 
 tage of my poverty and trouble, and like a coward- 
 ly hunter must seek out a wounded doe as your 
 game. My grief and misfortune should have made 
 a sanctuary about me, but the orphaned and un- 
 fortunate, God's trust to all true men, only invite 
 your evil designs, because defenceless. Wretch, 
 would you have made me this offer if my father 
 had lived, or if I had a brother?" 
 
 " It's all Van Dam's work, curse him," groaned 
 Gus, white as a ghost. 
 
 "Van Dam's work!" shrieked Edith, "and 
 he's with Zell ! So this is a conspiracy. You both 
 are the flower of chivalry," and her mocking, half- 
 hysterical laugh curdled Gus' blood, as her dress 
 fluttered down the path that led to the arbor. 
 
 She appeared in the doonvay like a sudden, 
 supernatural vision. Zell's head rested on Mr. 
 Van Dam's shoulder, and he was portraying in 
 low ardent tones the pleasures of city life, which 
 would be hers as his wife. 
 
 " It is true," he had said, " our marriage must 
 be secret for the present. You must learn to trust 
 me. But the time will soon come when I can ac- 
 knowledge you as my peerless bride." 
 
 Foolish little Zell was too eager to escape, pres- 
 ent miseries to be nice and critical as to the con- 
 ditions, and too much in love, too young and un- 
 suspecting to doubt the man who had petted hei
 
 252 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 from a child. She agreed to do anything he 
 thought best. 
 
 Then Edith's entrance and terrible words broke 
 her pretty dream in fragments. 
 
 Snatching her sister from Van Dam's embrace, 
 she cried passionately, 
 
 " Leave this place. Your villany is discover- 
 ed." 
 
 " Really, Miss Edith" began Van Dam with a 
 poor show of dignity. 
 
 " Leave instantly ! " cried Edith imperiously, 
 " Do you wish me to strike you ? " 
 
 " Edith, are you mad?" cried Zell. 
 
 " Your sister must have lost her reason," said 
 Van Dam, approaching Zell. 
 
 " Stand back," cried Edith sternly. " I may 
 go mad before this hateful night passes, but while 
 I have strength and reason left, I will drive the 
 wolves from our fold. Answer me this: have you 
 not been proposing secret marriage to my sister?" 
 
 Her face looked spirit-like in the pale moonlight 
 and her eyes blazed like coals of fire. As she stood 
 there with her arm around her bewildered trembling 
 sister, she seemed a guardian angel holding a baf- 
 fled fiend at bay. 
 
 This was literally true, for even hardened Van 
 Dam quailed before her, and took refuge in the 
 usual resource of his satanic ally lies. 
 
 " I assure you, Miss Edith, you do me great in- 
 justice. I have only asked your sister that out 
 marriage be private for a time "
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 253 
 
 " The same wretched bait the same transpa- 
 rent falsehood," 'Edith cried. " We cannot be 
 married openly at our own home, but must go 
 away with you, two spotless knights, to New York, 
 Do you take us for silly fools ? You know well 
 what the world would say of ladies that so com- 
 promised themselves, and no true man would ask 
 this of a woman he meant to make his wife. 
 These premises are mine. Leave them." 
 
 Van Dam was an old villain who had lived life- 
 long in the atmosphere of brawls and intrigue, 
 therefore he said brazenly, 
 
 " There is no use of wasting words on an angry 
 woman. Zell, my darling, do me justice. Don't 
 give me up, as I never shall you," and he vanished 
 on the road toward the village, where Gus was 
 skulking on before him. 
 
 " You weak unmitigated fool," said he savagely, 
 " why did I bring you ? '' 
 
 " Look here, Van Dam," whined Gus, " that 
 isn't the way to speak to a gentleman." 
 
 " Gentleman ! ha, ha," laughed Van Dam bit- 
 terly. 
 
 " I be hanged if I feel like one to-night. A 
 pretty scrape you have got me into," snarled Gus. 
 
 " Well," said Van Dam cynically. " I thought I 
 was too old to learn much more, but you may shoot 
 me if I ever go on a lark again with one of your 
 weak villains who is bad enough for anything, but 
 has brains enough only to get found out. If it 
 hadn't been for you I would have carried my point.
 
 254 WHAT CAN SHE DOf 
 
 And I will yet," he added with an oath. " I never 
 give up the game I have once started.'' 
 
 And so they plodded on with mutual revilings 
 and profanity, till Gus became afraid of Van Dam, 
 and was silent. 
 
 The dark cloud that had risen unnoted in the 
 south, like the slowly gathering and impending 
 wrath of God, now broke upon them in sudden 
 gusts, and then chased them with pelting torrents 
 of rain and stinging hail, into the village. The sin- 
 wrought chaos the hellish discord of their evil 
 natures seemed to have infected the peaceful spring 
 evening, for now the very spirit of the storm ap- 
 peared abroad. The rush and roar of the wind was 
 so strong, the lightning so vivid, and the crashing 
 thunder peals overhead so terrific, that even hard- 
 ened Van Dam was awed, and Gus was so frighten- 
 ed and conscience smitten, that he could scarcely 
 keep up with his companion, but shuddered at the 
 thought of being left alone. 
 
 At last they reached the tavern, roused the 
 startled landlord and obtained welcome shelter. 
 
 " What ! " he said, " are the boys after you ? n 
 
 " No, no," said Van Dam impatiently, " the 
 devil is after us in this infernal storm. Give us 
 two rooms, a fire, and some brandy as soon as pos- 
 sible, and charge what you please.'' 
 
 When Gus viewed himself in the mirror, as he 
 at once did from long habit, his haggard face, 
 drenched, mud-splashed form, awakened sincere 
 self commiseration ; and his stained, bedraggled
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 255 
 
 clothes troubled him more than his soiled character. 
 He did not remember the time when he had not 
 been well dressed, and to be so was his religion 
 the sacred instinct of his life. Therefore he was 
 inexpressibly shocked, and almost ready to cry, as 
 he saw his forlorn reflection in the glass. And he 
 had no change with him. What should he do ? All 
 other phases of the disastrous night were lost in 
 this. 
 
 " There is nothing to be bought in this mean 
 little town, and how can I go to the city in this 
 plight," he anxiously queried. 
 
 " Go to the devil then," and the sympathetic 
 Van Dam wrapped himself up and went to sleep. 
 
 Gus worked fussily at his clothes till a late hour, 
 devoutly hoping he would meet no one that he 
 knew before reaching his dressing-room in New 
 York.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BLACK HANNIBAL'S WHITE HEART. 
 
 J7 DITH half led, half carried her sobbing sister to 
 the parlor. Mrs. Allen, no longer languid, and 
 Laura from her exile, were already there, and gath- 
 ered with dismayed faces around the sofa where 
 she placed Zell. 
 
 "What has happened?" asked Mrs. Allen 
 tremblingly. 
 
 Edith's self-control, now that her enemies were 
 gone, gave way utterly, and sinking on the floor, 
 she swayed back and forth, sobbing even more hys- 
 terically than Zell, and her mother and Laura, op- 
 pressed with the sense of some new impending dis- 
 aster, caught the contagion of their bitter grief, and 
 wept and wrung their hands also. 
 
 The frightened maid stood in one door, with her 
 white questioning face, and old grey-haired Hanni- 
 bal in another with streaming eyes of honest sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 " Speak, speak, what is the matter ? " almost 
 shrieked Mrs. Allen. 
 
 Edith could not speak, but Zell sobbed, " I 
 don't know. Edith- -seems to have gone 
 mad."
 
 BLACK HANNIBAL'S WHITE HEART. 2 $? 
 
 At last, after the application of restoratives 
 Edith so far recovered herself to say brokenly, 
 " We've been betrayed they're villains. 
 They never meant marriage at all." 
 
 " That's false ! " screamed Zell. " I won't be- 
 lieve it of my lover, whatever may have been true 
 of your mean little Gus Elliot. He promised to 
 marry me, and you have spoiled everything by 
 your mad folly. I'll never forgive you." When 
 Zell's wild fury would have ceased, cannot be said, 
 but a new voice startled and awed them into silence. 
 In the storm of sorrow and passion that raged with- 
 in, the outer storm had risen unnoted, but now an 
 awful peal of thunder broke over their heads and 
 rolled away among the hills in deep reverberations. 
 Another and louder crash soon followed, and a sol- 
 emn expectant silence fell upon them akin to that 
 when the noisy passionate world will suddenly 
 cease its clamor as the trump of God proclaims 
 the end. 
 
 "Merciful heaven, we shall be struck," said Mrs. 
 Allen shudderingly. 
 
 " What's the use of living?'' said Zell in a hard 
 reckless tone. 
 
 "What is there to live for?" sighed Edith, 
 deep in her heart. " There are none to be trusted 
 not one.' 5 
 
 Instead of congratulations received with blur-h 
 ing happiness, and solitaire engagement rings, thus 
 is shown the first result of Mrs. Allen's policy, and 
 of society's injunction,
 
 258 WHAT CAN SHE DO f 
 
 " Keep your hands white, my dears." 
 
 The storm passed away, and they crept off to 
 such poor rest as they could get, too miserable to 
 speak, and too worn to renew the threatened quar- 
 rel that a voice from heaven seemingly had inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 The next morning they gathered at a late break- 
 fast table with haggard faces and swollen eyes. 
 Zell looked hard and sullen, Edith's face was so 
 determined in its expression as to be stern. Mrs. 
 Allen lamented feebly and indefinitely, Laura only 
 appeared more settled in her apathy, and with Zell 
 and Edith, was utterly silent through the forlorn 
 meal. 
 
 After it was over, Zell went up to her room and 
 Edith followed her. Zell had not spoken to her 
 sister since the thunder peal had suddenly checked 
 her bitter words. Edith dreaded the alienation 
 she saw in Zell's face, and felt wronged by it, 
 knowing that she had only acted as truest friend 
 and protector. But in order still to shield her 
 sister she must secure her confidence, or else the 
 danger averted the past evening, would threaten 
 as grimly as ever. She also realized how essential 
 Zell's help would be in the struggle for bread on 
 which they must enter, and wished to obtain her 
 hearty cooperation in some plan of work. She saw 
 that labor now was inevitable, and must be com- 
 menced immediately. From Laura she hoped 
 little. She seemed so lacking in force mentally and 
 physically, since their troubles began, that 9"^
 
 BLACK HANNIBAL'S WHITE HEART. 259 
 
 feared nothing could arouse her. She threatened 
 soon to become an invalid like her mother. The 
 thought of help from the latter, did not even occur 
 to her. 
 
 Edith had not slept, and as the chaos and bit- 
 terness of the past evening's experience passed 
 away, her practical mind began to concentrate it- 
 self on the problem of support. Her disappoint- 
 ment had not been so severe as that of Zell, by any 
 means, and so she was in a condition to rally much 
 sooner. She had never much more than liked El- 
 liot, and now the very thought of him was nauseat- 
 ing, and though labor and want might be hard in- 
 deed, and regret for all they had lost keen, still 
 she was spared the bitterer pain of a hopeless love. 
 
 But it was just this that Zell feared, and though 
 she repeated to herself over and over again Van 
 Dam's last words, " I will never give you up," she 
 feared that he would, or what would be equally 
 painful, she would be compelled to give him up, for 
 she could not disguise it from herself that her con- 
 fidence had been shaken. 
 
 But sincere love is slow to believe evil of its ob- 
 ject. If Van Dam had shown preference for anoth- 
 er, Zell's jealousy and anger would have known no 
 bounds, but this he had never done, and she could 
 not bring herself to believe that the man whom she 
 had known since childhood, who had always treat- 
 ed her with uniform kindness and most flattering 
 attention, who had partaken of their hospitality so 
 often and intimately that he almost seemed like
 
 260 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 one of the family, meditated the basest evil against 
 her. 
 
 " Gus Elliot is capable of any meanness, but 
 Edith was mistaken about my friend. And yet 
 Edith has so insulted him, that I fear he will 
 never come to the house again,'' she said with deep 
 resentment. " If I had declined a private mar- 
 riage, I am sure he would have married me openly." 
 
 Therefore when Edith entered their little room 
 Zell's face was averted and there was every evi- 
 dence of estrangement. Edith meant to be kind 
 and considerate, and patiently show the reasons 
 for her action. 
 
 She sat down and took her sister's cold impas- 
 sive hand, saying, 
 
 " Zell, did I not help you dress in *his very place 
 last evening ? Did I not wait against my judgment 
 till Mr. Van Dam came? These things prove to 
 you that I would not put a straw between you and 
 a true lover. Surely we have trouble enough with- 
 out adding the bitter one of division and estrange- 
 ment. If we don't stand by each other now what 
 will become of us? 5 ' 
 
 "What right had you to misjudge Mr. Van 
 Dam by such a mean little scamp as Gus Elliot ? 
 Why did you not give him a chance to explain 
 himself? " 
 
 " Oh Zell, Zell, how can you be so blinded ? 
 Did he not ask you to go away with him in the 
 night to elope, and then submit to a secret mar 
 riage in New York?"
 
 BLACK HANNIBAL'S WHITE HEART 261 
 
 " Well, he told me there were good reasons that 
 made such a course necessary at present." 
 
 " Are you George Allen's daughter that you 
 could even listen to such a proposal? When you 
 lived on Fifth Avenue would he have dared to have 
 even faintly suggested such a thing ? Can he be a 
 true lover who insults you to begin with, and, in 
 view of your misfortunes, instead of showing 
 manly delicacy and desire to shield, demands not 
 only hard but indecent conditions? Even if he 
 purposed to marry you, what right has he to re- 
 quire of you such indelicate action as would make 
 your name a byword and hissing among all your 
 old acquaintances, and a lasting stain to your family ? 
 They would not receive you with respect again, 
 though some might tolerate you and point you out 
 as tlve girl so desperate for a husband, that you 
 submitted to the grossest indignity to get one." 
 
 Zell hung her head in shame and anger under 
 Edith's inexorable logic, but the anger was now 
 turning against Van Dam. Edith continued, 
 
 "A lady should be sought and won. It is for 
 her to set the place and time of the wedding, and 
 dictate the conditions. It is for her to say who 
 shall be present and who absent, and woman, to 
 whom a spotless name is everything, has the right, 
 which even savage tribes recognize, to shield her- 
 self from the faintest imputation of immodesty by 
 compelling her suitor to comply with the estab- 
 lished custom and etiquette which are her safe- 
 guards. The daughter of a poor laborer would
 
 262 WHA T CAN SHE DO * 
 
 demand all this as a matter of course, and shall the 
 beautiful Zell Allen, who has had scores of admi- 
 rers, have all this reversed in her case, and be com- 
 pelled to skulk away from the home in which she 
 should be openly married, to hunt up a man at 
 night who has made the pitiful promise that he 
 will marry her somewhere at sometime or other, 
 on condition that no one shall know it till he is 
 ready? Mark it well, the man who so insults a 
 lady and all her family, never means to marry her, 
 or else he is so coarse and brutal in all his instincts, 
 that no decent woman ought to marry him." 
 
 " Say no more," said Zell in a low tone, " I 
 fear you are right, though I would rather die than 
 believe it. O, Edith, Edith!" she cried in sudden 
 passionate grief. " My heart is broken. I loved 
 him so. I could have been so happy." 
 
 Edith took her in her arms and they cried 
 together. At last Zell said languidly: 
 
 "What can we do?" 
 
 " We must go to work like other poor people. 
 If we had only done so at first and saved every 
 dollar we had left, we would not now be in our 
 present deeply embarrassed condition. And yet 
 Zell, if you, with your vigor and strength, will 
 only stand by me, and help your best, we will see 
 bright days yet. There must be some way by 
 which two girls can make a livelihood here in 
 Pushton, as elsewhere. We have at least a shelter, 
 and I have great hopes of the garden." 
 
 "I don't like a garden. I fear I couldn't do
 
 BLACK HANNIBAL'S WHITE HEART. 263 
 
 much there. And it seems like man's work too. 
 I fear I shall be too wretched and ignorant to do 
 anything." 
 
 " Not at all. Youth, health, and time, against 
 all the troubles of the world. (This was the best 
 creed poor Edith then had.) Now," she contin- 
 ued, encouragingly, " You like housework. Of 
 course we must dismiss our servants, and if you 
 did the work of the house with Laura, so that I 
 had all my time for something else, it would be a 
 great saving and help." 
 
 "Oh, dear! oh, dear! that we should ever 
 come to this!" said Zell despairingly. 
 
 "We have come to it, and must face the 
 truth." 
 
 "Well, of course 111 try," said Zell with some- 
 thing of Laura's apathy. Then with a sudden burst 
 of passion she clenched her little hands and cried : 
 
 " I hate him, the cold-hearted wretch, to treat 
 his poor little Zell so shamefully! " and she paced 
 up and down the room with inflamed eyes and 
 cheeks. Then in equally sudden revulsion she 
 threw herself down on the floor with her head in 
 her sister's lap, and murmured, " God forgive me, 
 I love him still I love him with my whole heart," 
 and sobbed till all her strength was gone. 
 
 Edith sighed deeply. "Can she ever be de- 
 pended on?" she thought. At last she lifted the 
 languid form on the bed, threw over her an af- 
 ghan and bathed her head with cologne till the 
 poor child fell asleep.
 
 264 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 Then she went down to Laura and her mother, 
 to whom she explained more fully the events of 
 last evening. Laura only muttered, "shameful," 
 but Mrs. Allen whined, " She could not understand 
 it. Girls didn't know how to manage any longer 
 There must be some misunderstanding, for no 
 young men in the city could have meant to offer 
 such an insult to an old and respectable family 
 like theirs. She never heard of such a thing. If 
 she could only have been present " 
 
 "Hush, mother," said Edith almost sternly. 
 " It's all past now. I should gladly believe that 
 when you were a young lady, such poor villains 
 were not in good society. Moreover, such offers 
 are not made to young ladies living on the Avenue. 
 This is more properly a case for shooting than 
 management. I have no patience to talk any 
 more about it. We must now try to conform to 
 our altered circumstances, and at least maintain 
 our self-respect, and secure the comforts of life if 
 possible. But we must now practice the closest 
 economy. Laura, you will have to be mother's 
 maid, for of course we can keep no servants. I 
 have a little money left, and will pay your maid 
 to-day and let her go." 
 
 " I don't see how I can get along without her," 
 said Mrs. Allen helplessly. 
 
 "You must," said Edith firmly. "We have no 
 money to pay her any longer, and your daughters 
 will try to supply her place." 
 
 Mrs. Allen did not formally abdicate her natural
 
 BLACK HANNIBAL'S WHITE HEART. 265 
 
 position as head of the family, but in the hour of 
 almost shipwreck, Edith took the helm out of the 
 feeble hands. Yet the young girl had little to 
 guide her, no knowledge and experience worth 
 mentioning, and the sea was rough and beset with 
 danger. 
 
 The maid had no regrets at departure, and 
 went away with something of the satisfaction of a 
 rat leaving a sinking ship. But with old Hannibal 
 it was a different affair. 
 
 " You aint gwine to send me away too, is you, 
 Miss Edie ? " said he, with the accent of dismay* 
 
 " My good old friend," said Edith feelingly, 
 " the only friend I'm sure of in this great world 
 full of people, I fear I must. We can't afford to 
 pay you even half what you are worth any longer." 
 
 " I'se sure I doesn't eat such a mighty lot," 
 Hannibal sniffled out. 
 
 " Oh, I hope we won't reach starvation point," 
 Enid Edith, smiling in spite of her sore heart. " But 
 Hannibal, you are a valuable servant, besides, there 
 are plenty of rich upstarts who would give you 
 anything you would ask, just to have you come 
 and give an old and aristocratic air to their freshly- 
 gilded mansions.'' 
 
 " Miss Edie, you doesn't know nothin 'tall about 
 my feelins. What's money to ole Hannibal ! I'se 
 lived among de millionaires and knows all about 
 money. It only buys half of 'em a heap of trouble 
 and doesn't keep dare hearts from gettin sore. 
 When Massa Allen was a livin', he [aid me big, 
 ra
 
 266 W1IA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 and gave me all de money I wanted, and if he, at 
 last, lost my money which he keep, it's no more'n 
 he did with his own. And now, Miss Edie, I toted 
 you and you'se sisters round on my shoulder when 
 you'se was babies, and I haint got nothin' left but 
 you, no friends, no nothin' ; and if you send me 
 away, it's like goin' out into de wilderness. What 
 'ud I do in some strange man's big house, when 
 my heart's here in de little house? My heart is 
 all ole Hannibal has left, if 'tis black, and if you 
 send me away you'se break it. I'd a heap rather 
 stay here in Bushtown and starve to death with 
 you alls, dan live in de grandest house on de 
 Avenue." 
 
 " Oh, Hannibal," said Edith, putting her hand 
 on the old man's shoulder, and looking at him with 
 her large eyes dimmed with grateful tears, " you 
 don't know how much good you have done me. I 
 have felt that there were none to trust not one, 
 but you are as true as steel. Your heart isn't 
 black, as I told you before. It's whiter than mine. 
 Oh, that other men were like you ! " 
 
 " Bress you, Miss Edie, I isn't a man, I'se only 
 a nigger." 
 
 "You are my t/ue and trusted friend,'* saic* 
 Edith, "and you shall be one of the family as long 
 as you wish to stay with us-" 
 
 " Now bress you, Miss Edie, you'se an angel for 
 sayin* dat. Don't be afeard, I'se good for sumpen 
 yet, if I be old. I once work for fear in de South ; 
 den I work for money, and now I'se gwine to work
 
 BLACK HANNIBAL'S WHITE HEART. 267 
 
 for lub, and it 'pears I can feel my ole jints limber 
 up at de thought. It 'pears like dat lub is de only 
 ting dat can make one young agin. Neber you 
 fear, Miss Edie, we'll pull through, and I'se see you 
 a grand lady yet. A true lady you'se allers be, 
 even if you went out to scrub." 
 
 " Perhaps I'll have to, Hannibal. I know how 
 to do that about as well as anything else that peo- 
 ple are willing to pay for."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS, 
 
 A T the dinner table it was reluctantly admitted 
 to be necessary, that Edith should go to th? 
 city in the morning and dispose of some of theii 
 jewelry. She went by the early train, and the 
 familiar aspects of Fourth Avenue as she rode 
 down town, were as painful as the features of an 
 old friend turned away from us in estrangement. 
 She kept her face closely veiled, hoping to meet no 
 acquaintances, but some whom she knew, unwit- 
 tingly brushed against her. Her mother's last 
 words were, 
 
 " Go to some store where we are not known, to 
 sell the jewelry." 
 
 Edith's usually good judgment seemed to fail 
 her inthis case as it generally does when we listen 
 to the suggestions of false pride. She went to a 
 jeweller down town who was an utter stranger. 
 The man's face to whom she handed her valuables 
 for inspection, did not suggest pure gold that had 
 passed through the refiner's fire, though he profess- 
 ed to deal in that article. An unknown lady, 
 closely veiled, offering such rich articles for sale, 
 looked suspicious, but whether it was right of 
 wrong, there was a chance for him to make an ex-
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS. 269 
 
 traordinary profit. Giving a curious glance at 
 Edith, who began to have misgivings from the 
 manner and appearance of the man, he swept the 
 little cases up and took them to the back part of 
 the store, on pretence of wishing to consult his 
 partner. He soon returned and said rather harsh- 
 
 iy>- 
 
 " I don't quite understand this matter, and we 
 are not in the habit of doing this kind of business. 
 It may be all right that you should offer this jew- 
 elry, and it may not. If we take it, we must run 
 the risk. We will give you" offering scarcely 
 half its value. 
 
 " I assure you it is all right," said Edith indig- 
 nantly, at the same time with a sickening sensa- 
 tion of fear, " It all belongs to us, but we are com- 
 pelled to part with it from sudden need." 
 
 " That is about the way they all talk," said the 
 man coolly. " We will give you no more than I 
 said." 
 
 "Then give me back my jewelry," said Edith, 
 scarcely able to stand, through fear and shame. 
 
 " I don't know about that. Perhaps I ought to 
 call in an officer anyway and have the thing inves- 
 tigated. But I give you your choice, either to take 
 this money, or go with a policeman before a justice 
 and have the thing explained," and he laid the 
 money before her. 
 
 She shuddered at the thought. Edith Allen 
 in a police court, explaining why she was selling 
 her jewelry, the gifts of her dead father, followed
 
 2/O WHAT CAN SHE DOf 
 
 by a rabble in the street, her name in the papers, 
 and she the town-talk and scandal of her old set 
 on the Avenue ! How Gus Elliot and Van Dam 
 would exult ! All passed through her mind in one 
 dreadful whirl. She snatched up the money and 
 rushed out with one thought of escape, and for 
 some t'ime after had a shuddering apprehension of 
 being pursued and arrested. 
 
 " Oh, if I had only gone to Tiffany's, where I 
 am known," she groaned. " It's all mother's work. 
 Her advice is always fatal, and I will never follow 
 it again. It seems as if everthing and every body 
 were against me,'' and she plunged into the shelter 
 ing throng of Broadway, glad to be a mere unre- 
 cognized drop in its mighty tide. 
 
 But even as Edith passed out of the jeweller's 
 store, her eye rested for a moment on the face of a 
 man that she thought she had seen before, though 
 she could not tell where, and the face haunted her, 
 causing much uneasiness. 
 
 " Could he have seen and know me ? " she que 
 ried most anxiously. 
 
 He had done both. He was no other than Tom 
 Crowl, a clerk in the village at one of the lesser 
 dry goods stores, where the Aliens had a small ac- 
 count. He was one of the mean loafers who was 
 present at the bar-room scene, and had cheered, 
 and then kicked Gus Elliot, and " laid for him '' in the 
 evening with the " boys." He was one of the up- 
 per graduates of Pushton street corners, and having 
 spent an idle vicious boyhood, truant half the time
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS. 2j\ 
 
 from school, had now arrived at the dignity of 
 derk in a store, that thrived feebly on the scatter- 
 ing trade that filtered through and past Mr. Hard's 
 larger establishment. He was one of the worst 
 phases of the male gossip, and had the scent of a 
 buzzard for the carrion of scandal. The Aliens were 
 now the uppermost theme of the village, for there 
 seemed some mystery about them. Moreover the 
 rural dabblers in vice had a natural jealousy of the 
 more accomplished rakes from the city, which took 
 on some of the air of a virtuous indignation against 
 them. Of course the talk about Gus and Van Dam 
 passed on to the Aliens, and if poor Edith could 
 have heard the surmises about them in the select 
 coterie of clerks that gathered around Crowl after 
 closing hours, as the central fountain of gossip, she 
 would have felt more bitterly than ever, that the 
 spirit of chivalry had utterly forsaken mankind. 
 
 When therefore young Crowl saw Edith get on 
 the same train as himself, he determined to watch 
 her, and startle, if possible, his small squad of ad- 
 mirers with a new proof of his right to lead as 
 chief scandal-monger. The scene in the jewelry 
 store thus became a brilliant stroke of fortune to 
 him, though so severe a blow to Edith. (The num- 
 ber of people who are like wolves that turn upon and 
 devour one of their kind when wounded is not small.) 
 Crowl exultingly saw himself doubly the hero of 
 the evening in the little room of the loft over the 
 store, where poor Edith would be discussed that 
 evening over a black bottle and sundry clay
 
 2/2 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 All this miserable drivel would have been of lit. 
 tie consequence, as far as the gossip itself was con 
 cerned, but the consequences of such gossip threat' 
 ened to be most serious. 
 
 As Edith returned up town toward the depot, 
 the impulse to go and see her old home was very 
 strong. She thought her veil sufficient protection 
 to venture. Slowly and with heavy step she passed 
 up the well known street on the opposite side, and 
 then crossed and passed down toward that door 
 from which she had so often tripped in light-heart- 
 ed gayety, or rolled away in a liveried carriage, the 
 envied and courted daughter of a millionaire. 
 And to-day she was selling her jewelry for bread 
 to-day she had narrowly, as she thought, escaped 
 the Police Court to-day she had no other pros- 
 pect of support save her unskilled hands, and little 
 more than two short months ago, that house was 
 ablaze with light, resounding with mirth and music, 
 and she and her sisters known among the wealth- 
 iest belles of the city. It was like a horrid dream. 
 It seemed as if she might see old Hannibal open- 
 ing the door, and Zell come tripping out, or Laura 
 at the window of her room with a book, or the 
 portly form of her father returning from business, 
 indeed even herself, radiant with pride and pleasure, 
 starting for an afternoon walk as of old. All 
 seemed to look the same. Why was it not ? Why 
 could she not enter and be at home ! Again she 
 passed. A name on the door caught her eye. 
 With a shudder of disgust and pain, she read,
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS. 
 
 273 
 
 Uriah Fox." 
 
 " So the villain lives in the home of which he 
 robbed us,'' she said bitterly. The world seems 
 made for such. Old Hannibal was right. God 
 lumps the world, but the devil seems to look after 
 his friends and prosper them." 
 
 She now hastened to the depot. The city had 
 lost its attractions to her, in view of what she saw 
 and suffered that day, and though inclined to feel 
 hard and resentful at her fate, she was sincerely 
 thankful that she had a quiet home in the country 
 where at least the false-hearted and cruel could be 
 kept away. 
 
 She saw during the day several faces that she 
 knew, but none recognized her, and she realized 
 how soon our wide circle of friends forget us, and 
 how the world goes on just the same after we have 
 vacated the large space we suppose we occupy. 
 
 She reached home in the twilight, weary and 
 despondent. Her mother asked eagerly, 
 
 "Did you meet anyone you knew?" as if this 
 were the all important question. 
 
 " Don't speak to me," said Edith impatiently. 
 " I'm half dead with fatigue and trouble. Hanni- 
 bal, please give me a cup of tea, and then I will go 
 to bed." 
 
 " But Edith," persisted Mrs. Allen querulously, 
 "did you see any of our old set? I hope you 
 didn't take the jewelry where you were known." 
 
 Kdith's overtaxed nerves gave way, and sh# 
 aid sharply,
 
 274 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " No, I did not go where I was known, as I 
 ought, and therefore have been robbed, and might 
 have been in jail myself to-night. I will never fol- 
 low your advice again. It has brought nothing but 
 trouble and disaster. I have had enough of your 
 silly pride and its results. What practical harm 
 would it have done me, if I had met all the persons 
 I know in the city ? By going where I was not 
 known I lost half my jewelry, and was insulted and 
 threatened with great danger in the bargain. If I 
 had gone to Tiffany's, or Ball and Black's, where I 
 am known, I would have been treated politely and 
 obtained the full value of what I offered. I can't 
 even forgive myself for being such a fool. But I 
 have done with your ridiculous false pride forever. 
 We've all got to go to work at once like other poor 
 people, or starve, and I intend to do it openly. I 
 am sick of that meanest of all lies, a shabby keeping 
 up of appearances." 
 
 These were harsh words for a daughter to speak 
 to her mother, under any provocation, and even 
 Zell said, 
 
 " Edith you ought to be ashamed of yourself to 
 speak to mother so." 
 
 " I think so too," said Laura, " I'm sure she 
 meant everything for the best, and she took the 
 course which is taken by the majority in like cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 " All the worse for the majority then, if they 
 fare any thing as we have done. The division of 
 labor in this family seems to be that I am to do
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS. 375 
 
 all the work, and bear the brunt of everything, and 
 the rest sit by and criticise, or make more trouble. 
 You have all got to do something now or go hun- 
 giy," and Edith swallowed her tea, and went frown- 
 Ingly away to her room. She was no saint, to be- 
 gin with, and her over-taxed mind and body re- 
 venged themselves in nervous irritation. But her 
 young and healthful nature soon found in sound 
 sleep, the needed restorative. 
 
 Mrs. Allen shed a few helpless tears, and Lau- 
 ra wearily watched the faint flicker on the hearth, 
 for the night was chilly. Zell went into the din- 
 ing-room and read for the twentieth time, a letter 
 received that day. 
 
 Unknown to Edith, the worst disaster yet had 
 occurred in her absence. Zell went to the village 
 for the mail. She would not admit, even to her- 
 self, that she hoped for a letter from one who had 
 acted so poor a part as her false lover, and yet, con- 
 trolled so much more by her feelings and impulses 
 than either reason or principle, it was with a thrill 
 of joy that she recognized the familiar handwriting. 
 The next moment she dropped her veil to conceal 
 her burning blush of shame. She hastened home 
 with a wild tumult at heart. 
 
 " I will read it, and see what he says for him- 
 self," she said, " and then will write a withering 
 answer." 
 
 But as Van Dam's ardent words and plausible 
 excuses burned themselves into her memory, her 
 weak foolish heart relented and she half believed
 
 2/6 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 he was wronged by Edith after all. The withering 
 answer became a queer jumble of tender reproaches 
 and pathetic appeals, and ended by saying that if 
 he would marry her in her own home it all might 
 be as secret as he desired, and she would wait his 
 convenience for acknowledgment. 
 
 She also did another wrong and imprudent 
 thing; for she told him to direct his reply to 
 another office about a mile from Pushton, for she 
 dreaded Edith's anger should her correspondence 
 be discovered. 
 
 The wily, unscrupulous man gave one of his 
 satanic leers as he read the letter. 
 
 " The game will soon be mine," he chuckled, 
 and he wrote promptly in return. 
 
 " In your request and reproaches, I see the in- 
 fluence of another mind. Left to yourself you 
 would not doubt me. And yet such is my love for 
 you, I would comply with your request were it not 
 for what passed that fatal evening. My feelings 
 and honor as a man forbid my ever meeting your 
 sister again till she has apologized. She never 
 liked me, and always wronged me with doubts. 
 Elliot acted like a fool and a villain, and I have 
 nothing more to do with him. But your sister, in 
 her anger and excitement, classed me with him. 
 When you have been my loved and trusted wife 
 for some length of time, I hope your family will do 
 me justice. When you are here with me you will 
 soon see why our marriage must be private for the 
 present. You have known me since you were a 
 child. I will be true to my word and will do 
 exactly as I agreed. I will meet you any evening
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS. 277 
 
 you wish on the down boat. Awaiting your reply 
 with an anxiety which only the deepest love can 
 inspire, I remain 
 
 Your slave, 
 
 GUILLIAN VAN DAM. 
 
 Such was the false, but plausible missive that was 
 aimed as an arrow at poor little Zell. There was 
 nothing in her training or education and little in her 
 character to shield her. Moreover the increasing 
 miseries of their situation were Van Dam's allies. 
 
 Edith rose the next morning greatly refreshed, 
 and her naturally courageous nature rallied to meet 
 the difficulties of their position. But in her 
 strength, as was too often the case, she made too 
 little allowance for the weakness of the others. 
 She took the reins in her hand in a masterful and 
 not merciful way, and dictated to the rest in a 
 manner that they secretly resented. 
 
 The store wagon was a little earlier than usual 
 that morning and a note from Mr. Hard was 
 handed in stating that he had payments to make 
 that day and would therefore request that his little 
 account might be met. Two or three other par- 
 ties brought up bills from the village saying that 
 for some reason or another the money was greatly 
 needed. Tom Growl's gossip was doing its legiti- 
 mate work. 
 
 In the post office Edith found all the other 
 accounts against the family with requests for pay- 
 ment, polite enough but pressing. 
 
 She resolved to pay all she could, and went first
 
 2 7 8 
 
 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 to Mr. Hard's. That worthy citizen's eyes grew less 
 stony as he saw half the amount of his bill on the 
 counter. The rumor of Edith's visit to the city 
 had reached even him, and he had his fears that col- 
 lecting might involve some unpleasant business, but 
 however unpleasant it might be, Mr. Hard always 
 collected. 
 
 " I hope our method of dealing has satisfied 
 you, Miss Allen," he ventured politely. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Edith dryly, " you- have been 
 very liberal and prompt with everything, especially 
 your bill." 
 
 At this Mr. Hard's eyes grew quite pebbly, 
 and he muttered something about its being the 
 rule to settle monthly. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said Edith, " and like most 
 rules, no doubt, has many exceptions. Good 
 morning." 
 
 She also paid something on the other bills, and 
 found that she had but a few dollars left. Though 
 there was a certain sense of relief in the feeling that 
 she now owed much less, still she looked with dis- 
 may on the small sum remaining. Where was more 
 to come from ? She had determined that she would 
 not go to New York again to sell anything except 
 in the direst extremity. 
 
 That evening Hannibal gave them a meagre 
 supper, for Edith had told him of the absolute 
 necessity of economy. There was a little grum- 
 bling over the fare. So Edith pushed her chaii 
 back, laid seven dollars on the table saying,
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS. 
 
 279 
 
 u That's all the money I have in the world. 
 
 Who's got any more ? " 
 
 They raised ten dollars among them. 
 
 " Now,' said Edith, " this is all we have. Where 
 is more coming from ? " 
 
 Helpless sighs and silence were her only an- 
 swers. 
 
 " There is nothing clearer in the world," con- 
 tinued Edith, " than that we must earn money. 
 What can we do? " 
 
 " I never thought I should have to work," said 
 Laura piteously. 
 
 " But, my dear sister," said Edith earnestly, 
 "isn't it clear to you now that you must? You 
 certainly don't expect me to earn enough to sup- 
 port you all. One pair of hands can't do it, and 
 it wouldn't be fair in the bargain." 
 
 " Oh certainly not," said Laura. " I will do 
 anything you say as well as I can, though, for the 
 life of me, I don't see what I can do." 
 
 " Nor I either," said Zell passionately. " I don't 
 know how to work. I never did anything useful 
 in my life that I know of. What right have pa- 
 rents to bring up girls in this way, unless they 
 make it a perfect certainty that they will always 
 be rich. Here we are as helpless as four children. 
 We have not got enough to keep us from starving 
 more than a week at best. Just to think of it! 
 Men are speculating and risking all they have 
 every day. Ever since I was a child I have heard 
 about the risks of business. I know some people
 
 280 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 whose fathers failed, and they went away, 1 don't 
 know where, to suffer as we have perhaps, and yet 
 girls are not taught to do a single thing by which 
 they can earn a penny if they need to. If any body 
 will pay me for jabbering a little bad French and 
 Italian, and strumming a few operatic airs on the 
 piano, I am at their service. I think I also under- 
 stand dressing, flirting, and receiving compliments 
 very well. I had a taste for these things and never 
 had any special motive given me for doing any- 
 thing else. What becomes of all the girls thus 
 taught to be helpless, and then tossed out into the 
 world to sink or swim?" 
 
 " They find some self-sustaining work in it, 
 said Edith. 
 
 " Not all of them, I guess," muttered Zell sul- 
 lenly. 
 
 " Then they do worse, and had better starve," 
 said Edith sternly. 
 
 " You don't know anything about starving," 
 retorted Zell, bitterly. " I repeat, it's a burning 
 shame to bring girls up so that they don't know 
 how to do anything, if there's ever any possibility 
 that they must. And it's a worse shame that re- 
 spect and encouragement is not given to girls who 
 earn a living. Mother says that if we become work- 
 ing girls, not one of our old wealthy, fashionable set 
 will have anything to do with us. What makes 
 people act so silly ? Any one of them on the 
 Avenue may be where we are in a year. I've no 
 patience with the ways of the world. People don't
 
 THE CHANGES OF '1 WO SHORT MONTHS. 2 8l 
 
 help each other to be good, and don't help 
 others up. Grown up folks act like children. How 
 parents can look forward to the barest chance of 
 their children being poor, and bring them up as 
 we were, I don't see. I'm no more fit to be poor, 
 than to be President." 
 
 Zell never before had said a word that reflected 
 on her father, but in the light of events her criticism 
 seemed so just that no one reproved her. 
 
 Mrs. Allen only sighed over her part of the im 
 plied blame. She had reached the hopeless stage 
 of one lost in a foreign land where the language is 
 unknown and every sight and sound unfamiliar 
 and bewildering. This weak fashionable woman, 
 the costly product of an artificial luxurious life, 
 seemed capable of being little better than a mill- 
 stone around the necks of her children in this hour 
 of their need. If there had been some innate 
 strength and nobility in Mrs. Allen's character, it 
 might have developed now into something worthy 
 of respect under this sharp attrition of trouble, 
 however perverted before. But where a precious 
 stone will take lustre a pumice stone will crumble. 
 There is a multitude of natures so weak to begin 
 with that they need tonic treatment all through 
 life. What must such become under the influence 
 of enervating luxury, flattery and uncurbed selfish- 
 ness from childhood ? Poor, faded, sighing, helpless 
 Mrs. Allen, shivering before the trouble she had 
 largely occasioned, is the answer.
 
 282 WHAT CAN SHE D01 
 
 Edith soon broke the forlorn silence that fol- 
 lowed Zell's outburst by saying, 
 
 "All the blame doesn't rest on the parents. I 
 might have improved my advantages far better. I 
 might have so mastered the mere rudiments of an 
 English education as to be able to teach little chil- 
 dren, but I can scarcely remember a single thing 
 now." 
 
 " I can remember one thing," interrupted Zell, 
 who was fresh from her books, " that there was 
 mighty little attention given to the rudiments as 
 you call them, in the fashionable schools to which I 
 went. To give the outward airs and graces of a 
 fine lady seemed their wl ole aim. Accomplish- 
 ments, deportment were everything. The way I 
 was hustled over the rudiments almost takes away 
 my breath to remember, and I have as remote an 
 idea of vulgar fractions, as of how to do the vulgar 
 work before us. I tell you the whole thing is a 
 cruel farce. If girls are educated like butterflies, it 
 ought to be made certain that they can live like 
 butterflies." 
 
 " Well then," continued Edith. " We ought to 
 have perfected ourselves in some accomplishment. 
 They are always in demand. See what some 
 French and Music teachers obtain." 
 
 "Nonsense," said Zell pettishly, "you know 
 well enough that by the time we were sixteen, our 
 heads were so full of beaux, parties and dress, that 
 French and music were a bore. We went through 
 the fashionable mills like the rest, and if father
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS. 283 
 
 had continued worth a million or so, no one would 
 have found fault with our education." 
 
 " We can't help the past now," said Edith after 
 a moment, " but I am not so old yet but that I 
 can choose some kind of work and so thoroughly 
 master it that I can get the highest price paid for 
 that form of labor. I wish it could be gardening, 
 for I have no taste for the shut up work of woman ; 
 sitting in a close room all day with a needle would 
 be slow suicide to me." 
 
 " Gardening ! " said Zell contemptuously. " You 
 couldn't plough as well as that snuffy old fellow 
 who scratched your garden about as deeply as a 
 hen would have done it. A woman can't dig and 
 hoe in the hot sun, that is, an American, girl can't, 
 and I dont think they ought." 
 
 " Nor I either," said Mrs. Allen, with some re- 
 viving vitality. " The very idea is horrid." 
 
 " But ploughing, digging and hoeing isn't all of 
 gardening," said Edith with some irritation. 
 
 " I guess you would make a slim support by just 
 snipping around among the rose bushes," retorted 
 Zell provokingly. 
 
 " That's always the way with you, Zell," said 
 Edith sharply, "from one extreme to another. 
 Well what would you like to do ? " 
 
 " If I had to work I would like housekeeping. 
 That admits of great variety and activity. I wish 
 I could open a summer boarding-house up here. 
 Wouldn't I make it attractive ! " 
 
 ** Such black eyes and red cheeks certainly
 
 284 WHA T CAN sffE D0f 
 
 would to the gentlemen," answered Edith satiri 
 cally. 
 
 " They would be mere accessories. I think I 
 could give to a boarding-house, that place of hash 
 and harrowing discomfort, a dainty homelike air. 
 If father, \\ hen he risked a failure, had only put 
 aside enough to set me up in a boarding-house, I 
 should have been made." 
 
 "A boarding-house! What horror next?" sigh- 
 ed Mrs. Allen. 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, mother," said Zell bitterly. 
 ' We can scarcely start one of the forlornest hash 
 species on ten dollars. I admit I would rather 
 keep house for a good husband, and it seems to 
 me I could soon learn to give him the perfection of 
 a good home/' and her eyes filled with wistful 
 tears. Dashing them scornfully away, she added 
 " The idea of a woman loving a man, and letting his 
 home be dependent on the cruel mercies of foreign 
 servants ! If it's a shame that girls are not taught 
 to make a living if they need to, it's a worse shame 
 that they are not taught to keep house. Half the 
 brides I know of ought to have been arrested and 
 imprisoned for obtaining property on false preten- 
 ces. They had inveigled men into the vain ex- 
 pectation that they would make a home for them, 
 when they no more knew how to make a home 
 than a heaven. The best they can do is to go to 
 one of those places so satirically called an " intelli- 
 gence office," and import into their elegant house'i 
 a small mob of quarrelsome, drunken, dishonest for-
 
 THE CHANGES OF TWO SHORT MONTHS. 285 
 
 eigners, and then they and their husbands live on 
 such conditions as are permitted. I would be mis- 
 tress of my house just as a man is master of his 
 store or office, and I would know thoroughly how 
 all kinds of work was done, and see that it was 
 done thoroughly. If they wouldn't do it, I'd dis- 
 charge them. I am satisfied that our bad servants 
 are the result of bad housekeepers moie than any- 
 thing else." 
 
 " Poor little Zell," said Edith, smiling sadly. " I 
 hope you will have a chance to put your theories 
 into most happy and successful practice." 
 
 " Little chance of it here in ' Bushtown' as Han- 
 nibal calls it," said Zell sullenly. 
 
 " Well," said Edith, in a kind of desperate tone, 
 " we've got to decide on something at once. I 
 will suggest this. Laura must take care of mother, 
 and teach a few little children if she can get them. 
 We will give up the parlor to her certain hours. I 
 will put up a notice in the post office asking for 
 such patronage, and perhaps we can put an adver- 
 tisement in the Pushton Recorder, if it don't cost 
 too much. Zell, you must take the housekeeping 
 mainly, for which you have a taste, and help me 
 with any sewing that I can get. Hannibal will go 
 into the garden and I will help him there all I can. 
 I shall go to the village to-morrow and see if I can 
 find anything to do that will bring in money." 
 
 There was a silent acquiescence in Edith's plan, 
 foi no one had anything else to offer.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IGNORANCE. LOOKING FOR WORK. 
 
 *"PHE next day Edith went to the village, and 
 frankly told Mr. Hard how they were situated, 
 mentioning that the failure of their lawyer to sell 
 the stock had suddenly placed them in this crip- 
 pled condition. 
 
 Mr. Hard's eyes grew more pebbly as he lis- 
 tened. He ventured in a constrained voice as 
 consolation, 
 
 " That he never had much faith in stocks No, 
 he had no employment for ladies in connection with 
 his store. He simply bought and sold at a small 
 advance. Miss Klip, the dressmaker, might have 
 something." 
 
 To Miss Klip Edith went. Miss Klip, although 
 an unprotected female, appeared to be a maiden 
 that could take care of herself. One would scarce- 
 ly venture to hinder her. Her cutting scissors 
 seemed instinct with life, and one would get out of 
 their way as instinctively as from a railroad train -i 
 She gave Edith a sharp look through her spectacles 
 and said abruptly in answer to her application, 
 
 " I thought you was rich." 
 
 " We were," said Edith sadly, " but we must 
 work now and are willing to."
 
 IGNORANCE. LOOKING FOR WORK. 287 
 
 " What do you know about dressmaking and 
 sewing?" 
 
 " Well, not a great deal, but I think you would 
 find us very ready to learn." 
 
 " Oh, bless you, I can get all my work done by 
 thorough hands, and at my own prices, too. Good 
 morning." 
 
 " But can you not tell me of some one who 
 would be apt to have work ? " 
 
 " There's Mrs. Glibe across the street. She 
 has work sometimes. Most of the dressmakers 
 around here are well trained, have machines, and 
 go out by the day." 
 
 Edith's heart sank. What chance was there 
 for her untaught hands among all these " trained 
 workers." 
 
 She soon found that Mrs. Glibe was more in- 
 clined to talk, (being as garrulous as Miss Klip was 
 laconic,) and to find out all about them, than to 
 help her to work. Making but little headway in 
 Edith's confidence she at last said, " I give Rose 
 Lacey all the work I have to spare and it isn't very 
 much. The business is so cut up that none of us 
 have much more than we can do except a short 
 time in the busy season. Still, those of us who can 
 give a nice fit and cut to advantage can make a 
 good living after getting known. It takes time and 
 training you know of course." 
 
 " But isn't there work of any kind that we can 
 get in this place ? " said Edith impatiently. 
 
 " Well, not that you'd be willing to do. Of
 
 288 WHAT CAN SHE DO I 
 
 course there's housecleaningand washing and some 
 plain sewing, though that is mostly done on a ma- 
 chine. A good strong woman can always get day's 
 work, except in winter, but you aint one of that 
 sort," she added, looking at Edith's delicate pink 
 and white complexion and little white hands in 
 which a scrubbing brush would look incongruous. 
 
 " Isn't there any demand for fancy work?" ask- 
 ed Edith. 
 
 " Mighty little. People buy such things in the 
 city. Money aint so plenty in the country that 
 people will spend much on that kind of thing. 
 The ladies themselves make it at home and when 
 they go out to tea." 
 
 " Oh dear,'' sighed Edith, as she plodded wea- 
 rily homeward, " what can we do ? Ignorance is as 
 bad as crime." 
 
 Her main hope now for immediate necessities 
 was that they might get some scholars. She had 
 put up a notice in the post office and an adver- 
 tisement in the paper. She had also purchased 
 some rudimentary school books, and the poor child, 
 on her return home, soon distracted herself by a 
 sudden plunge into vulgar fractions. She found 
 herself so sadly rusty that she would have to study 
 almost as hard as any of her pupils, were they ob- 
 tained. Laura's bookish turn and better mem- 
 ory had kept her better informed. Edith soon 
 threw aside grammars and arithmetics, saying to 
 Laura, 
 
 " You must take care of the school, if we get
 
 IGNORANCE. LOOKING FOR WORK. 289 
 
 one. It would take me too long to prepare on 
 these things in our emergency." 
 
 Almost desperate from the feeling that there 
 was nothing she could do, she took a hoe that was 
 by no means light, and loosened the ground and 
 cut off all the sprouting weeds around her straw- 
 berry vines. The day was rather cool and cloudy, 
 and she was surprised at the space she went over. 
 She wore her broad-rimmed straw-hat tied down 
 over her face, and determined she would not look 
 at the road, and act as if it were not there, letting 
 people think what they pleased. But a familiar 
 rumble and rattle caused her to look shyly up after 
 the wagon had passed, and she saw Arden Lacey 
 gazing wonderingly back at her. She dropped her 
 eyes instantly as if she had not seen him, and went 
 on with her work. At last, thoroughly wearied, 
 she went in and said half triumphantly, half de- 
 fiantly, 
 
 " A woman can hoe. I've done it myself." 
 " A woman can ride a horse like a man," said 
 Mrs. Allen, and this was all the home encourage- 
 ment poor Edith received. 
 
 They had had but a light lunch at one o'clock, 
 meaning to have a more substantial dinner at six. 
 Hannibal was showing Zell and getting her started 
 in her department. It was but a poor little dinner 
 they had, and Zell said in place of dessert, 
 " Edith, we are most out of everything." 
 ""And I can't get any work," said Edith dc- 
 pondingly. " People have got to know how to do
 
 290 WHAT CAN SHE D01 
 
 things t-efore anybody wants them, and we haven't 
 time to learn." 
 
 " Ten dollars won't last long," said Zell reck- 
 lessly. 
 
 '* I will go down to the village and make furthef 
 inquiries to-morrow," Edith continued in a weary 
 tone. " It seems strange how people stand aloof 
 from us. No one calls and every body wants what 
 we owe them right away. Are there not any good 
 kind people in Pushton ? I wish we had not 
 offended the Laceys. They might have advised 
 and helped us, but nothing would tempt me to go 
 to them after treating them as we did." 
 
 There were plenty of good kind people in Push- 
 ton, but Mrs. Allen's "policy" had driven them 
 away as far as possible. By their course the Al- 
 iens had placed themselves, in relation to all classes, 
 in the most unapproachable position, and theii 
 " friends" from the city and Tom Growl's gossip 
 made matters far worse. Poor Edith thought 
 they were utterly ignored. She would have felt 
 worse if she had known that every one was talk- 
 ing about them. 
 
 The next day Edith started on another unsuc- 
 cessful expedition to the village, and while she was 
 gone, Zell went to the post-office to which she had 
 told Van Dam to direct his reply. She found the 
 plausible lie we have already placed before the 
 reader. 
 
 At first she experienced a sensation of angel 
 that he had not complied with her wish. It was
 
 IGNORANCE. LOOKING FOR WORK. 29! 
 
 a new experience to have gentlemen, especially 
 Van Dam, so long her obsequious slave, think of 
 anything contrary to her wishes. She also feared 
 that Edith might be right, and that Van Dam 
 designed evil against her. She would not openly 
 admit, even to herself, that this was his purpose, 
 and yet Edith's words had been so clear and 
 strong, and Van Dam's conditions placed her so 
 entirely at his mercy, that she shrank from him 
 and was fascinated at the same time. 
 
 But instead of indignantly casting the letter 
 from her, she read it again and again. Her foolish 
 heart pleaded for him. 
 
 " He couldn't be so false to me, so false to his 
 written word," she said, and the letter was hidden 
 away, and she passed into the dangerous stage of 
 irresolution, where temptation is secretly dwelt 
 upon. She hesitated, and according to the pro- 
 verb, the woman who does this is lost. Instead 
 of indignantly casting temptation from her, she 
 left her course open, to be decided somewhat 
 by circumstances. She wilfully shut her eyes to 
 the danger, and tried to believe, and did almost 
 believe that.her lover meant honestly by her. 
 
 And so the days passed, Edith vainly trying to 
 find something to do, and working hard in her 
 garden, which as yet brought no return. She was 
 often very sad and despondent and again very 
 irritable. Laura's apathy only deepened, and she 
 seemed like one not yet awakened from a dream 
 of the past. Zell made some show of work, but
 
 2g2 WHA T CAN SHE DOT 
 
 after all left most everything for Hannibal as before, 
 and when Edith sharply chided her, she laughed 
 recklessly and said, 
 
 "What's the use? If we are going to starve 
 we might as well do so at once and it's over with." 
 
 " I won't starve," said Edith, almost fiercely. 
 " There must be honest work somewhere in the 
 world for one willing to do it, and I'm going to 
 find it. At any rate, I can raise food in my garden 
 before long." 
 
 " I'm afraid we'll starve before your cabbages 
 and carrots come to maturity, and we might as 
 well as to try to live on such garbage. Supplies 
 are running low, and as you say, the money is 
 nearly gone." 
 
 " Yes, and people won't trust us any more. 
 Two or three declined to in the village to-day, and 
 I felt too discouraged and ashamed to ask any 
 further. For some reason people seem afraid of 
 us. I see persons turn and look after me, and yet 
 they avoid me. Two or three impudent clerks 
 tried to make my acquaintance, but I snubbed 
 them in such a way that they will let me alone 
 hereafter. I wonder if any stories could have got 
 around about us? Country towns are such places 
 for gossip." 
 
 " Have you heard of any scholars ?" said Laura 
 languidly. 
 
 " No, not one," was Edith's despondent answer. 
 * If nothing turns up before, I'll go to New York
 
 IGNORANCE. LOOKING FOR WORK. 
 
 293 
 
 next Monday and sell some more things, and I'll 
 go where I'm known this time." 
 
 Nothing turned up, and by Sunday they had 
 nothing in the house save a little dry bread, which 
 they ate moistened with wine and water. Mrs 
 Allen sighed and cried all day. Laura had the 
 strange manner of one awaking up to something 
 unrealized before. Restlessness began to take the 
 place of apathy, and her eyes often sought the face 
 of Edith in a questioning manner. Finding her 
 alone in the garden, she said, 
 
 " Why Edith, I'm hungry. I never remember 
 being hungry before. Is it possible we have come 
 to this ? " 
 
 Edith burst into tears, and said brokenly, 
 
 " Come with me to the arbor." 
 
 " I'm sure I'm willing to do anything," said 
 Laura piteously, " but I never realized we would 
 come to this." 
 
 41 Oh, how can the birds sing ? '' said Edith bit- 
 terly. " This beautiful spring weather, with its 
 promise and hopefulness, seems a mockery.. The 
 sun is shining brightly, flowers are budding and 
 blooming, and all the world seems so happy, but 
 my heart aches as if it would burst. I'm hungry, 
 too, and I know poor old Hannibal is faint, though 
 he tries to keep up whenever I am around." 
 
 " But Edith if people knew how we are situated 
 they would not let us want. Our old acquaintances 
 in New York, or our relations even, though not 
 Very friendly, would surely keep us."
 
 294 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " Oh, yes, I suppose so for a little while, but I 
 can't bring myself to ask for charity, and no one 
 would undertake to support us. What discourages 
 me most is that I can't get work that will bring in 
 money. Between people wishing to have nothing 
 to do with us, on one hand, and my ignorance on 
 the other, there seems no resource. Some of those 
 whom we owe seem inclined to press us. I'm so 
 afraid of losing this place and being out on the 
 street. If I could only get a chance somewhere, 
 or get time to learn to do something well ! " 
 
 Then after a moment she asked suddenly, 
 Where's Zell?" 
 
 " In her room, I think." 
 
 " I don't like Zell's manner," said Edith, after 
 a brief painful reverie. " It's so hard and reckless. 
 Something seems on her mind. She has long fits 
 of abstraction as if she were thinking of something, 
 or weighing some plan. Could she have had any 
 communication with that villain Van Dam ? Oh, 
 that would be the bitterest drop of all in our cup 
 of sorrow. I would rather see her dead than that. 
 
 " Oh dear," said Laura, " it seems as if I had 
 been in a trance and had just awakened. Why 
 Edith, I must do something. It is not iight to let 
 you bear all these things alone. But d<y. t trouble 
 about Zell, not one of George Allen's daughters 
 will sink to that."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A FALLING STAR. 
 
 P7ELL slept most of the day. She had reached 
 *-^ that point where she did not want to think. 
 On hearing Edith say that she would go to New 
 York on Monday, a sudden and strong temptation as- 
 sailed her. Impulsive, but not courageous, abound- 
 ing in energy, but having little fortitude, she found 
 the conditions of her country life growing unendur- 
 able. Var Dam seemed her only refuge, her only 
 means of escape. She soon lost all hope of their 
 sustaining themselves by work in Pushton. Her 
 uncurbed nature could wait patiently for nothing, 
 and as the long, idle days passed, she doubted, and 
 then despaired, of any success from Edith's plans. 
 She harbored Van Dam's temptation, and the con- 
 sciousness of doing this hurt her womanly nature, 
 and her hard, reckless tone and manner was the 
 natural consequence. Though she said to herself, 
 and tried to believe, 
 
 " He will marry me he has promised again and 
 again." 
 
 Still, there was the uneasy knowledge that she 
 was placing herself and reputation entirely at his 
 mercy, and she long had known that Van Dam was 
 no saint. It was this lurking knowledge, shut her
 
 296 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 eyes to it as she might, that acted on her nature like 
 that petrifying influence existing in some places, 
 which tends to turn all to stone. 
 
 And yet, Van Dam's temptation had more to 
 contend with in her pride than her moral nature. 
 Everything in her education had tended to increase 
 the former, and dwarf the latter. Her parents had 
 taken her to the theatre far oftener than even to the 
 fashionable church on the avenue. From the latter 
 she carried away more ideas about dress than any- 
 thing else. From a child she had been familiar 
 with the French school of morals, as taught by the 
 sensational drama in New York. Society, that will 
 turn a poor girl out of doors the moment she sins, 
 will take her at the most critical age of her unformed 
 character, night after night, to witness plays in which 
 the husband is made ridiculous, but the man who 
 destroys purity and home-happiness, is as splendid 
 a villain as Milton's Satan. Mr. Allen himself had 
 familiarized Zell's mind with just what she was 
 tempted to do, by taking her to plays as poisonous 
 to the soul as the malaria of the Campagna at Rome 
 to the body. He, though dead, had a part in the 
 present temptation of his child, and we unhesita- 
 tingly charge many parents with the absolute ruin 
 of their children, by exposing them, and permitting 
 them to be exposed, to influences that they know 
 must be fatal. No guardian of a child can plead 
 the densest stupidity for not knowing that Fiench 
 novels and plays are as demoralizing as the devil 
 could wish them to be; and constantly to place young
 
 A FALLING STAR. 2$? 
 
 passionate natures, just awakening in their uncurbed 
 strength, under such influences, and expect them to 
 remain as spotless as snow, is the most wretched ab- 
 surdity of our day. Society brings fire to the tow, 
 the brand to the powder, and then lifts its hand to 
 hurl its anathema in case they ignite. 
 
 But Mr. Allen sinned even more grievously in 
 permitting a man like Van Dam to haunt his home. 
 If now one of the lambs of his flock suffered irretriev- 
 ably, he would be as much to blame as a shepherd 
 who daily saw the wolf within his fold. Mr. Allen was 
 familiar with the stories about Van Dam, as mul- 
 titudes of wealthy men are to-day with the charac- 
 ter of well-dressed scoundrels that visit their 
 daughters. Some of the worst villains in existence 
 have the entree into the " best society." It is pretty 
 well known among men what they are, and fashion- 
 able mammas are not wholly in the dark. There- 
 fore, every day, " Angels that kept not their first 
 estate " are falling from heaven. It may not be the 
 open, disgraceful ruin that threatened poor Zell, but 
 ruin nevertheless. 
 
 After all, it was the undermining, unhallowed 
 influence of long association with Van Dam that now 
 made Zell so weak in her first sharp stress of temp- 
 tation. Crime was not awful and repulsive to her. 
 There was little in her cunningly-perverted nature 
 that revolted at it. She hesitated mainly on the 
 ground of her pride, and in view of the consequen- 
 ces. And even these latter she in no sense realized, 
 for the school in which she had been taught showed
 
 2 9 g WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 only the flowery opening of the path into sin, while 
 its terrible retributions were kept hidden. 
 
 Therefore, as the miseries of her condition in the 
 country increased, Zell's pride failed her, and she 
 began to be willing to risk all to get away, and when 
 she felt the pinch of hunger she became almost des- 
 perate. As we have said, on Edith's naming a day 
 on which she would be absent on the forlorn mission 
 that would only put off the day of utter want a little 
 longer, the temptation took definite shape in Zell's 
 mind to write at once to Van Dam, acceding to his 
 shameful conditions. 
 
 But, to satisfy her conscience, which she could 
 not stifle, and to provide some excuse for her action, 
 and still more, to brace the hope she tried to cherish 
 that he really meant truly by her, she wrote, 
 
 " If I will meet you at the boat Monday evening, 
 will you surely marry me? Promise me on your 
 sacred honor." 
 
 Van Dam muttered, with alow laugh, as he read 
 the note, 
 
 " That's a rich joke, for her to accept such a prop- 
 osition as mine, especially after all that has hap- 
 pened, and still prate of ' sacred honor.' " 
 
 But he unhesitatingly, promptly, and with 
 many protestations assured her that he would, and 
 at once prepared to carry out his part of the pro- 
 gramme. 
 
 " What's the use oi half-way lies? " he said, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 On Monday Edith again took the early train
 
 A FALLING STAR. 299 
 
 with the valuables she designed disposing of. Zell 
 had said indifferently, 
 
 " You may take anything I have left except my 
 watch and chain." 
 
 But Laura had insisted on sending her watch, 
 saying, " I really wish to do something, Edith. I've 
 left all the burden on you too long." 
 
 Mrs. Allen sighed, and said, "Take anything 
 you please." 
 
 So Edith carried away with her the means of 
 fighting the wolf, hunger, from their doors a little 
 longer. But if she had known that a more cruel 
 enemy would despoil her home in her absence, she 
 would have rather starved than gone. 
 
 Laura was reading to her mother when Zell put 
 her head in at the door, saying, 
 
 " I am going for a short walk, and will be back 
 soon." 
 
 She hastened to the office at which she told Van 
 Dam to address her, and found his reply. With 
 feverish cheeks, and eyes in which glowed excite- 
 ment rather than happiness, she read it as soon as 
 alone on the road, and returned as quickly as pos- 
 sible. Her mind was in a wild tumult, but she 
 would not allow herself one connected thought. She 
 spent most of the day in her room preparing for her 
 flight. But when she came down to see Hannibal 
 about their rreagre lunch, he said in some surprise 
 and alarm, 
 
 " Oh, Miss Zell, how burnin red your cheeks be ! 
 You'se got a ragin feber, sure 'nuff. Go and lie
 
 300 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 right straight down, and I'se see to ebery ting. I'se 
 been to de willage and got some tea. A man guve 
 it to me as a sample, and I telled him we'se like our 
 tea mighty strong, so you'se all hab a cup of tea 
 to-day, and to-night Miss Edie '11 come back with 
 a heap of money." 
 
 " Poor old Hannibal," said Zell, with a sudden 
 rush of tenderness. " I wish I were as good as ycu 
 are." 
 
 " Lor bress you, Miss Zell, I isn't good. I'se 
 kind of a heathen. But somehow I feels dat de 
 Lord will bress me when I steals for you alls." 
 
 " Oh, Hannibal, I wish I was dead and out of 
 the way ! Then there would be one less to provide 
 for." 
 
 " Dead and out of de way ! " said Hannibal, 
 half indignantly ; " dat's jest how to get into de 
 way. I'd be afeard of seein your spook whenever I 
 was alone. I had no comfort in New York arter 
 Massa Allen died, and was mighty glad to get 
 away even to Bushtown. And den Miss Edie and 
 all would cry dar eyes out, and couldn't do nothin. 
 Folks is often more in de way arter dey's dead and 
 gone dan when livin. Seein your sweet face around 
 ebery day, honey, is a great help to ole Hannibal. 
 It seems only yesterday it was a little baby face, 
 and we was all pretty nigh crazy over you." 
 
 " I wish I had died then ! " said Zell, passionately 
 and hurrying away. 
 
 " Poor chile, poor chile ! she takes it mighty 
 hard," said innocent Hannibal.
 
 A FALLING STAR. 30! 
 
 She kept her room during the afternoon, plead- 
 ing that she did not feel well. It gave her pain to 
 be with her mother and Laura, now that she pur- 
 posed to leave them so abruptly, and she wished 
 to see nothing that would shake her resolution to 
 go as she had arranged. She wrote to Edith as 
 follows : 
 
 " I am going, Edith, to meet Mr. Van Dam, as he 
 told me. I cannot I will not believe that he will 
 prove false to me. I leave his letter, which I re- 
 ceived to-day. Perhaps you never will forgive me 
 at home ; but whatever becomes of poor little Zell, 
 she will not cease to love you all. I would only be 
 a burden if I stayed. There will be one less to 
 provide for, and I may be able to help you far more 
 by going than staying. Don't follow me. I've 
 made my venture, and chosen my lot. 
 
 " ZELL." 
 
 As the long twilight was deepening, Hannibal, 
 returning from the well with a pail of water, heard 
 the gate-latch click, and looking up, saw Zell hur- 
 rying out with hat and shawl on, and having the 
 appearance of carrying something under her shawl. 
 He felt a little surprise at first, but then Zell was 
 BO full of impulse, that he concluded, 
 
 " She's gwine to meet Miss Edie. We'se 
 all alookin and leanin on Miss Edie, Lor bresa 
 her," 
 
 But Zell was going to perdition. 
 
 Little later the stage brought tired Edith home.
 
 302 WHAT CA A SHE DO.* 
 
 but in better spirits than before, as she had realized 
 a somewhat fair sum for what she had sold, and 
 had been treated politely. 
 
 After taking off her things, she asked, " Where's 
 Zell?" 
 
 " Lying down, I think," said Laura. " She 
 complained of not feeling well this afternoon." 
 
 But Hannibal's anxious face in the door now 
 caught her attention, and she joined him at 
 once. 
 
 "Didn't you meet Miss Zell?" he asked in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "Meet her? no," answered Edith, excitedly. 
 
 " Dat's quare. She went out with hat and 
 shawl on a little while ago. P'raps she's come 
 back, and gone up stairs again." 
 
 Trembling so she could hardly walk steadily, 
 Edith hurried to her room, and there saw Zell's 
 note. Tearing it open, she only read the first line, 
 and then rushed down to her mother and Laura, 
 sobbing, 
 
 " Zell's gone." 
 
 " Gone ! Where ? " they said, with dismayed 
 faces. 
 
 Edith's only reply was to suddenly look at her 
 watch, put on her hat, and dart out of the door. She 
 saw that there was still ten minutes before the even- 
 ing boat passed the Pushton landing, and remem- 
 bered that it was sometimes delayed. There was 
 a shorter road to the dock than the one through 
 the village, and this she took, with flying feet, and
 
 A FALLING STAR. 303 
 
 a white but determined face. It would have been 
 a terrible thing for Van Dam to have met her then. 
 She seemed sustained by supernatural strength, 
 and, walking and running by turns, made the mile 
 and a half in an incredibly short space of time. 
 As she reached the top of the hill above the 
 landing, she saw the boat coming in to the 
 dock. Though panting and almost spent, again 
 she ran at the top of her speed. Half-way down 
 she heard the plank ring out upon the wharf. 
 
 "Stop!" she called. But her parched lips ut- 
 tered only a faint sound, like the cry of one in a 
 dream. . 
 
 A moment later, as she struggled desperately 
 forward, there came, like the knell of hope, the 
 command, 
 
 " All aboard ! " 
 
 " Oh, wait, wait ! " she again tried to call, but her 
 tongue seemed paralyzed. 
 
 As she reached the commencement of the long 
 dock, she saw the lines cast off. The great wheels 
 gave a vigorous revolution, and the boat swept 
 away. 
 
 She was too late. She staggered forward a few 
 steps more, and then all her remaining strength 
 went into one agonized cry, 
 
 " Zell ! " 
 
 And she fell fainting on the dock. 
 
 Zell heard that cry, and recognized the voice. 
 Taking her hand from Mr. Van Dam's arm. she 
 covered her face in sudden remorseful weeping.
 
 304 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 But It \vas too late. 
 
 She nad left the shelter of home, and ventured 
 out into the great pitiless world on nothing better 
 than Van Dam's word. It was like walking a rotten 
 plank out into the sea. 
 
 Zcll was lost I
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DESOLATION 
 
 NOT only did Edith's bitter cry startle poor 
 Zcll, coming to her ear as a despairing recall 
 from the battlements of heaven might have sounded 
 to a falling angel, but Arden Lacey was as 
 thoroughly aroused from his painful reverie as if 
 shaken by a giant hand. He had been down to 
 meet the boat, with many others, and was sending 
 off some little produce from their place. He had 
 not noticed in the dusk the closely-vailed lady ; 
 indeed, he rarely noticed any one unless they spoke to 
 him, and then gave but brief, surly attention. Only 
 one had scanned Zell curiously, and that was Tom 
 Crowl. With his quick eye for something wrong in 
 human action, he was attracted by Zell's manner. 
 He could not make out through her thick vail who 
 she was, in the increasing darkness, but he saw that 
 she was agitated, and that she looked eagerly for 
 the coming of the boat, also landward, where the 
 road came out on the dock, as if fearing or expect- 
 ing something from that quarter. But when he saw 
 her join Van Dam, he recognized his old bar-room 
 acquaintance, and surmised that the lady was one 
 of the Allen family. Possessing these links in the 
 chain, he was ready for the next. Edith's presence 
 and cry supplied this, and he chuckled exultantly,
 
 306 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 " All elopement ! " and ran in the direction of the 
 sound. 
 
 But Arden was already at Edith's side, having 
 reached her almost at a bound, and was gently lift- 
 ing the unconscious girl, and regarding her with a 
 tenderness only equaled by his helplessness and 
 perplexity in knowing what to do with her. 
 
 The first impulse of his great strength was to 
 carry her directly to her home. But Edith was 
 anything but ethereal, and long before he could 
 have passed the mile and a half, he would have 
 fainted under the burden, even though love nerved 
 his arms. But while he stood in piteous irresolu- 
 tion, there came out from the crowd that had 
 gathered round, a stout, middle-aged worran, who 
 said, in a voice that not only betokened the utmost 
 confidence in herself, but also the assurance that all 
 the world had confidence in her: 
 
 " Here, give me the girl. What do you men-folks 
 know about women ? " 
 
 " I declare it's Miss Groody from the hotel," ejacu- 
 lated Tom Crowl, as this delightful drama (to him) 
 went on from act to act. 
 
 " Standin' there and holdin' of her," continued 
 Mrs. Groody, who was sometimes a little severe on 
 both sexes, " won't bring her to, unless she fainted 
 'cause she wanted some one to hold her." 
 
 A general laugh greeted this implied satire, but 
 Arden, between anger and desire to do something, 
 was almost beside himself. He had the presence of 
 mind to rush to the boat-house for a bucket of water,
 
 DESOLA T10N. 307 
 
 and when he arrived with it a man had also pro- 
 cured a lantern, which revealed to the curious 
 onlookers that gathered round with craning necks, 
 the pale features of Edith Allen. 
 
 ' By golly, but it's one of them Allen girls," said 
 Tom Crowl, eagerly. " I see it all now. She's 
 down to stop her sister, who's just run away with 
 one of those city scamps, that was up here awhile 
 ago. I saw her join him and take his arm on the 
 boat, but wasn't sure who she was then." 
 
 " Might know you was around, Tom Crowl," said 
 Mrs. Groody. " There's never nothing wrong going 
 on but you will see it. You are worse than any old 
 woman for gossip. Why don't you put on petti- 
 coats and go out to tea for a livin* ? " 
 
 When the laugh ceased at Growl's expense, he 
 said : 
 
 " Don't you put on airs, Mrs. Groody ; you are as 
 glad to hear the news as any one. It's a pity you 
 turned up and spoiled Mr. Lacey's part of the play, 
 for, if this one is anything like her sister, she, per- 
 haps, wanted to be held as you " 
 
 Tom's further utterance was effectually stopped 
 by such a blow across his mouth, from Lacey's hand, 
 as brought the blood profusely on the spot, and 
 caused such disfigurement, for days after, that appro- 
 priate justice seemed visited on the offending region, 
 
 "Leave this dock," said Arden, sternly; "and if 
 I trace any slander to you concerning this lady or 
 myself, I will break every bone in your miserable 
 body."
 
 308 WI1A T CAN SUE DO? 
 
 Crowl shrank off amid the jeers of the crowd, but 
 when reaching a safe distance, said, " You will be 
 sorry for this." 
 
 Arden paid no heed to him, for Edith, under Mrs. 
 Groody's treatment, gave signs of returning con- 
 sciousness. She slowly opened her eyes, and turned 
 them wonderingly around ; then came a look of wild 
 alarm, as she saw herself surrounded by strange 
 bearded faces, that appeared both savage and gro- 
 tesque in the flickering light of the lantern. 
 
 " Oh, Heaven, have mercy," she cried, faintly. 
 "Where am I?" 
 
 " Among friends, I assure you, Miss Allen," said 
 Arden, kneeling at her side. 
 
 "Mr. Lacey ! and are you here?" said Edith, 
 trying to rise. " You surely will protect me." 
 
 " Do not be afraid, Miss Allen. No one would 
 harm you for the world ; and Mrs. Groody is a good 
 kind lady, and will see you safely home, I am sure." 
 
 Edith now became conscious that it 'was Mrs. 
 Groody who was supporting her, and regained confi- 
 dence, as she recognized the presence of a woman. 
 
 " Law bless you, child, you needn't be scared. 
 You have only had a faint. I'll take care of you, as 
 young Lacey says. Seems to me he's got wonder- 
 fully polite since last summer," she muttered to her- 
 self. 
 
 " But where am I ? " asked Edith, with a bewil- 
 dered air ; " what has happened ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't worry yourself; you'll soon be home 
 and safe."
 
 DESOLA TION. 309 
 
 But the memory of it all suddenly came to Edith, 
 and even by the lantern's light, Arden saw the sud- 
 den crimson pour into her face and neck. She gave 
 one wild, deprecating look around, and then buried 
 her face in her hands as if to hide the look of scorn 
 she expected to see on every face. 
 
 The first arrow aimed by Zell's great wrong al- 
 ready quivered in her heart. 
 
 " Don't you think you could walk a little now, 
 just enough to get into the hack with me and go 
 home ? " asked the kind woman, in a soothing voice. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Edith, eagerly ; "let us getaway 
 at once." And with Mrs. Groody's and Arden's as- 
 sistance, she was soon seated in the hack, and was 
 glad to note that there was no other passenger. The 
 ride was a comparatively silent one. Edith was too 
 exhausted from her desperate struggle to reach the 
 boat, and her heart was too bruised and sore, to 
 permit on her part much more than monosyllables, in 
 answer to Mrs. Groody's efforts at conversation. But 
 as they stopped at the cottage, her new friend 
 said, cheerily, 
 
 " Don't take it so hard, my child ; you ain't to 
 blame. I'll stand by you if no one else will. It 
 don't take me long to know a good honest girl when 
 I see one, and I know you mean well. What's 
 more, I've took a liking to you, and I can be a pret- 
 ty fair sort of friend if I do work for a livin'." 
 
 Mrs. Groody was good if not grammatical. She 
 had broad shoulders, that had borne in their day 
 many burdens ; her own and others. She had a
 
 3 1 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 strong, stout frame, in which thumped a large, kind- 
 ly heart. She had long earned her bread by call- 
 ings that brought her in contact with all cUsses, and 
 learned to know the world very thoroughly without 
 becoming worldly or hardened. But she had a 
 quick, sharp tongue, and could pay anybody off in 
 their own coin with interest. Everybody soon 
 found it to their advantage to keep on the right side 
 of Mrs. Groody, and the old habitues of the hotel 
 were as polite and deferential to her as if she were a 
 duchess. She was one of those shrewd, strong, 
 cheery people, who would make themselves snug, 
 useful, and influential in a very short time, if set 
 down anywhere on the face of the earth. 
 
 Such a woman readily surmised the nature of 
 Edith's trouble, and knew well how deeply the 
 shadow of Zell's disgrace would fall on the family. 
 Edith's desperate effort to save her sister, her bitter 
 humiliation and shrinking shame in view of the 
 flight, all proved her to be worthy of respect and 
 confidence herself. When Mrs. Groody saw that 
 Edith lived in a little house, and was probably not 
 in so high a social position as to resent her patron- 
 age, her big heart yearned in double sympathy over 
 the poor girl, and she determined to help her in the 
 struggle she knew to be before her ; so she said, 
 kindly, 
 
 " If you'll wait till an old clumsy body like me 
 can get out, I'll see you safe into your home." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Edith, eagerly, following the 
 strong instinct to keep a stranger from seeing her
 
 DESOLATION. 311 
 
 self, mother, Laura, in the first hour of their shame. 
 " You have been very kind, and I feel that I can 
 never repay you." 
 
 " Bless you, child, I don't expect greenbacks for 
 all I do I want a little of the Lord's work to come 
 to me, though I'm afraid I fell from grace long ago. 
 But a body can't be pious in a hotel. There's so 
 many aggravatin* people and things that you think 
 swearing, if you darsn't say it out. But I'm a hu- 
 man sort of a heathen, after all, and I feel sorry for 
 you. Now ain't there somethin' I can do for you ? " 
 
 The driver stood with his lantern near the door, 
 and its rays fell on Edith's pale face and large, tear* 
 ful eyes, and she turned, and for the first time tried 
 to see who this kind woman was, that seemed to 
 feel for her. Taking Mrs. Groody's hands, she said, 
 in a voice of tremulous pathos, 
 
 " God bless you for speaking to me at all. I 
 didn't think any one would again, who knew. You 
 ask if you can do anything for me. If you'll only 
 get me work, I'll bless you every day of my life. 
 No one on earth or in heaven can help me, unless I 
 get work. I'm almost desperate for it, and I can't 
 seem to find any that will bring us bread, but I'll do 
 any honest work, no matter what, and I'll take 
 whatever people are willing to give for it, till I can 
 do better." Edith spoke in a rapid manner, but in 
 a tone that went straight to the heart. 
 
 " _Why, my poor child," said Mrs. Groody, wiping 
 her eyes, " You can't do work. You are pale as a 
 ghost, and you look like a delicate lady."
 
 3 1 2 WIIA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 " What' is there in this world for a delicate lady 
 who has no money, but honest work? " asked Edith, 
 in a tone that was almost stern. 
 
 " I see that you are such a lady, and it seems that 
 you ought to find some lady-like work, if you must 
 do it," said Mrs. Groody, musingly. 
 
 " We have tried to get employment almost any 
 kind. I can't think my sister would have taken her 
 desperate course if we could have obtained some- 
 thing to do. I know she ought to have starved first. 
 But we were not brought up to work, and we can't 
 do anything well enough to satisfy people, and we 
 haven't time, to learn. Besides, before this hap- 
 pened, for some reason people stood aloof from us, 
 and now it will be far worse. Oh, what shall we 
 do ? What shall we do ? " cried Edith, despairingly ; 
 and in her trouble she seemed to turn her eyes away 
 from Mrs. Groody, with wild questioning of the future. 
 
 Her new acquaintance was sniffling and blowing 
 her nose in a manner that betokened serious inter- 
 nal commotion. The driver, who would have 
 hustled any ordinary passenger out quickly enough, 
 waited Mrs. Groody's leisure at a respectful dis- 
 tance. He knew her potential influence at the 
 hotel. At last the good woman found her voice, 
 though it seemed a little husky : 
 
 " Lor' bless you, child, I ain't got a millstun for a 
 heart, and if I had, you'd turn it into wax. If 
 work's all you want, you shall have it. I'm house- 
 keeper at the hotel. You come to me as soon aa 
 you are able, and we'll find something.'
 
 DESOLATION. 313 
 
 " Oh, thank you, thank you ! " said Edith, fer- 
 vidly. , 
 
 "Is dat you, Miss Edie?" called Hannibal's 
 anxious voice. 
 
 " Good night, my dear," said Mrs. Groody, has- 
 tily " Don't lose courage. I ain't on as good 
 terms with the Lord as I ought to be. I seem too 
 worried and busy to 'tend to religion ; but I know 
 enough about Him to be sure that He will take 
 care of a poor child that wants to do right." 
 
 " I don't understand how God lets happen all 
 that's happened to-day. The best I can believe is, 
 that we are dealt with in a mass, and the poor 
 human atoms are lost sight of. But I am indeed 
 grateful for your kindness, and will come to-morrow 
 and do anything I can. Good-bye." 
 
 And the hack rumbled away, leaving her in the 
 darkness, with Hannibal at the gate. 
 
 " Oh, Hannibal, Hannibal," was all that Edith 
 could say. 
 
 " Is she done gone clean away ? " asked Hannibal, 
 in an awed whisper. 
 
 " Would to heaven she had never been born," 
 said Edith, bitterly. " Help me into the house, for 
 I feel as if I would die." 
 
 Hannibal, trembling with fear himself, supported 
 poor, exhausted Edith to a sofa, and then disap- 
 peared in the kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Allen and Laura came and stood with white 
 faces by Edith's languid, unnerved form. 
 
 There was no need of asking questions. She had
 
 3 14 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 returned alone, with her fresh young face looking 
 old and drawn in its grief. 
 
 At last Mrs. Allen said, with bitter emphasis : 
 
 " She is no child of mine, from this day forth." 
 
 Then followed such a dreary silence, that it might 
 seem that Zell had died and was no more. 
 
 At last Hannibal bustled in, making a most 
 desperate effort to keep up a poor show of courage 
 and hope. He placed on a little table before Edith 
 a steaming hot cup of tea, some toast, and wine, 
 but the food was motioned away. 
 
 " It would choke me," said Edith. 
 
 Hannibal stood before her a moment, his quaint 
 old. visage working under the influence of emotion, 
 almost beyond control. At last he managed to 
 say: 
 
 " Miss Edie, we'se all a-leanin on you. We'se 
 nothin but vines a-climbin up de orange bush. If 
 you goes down, we all does. And now, Miss Edie, 
 I'd swallow pison for you. Won't you take a cup o* 
 tea for de sake of ole Hannibal? 'Cause your sweet 
 face looks so pinched, honey, dat I feels dat my ole 
 black heart's ready to bust ; " and Hannibal, feel- 
 ing that the limit of his restraint was reached, 
 retreated precipitately to the kitchen. 
 
 The appeal, with its element of deep affection, 
 was more needed by Edith in her half paralyzed 
 state than even the material refreshment. She sat 
 up instantly, and drank the tea and wine, and ate a 
 little of the toast. Then taking the cup and glass 
 into the kitchen,
 
 DESOLA TION. 3 1 5 
 
 " There,' she said, " see, I've drunk every drop. 
 So don't worry about me any more, my poor old 
 Hannibal, but go to bed, after your hard day's 
 work." 
 
 But Hannibal would not venture out, of his dark 
 corner, but muttered, brokenly, 
 
 " Lor bress you Miss Edie you'se an angel 
 Ise be better soon Ise got de hicups." 
 
 Edith thought it kindness to leave the old man 
 to recover his self-control in his own time and way, 
 so she said, 
 
 " Good-night, my faithful old friend. You're 
 worth your weight in gold." 
 
 Meantime, Laura had helped Mrs. Allen to her 
 room, but now she came running down to Edith, 
 with new trouble in her face, saying : 
 
 " Mother's crying so, I can't do anything with 
 her." 
 
 At first Mrs. Allen's heart seemed hardened 
 against her erring child, but on reaching her room 
 she stood a few moments irresolutely, then went 
 to a drawer, and took an old faded picture-case and 
 opened it, to where Zell smiled out upon her, a 
 little, dimpled baby. Then, as if by a sudden im- 
 pulse, rare to her, she pressed her lips against 
 the unconscious face, and threw herself into her low 
 chair, sobbing so violently that Laura became 
 alarmed. 
 
 Even in that arid place Mrs. Allen's heart, there 
 appeared a little oasis of mother love, as this last 
 and bitterest sorrow pierced its lovrest depths. She
 
 3 1 6 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 might cast out from her affection the gtovvn, sinning 
 daughter, but not the baby that once slept upon 
 her breast. 
 
 As Edith came and took her hand she said, 
 brokenly : 
 
 " It seems but yesterday that she was a wee 
 black-eyed little thing in my arms and your 
 father came and looked at her so proudly 
 tenderly " 
 
 " Would to heaven she had died then," said 
 Edith, sternly. 
 
 " It would have been better if we had all died 
 then," said Mrs. Allen drearily, and becoming quiet. 
 
 Edith's words fell like a chill upon her unwonted- 
 ly stirred heart, and old habits of feeling and action 
 resumed sway. 
 
 With Mrs. Allen's words ended the miserable day 
 of Zell's flight. Hannibal's words were true. Zell, 
 in her unnatural absence, would be more in the way 
 a heavier burden, than if she had become a help- 
 less invalid upon their hands.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 EDITH'S TRUE KNIGHT. 
 
 THE next morning Edith was too ill to rise. 
 She had become chilled after her extraor- 
 dinary exertion of the previous evening, and a se- 
 vere cold was the consequence ; and this, with the 
 nervous prostration of an overtaxed system, made 
 her appear more seriously indisposed than she real- 
 ly was. For the sake of her mother and Laura, she 
 wished to be present at the meagre little breakfast 
 which her economy now permitted, but found it 
 impossible ; and later in the day, her mind seemed 
 disposed to wander. 
 
 Mrs. Allen and Laura were terror-stickeli at this 
 new trouble. As Hannibal said, they were all lean- 
 ing on Edith. They had lost confidence in them- 
 selves, and hope now from the outside world. They 
 had scarcely the shadow of an expectation that Van 
 Dam would marry Zell, and therefore knew that 
 worse than work would separate them from all old 
 connections, and they had learned to hope nothing 
 from the people of Pushton. Poor, feverish, wan- 
 dering Edith seemed the only one who could keep 
 them from falling into the abyss of utter want. They 
 instinctively felt that total wreck was impossible as 
 long as she kept her hand upon the helm ; but now
 
 3 1 8 WIIA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 they had all the wild alarm of those who are drill- 
 ing helplessly on a reef, with a deep and stormy sea 
 on either side of it. Thus, to the natural anxiety of 
 affection was added sickening fear. 
 
 Poor old Hannibal had no fear for himself. His 
 devotion to Edith reminded one of a faithful dog; 
 it was so strong, instinctive, unreasoning. He real- 
 ized vaguely that his whole existence depended on 
 Edith's getting well, and yet we doubt whether he 
 thought of himself any more than the Newfound- 
 land, who watches beside the bed, and then beside 
 the grave of a loved master, till famine, that form 
 of pain which humanity cannot endure, robs him of 
 life. 
 
 " We must have a physician immediately," said 
 Laura, with white lips. 
 
 " Oh, no," murmured Edith ; " we can't afford 
 it." 
 
 " We must," said Laura, with a sudden rush of 
 tears. " Everything depends on you." 
 
 Hannibal, who heard this brief dialogue, went 
 silently down stairs, and at once started in quest of 
 Arden Lacey. 
 
 " If he is quar, he seemed kind o' human ; and 
 J'se believe he'll help us now." 
 
 Arden was on the way to the barn, having just 
 inished a farmer's twelve o'clock dinner, when Han- 
 nibal entered the yard. An angel of light could 
 **ot have been more welcome than this dusky mes- 
 senger, for he came from the centre of all light and 
 hope now to poor Arden. Then a feeling of alarm
 
 EDITH'S TRUE KNIGHT. 319 
 
 took possession of him. Had anything happened 
 to Edith? He had seen her shrinking shame. Had 
 it led her to and he shuddered at the thought his 
 wild imagination suggested. It was almost a relief 
 when Hannibal said, 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Lacey, I'se sure fromde way you acted 
 when we fust come, dat you can feel for people in 
 trouble. Miss Edie's berry sick, and I don't know 
 whar to go for a doctor, and she won't have any ; 
 but she mus, and right away. Den again, I oughter 
 not leave, for dey's all nearly dead wid trouble and 
 cryin'." 
 
 " You are a good, faithful fellow," said Arden, 
 heartily ; " go back and do all you can for Miss 
 Edith, and I'll bring a doctor myself, and much 
 quicker too than you could." 
 
 Before Hannibal reached home, Arden galloped 
 past him, and the old man chuckled, 
 
 "De drunken Laceys' mighty good neighbors 
 when dey's sober." 
 
 As well may be imagined, recent events, as far as 
 he understood them, had stirred Arden's sensitive 
 nature to the very depths. Hiding his feelings 
 from all save his mother, and often from her ; ap- 
 pearing to his neighbors stolid and sullen in the 
 extreme, he was, in fact, in his whole being, like 
 a morbidly-excited nerve. He did not shrink from 
 the world because indifferent to it, but because it 
 wounded him when coming in contact with it. He 
 seemed so out of tune with society, that it pro- 
 duced only jarring disjord. His father's course
 
 J2O WHAT CAN SHE DO f 
 
 brought him many real slights, Mid these lift 
 resented as we have seen, and he resented fancied 
 slights quite as often, and thus he had cut himself 
 off from the sympathies, and even the recognition, 
 of nearly all. | 
 
 But what human soul can dwell alone ? The 
 true hermit finds in communion with the Divine 
 mind the perfection of companionship. But Ar- 
 den knew not God. He had heard of Him all his 
 life ; but Jove and Thor were images more familiar 
 to his mind than that of his Creator. He loved 
 his mother and sister, but their life seemed a poor, 
 shaded, little nook, where they toiled and moped. 
 And so, to satisfy the cravings of his lonely heart, 
 he had created and peopled an unreal world of his 
 own, in which he dwelt most of the time. As his 
 interest in the real world ceased, his imagination 
 more vividly portrayed the shadowy one, till at last, 
 in the scenes of poetry and fiction, and the splen- 
 did panorama of history, he thought he might rest 
 satisfied, and find all the society he needed in con- 
 verse with those, whom, by a refinement of spirit- 
 ualism, he could summon to his side from any age 
 or land. He secretly exulted in the still greater 
 magic by which the unreal creatures of poetic 
 thought would come at his volition, and he often 
 smiled to think how royally attended was "old; 
 drunken Lacey's " son, whom many of the neighbors 
 thought scarcely better than the horses he drove. 
 
 Thus he lived under a spell of the past, in a 
 worJd moon -lighted bv sentiment and fancy, sur-
 
 EDITirS TRUE KNIGHT. 321 
 
 rounded by his ideal of those whom he read, and 
 Shakespeare's vivid, life-like women were better 
 known to him than any of the ladies of Pushton. 
 But dreams cannot last in our material world, and 
 ghosts vanish in the sunlight of fact. Woman's 
 nature is as beautiful and fascinating now as when 
 the master-hand of the world's greatest poet delin- 
 eated it, and when living, breathing Edith Allen 
 stepped suddenly among his shadows, seemingly so 
 luminous, they vanished before her, as the stars 
 pale into nothingness, when the eastern sky is 
 aglow with morning. Now, in all his horizon, she 
 only shone, but the past seemed like night, and the 
 present, day. 
 
 The circumstances under which he had met 
 Edith, had, in brief time, done more to acquaint 
 him with her than years might have accomplished, 
 and for the first time in his life he saw a superior 
 girl with the distorting medium of his prejudice 
 pushed aside. Therefore she was a sudden beauti- 
 ful revelation to him, as vivid as unexpected. lie 
 did not believe any such being existed, and indeed 
 there did not, if we consider what he came to ideal- 
 ize Edith into. But a better Edith really lived than 
 the unnatural paragon that he pictured to himself, 
 and the reality was capable of a vast improvement, 
 though not in the direction that his morbid mind 
 would have indicated. 
 
 The treatment of his sister, the sudden ceasing 
 of Sll intercourse, and the appearance of Gus 
 Elliott upon the scene, had cruelly wounded his fair
 
 322 Wf/A T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 ideal, but with a lover's /aith and poet's fancy he 
 soon repaired the ravages of facts. He assured him- 
 self that Edith did not know the character of the 
 men who visited her house. 
 
 Then came Growl's gossip, the knowledge of her 
 poverty, and her wretched errands to New York to 
 dispose of the relics of the happy past. He gath- 
 ered from such observation as he could maintain 
 without being suspected, by every crumb of gossip 
 that he could pick up (for once he listened to gos- 
 sip as if it were gospel), that they were in trouble, 
 that Edith was looking for work, and that she was 
 so superior to the rest of the family, that they now 
 all deferred to her and leaned upon her. Then, to 
 his deep satisfaction he had seen Elliott, the morn- 
 ing after his scathing repulse, going to the train, 
 and looking forlorn and sadly out of humor, and he 
 was quite sure he had not been near the little cot- 
 tage since. Arden needed but little fact on which 
 to rear a wondrous superstructure, and here seemed 
 much, and all in Edith's favor, and he longed with 
 an intensity beyond language to do something to 
 help her. 
 
 Then came the tragedy of Zell's flight, Edith's 
 heroic and almost superhuman effort to save her, 
 now followed by her pathetic weakness and suffer- 
 ing, and no knight in the romantic age of chivalry 
 ever more wholly and loyally devoted himself to 
 the high-born lady of his choice, than did Ardcn 
 to the poor sick girl at whom the finger of srorn 
 would now be generally pointed in Pushton.
 
 EDITH'S TRUE KNIGHT. 323 
 
 To come back to our hero, galloping away on his 
 old farm horse to find a country doctor, may seem 
 a short step down from the sublime. And so, per- 
 haps, it may be to those whose ideal of the sublime 
 Is only in outward and material things. But to 
 those who look past these things to the passionate 
 human heart, the same in every age, Arden was ani- 
 mated by the same spirit with which he would have 
 sought and fought the traditional dragon. 
 
 Dr. Neak, a new-comer who was gaining some 
 little name for skill and success, and was making 
 the most of it, was at home ; but on Arden's hur- 
 ried application, ahemmed, hesitated, colored a 
 little, and at last said : 
 
 " Look here, Mr. (I beg your pardon, I've 
 
 not the pleasure of knowing your name), I'm a com- 
 parative stranger in Pushton, and am just gaining 
 some little reputation among the better classes. I 
 would rather not compromise myself by attendance 
 upon that family. If you can't get any one else, and 
 the girl is suffering, of course I'll try and go, but " 
 
 " Enough," interrupted Arden, starting up blaz- 
 ing with wrath. " You should spell your name 
 with an S. I want a man as well as a physician," 
 and, with a look of utter contempt, he hastened 
 away, leaving the medical man somewhat anxious, 
 not about Edith, but whether he had taken the best 
 course in view of his growing reputation. 
 
 Arden next traced out Dr. Blunt, who readily 
 promised to come. He attended all alike, and 
 charged roundly also.
 
 324 Wf/A T CAN SHE DO I 
 
 " Business is business," was his motto. " People 
 who employ me must expect to pay. After all, I'm 
 the cheapest man in the place, for I tell my patients 
 the truth, and cure them as quickly as possible." 
 
 Arden's urgency soon brought him to Edith's 
 side, and his practised eye saw no serious cause for 
 alarm, and having heard more fully the circum- 
 stances, said, 
 
 " She will be well in a few days if she is kept 
 very quiet, and nothing new sets in. Of course 
 she would be sick after last night. One might as 
 well put his hand in the fire and not expect it to 
 burn him, as to get very warm and then cool off 
 suddenly without being ill. Her pulse indicates 
 general depression of her system, and need of rest. 
 That's all." 
 
 After prescribing remedies ana a tonic, he said, 
 " Let me know if I am needed again," and departed 
 in rather ill humor. 
 
 Meeting Arden's anxious, questioning face at the 
 gate, he said gruffly, 
 
 " I thought from what you said the girl was dy- 
 ing. Used up and a bad cold, that's all. Somewhat 
 feverish yourself, ain't you ? " he added meaningly. 
 
 Though Arden colored under the doctor's satire, 
 he was chiefly conscious of a great relief that his 
 idol was not in danger. His only reply was the 
 sullen, impassive expression he usually turned to- 
 ward the world. 
 
 As the doctor rode away, Hannibal joined him, 
 saying.
 
 EDITH'S TRUE KNIGHT. 325 
 
 " Mr. Lacey, you'se a friend in need, and if you 
 only knowed what an angel you'se serving, you 
 wouldn't look so cross." 
 
 "Do I look cross?" asked Arden, his face be- 
 coming friendly in a moment. " Well, it wasn't 
 with you, still less with Miss Edith ; for even you 
 cannot serve her more gladly than I will. That old 
 doctor riled me a little, though I can forgive him, 
 since he says she is not seriously ill." 
 
 " I'se glad you feels your privileges," said Hanni- 
 bal, with some dignity. " I'se knowed Miss Edie 
 eber since she was a baby, and when we lived on de 
 Avenue, de biggest and beautifullest in de city 
 come to our house, but none of 'em could compare 
 with my young lady. I don't care what folks say, 
 she's jes as good now, if she be poor, and her sister 
 hab run away, poor chile. De world don't know 
 all ; " and old Hannibal shook his white head sadly 
 and reproachfully. 
 
 His panegyric found strong echo in Arden's heart, 
 but his habit of reticence and sensitive shrinking 
 from showing his feelings to others, permitted him 
 only to say, " I am sure every word you say is more 
 than true, and you will do me a great favor when 
 you let me know how I can serve Miss Edith." 
 
 Hannibal saw that he need waste no more ammu- 
 nition on Arden, so he pulled out the prescriptions, 
 and said : 
 
 " The Doctor guv me dese, but, Lor bress you, 
 my ole jints is stiff, and I'd be a week in gitlin 
 down and back from de willage."
 
 326 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 " That's enough," interrupted Arden, "you shall 
 have the medicines in half an hour;" and he kept 
 his word. 
 
 " He is quar," muttered Hannibal, looking after 
 him. " Neber saw a man so 'bligin*. Folks say 
 \vinegar ain't nothin' to him, but he seems sweet on 
 Miss Edie, sure 'nuff. What 'ud he say, ' You'se 
 do me great favor to tell me how I can serve Miss 
 Edie ? ' I'se hope it '11 last," chuckled Hannibal, 
 retiring to his domain in the kitchen, ' 'cause I'se 
 gwine to do him a heap ob favors."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A MYSTERY. 
 
 AT Arden's request his mother called in the 
 evening, and also Mrs. Groody, from the hotel. 
 Hannibal met them, and stated the doctor's orders. 
 Mrs. Allen and Laura did not feel equal to facing 
 any one. Though the old servant was excessively 
 polite, the callers felt rather slighted that they saw 
 no member of the family. They went away a little 
 chilled in consequence, and contented themselves 
 thereafter by sending a few delicacies and inquiring 
 how Edith was. 
 
 " If you have any self-respect at all," said Rose 
 Lacey to her mother, " you will not go there again 
 till you are invited. It's rather too great condescen- 
 sion for you to go at all, after what has happened." 
 
 Arden listened with a black look, and asked, 
 rather sharply, 
 
 " Will you never learn to distinguish between Miss 
 Edith and the others?" 
 
 " Yes," said Rose, dryly, " when she gives me a 
 chance." 
 
 The doctor's view of Edith's case was correct. 
 Her vigorous and elastic constitution soon rallied 
 from the shock it had received. Hannibal had sent 
 to the village for nutritious diet, which he knew so
 
 328 W11A T CAN SHE DO ? 
 
 well how to prepare, and, after a few days, she was 
 quite herself again. But with returning strength 
 came also a sense of shame, anxiety, and a tortur- 
 ing dread of the future. The money accruing from 
 her last sale of jewelry would not pay the debts rest- 
 ing on them now, and she could not hope to earn 
 enough to pay the balance remaining, in addition to 
 their support. Her mother suggested the mortgag- 
 ing of her place. She had at first repelled the idea, 
 but at last entertained it reluctantly. There seemed 
 no other resource. It would put off the evil day of 
 utter want, and might give her time to learn some- 
 thing by which she could compete with trained 
 workers. 
 
 Then there was the garden. Might not that and 
 the orchard, in time, help them out of their 
 troubles ? 
 
 As the long hours of her convalescence passed, 
 she sat at her window and scanned the little spot 
 with a wistfulness that might have been given to 
 one of Eden-like proportions. She was astonished 
 to see how her strawberries had improved since she 
 hoed them, but noted in dismay that both they and 
 the rest of the garden were growing very weedy. 
 
 When the full knowledge of their poverty and 
 danger dawned upon her, she felt that it would not 
 be right for Malcom to come any more. At the 
 same time she could not explain things to him ; so 
 she sent a written request through the mail for his 
 bill, telling him not to come any more. This action 
 following the evening when Gus Elliott had surprised
 
 A MYSTERY. 329 
 
 her in the garden, perplexed and. rather nettled 
 Malcom, who was, to use his own expression, " a 
 bit tetchy." Their money had grown so scarce that 
 Edith could not pay the bill, and was ashamed to 
 go to see him till there was some prospect of her 
 doing so. Thus Malcom, though disposed to be 
 very friendly, was lost to her at this critical time, 
 and her garden suffered accordingly. She and Han- 
 nibal had done what they could, but of late her ill- 
 ness, and the great accession of duties resting on 
 the old servant, had caused complete neglect in her 
 little plantation of fruit and vegetables. Thus, 
 while all her crops were growing well, the weeds 
 were gaining on them, and even Edith knew that 
 the vigor of evil was in them, and that, unchecked, 
 they would soon make a tangled swamp of that one 
 little place of hope. She could not ask Hannibal 
 to work there now, for he was overburdened already. 
 Laura seemed so feeble and crushed that her 
 strength was scarcely equal to taking care of her 
 mother, and the few lighter duties of housework. 
 Therefore, though the June sunshine rested on the 
 little garden, and all nature seemed in the rapture 
 of its early summer life, poor, practical Edith saw 
 only the pestiferous weeds that threatened to 
 destroy- her one slender prospect of escape from 
 environing difficulties. At last she turned away. 
 To the sad and suffering, scenes most full of cheer 
 and beauty often seem the most painful mockery. 
 
 She brooded over her affairs most of the day, 
 dwelling specially on the suggestion of a mortgage.
 
 33O WHA r CAN SHE DO? 
 
 She felt extreme reluctance in periling her home. 
 Then again she said to herself, " It will at least give 
 me time, and perhaps the place will be sold for 
 debt, for we must live." 
 
 The next morning she slept late, her weary, over- 
 taxed frame asserting its need. But she rose greatly 
 refreshed, and it seemed that her strength had come 
 back again. With returning vigor hopefulness re- 
 vived. She felt some cessation of the weary, aching 
 sorrow at her heart. The world is phosphorescent 
 to the eyes of youth, and even engulfing waves of 
 misfortune will sometimes gleam with sudden 
 brightness. 
 
 The morning light also brought Edith a pleasant 
 surprise, for, as she was dressing, her eyes eagerly 
 sought the strawberry bed. She had been thinking, 
 
 " If I only continue to gain in this style, I will 
 soon be able myself to attack the weeds." 
 
 Therefore, instead of the helpless look, such as 
 she gave yesterday, her glance had something 
 vengeful and threatening in it. But the moment 
 she opened the lattice, so that she could see, an 
 exclamation came from her lips, and she threw back 
 the blinds, in order that there might be no mistake 
 as to the wonder that startled her. What magic 
 had transformed the little place since, in the twi- 
 light of the previous evening, she had given the 
 last discouraged look in that direction ? There was 
 scarcely a weed to be seen in the strawberry bed. 
 They had not only been cut off, but raked away 
 and here and there she could see a berry reddening
 
 A MYSTERY. 331 
 
 In the morning sun. In addition, some of her most 
 important vegetables, and her prettiest flower bor- 
 der, had been cleaned and nicely dressed. A long 
 row of Dan O'Rourk peas, that had commenced to 
 sprawl on the ground, was now hedged in by brush ; 
 and, better still, thirty cedar poles stood tall and 
 straight among her Lima beans, that had been 
 vainly feeling tound for a support the last few days. 
 Her first impulse was to clap her hands with 
 delight and exclaim : 
 
 " How, in the name of wonder, could he do it 
 all in a night ! Oh, Malcom, you are a canny 
 Scotchman, but you put the ' black art ' to very 
 white uses." 
 
 She dressed in excited haste, meaning to ques- 
 tion Hannibal, but, as she left her room, Laura 
 met her, and said, in a tone of the deepest des- 
 pondency, 
 
 " Mother seems very ill. She has not felt like 
 herself since that dreadful night, but we did not 
 like to tell you, fearing it would put back your 
 recovery." 
 
 The rift ii\ the heavy clouds, through which the 
 sun had gleamed for a moment, now closed, and a 
 deeper gloom seemed to gather round them. In 
 sudden revulsion Edith said, bitterly : 
 
 " Are we to be persecuted to the end ? Cannot 
 the heavy hand of misfortune be lifted a moment?" 
 
 She found her mother suffering from a low 
 nervous fever, and quite delirious. 
 
 Hannibal was at once despatched for the doctor
 
 '333 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 who, having examined Mrs. Allen's symptoms, 
 shook his head, saying : 
 
 " Nothing but good nursing will bring her through 
 this." 
 
 Edith's heart sank like lead. What prospect was 
 there for work now, even if Mrs. Groody gave it to 
 her, as she promised ? She saw nothing but the 
 part of a weary watcher, for perhaps several weeks. 
 She hesitated no longer, but resolved to mortgage 
 her place at once. Her mother must have delicacies 
 and good attendance, and she must have time to ex- 
 tricate herself from the difficulties into which she had 
 been brought by false steps at the beginning. There- 
 fore she told Hannibal to give her an early lunch, 
 after which she would walk to the village. 
 " You is'nt able," said he earnestly. 
 
 " Oh yes, I am," she replied ; " better able than 
 to stay home and worry. I must have something 
 settled, and my mind at rest, even for a little while, 
 or I will go distracted." Then she added, " Did 
 you see Malcom here early this morning." 
 
 " No, Miss Edie, he hasn't been here." 
 
 " Go look at the garden." 
 
 He returned with eyes dilated in wonder, and 
 asked quickly, " Miss Edie, when was all dat 
 done." . 
 
 " Between dark last night and when I got up tJ.ia 
 morning. It seems like magic, don't it? But of 
 course it is Malcom's work. I only wish I could 
 see him. ' 
 
 But Hannibal shook his head ominously and said
 
 A MYSTEKY. 333 
 
 with emphasis, " Dat little Scotchman couldn't 
 scratch around like dat, even if de Debel was arter 
 him. 'Taint his work." 
 
 " Why, whose else could it be ? " asked Edith, 
 sipping a strong cup of coffee, with which she was 
 fortifying herself for the walk. 
 
 Hannibal only shook his head with a very trou- 
 bled expression, but at last he ventured, 
 
 " If tis a spook, I hope it won't do nothing 
 wuss to us." 
 
 Even across Edith's pale face a wan smile flitted 
 at this solution of the mystery, and she said, 
 
 " Why, Hannibal, you foolish old fellow. The 
 idea of a ghost hoeing a strawberry bed and stick- 
 ing in bean-poles ! " 
 
 But Hannibal's superstitious nature was deeply 
 stirred. He had been under a severe strain himself 
 of late, and the succession of sorrows and strange 
 experiences was telling on him as well as the others. 
 He could not indulge in a nervous fever, like Mrs. 
 Allen, but he had reached that stage when he could 
 easily see visions, and tremble before the slightest 
 vestige of the supernatural. So he replied a little 
 doggedly ; 
 
 " Spooks does a heap ob quar tings, Miss Edie. 
 I'd tink it was Massa Allen, ony I knows dat he 
 neber hab a hoe in his hand all his life. I doesn't 
 like it. I'd radder hab de weeds." 
 
 "_O Hannibal, Hannibal ! I couldn't believe it of 
 you. I'll go and see Malcom, just to satisfy } ou."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 v 
 
 A DANGEROUS STEP. 
 
 EDITH took her deed, and went first to Mr. 
 Hard. There was both coldness and curiosity 
 in his manner, but he could gather little from 
 Edith's face through her thick vail. 
 
 She had a painful shrinking from meeting people 
 again after what had happened, and this was greatly 
 increased by the curious and significant looks she 
 saw turned toward her as soon as it was surmised 
 who she was. 
 
 Mr. Hard promptly declined to lend any money, 
 He " Never did such things," he said. 
 
 " Where would I be apt to get it ? " asked Edith, 
 despondently. 
 
 " I scarcely know. Money is scarce, and people 
 don't like to lend it on country mortgages, especially 
 when there may be trouble. Lawyer Keen might 
 give you some information." 
 
 To his office Edith went, with slow, heavy steps, 
 and presented her case. 
 
 Mr. Keen was a red-faced, burly-looking man, 
 hiding the traditional shrewdness of a village lawyer 
 under a bluff, outspoken manner. He had a sort of 
 good-nature, which, though not leading him to help 
 others who were in trouble, kept him from trying to
 
 A DANGEROUS STEP. 335 
 
 get them into more trouble, and he quite prided 
 himself on this. He heard Edith partly through, 
 and then interrupted her, saying: 
 
 " Couldn't think of it, Miss. Widows, orphans, 
 and churches, are institutions on which a fellow can 
 never foreclose. I'll give you good advice, and 
 won't charge you anything for it. You had better 
 keep out of debt." 
 
 " But I must have the money," said Edith. 
 
 " Then you have come to the wrong shop for it," 
 replied the lawyer, coolly. " Here's Crowl, now, 
 he lends where I wouldn't. He's got money of his 
 own, while I invest mainly for other people." 
 
 Edith's attention was thus directed to another 
 red-faced man, whom, thus far, she had scarcely 
 noticed, though he had been watching her with the 
 closest scrutiny. He was quite corpulent, past 
 middle age, and in height not much taller than her- 
 self. He was quite bald, and had what seemed a 
 black moustache, but Edith's quick eye noted that 
 it was unskilfully dyed. There seemed a wide ex- 
 panse in his heavy, flabby cheeks, and the rather 
 puggish nose looked insignificant between them. A 
 slight tobacco stain in one corner of his mouth did 
 not increase his attractions to Edith, and she posi- 
 tively shrank from the expression of his small, cun- 
 ning black eyes. He was dressed both loudly and 
 shabbily, and a great breastpin was like a blotch 
 upon his rumpled shirt-bosom. 
 
 " Let me see your deed, my dear," he said, with 
 coarse familiarity.
 
 336 Y/l! AT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " My name is Miss Allen," replied Edith, with 
 dignity. 
 
 The man paid little heed to her rebuke, but looked 
 over the deed with slow and microscopic scrutiny. 
 At last he said to Edith, whom nothing but dire 
 necessity impelled to have dealings with so dis- 
 agreeable a person, 
 
 " Will you come with me to my office?" 
 
 Reluctantly she followed. At first she had a 
 strong impulse to have nothing to do with him, but 
 then had thought, " It makes no difference of whom 
 I borrow the money, for it must be paid in any case, 
 and perhaps I can't get it anywhere else." 
 
 "Are you sure there is no other mortgage? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes," replied Edith. 
 
 "How much do you want?" 
 
 " I will try to make four hundred answer." 
 
 " I suppose you know how hard it is to borrow 
 money now," said Mr. Crowl, in a depressing man- 
 ner, " especially in cases like this. I don't believe 
 you'd get a dollar anywhere else in town. Even 
 where everything is good and promising, we usually 
 get a bonus on such a loan. The best I could do 
 would be to let you have three hundred and sixty 
 on such a mortgage." 
 
 " Then give me my deed. The security is good, 
 and I'm not willing to pay more than seven per cent." 
 
 Old Crowl looked a moment at her resolute face, 
 beautiful even in its pallor and pain, and a new 
 thought seemed to strike him.
 
 A DANGEROUS STEP. 337 
 
 " Well, well," said he, with an awkward show of 
 gallantry, " one can't do business with a pretty girl 
 a? with a man. You shall make your own terms." 
 
 " I wish to make no terms whatever," said Edith, 
 frigidly. " I only expect what is right and just." 
 
 " And I'm the man that'll do what's right and 
 ju.it when appealed to by the fair unfortunate," said 
 Mr. Crowl, with a wave of his hand. 
 
 Edith's only response to this sentiment was a 
 frown, and an impatient tapping of the floor with 
 her foot. 
 
 "Now, see how I trust you," he continued, filling 
 out a check. "There is the money. I'll draw up 
 the papers, and you may sign them at your leisure. 
 Only just put your name to this receipt, which gives 
 the nature of our transaction ; " and, in a scrawling 
 hand, he soon stated the case. 
 
 It was with strong misgivings that Edith took 
 the money and gave her signature, but she did not 
 see what else to do, and she was already very 
 weary. 
 
 " You may call again the first time you are in the 
 village, and by that time I'll have things fixed up. 
 You see now what it is to have a friend in need." 
 
 Edith's only reply was a bow, and she hastened 
 to the bank. The cashier looked curiously at her, 
 smiled a little significant smile as he saw Growl's 
 check, which she did not like, but, at her request, 
 placed it, and what was left from the second sale 
 of jewelry, to her credit, and gave her a small 
 ^heck-book. 
 
 15
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SCORN AND KINDNESS. 
 
 her strength hardly seemed equal to 
 -- it, she determined to go and see Malcom, for 
 she felt very grateful to him. And yet, the little 
 time she had been in the village made her fear to 
 speak to him or any one again, and she almost felt 
 that she would like to shrink into some hidden place 
 and die. 
 
 Quiet, respectable Pushton had been dreadfull) 
 scandalized by Zell's elopement with a man who 
 by one brief visit, had gained such bad notoriety. 
 Those who had stood aloof, surmised, and doubted 
 about the Aliens before, now said, triumphantly, 
 " I told you so." Good, kind, Christian people 
 were deeply pained that such a thing could have 
 happened ; and it came to be the general opinion 
 that the Aliens were anything but an acquisition 
 to the neighborhood. 
 
 " If they are going to bring that style of men 
 here, the sooner they move away the better," was a 
 frequent remark. All save the " baser sort " shrank 
 from having much to do with them, and again Edith 
 tvas insulted by the bold advances of some brazen
 
 SCORN AN& KINDNESS. 3 $g 
 
 clerks and shop-boys as she passed along. She also 
 saw significant glances and whisperings, and once 
 01 twice detected a pointing finger. 
 
 With cheeks burning with shame and knees 
 trembling with weakness, she reached Malcom's 
 gate, to which she clung panting for a moment, and 
 then passed in. The little man had his coat off, and, 
 stooping in his strawberry bed, he did look 
 very small indeed. Edith approached quite near be- 
 fore he noticed her. He suddenly straightened 
 himself up almost as a jumping-jack might, and 
 gave her a sharp, surprised look. He had heard the 
 gossip in several distorted forms, but what hurt 
 him most was that she did not come or send to him. 
 But when he saw her standing before him with her 
 head bent down like a moss rosebud wilting in the 
 sun, when he met her timid deprecating glance, his 
 soft heart relented instantly, and coming toward 
 her he said : 
 
 " An ha' ye coom to see ould Malcom at last ? 
 What ha' I dune that I should be sae forgotten ? " 
 
 " You were not forgotten, Mr. McTrump. God 
 knows that I have too few friends to forget the best 
 of them," answered Edith, in a voice of tremulous 
 pathos. 
 
 After that Malcom was wax in her hands, and 
 with moistened eyes he stood gazing at her in un- 
 disguised admiration. 
 
 " I have been through deep trouble, Mr. 
 McTrump," continued she, " and perhaps you, like 
 BO many others, may think me not fit to speak to
 
 340 WHA T CAN SHE DO ? 
 
 you any more. Besides, I have been very sick, and 
 really ought not to be out to-day. Indeed I feel 
 very weak. Isn't there some place where I could 
 sit down ? " 
 
 " Now God forgie me for an uncoo Highlander," 
 cried Malcom, springing forward, " to think that I 
 suld let ye ston there, like a tall, white, swayin' calla 
 lily, in the rough wind. Take me arm till I support 
 ye to the best room o* me house." 
 
 Edith did take and cling to it with the feeling of 
 one ready to fall. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. McTrump, you are too kind," she mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " Why suld I not be kind ? " he said, heartily, 
 " when I see ye rtipt by the wourld's unkindness ? 
 Why suld I not be kind ? Is the rose there to 
 blame because a weed has grown alongside ? Ye 
 could na help it that the wild bird flitted, and I 
 heerd how ye roon like a brave lassie to stop her. 
 But the evil wourld is quick to see the bad and slow 
 to see the gude." And Malcom escorted her like 
 a " leddy o' high degree " to his little parlor, and 
 there she told him and his wife all her trouble, and 
 Malcom seemed afflicted with a sudden cold in his 
 head. Then Mrs. McTrump bustled in and out in 
 a breezy eagerness to make her comfortable. 
 
 " Ye're a stranger in our toon," she said, " and 
 sae I was once mysel, an' I ken how ye feel." 
 
 " An the Gude Book, which I hope ye read," 
 added the gallant Malcom, " says hooin entertain 
 in a stranger ye may ha' an angel aroond."
 
 SCORN AND KINLNESS. 341 
 
 " Oh, Mr. McTrump," said Edith, with peony-like 
 face, " Hannibal is the only one who calls me that, 
 and he don't know any better." 
 
 " Why suld he know ony better," responded Mai- 
 com, quickly. " I ha never seen an angel, na mair 
 than I ha seen a goolden harp, but I'm a-thinkin a 
 modist bonny lassie like yoursel, cooms as near to 
 ane as anything can in this wourld." 
 
 " But, Mr. McTrump," said Edith, with a half pa- 
 thetic, half comic face, " I am in such deep trouble 
 that I will soon grow old and wrinkled, so I shall 
 not be an angel long." 
 
 " Na, na, dinna say that," said Malcom earnestly. 
 " An ye will, ye may keepit the angel a-growin 
 within ye alway, though ye live as old as Methuselah. 
 D'ye see this wee brown seed ? There s a morn in- 
 glory vine hidden in it, as would daze your een at 
 the peep o' day wi' its gay blossoms. An ye see 
 my ould gude wife there ? Ah, she will daze the 
 een o' the greatest o' the earth in the bright spring- 
 time o' the Resurrection ; and though I'm a little 
 mon here, it may be I'll see o'er the heads of soom 
 up there." 
 
 "An ye had true humeelity ye'd be a-hopin to get 
 there, instead of expectin to speir o'er the heads o' 
 ye're betters," said his wife in a rebuking tone. 
 
 " ' A-hopin to get there !' " said Malcom with 
 some warmth. " Why suld I hope when ' I know 
 that my Redeemer liveth ? ' ' 
 
 Edith's eyes filled with wistful tears, for the 
 quaint talk of these old people suggested a hope and
 
 342 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 faith that she knew nothing of. But, in a low voice, 
 she said, " Why does God let his creatures suffer so 
 much? " 
 
 " Bless your heart, puir child, He suffered mair 
 than ony on us," said Malcom tenderly. " But 
 ye'll learn it a' soon. He who fed the famishin 
 would bid ye eat noo. But wait a bit till ye see 
 what I'll bring ye." 
 
 In a moment he was back with a dainty basket of 
 Triomphe de Gand strawberries, and Edith uttered 
 an exclamation of delight as she inhaled their deli- 
 cious aroma. 
 
 " They are the first ripe the season, an noo see 
 what the gude wife will do with them." 
 
 Soon their hulls were off, and, swimming in a 
 saucer of cream, they were added to the dainty little 
 lunch that Mrs. McTrump had prepared. 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Edith, drawing a long breath, 
 " You can't know how you ease my poor sore heart. 
 I began to think all the world was against me." 
 
 At this Malcom beat such a precipitate retreat 
 that he half stumbled over a chair, but outside the 
 door he ventured to say : 
 
 "An ye coom out I'll cut ye a posy before ye 
 go." But Edith saw him rub his rough sleeve across 
 his eyes as he passed the window. His wife said, 
 in a grave gentle tone, 
 
 " Would ye might learn to know Him who said, 
 * Be of good cheer, I have overco.ne the wourld.' " 
 
 Edith shook her head sadly, and said, ' I don't 
 understand Him, and He seems far off."
 
 SCOF.N AND KINDNESS, 343 
 
 " It's only seemin, me dear," said the uld woman 
 kindly, " but, as Malcom says, ye'll learn it a* by 
 and by." 
 
 Mrs. McTrump was one of those simple souls 
 who never presume to " talk religion " to any one. 
 44 1 can ony venture what I hope '11 be a * word in 
 season ' noo and then, as the Maister gies me a 
 chance," she would say to her husband. 
 
 Though she did not know it, she had spread 
 before Edith a Gospel feast, and her genuine, hearty 
 sympathy was teaching more than eloquent sermons 
 could have done, and already the grateful girl was 
 questioning, 
 
 " What makes these people differ so from 
 others ? " 
 
 With some dismay she saw how late it was grow- 
 ing, and hastened out to Malcom, who had cut an 
 exquisite little bouquet for her, and had another 
 basket of berries for her to take to her mother. 
 
 " Mr. McTrump," said Edith, " it's time we had 
 a settlement ; your kindness I never can, or expect 
 to repay, but I am able now to carry out my agree- 
 ment." 
 
 " Don't bother me wi* that noo," said Malcom, 
 rather testily, " I ha no time to make oot your ac- 
 coont in the hight o' the season. Let it ston till I 
 ha time ; an ye might help me soomtimes make 
 up posies for the grand folk at the hotel. But how 
 does your garden sin ye dismissed ould Mai- 
 com ? " 
 
 * Oh, Mr. McTrump," said Edith, slyly, " do you
 
 344 WHA T CAN SHE D0f 
 
 know you almost scared old Hannibal out of hi* 
 wits by the wonders you wrought last night or this 
 morning in that same garden you inquire about 
 so innocently. How can you work so fast and 
 hard?" 
 
 " The woonders I wrought ! Indeed I've not been 
 near the garden sin ye told me not to coom. Ye 
 could hardly expect otherwise of a Scotchman." 
 
 " Who, then, could it be ? " said Edith, a little 
 startled herself now, and she explained the mystery 
 of the garden. 
 
 He was as nonplussed as herself, but, scratching 
 his bushy head, he said, with a canny look, " I wud 
 be glad if Hannibal's ' spook,' as he ca's it, would 
 coom doon and hoe a bit for me,'' and Edith was 
 so cheered and refreshed that she could even join 
 him in the laugh. 
 
 They sent her away enveloped in the fragrance of 
 strawberries and roses from the little basket she 
 carried. But the more grateful aroma of human 
 sympathy seemed to create a buoyant atmosphere 
 around her ; and she passed back through the vil- 
 lage strengthened and armed against the cold or 
 scornful looks of those who, knowing her to be 
 "wounded," had not even the grace to pass by 
 indifferently " on the other side.'
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A HORROR OF GREAT DARKNESS 
 
 BY the time Edith reached home the transient 
 strength and transient brightening of the 
 skies seemed to pass away. Her mother was no 
 better. She saw too plainly the grisly specters, care, 
 want, and shame upon her hearth, to fear any good 
 fairy that left such traces as she saw in her garden. 
 But the mystery troubled her ; she longed to know 
 who it was. As she mused upon it on her way 
 home, Arden Lacey suddenly occurred to her, and 
 there was a glimmer of a smile and a faint increase 
 of color on her pale face. But she did not suggest 
 her suspicion to Hannibal, when he eagerly asked if 
 it were Malcom. 
 
 " No, strange to say, it was not," said Edith. 
 " Who could it have been ? " 
 
 Hannibal's face fell, and he looked very solemn. 
 " Sumpen awful 's goin to happen, Miss Edie," 
 he said, in a sepulchral tone. 
 
 Edith broke into a sudden reckless laugh, and 
 said, " I think something awful is happening about 
 as fast as it can. But never mind, Hannibal, we'll 
 watch to-night, and perhaps he will come again." 
 
 "O, Miss Edie, I'se hope you'll 'scuse me. I 
 couldn't watch for a spook to save my life. I'sj
 
 346 WHA T CAN SHE DO T 
 
 gwine to bed as soon as it's dark, and cover up my 
 head till mornin'." 
 
 " Very well,' said Edith, quietly. " I'm going 
 to sit up with mother to-night, and if it comes 
 again, I'll see it." 
 
 " De good Lord keep you safe, Miss Edie,*' said 
 Hannibal, tremblingly. " You'se know I'd die for 
 you in a minit ; but Fse couldn't watch for a spook 
 nohow," and Hannibal crept away, looking as if 
 the very worst had now befallen them. 
 
 Edith was too weary and sad even to smile at 
 the absurd superstition of her old servant, for, with 
 her practical, positive nature she could scarcely 
 understand how even the most ignorant could har- 
 bor such delusions. She said to Laura, " Let me 
 sleep till nine o'clock, and then I will watch till 
 morning." 
 
 Laura did not waken her till ten. 
 
 After Edith had shaken off her lethargy, she said, 
 * Why, Laura, you look ready to faint ! " 
 
 With a despairing little cry, Laura threw herself 
 on the floor, and buried her face in her sister's lap, 
 sobbing : 
 
 " I am ready to faint body and soul. O Edie, 
 Edie, what shall we dor* Oh, that I were sure 
 death was an eternal sleep, as some say, how 
 gladly I would close my eyes to-night and never 
 wish to open them again ! My heart is ashes, and 
 my hope is dead. And yet I am afraid to die, and 
 more afraid to live. Ever since Zell went the 
 future has been a terror to me. Edith," she con-
 
 A HORROR OF CREA T DARKNESS. 347 
 
 tinned, after a moment, in a low voice, that trem- 
 bled and was full of dread, " Zell has not written 
 'the silence of the grave seems to have swallowed 
 her. He has not married her! " and an agony of 
 grief convulsed Laura's slight frame. 
 
 Edith's eyes grew hard and tearless, and she said 
 sternly, " It were better the grave had swallowed 
 her than such a gulf of infamy." 
 
 Laura suddenly became still, her sobs ceasing. 
 Slowly she raised such a white, terror-stricken face, 
 that Edith was startled. She had never seen her 
 elder sister, once so stately and proud, then so 
 apathetic, moved like this. 
 
 " Edith," she said, in an awed whisper, " what is 
 there before us ? Zell's flight has revealed to me 
 where we stand, like a flash of lightning, and ever 
 since I have brooded over our situation, till it seems 
 I would go mad. There's an awful gulf before us, 
 and every day we are being pushed nearer to it ;" 
 and Laura's large blue eyes were dilated with horror, 
 as if she saw it. 
 
 " Mother is going to die," she continued, in a 
 tone that chilled Edith's soul. " Our money will 
 soon be gone ; we then will be driven away even 
 from this poor shelter, out upon the streets to 
 New York, or somewhere. Edith, O Edith, don't 
 you see the gulf? What else is before us ?" 
 
 " Honest work is before me," said Edith, almost 
 fiercely. " I will compel the world to give me a 
 place, at least, entitled to respect." 
 
 Laura shook her head despairingly. " You may
 
 343 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 struggle back and up to where you are safe. You 
 are good and strong. But there are so many poor 
 girls in the world like me, who are not good and 
 strong. Everything seems to combine to push a 
 helpless, friendless woman towards that gulf. Poor 
 rash, impulsive Zeli saw it, and could not endure 
 the slow, remorseless pressure, as one might be 
 driven over a precipice, and one she loved seemed 
 to stand ready to break the fall. I understand her 
 stony, reckless face now." 
 
 " Ob, Laura, hush !" said Edith, desperately. 
 
 " I must speak," she went on, in the same low 
 voice, so full of dread, " or my brain will burst. I 
 have thought and thought, and seen that awful gulf 
 grow nearer and nearer, till at times it seemed I 
 should shriek with terror. For two nights I have 
 not slept. Oh, why were we not taught something 
 better than dressing and dancing, and those hollow 
 superficial accomplishments that only mock us now. 
 Why was not my mind and body developed into 
 something like strength ? I would gladly turn to 
 the coarsest drudgery, if I could only be safe. But 
 after what has happened, no good people will have 
 anything to do with us, and I am a feeble, helpless 
 creature, that can only shrink and tremble as I am 
 pushed nearer and nearer." 
 
 Edith seemed turning into stone, herself para- 
 lyzed by Laura's despair. After a moment Laura 
 continued, with a perceptible shudder in her voice: 
 
 " There is no one to break my fall. Oh, that I was 
 not afraid tc die. That seems the only resource to
 
 A FIOXROR OF CREA T DARKNESS, 349 
 
 such as I. If I could just end it all by becoming 
 nothing " 
 
 " Laura, Laura," cried Edith, starting up, " cease 
 your wild mad words. You are sick and morbid. 
 You are more delirious than mother is. We can get 
 work ; there are good people who will take care 
 of us." 
 
 " I have seen nothing that looks like it," said 
 Laura, in the same despairing tone. " I have read 
 of just such things, and I see how it all must 
 end." 
 
 " Yes, that's just it," said Edith, impatiently, 
 " You have read so many wild unnatural stories of 
 life that you are ready to believe anything that is 
 horrible. Listen, I have over four hundred dollars 
 in the bank." 
 
 " How did you get it," asked Laura, quickly. 
 
 " I have followed mother's suggestion, and mort- 
 gaged the place." 
 
 Laura sank into a chair, and became so de-i';My 
 white that Edith thought she would faint. At Jast 
 she gasped, 
 
 "Don't you see? Even you in your strength 
 can't help yourself. You are being pushed cri, too. 
 You said you would not follow mother's advice 
 again, because it always led to trouble. You said, 
 again and again, you would not mortgage the place, 
 and yet you have done it. Now it's all clear. That 
 mortgage will be foreclosed, and then we will be 
 
 turned out, and then " and she covered her 
 
 face with her Jiands. " Don't you see," she aaid, in
 
 3 50 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 a muffled tone, " the great black hand reaching out 
 of the darkness and pushing us down and nearer? 
 Oh, that I wasn't afraid to die." 
 
 Edith was startled. Even her positive healthful 
 nature began to yield to the contagion of Laura's 
 morbid despair. She felt that she must break the 
 spell and be alone. By a strong effort she tried 
 to speak in her natural tone and confidence. She 
 tried to comfort the desperate woman by endear- 
 ing epithets, as if she were a child. She spoke 
 of those simple restoratives which are so often 
 and vainly prescribed for mortal wounds, sleep and 
 rest. 
 
 " Go to bed, poor child," she urged, " all will look 
 differently in the sunlight to-morrow." 
 
 But Laura scarcely seemed to heed her. With 
 weak, uncertain steps she drew near the bed, and 
 turned the light on her mother's thin, flushed face 
 and stood, with clasped hands, looking wistfully at 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, my dear," muttered Mrs. Allen in her 
 delirium, " both your father and myself would give 
 our full approval to your marriage with Mr. Goul- 
 den." The poor woman made watching doubly 
 hard to her daughters, since she kept recalling to 
 them the happy past in all its minutiae. 
 
 Laura turned to Edith with a smile that was 
 inexpressibly sad, and said, " What a mockery 
 it all is ! There seems nothing real in this world 
 but pain and danger. Oh- that I was not afraid 
 to die."
 
 A HORROR OF GREAT DARKNESS. 351 
 
 "Laura, Laura! go to your rest," exclaimed 
 Edith, "or you will lose your reason. Come ; " and 
 she half carried the poor creature to her room. 
 " Now, leave the door ajar," she said, " for if 
 mother is worse I will call you." 
 
 Edith sat down to her weary task as a watcher, 
 and never before, in all the sad preceding weeks, had 
 her heart been so heavy, and boding of evil. Laura's 
 words kept repeating themselves to her, and ming- 
 ling with those of her mother's delirium, thus 
 strangely blending the past and the present. Could 
 it be true that they were helpless in the hands of a 
 cruel, remorseless fate, that was pushing them down ? 
 Could it be true that all her struggles and courage 
 would be in vain, and that each day was only bring- 
 ing them nearer to the desperation of utter want ? 
 She could not disguise from herself that Laura's 
 dreadful words had a show of reason, and that, per- 
 haps, the mortgage she had given that day meant 
 that they would soon be without home or shelter in 
 the great, pitiless world. But, with set teeth and 
 white face, she muttered, 
 
 4< Death first." 
 
 Then, with a startled expression, she anxiously 
 asked herself: " Was that what Laura meant when 
 she kept saying, ' Oh, if I wasn't afraid to die ! ' " She 
 went to her sister's door and listened. Laura's 
 movements within seemed to satisfy her, and she 
 returned to the sick-room and sat down again. 
 Putting her hand upon her heart, she murmured : 
 
 " I am completely unnerved to-night. I don't
 
 352 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 understand myself; " and she looked almost as pale 
 and despairing as Laura. 
 
 She was, in truth, in the midst of that " horror 
 of great darkness " that comes to so many sti ugglmg 
 souls in a world upon which the shadow of Fin 
 rests so heavily.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 FRIEND AND SAVIOUR. 
 
 KNOWING of no other source of help save an 
 . earthly one, her thoughts reverted to the old 
 Scotch people that she had recently visited. Their 
 sunlighted garden, and happy, homely life, their 
 simple faith, seemed the best antidote for her present 
 morbid tendencies. 
 
 "If the worst comes to the worst, I think they 
 would take us in for a little while, till some way 
 opened," she thought. "Oh, that I had their belief 
 in a better life, then it wouldn't seem so dreadful to 
 suffer in this one. Why have I never read the 
 ' Gude Book,' as they call it ? But I never seemed 
 to understand it ; still, I must say, that I never 
 really tried to. Perhaps God is angry with us, and 
 is punishing us for so forgetting Him. I would 
 rather think that, than to feel so forgotten and lost 
 sight of. It seems as if God didn't see or care. It 
 seems as if I could cling to the harshest father in the 
 world, if he would only protect and help me. A God 
 of wrath, that I have heard clergymen preach of, is 
 not so dreadful to me as a God who forgets, and 
 leaves his creatures to struggle alone. Our minister 
 was so cold and philosophical, and presented a God 
 that seemed so far off, that I felt there could never
 
 354 W IIA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 be anything between Him and me. He talked about 
 a holy, infinite Being, who dwelt alone in unap- 
 proachable majesty ; and I want some one to stoop 
 down and love and help poor, little me. He talked 
 about a religion of purity and good works, and love 
 to our fellow-men. I don't know how to work for 
 myself, much less for others, and it seems as if 
 nearly all my fellow-creatures hated and scorned me, 
 and I am afraid of them ; so I don't see what chance 
 there is for such as us. If we had only remained 
 rich, and lived on the Avenue, such a religion 
 wouldn't be so hard. It seems strange that the 
 Bible should teach him and old Malcom so differ- 
 ently. But I suppose he is wiser, and understands 
 it better. Perhaps it's the flowers that teach Mal- 
 com, for he always seems drawing lessons from 
 them." 
 
 Then came the impulse to get the Bible and read 
 it for herself. " The impulse ! " from whence did it 
 come? 
 
 When Edith felt so orphaned and alone, forgot- 
 ten even of God, then the Divine Father was nearest 
 his child. When, in her bitter extremity, at this 
 lonely midnight hour she realized her need and 
 helplessness as never before, her great Elder Bro- 
 ther was waiting beside her. 
 
 The impu'.se was divine. The Spirit of God was 
 leading her as He is seeking to lead so many. It 
 only remained for her to follow these gentle im- 
 pulses, not to be pushed into the black gulf that de- 
 spairing Laura dreaded, but to be led into the deep
 
 FRIEND AND SAVIOUR. ' 355 
 
 peace of a loving faith. She was about to be taught 
 the blessed truth that God is " not far from every 
 one of us, if haply we might feel after Him and find 
 Him." 
 
 She went down into the parlor to get the Bible 
 that in her hands had revealed the falseness and 
 baseness of Gus Elliott, and the thought flashed 
 through her mind like a good omen, " This book 
 stood between me and evil once before." She took 
 it to the light and rapidly turned its pages, trying to 
 find some clue, someplace of hope, for she was sadly 
 unfamiliar with it. 
 
 Was it her trembling fingers alone that turned 
 the pages? No ; He who inspired the guide she con- 
 sulted, guided her, for soon her eyes fell upon the 
 sentence : 
 
 " Come unto me all ye that labor and. are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest." 
 
 The words came with such vivid power and mean- 
 ing that she was startled, and looked around as if 
 some one had spoken to her. They so perfectly 
 met her need that it seemed they must be addressed 
 directly to her. 
 
 " Who was it that said these words, and what 
 right had He to say them?" she queried eagerly, 
 and keeping her finger on the passage as if it might 
 be a clue out of some fatal labyrinth, she turned the 
 leaves backward and read more of Him with the 
 breathless interest that some poor burdened soul 
 might have listened eighteen centuries ago to a 
 rumor of the great Prophet who had suddenly ap.
 
 356 WHAT CAN SHR DO I 
 
 peared with signs and wonders in Palestine. Then 
 she turned and read again and again the sweet 
 words that first arrested her attention. They seemed 
 more luminous and hope-inspiring eveiy moment, as 
 their significance dawned upon her like the coming 
 of day after night. 
 
 Her clear, positive mind could never take a vague, 
 dubious impression of anything, and with a long- 
 drawn breath she said, with the emphasis of perfect 
 conviction : 
 
 " If He were a mere man, as I have been taught 
 to believe, He had no right to say these words. 
 It would be a bitter, wicked mockery for man or 
 angel to speak them. Oh, can it be that it was 
 God himself in human guise? I could trust such a 
 God." 
 
 Again, with glowing cheeks and parted lips, she 
 commenced reading,' and in her eyes was the grow- 
 ing light of a great hope. 
 
 The upper room of that poor little cottage was 
 becoming a grand and sacred place. Heaven, that 
 honors the deathless soul above all localities, was 
 near. The God who was not in the vast and gold- 
 incrusted temple on Mount Moriah, sat in humble 
 guise at " Jacob's well," and said to one of His poor 
 guilty creatures: " I that speak unto thee am He.' 
 Cathedral domes and cross-tipped spires indicated 
 the Divine presence on every hand in superstitious 
 Rome, but it would seem that he was near only to a 
 poor monk creeping up Pilate's staircase. Though 
 the wealth of the world should combine to build a
 
 FRIEND AND SAVIOUR. 337 
 
 colossal church, filling it with every sacred emblem 
 and symbol, and causing its fretted roof to resound 
 with unceasing choral service, it would not be such 
 a claim upon the great Father's heart as a weak, 
 pitiful cry to Him from the least of his children. 
 Though Edith knew it not, that Presence, without 
 which all temples are vain, had come to her as freely, 
 as closely, as truly as when it entered the cottage 
 at Bethany, and Mary " sat at Jesus' feet and heard 
 His word." Even to her, in this night of trouble, 
 in this stony wilderness of care and fear, as to 
 God's trembling servant of old, a ladder of light was 
 let down from heaven, and on it her faith would 
 climb up to the peace and rest that is above, and 
 therefore undisturbed by the storms that rage on 
 earth. 
 
 But it is God's way to make us free through 
 truth. Christ, when on earth, did not deal with 
 men's souls as with their bodies. The latter he 
 touched into instantaneous cure ; to the former 
 He appealed with patient instruction and entreaty. 
 To the former revealed Himself by word and deed, 
 and said: In view of what I prove myself to be 
 will you trust me ? Will you follow me ? 
 
 In words which, though spoken so long ago, are 
 still the living utterances of the Spirit to every 
 seeking soul, He was now speaking to Edith, and 
 she listened with the wonder and hope that might 
 have stirred the heart of some sorrowing maiden 
 like herself, when His voice was accompanied by the 
 inusical chime of waves breaking on the shores of
 
 358 U'ffA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 Galilee, or the rustle of winds through the grey 
 olive leives. 
 
 Edith came to the source of all truth with a mind 
 as fresh and unprejudiced as that of one who saw 
 and heard Jesus for the first time, as, in his mission 
 journeys, he entered some little town of the Holy 
 Land. She had never thought much about Him, 
 and had no strong preconceived opinions. She was 
 almost utterly ignorant of the creeds and symbols 
 of men, and Christ was not to her, as He is to so 
 many, the embodiment of a system and the incarna- 
 tion of a doctrine a vague, half realized truth. 
 When she thought of him at all, it had been as a 
 great, good man, the most famous religious teacher 
 of the past, whose life had nobly " adorned a tale 
 and pointed a moral." But this would not answer 
 any more. " What could a man, dead and buried 
 centuries ago, do for me now?" she asked, bitterly. 
 " I want one who can with right speak these 
 words, 
 
 " ' Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest.' " 
 
 And as, with finger still clinging to this passage, 
 she read of miracle and parable, now trembling 
 almost under the " Sermon on the Mount," now 
 tearful under the tender story of the prodigal, the 
 feeling came in upon her soul like the rising tide, 
 "This was not more man." 
 
 Then, with an awe she had never felt before, she 
 followed him to Gethsemar.e, the High Priest's 
 palace, to Pilate's judgment-hall, and fiom thence
 
 FRIEND A ND SA V10 UR. 359 
 
 to Golgotha, and it seemed to her one long " Via 
 Dolorosa." With white lips she murmured, with the 
 centurion, " Truly this man was the Son of God." 
 
 She was reading the wonderful story for the first 
 time in its true connection, and the Spirit of God 
 was her guide and teacher. When she came tc 
 Mary " weeping without at the sepulchre," her own 
 eyes were streaming, and it seemed as if she were 
 weeping there herself. 
 
 But when Jesus said, in a tone perhaps never 
 heard before or since in this world, " Mary," it 
 seemed that to herself He was speaking, and her 
 heart responded, " Rabboni Master." 
 
 She started up and paced the little room, thrilling 
 with excitement. 
 
 " How blind I have been," she exclaimed "how 
 utterly blind ! Here I have been struggling alone 
 all these weary weeks, with scarcely hope for this 
 world and none for the next, when I might have 
 had such a friend and helper all the time. Can I be 
 deceived ? Can this sweet way of light out of our 
 thick darkness be a delusion ? " 
 
 She went to where her little Bible lay open at the 
 passage, " Come unto me," and bowing her head 
 upon it, pleaded as simply and sincerely as the Syro- 
 Phoenician mother might have pleaded for her child 
 in the very presence of the human Saviour, 
 
 " O Jesus, I am heavily laden. I labor under 
 burdens greater than I can bear. Divine Saviour, 
 help me." 
 
 In answer she expected some vague exaltation of
 
 360 WHA T CAN SHE DO* 
 
 soul, or an exquisite sense of peace, as the burden 
 was rolled away. 
 
 There was nothing of the kind, but only an im- 
 pulse to go to Laura. She was deeply disappointed. 
 She seemed to have climbed such a lofty height 
 that she might almost look into heaven, and con- 
 firm her faith forever, and only a simple earthly 
 duty was revealed to her. Her excited mind, that 
 had been expanding with the divinest mysteries, 
 was reacting into quietness, and the impression was 
 so strong that she must go to Laura, that she thought 
 her sister had been calling her, and she, in her in- 
 tense preoccupation, had heard her as in a dream. 
 
 Still keeping the little Bible in her hand, she went 
 to Laura's room. Through the partially open door 
 she saw, with a sudden chill of fear, that the bed 
 had not been slept in. Pushing the door open, she 
 looked eagerly around with a strange dread growing 
 upon her. Laura was writing at a table with her 
 back towards the entrance. There was a strong 
 odor of laudanum in the room, and a horrible thought 
 blanched Edith's cheek. Stealing with noiseless 
 tread across the intervening space, with hand pressed 
 upon her heart to still its wild throbbings, she looked 
 over her sister's shoulder, and followed the tracings 
 of her pen with dilating eyes. 
 
 *' Mother, Edith, farewell ! When you read these 
 sad words I shall be dead. I fear death I cannot 
 tell you how I fear it, but I fear that dreadful gulf 
 which daily grows nearer more, I must die. There 
 is no other resource for a poor, weak woman liko
 
 FRIEND AND LAVIOUR. 361 
 
 me. If I were only strong if I had only been 
 taught something but I am helpless. Do not be 
 too hard upon poor little Zell. Her eyes were, 
 blinded by a false love ; she did not see the black 
 gulf as I see it. If God cares for what such poor 
 forlorn creatures as I do, may He forgive. I have 
 thought till my brain reels. I have tried to pray, 
 but hardly knew what I was praying to. I don't 
 understand God He is far off. The world scorns 
 us. There is none to help. There is no other 
 remedy save the drug at my side, which will soon 
 bring sleep which I hope will be dreamless. Fare- 
 well ! 
 
 " Your poor, trembling, despairing 
 
 " LAURA/" 
 
 Every sentence was written with a sigh that 
 might seem the last that the burdened soul could give, 
 and every line was blotted with tears that fell from 
 her dim eyes. Edith saw that the poor, thin face 
 was pinched and wan with misery, and that the pal- 
 lor of death had already blanched even her lips, 
 and, with a shudder of horror, her eyes fell on a 
 phial of laudanum at Laura's left hand, and from 
 which she was partially turned away, in the act of 
 writing. 
 
 With an ecstatic thrill of joy, she now understood 
 how her prayer had been answered. How could 
 there have been rest how could there have been 
 peace if this awful tragedy had been consum- 
 mated ? 
 
 With one devout, grateful glance upward, she 
 16
 
 362 WHAT CAM SHE DO? 
 
 silently took away the fatal drug, and laid her Bibie 
 down in its place. 
 
 Laura finished her letter, leaned back, and mur- 
 mured a long, trembling, " Farewell ! " that was like 
 a low, mournful vibration of an ^olian harp, when 
 the night-breeze breathes upon it. Then she 
 pressed her right hand over her eyes, shuddered, 
 and tremblingly put out her left for that which 
 would end all. But, instead of the phial which she 
 had placed there but a little before, her hand rested 
 upon a book. Startled, she opened her eyes, and saw 
 not the dreaded poison, but in golden letters that 
 seemed luminous to her dazzled sight : 
 
 HOLY BIBLE. 
 
 Though all had lasted but a brief moment, 
 Edith's power of self-control was gone. Dashing 
 the bottle on the floor, where it broke into many 
 fragments, she threw herself on her sister's neck and 
 sobbed : 
 
 " Oh, Laura, Laura ! your hand is on a better 
 remedy. It has saved me it can save you. It has 
 shown me the Friend we need. He sent me to 
 you ; " and she clung to her sister in a rapture of 
 joy, murmuring, with every breath, 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, eternal gratitude ! I see how 
 my prayer is answered now." 
 
 Laura, in her shattered condition, was too bewil- 
 dered and feeble to do more than iling to Edith, 
 with a blessed sense of being rescaed from some 
 great peril. A horrid spell seemed broken, and for 
 some reason, she knew not why, life and hope wcrt
 
 FRIEND AND SA VIOUR, 363 
 
 still possible. A torrent of tears seemed to relieve 
 her of the dreadful oppression that had so long 
 rested on her, and at last she faltered : 
 
 " Who is this strange friend ? " 
 
 " His name is Jesus Saviour," said Edith, in a 
 low, reverential tone. 
 
 " I don't quite understand," said Laura, hesi- 
 tatingly. " I can only cling to you till I know 
 him." 
 
 " He knows you, Laura, and loves you. He has 
 never forgotten us. It was we who forgot Him. He 
 sent me to you, just in time. Now put your hand 
 on this book, and promise me you will never think 
 of such an awful thing again." 
 
 " I promise," said Laura, solemnly ; " not if I am 
 in my right mind. I don't understand myself. You 
 seem to have awakened me from a fearful dream. I 
 will do just what you tell me to." 
 
 " O Laura, let us both try to do just what our 
 Divine Friend tells us to do." 
 
 " Perhaps, through you, I will learn to know Him. 
 I can only cling to you to-night," said Laura, 
 wearily. " I am so tired," and her eyes drooped as 
 she spoke. 
 
 With a sense of security came a strong reaction in 
 her overtaxed nature. Edith helped her to bed as 
 if she were a child, and soon she was sleeping as 
 peacefully as one.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE MYSTERY SOLVED. 
 
 EDITH again resumed her watching in her 
 mother's room. The invalid was still dwell* 
 ing on the past, and her delirium appeared to Edith 
 a true emblem of her old, unreal life. Indeed, it 
 seemed to her that she had never lived before. A 
 quiet, but divine exaltation, filled her soul. She 
 did not care to read any more, but just sat still and 
 thought, and her spiritual light grew clearer and 
 clearer. 
 
 Her faith was very simple, her knowledge very 
 slight. She was scarcely in advance of a Hebrew 
 maiden who might have been one of the mournful 
 procession passing out of the gates of Nain, when a 
 stranger, unknown before, revealed himself by turn- 
 ing death into life, sorrow into joy. The eye of her 
 faith was fastened on the distinct, living, loving per- 
 sonality of our human yet Divine Friend, who no 
 longer seemed afar off, but as near as to that other 
 burdened one " who touched the hem of his gar- 
 ment." 
 
 " He does not change, the Bible says," she 
 thought. " He cannot change. Therefore He will 
 help me, just as surely as ne did the poor, suffering 
 people among whom he lived."
 
 THE M YSTER Y SOL VED. 365 
 
 It was but three o'clock, and yet the eastern sky 
 was pale with dawn. At length her attention was 
 gained by a faint but oft-repeated sound. It seemed 
 to come from the direction of the garden, and at 
 once the mystery that so oppressed poor Hannibal 
 occurred to her. She rose, and passed back to her 
 own room, which overlooked the garden, and, 
 through the lattice, in the faint morning twilight, 
 saw a tall, dusky figure, that looked much too sub- 
 stantial to be any such shadowy being as the old 
 negro surmised, and the strokes of his hoe were too 
 vigorous and noisy for ghostly gardening. 
 
 " It must be Arden Lacey," thought Edith, " but 
 I will put this matter beyond all doubt. I don't 
 like this night work, either ; though for different 
 reasons than those of poor Hannibal. We have suf- 
 fered enough from scandal already, and, henceforth, 
 all connected with my life shall be as open as the 
 day. Then, if the world believes evil of me, it will 
 be because it likes it best." 
 
 These thoughts passed through her mind while 
 she hastily threw off her wrapper and dressed 
 Cautiously opening the back-door, she looked again. 
 The nearer view and clearer light revealed to her 
 Arden Lacey. She did not fear him, and at once 
 determined to question him as to the motive of his 
 action. He was but a little way off, and was tying 
 up a grape-vine that had been neglected, his back 
 being toward her. Edith had great physical courage 
 and firmness naturally, and it seemed that on this 
 morning she could fear nothing, in the strength of 
 her new-born enthusiasm.
 
 366 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 With noiseless step she reached his side, and 
 asked, almost sternly, 
 
 " Who are you, sir ; and what does this action 
 mean ? " 
 
 Arden started violently, trembled like the leaves 
 in the morning wind, and turned slowly toward her, 
 feeling more guilty and alarmed than if he had been 
 playing the part of a burglar, than her good genius. 
 
 "Why don't you answer?" she asked, in still 
 more decided tones. " By what right are you doing 
 this work ? " 
 
 Edith had lost faith in men. She knew little of 
 Arden, and the thought flashed through her mind, 
 ' This may be some new plot against us." There- 
 fore her manner was stern and almost threatening. 
 
 Poor Arden was startled out of all self-control. 
 Edith's coming was so sudden and unexpected, and 
 her pale face was so spirit-like, that for a moment 
 he scarcely knew whether the constant object of 
 his thoughts was really before him, or whether his 
 strong imagination was only mocking him. 
 
 Edith mistook his agitation and hesitancy as evi- 
 dences of guilt, and he so far recovered himself as 
 to recognize her suspicions. 
 
 " I will be answered. You shall speak the truth," 
 she said, imperiously. " By what right are you 
 doing this work ? " 
 
 Then his own proud, passionate spirit flamed up, 
 and looking her unblenchingly in the face, he replied : 
 
 "The right of my great love for you. Can 1 not 
 &erve my idol? "
 
 THE MYSTERY SOLVED. 367 
 
 An expression of deep pain and repulsion came 
 out upon Edith's face, and he saw it. The avowal 
 of his love was so abrupt indeed it was almost 
 stern ; and, coming thus from quite a stranger, who 
 had little place even in her thoughts, it was so ex- 
 ceedingly painful, that it was like a blow. She had 
 been dwelling upon the serene heights of a Divine 
 love, and the most delicate declaration of a human 
 and earthly love at that time would have jarred 
 rudely upon her sensitive spirit. And yet she 
 hardly knew how to answer him, for she saw in his 
 open, manly face, his respectful manner, that he 
 meant no evil, however he might err through igno- 
 rance or feeling. 
 
 He seemed to wait for her to speak again, and 
 his face, from being like the eastern sky, became 
 very pale. From recent experience, and the teach- 
 ings of the Patient One, Edith's heart was very 
 tender toward anything that looked like suffering, 
 and though she deemed Arden's feeling but the 
 infatuation of a rude and ill-regulated mind, she 
 could not be harsh, now that all suspicion of evil de- 
 signs was banished. Therefore she said quietly, 
 and almost kindly, 
 
 " You have done wrong, Mr. Lacey. Remember 
 I have no father or brother to protect me. The 
 world is too ready to take up evil reports, and your 
 strange action might be misunderstood. All trans- 
 actions with me must be like the sunlight." 
 
 With an expression of almost anguish, Arden 
 bowed his head before her, and groaned.
 
 3 68 WHA T CAN SHE DOf 
 
 " Forgive me ; I did not think." 
 
 " I am sure you meant no harm," said Edith, witi 
 real kindness now in her tone. " You would not 
 knowingly make the way harder for a poor girl that 
 has too much already to struggle against. And 
 now, good-bye. I shall trust to your sense of honor, 
 assured that you will treat me as you would wish 
 your own sister dealt with ; " and she vanished, 
 leaving Arden so overwhelmed with contending 
 emotions that he could scarcely make his way home. 
 
 An hour later Edith heard Hannibal's step down 
 stairs, and she at once joined him. The old man 
 had aged in a night, and his face had a more worn 
 and hopeless look than had yet rested upon it. He 
 trembled at the rustle of her dress, and called, 
 
 " Miss Edie, am dat you ? " 
 
 " Yes, you foolish old fellow. I have seen your 
 spook, and ordered it not to come here again unless 
 I send you for it." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Edie ! " gasped Hannibal. 
 
 " It's Arden Lacey." 
 
 Hannibal collapsed. He seemed to drop out of 
 the realm of the supernatural to the solid ground of 
 fact with a heavy thump. 
 
 He sank into a chair, regarding her first with a 
 blank, vacant face, which gradually became illu- 
 mined with a knowing grin. In a low, chuckling 
 voice, he said, 
 
 " I jes declar to you I'se struck all of a heap. I 
 jes done see whar de possum is dis minute. What 
 an ole black fool I was, sure 'nurT. I tho't he'se
 
 THE M YSTER Y SOL VED. 369 
 
 de mos 'bligin man I eber seed afore," and he told 
 her how Arden had served her in her illness. 
 
 She was divided between amusement and annoy- 
 ance, the latter predominating. Hannibal con- 
 cluded impressively: 
 
 " Miss Edie, it must be lub. Nothin else dan dat 
 which so limbered up my ole jints, could get any 
 livin man obe? as much ground as he hoed dat 
 night." 
 
 "Hush, Hannibal/' said Edith, with dignity; 
 " and remember that this is a secret between our- 
 selves. Moreover, I wish you never to ask Mr, 
 Lacey to do anything for us if it can possibly be 
 helped, and never without my knowledge." 
 
 " You know's well, Miss Edie, dat you'se 
 only to speak and it's done," said Hannibal, depre- 
 catingly. 
 
 She gave him such a gentle, grateful look that the 
 old man was almost ready to get down on his knees 
 before her. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she 
 said, 
 
 " What a good, faithful, old friend you are. You 
 don't know how much I love you, Hannibal ;" and 
 she returned to her mother. 
 
 Hannibal rolled up his eyes and clasped his hands, 
 as if before his patron saint, saying, under his 
 breath, 
 
 " De idee of her lubing ole black Hannibal. I 
 could die dis blessed minute," which was his way 
 of saying, " Nunc dimittas" 
 
 Laura slept quietly till late in the afternoon, and
 
 37Q WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 wakened as if to a new and better life. Her rnan 
 ncr was almost childlike. She had lost all confidence 
 in herself, and seemed to wish to be controlled by 
 Edith in all things, as a little child might be. But 
 she was very feeble. 
 
 As the morning advanced Edith grew exceed- 
 ingly weary. Reaction from her strong excitement 
 seemed to bear her down in a weakness and lethargy 
 that she could not resist, and by ten o'clock she felt 
 that she must have some relief. It came from an 
 unexpected source, for Hannibal appeared with a 
 face of portentous solemnity, saying that Mrs. Lacey 
 was down stairs, and that she wished to know if she 
 could do something to help. 
 
 The mother's quick eye saw that something had 
 deeply moved and was troubling her son. Indeed, 
 for some time past, she had seen that into his un- 
 real world had come a reality that was a source both 
 of pain and pleasure, of fear and hope. While she 
 followed him every hour of the day with an unutter- 
 able sympathy, she silently left him to open his 
 heart to her in his own time and manner. But her 
 tender, wistful manner told Arden that he was 
 understood, and he preferred this tacit sympathy to 
 any spoken words. But this morning the evidence 
 of his mental distress was so apparent that she went 
 to him, placed her hands upon his shoulders, and with 
 her grave, earnest eyes looking straight into his, 
 asked : 
 
 " Arden, what can I do for you? " 
 
 " Mother," he said, in a low tone, " there is sick.
 
 THE MYSTER Y SOL VED. 37! 
 
 ness and deep trouble at our neighbor's. Will you 
 go to them again "*" 
 
 " Yes, my son," she replied, simply, " as soon as 
 I can get ready." 
 
 So she arranged matters to stay if needed, and 
 thus in Edith's extremity she appeared. In view of 
 Arden's words, Edith hardly knew how to receive 
 her or what to do. But when she saw the plain, 
 grave woman sitting before her in the simple dignity 
 of patient sorrow, her course seemed clear. She in- 
 stinctively felt that she could trust this offered 
 friendliness, and that she needed it. 
 
 " I have heard that your mother has been sick as 
 well as yourself," she said kindly but quietly. " You 
 look very worn and weary, Miss Allen ; and if I, as 
 a neighbor, can watch in your place for awhile, I 
 think you can trust me to do so." 
 
 Tears sprang into Edith's eyes, and she said, with 
 sudden color coming into her pale face, " You take 
 noble revenge for the treatment you have received 
 from us, and I gratefully submit to it. I must con- 
 fess I have reached the limit of my endurance ; my 
 sister is ill also, and yet mother needs constant 
 attention." 
 
 , " Then I am very glad I came, and I have left 
 things at home so I can stay," and she laid aside 
 her wraps with the air of one who sees a duty 
 plainly and intends to perform it. Edith gave her 
 the doctor's instructions a little incoherently in her 
 utter exhaustion, but the experienced matron under, 
 stood all, and said,
 
 372 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 " I think I know just what to do. Sleep till you 
 are well rested." 
 
 Edith went to her room, and, with her face where 
 the sweet June air could breathe directly upon it 
 through the open window, sleep came with a wel- 
 come and refreshing balm that she had never known 
 before. Her last thought was, " He will take care 
 of me and mine." 
 
 She had left the door leading into the sick-room 
 open, and Mrs. Lacey stepped in once and looked 
 at her. The happy, trustful thought with which 
 she had closed her eyes left a faint smile upon her 
 face, and gave it a sweet spiritual beauty. 
 
 " She seems very different from what I supposed 
 her," murmured Mrs. Lacey. " She is very differ- 
 ent from what people are imagining her. Perhaps 
 Arden, poor boy, is nearer right than all of us. Oh, 
 I hope she is good, whether he ever marries her or 
 not, for this love will be the saving or ruining of 
 him." 
 
 When Edith awoke it was dark, and she started 
 up in dismay, for she meant to sleep but an hour or 
 two. Having hastily smoothed her hair, she went 
 to the sick room, and found Laura reclining on the 
 sofa, and talking in the most friendly manner to 
 Mrs. Lacey. Her mother's delirium continued, 
 though it was more quiet, with snatches of sleep 
 intervening, but she noticed no one as yet. Mrs. 
 Lacey sat calmly in her chair, her sad, patient face 
 making the very ideal of a watcher, and yet in spite 
 of her plain exterior there was a refinement, an ai/ 

 
 THE MYSTERY SOLVED. 373 
 
 of self-respect, that would impress the most casual 
 observer. As soon as Laura saw Edith she rose as 
 quickly as her feebleness permitted, and threw her 
 arms around her sister, and there was an embrace 
 whose warmth and meaning none but themselves, 
 and the pitying eye of Him who saved, could under- 
 stand. Then Edith turned and said, earnestly, 
 
 " Truly, Mrs. Lacey, I did not intend to trespass 
 on your kindness in this manner. I hope you will 
 forgive me." 
 
 " Nature knew what was best for you, Miss Allen, 
 and you have not incommoded me at all. I made 
 my plans to stay till nine o'clock, and then Arderi 
 will come for me." 
 
 " Miss Edie," said Hannibal, in his loud whisper 
 " I'se got some supper for you down here." 
 
 Why did Edith go to her room and make a little 
 better toilet before going down ? She hardly thought 
 herself. It was probably a feminine instinct. As 
 she took her last sip of tea there was a timid 
 knock at the door. " I will see him a moment," 
 she decided. 
 
 Hannibal, with a gravity that made poor Edith 
 smile in her thoughts, admitted Arden Lacey. He 
 was diffident but not awkward, and the color deep- 
 ened in his face, then left it very pale, as he saw 
 Edith was present. Her pale cheek also took the 
 faintest tinge of pink, but she rose quietly, and 
 eaid, 
 
 " Please be seated, Mr. Lacey. I will tell your 
 mother you are here." Then, as Hannibal dis-
 
 374 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 appeared, she added earnestly, <c I do appreciate 
 your mother's kindness, and yours also. At the 
 same time, too deep a sense of obligation is painful ; 
 you must not do so much for us. Please do not 
 misunderstand me." 
 
 Arden had something of his mother's quiet 
 dignity, as he rose and held out to Edith a letter, 
 saying, 
 
 " Will you please read that you need not answer 
 it and then perhaps you will understand me 
 better." 
 
 Edith hesitated, and was reluctant. 
 
 " I may be doing wrong," continued he, earnestly 
 and with rising color. " I am not versed in the 
 world's ways ; but is it not my right to explain the 
 rash words I uttered this morning? My good name 
 is dear to me also. Few care for it, but I would 
 not have it utterly blurred in your eyes. We may 
 be strangers after you have read it, if you choose, 
 but I entreat you to read it." 
 
 " You will not feel hurt if I afterwards return it 
 to you?" asked Edith, timidly. 
 
 " You may do with it what you please." 
 
 She then took the letter, and a moment later Mrs. 
 Lacey appeared, and said, 
 
 " I will sit up to-morrow night, with your per- 
 mission." 
 
 Edith took her hand, and replied, " Mrs. Lacey, 
 you burden me with kindness." 
 
 " It is not my wish to burden, but to relieve you, 
 Miss Allen. I think I can safely say, from our
 
 THE M YS TER Y SOL I' ED. 37$ 
 
 slight acquaintance, that in the case of sickness of 
 trouble at a neighbor's, you would not spare your- 
 self. We cease to be human when we leave the too- 
 heavily burdened to struggle alone." 
 
 Edith's eyes grew moist, and she said, simply, " I 
 cannot refuse kindness offered in that spirit, and 
 may God bless you for it. Good night." 
 
 Arden's only parting was a grave, silent bow, 
 
 Edith was soon alone again, watching by her 
 mother. With some natural curiosity, she opened 
 the letter that was written by one so different from 
 any man that she had ever known before. Its 
 opening, at least, was reassuring. 
 
 " Miss EDITH ALLEN: You need not fear that I 
 shall offend again by either writing or speaking 
 such rash words as those which so deeply pained 
 you this morning. They would not have been 
 spoken then, perhaps never, had I not been startled 
 out of my self-control had I not seen that you 
 suspected me of evil. I was very unwise, and I sin- 
 cerely ask your pardon. But I meant no wrong, 
 and as you referred to my sister, I can say, before 
 God, that I would shield you as I would shield 
 her. 
 
 4 I know little of the conventionalities of the 
 world. I live but a hermit's life in it, and my letter 
 may seem to you very foolish and romantic, still I 
 know that my motives are not ignoble, and with 
 this consciousness I venture. 
 
 " Reverencing and honoring you as I do, I cannot 
 bear that you should think too meanly of me. The
 
 376 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 world regards me as a sullen, stolid, bearish creature, 
 but I have almost ceased to care for its opinion. I 
 have received from it nothing but coldness and 
 scorn, and I pay my debt in like coin. But perhaps 
 you can imagine why I cannot endure that you 
 should regard me in like manner. I would not have 
 you think my nature a stony, sterile place, when 
 something tells me that it is like a garden that 
 needs only sunlight of some kind. My life has been 
 blighted by the wrong of another, who should have 
 been my best helper. The knowledge and university 
 culture for which I thirsted was denied me. And 
 yet, believe me, only my mother's need only the 
 absolute necessity that she and my sister should 
 have a daily protector, kept me from pushing out 
 into the world, and trying to work my way unaided 
 to better things. Sacred duty has chained me down 
 to a life that was outwardly most sordid and un- 
 happy. My best solace has been my mother's love. 
 But from varied, somewhat extensive, though per- 
 haps not the wisest kind of reading, I came to dwell 
 in a brave, beautiful, but shadowy world, that I 
 created out of books. I was becoming satisfied with 
 it, not knowing any other. The real world mocked 
 and hurt me on every side. It is so harsh and un- 
 just that I hate it. I hate it infinitely more as I see 
 its disposition to wound you, who have been so 
 noble and heroic. In this dream of the past in 
 this unreal world of my own fancy, I was living 
 when you came that rainy night. As I learned to 
 know you somewhat, you seemed a beautiful reve-
 
 THE MYSTERY SOLVED. 377 
 
 lation to me. I did not think there was such a 
 woman in existence. My shadows vanished before 
 you. With you living in the present, my dreams of 
 the past ceased. I could not prevent your image 
 from entering my lonely, empty heart, and taking 
 its vacant throne, as if by divine right. How could 
 I ? How can I drive you forth now, when my whole 
 being is enslaved? 
 
 " But forgive me. Though thought and feeling 
 are beyond control, outward action is not. I hope 
 never to lose a mastering grasp on the rein of deeds 
 and words; and though I cannot understand how 
 the feeling I have frankly avowed can ever change, 
 I will try never, by look or sign, to pain you with it 
 again. 
 
 " And yet, with a diffidence and fear equaled 
 only by my sincerity and earnestness, I would ven- 
 ture to ask one great favor. You said this morning 
 that you already had too much to struggle against. 
 The future has its possibilities of further trouble 
 and danger. Will you not let me be your humble, 
 faithful friend, serving you loyally, devotedly, yet 
 unobtrusively, and with all the delicate regard for 
 your position which I am capable of showing, as- 
 sured that I will gratefully accept any hints when I 
 am wrong or presumptuous? I would gladly serve 
 you with your knowledge and consent. But serve 
 you I must. I vowed it the night I lifted your un- 
 conscious form from the wharf, and gave you into 
 Mrs. Groody's care. There need be no reply. You 
 have only to treat me not as an utter stranger when
 
 3J8 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 we next meet. You have only to give me ch- Joy 
 of doing something for you when opportunity oficrs. 
 
 "ARDENLACEY." 
 
 Edith's eyes filled with tears before she finished 
 this most unexpected epistle. Though rather 
 quaint and stately in its diction, the passion of a 
 true, strong nature so permeated it all, that the 
 coldest and shallowest would have been moved. 
 And yet a half-smile played upon her face at the 
 same time, like sunlight on drops of rain. 
 
 " Thank heaven," she said, " I know of one more 
 true man in the world, if he is a strange one. How 
 different he is from what I thought! I don't 
 believe there's another in this place who could 
 have written such a letter. What would a New 
 York society man, whose compliments are as ex- 
 travagant as meaningless, think of it ? Truly he 
 don't know the world, and isn't like it. I sup- 
 posed him an awkward, eccentric young country, 
 man, that, from his very verdancy, would be difficult 
 to manage, and he writes to me like a knight of old- 
 en time, only such language seems Quixotic in our 
 day. The foolish fellow, to idealize poor, despised, 
 faulty Edith Allen into one of the grand heroines 
 of his interminable romances, and that after seeing 
 me hoe my garden like a Dutch woman. If I 
 wasn't so sad and he so earnest, I could laugh till 
 my sides ached. There never was a more matter- 
 of-fact creature than I am, and yet here am I envel- 
 oped in a halo of impossible virtues and graces. If
 
 THE MYSTERY SOLVED. 379 
 
 I were what he thinks me, I wouldn't know myself. 
 Well, well, I must treat him somewhat like a boy, 
 for such he really is, ignorant of himself and all the 
 tvorld. When he comes to know me better, the 
 Edith of his imagination will vanish like his other 
 shadows, and he will have another revelation that I 
 am an ordinary, flesh-and-blood girl." 
 
 With deepening color she continued : " So it was 
 he who lifted me up that night. Well, I am glad 
 it was one who pitied me, and not some coarse, 
 unfeeling man. It seems strange how circum- 
 stances have brought him who shuns and is 
 shunned by all, into such a queer relationship tome. 
 But heaven forbid that I should give him lessons as 
 to the selfish, matter-of-fact world. He will out- 
 grow his morbidness and romantic chivalry with the 
 certainty of years, and seeing more of me will ban- 
 ish his absurd delusions in regard to me. I need his 
 friendship and help indeed it seems as if it were 
 sent to me. It can do him no harm, and it may 
 give me a chance to do him good. If any man ever 
 needed a sensible friend, he does." 
 
 Therefore Edith wrote him : 
 
 " It is very kind of you to offer friendship and 
 help to one situated like myself, and I gratefully 
 grant what you rather oddly call ' a favor.' At the 
 same time, if you ever find such friendliness a pain 
 or trouble to you in any way, I shall in no sense 
 blame you for withdrawing it." 
 
 The "friendship " and ' friendliness " were under-
 
 380 WffA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 scored, thus delicately hinting that this must be the 
 only relation. 
 
 " There," she said, " all his chains will now be of 
 his own forging, and I shall soon demolish the para- 
 gon he is dreaming over." ; 
 
 She laid both letters aside, and took down hef 
 Bible with a little sigh of satisfaction. 
 
 " His lonely, empty heart," she murmured ; " ah, 
 that is the trouble with all. He thinks to fill his 
 with a vain dream of me, as others do with as vain a 
 dream of something else. I trust I have learned of 
 One here who can fill and satisfy mine ; " and soon 
 she was again deep in the wondrous story, so old, 
 so new, so all-absorbing to those from whose spirit- 
 ual eyes the scales of doubt and indifference have 
 fallen. As she read she saw, not truths about 
 Jesus, but Him, and at His feet her heart bowed in 
 stronger faith and deeper love every moment. ; 
 
 She had not even thought whether she was a 
 Christian or not. She had not even once put her 
 finger on her spiritual pulse, to guage the evidences 
 of her faith. A system of theology would have 
 been unintelligible to her. She could not have de- 
 fined one doctrine so as to have satisfied a sound 
 divine. She had not even read the greater part of 
 the Bible, but, in her bitter extremity, the Spirit of 
 God, employing the inspired guide, had brought 
 her to Jesus, as the troubled and sinful were 
 brought to Him of old. He had given her rest. He 
 had helped her save her sister, and with childlike 
 confidence she was just looking, lovingly and trust-
 
 THE M YSTER Y SOL VED. 38 1 
 
 Ingly, into His divine face, and He was smiling away 
 all her fear and pain. She seemed to feel sure that 
 her mother would get well, that Laura would grow 
 stronger, that they would all learn to know Him, 
 and would be taken care of. 
 
 As she read this evening she came to that passage 
 of exquisite pathos, where the purest, holiest, man- 
 hood said to " a woman of the city, which was a 
 sinner," 
 
 " Thy sins are forgiven. Go in peace." 
 
 Instantly her thoughts reverted to Zell, and she 
 was deeply moved. Could she be forgiven ? Could 
 she be saved ? Was the God of the Bible, stern, 
 afar off, as she had once imagined, more tender to- 
 ward the erring than even their own human kindred ? 
 Could it be possible that, while she had been con- 
 demning, and almost hating Zell, Jesus had been 
 loving her ? 
 
 The feeling overpowered her. Closing the book, 
 she leaned her head upon it, and, for the first time, 
 sobbed and mourned for Zell, with a great, yearning 
 pity. 
 
 Every such pitiful tear, the world over, is a prayer 
 to God. They mingle with those that flowed from 
 His eyes, as He wept over the doomed city that 
 would not receive Him. They mingle with that 
 crimson tide which flowed from His hands and feet 
 when He prayed, 
 
 *' Father, forgive them, they know not what they
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 EDITH TELJ.S THE OLD, OLD STORY. 
 
 MRS. Allen seemed better the next day, and 
 Laura was able to watch while Edith slept. 
 After tea Mrs. Lacey appeared, with the same 
 subdued air of quiet self-respect and patient sorrow. 
 She seemed to have settled down into that mourn- 
 ful calm which hopes little and fears little. She 
 seemed to expect nothing better than to go forward 
 with such endurance as she might, into the deeper 
 shadows of age, sickness, and death. She vaguely 
 hoped that God would have mercy upon her at last, 
 but how to love and trust Him she did not know. 
 She hardly knew that it was expected, or possible. 
 She associated religion with going to church, out- 
 ward profession, and doing much good. The neigh- 
 bors spoke of her and the family as " very irrelig- 
 ious," and she had about come to the conclusion 
 that they were right. She never thought of taking 
 credit to herself for her devotion to her children, and 
 patience with her husband. She loved the former, 
 especially her son, with an intensity that one could 
 hardly reconcile with her grave and silent ways. In 
 regard to her husband, she tried to remember her 
 first young girlish dream the manly ideal of char- 
 acter that her fond heart had associated with the
 
 EDITH TELLS THE OLD, OLD STORY. 383 
 
 handsome young fellow who had singled her out 
 among the many envious maidens in her native 
 village. 
 
 " I will try to be true to what I thought he was," 
 she said, with woman's pathetic constancy, " and be 
 patient with what he is." 
 
 But the disappointment, as it slowly assumed 
 dread certainty, broke her heart. 
 
 Edith began to have a fellow-feeling for her. 
 " We both have not only our own burdens to carry, 
 but the heavier burden of another," she thought. 
 " I wonder if she has ever gone to Him for the ' rest.' 
 I fear not, or she would not look so sad and hope- 
 less." 
 
 Before they could go upstairs a hack from the 
 hotel stopped at the door, and Mrs. Groody bustled 
 cheerily in. Laura at the same time came down, 
 saying that Mrs. Allen was asleep. 
 
 " Hannibal," said Edith, " you may sit on the 
 stairs, and if she wakes, or makes any sound, let me 
 know," and she took a seat near the door in order 
 to hear. 
 
 " I've been worrying about you every minute 
 ever since I called, and you was too sick to see me," 
 said Mrs. Groody, " but I've been so busy I couldn't 
 get away. It takes an awful lot of work to get such 
 a big house to rights, and the women cleaning, and 
 the servants are so aggravatin, that I am just run ofl 
 my legs lookin after them. I don't see why people 
 can't do what they're told, when they're told." 
 
 " I wish I were able to help you," said Edith.
 
 384 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " Youi promise of work has kept me up wondefr 
 fully. But before I half got my strength back 
 mother became very ill, and, had it not been for 
 Mrs. Lacey, I don't know what I would have done. 
 It did seem as if she were sent here yesterday, for I 
 could not have kept up another hour." 
 
 " You poor child," said Mrs. Groody, in a tone 
 and manner overflowing with motherly kindness. 
 " I just heard about it to-day from Arden, who was 
 bringing something up to the hotel, so I said, I'll 
 drop everything to-night, and run down for a while. 
 So here I am, and now what can I do for you ? " 
 concluded the warm-hearted woman, whose invari- 
 able instinct was to put her sympathy into deeds. 
 
 " I told you that night," said Edith. " I think I 
 could do a little sewing or mending even now if I 
 had it here at home. But your kindness and 
 remembrance do me more good than any words 
 of mine can tell you. I thought no one would ever 
 speak to us again," she continued in a low tone, and 
 with rising color, " and I have had kind, helpful 
 friends sent to me already." 
 
 Wistful mother-love shone in Mrs. Lacey's large 
 blue eyes, but Mrs. Groody blew her nose like a 
 trumpet, and said ; 
 
 " Not speak to you, poor child ! Though I ain't 
 on very good terms with the Lord, I ain't a Phari- 
 see, and after what I saw of you that night, I am 
 proud to speak to you and do anything I can for 
 you. It does seem too bad that poor young things 
 like you two should be sc burdened. I should think
 
 EDITH TELLS THE OLD, OLD STORY. 385 
 
 you had enough before without your mother getting 
 sick. I don't understand the Lord, no how. Seems 
 to me He might scatter His afflictions as well as His 
 favors a little more evenly. I've thought a good 
 deal about what you said that night, ' We're dealt 
 with in masses, ' and poor bodies like you and me, 
 and Mrs. Lacey there, that is, ' the human atoms,' 
 as you called 'em, are lost sight of." 
 
 Tears sprang into Edith's eyes, and she said, ear- 
 nestly, "I am sorry I ever said those words. They 
 are not true. I should grieve very much if my rash, 
 desperate words did you harm after all your kind- 
 ness to me. I have learned better since I saw you, 
 Mrs. Groody. We are not lost sight of. It seems 
 to me the trouble is we lose sight of Him." 
 
 " Well, well, child, I'm glad to hear you talk in 
 that way," said Mrs. Groody, despondently. " I'm 
 dreadfully discouraged about it all. I know I fell 
 from grace, though, one awfully hot summer, when 
 everything went wrong, and I got on a regular 
 rampage, and that's the reason perhaps. A she-bear 
 that had lost her cubs, wasn't nothing to me. But 
 I straightened things out at the hotel, though I 
 came mighty near being sick, but I never couid 
 get straight myself after it. I knowed I ought 
 to be more patient I knowed it all the time. But 
 human natur is human natur, and woman natur is 
 worse yet sometimes. And when you've got on 
 one hand a score or two of drinking, quarrelsome, 
 thieving, and abominably lazy servants to manage, 
 and on the other two or three hundred fastidious 
 ]7
 
 386 WHAT CA.V SHE DO? 
 
 people to please, and elegantly dressed ladies who 
 can't manage their three or four servants at home, 
 dawdling up to you every hour in the day, saying 
 about the same as, Mrs. Groody, everything ain't 
 done in a minute everything ain't just right. I'd 
 like to know where 'tis in this jumbled-up world 
 not where they're housekeepers, 1 warrant you." 
 
 " Well, as I was tellin you," continued Mrs. 
 Groody, with a weary sigh, " that summer was too 
 much for me. I got to be a very dragon. I hadn't 
 time to read my Bible, or pray, or go to church, or 
 scarcely eat or sleep. I worked Sundays and week- 
 days alike, and I got to be a sort of heathen, and 
 I've been one ever since," and a gloom seemed to 
 gather on her naturally open, cheery face, as if she 
 feared she might never be anything else. 
 
 Mrs. Lacey gave a deep, responsive sigh, showing 
 that her heavy heart was akin to all other burdened 
 souls. But direct, practical Edith said simply and 
 gently; 
 
 " In other words you were laboring and heavy 
 laden." 
 
 " Couldn't have been more so, and lived," was 
 Mrs. Groody's emphatic answer. 
 
 " And the memory of it seems to have been a 
 heavy burden on your conscience ever since, though 
 I think you judge yourself harshly," continued 
 Edith. 
 
 " Not a bit," said Mrs Groody sturdily, " I 
 knowed better all the time.' 
 
 " Well, be that as it may, I feel that I know very
 
 EDITH TELLS THE OLD, OLD STORY. 387 
 
 little about these things yet. I'm sure I want to be 
 guided rightly. But what did our Lord mean when 
 He said ' Come unto Me all ye that labor and are 
 heavy laden and I will give you rest.' " 
 
 Mrs. Groody gave Edith a sort of surprised and 
 startled look. After a moment she said, " Bless you, 
 child, how plain you do put it. It's a very plain 
 text when you think of it, now, ain't it? I always 
 tho't it meant kind o' good, as all the Bible 
 does." . 
 
 " No, but He said them," urged Edith, earnestly. 
 " It is a distinct, plain invitation, and it must have 
 a distinct, plain meaning. I have learned to know 
 that when you or Mrs. Lacey say a thing, you mean 
 what you say, and so it is with all who are sincere 
 and true. Was He not sincere and true? If so, 
 these plain words must have a plain meaning. He 
 surely couldn't have meant them only for the few 
 people who heard His voice at that time." 
 
 " Of course not," said Mrs. Groody, musingly, 
 while poor Mrs. Lacey leaned fonvard with such an 
 eager, hungry look in her poor, worn face, that 
 Edith's heart yearned over her. Laura came and 
 sat on the floor by her sister's chair, and leaning 
 her elbow on Edith's knee, and her face on her 
 hand, looked up with the wistful, trustful, child-like 
 expression that had taken the place of her former 
 stateliness and subsequent apathy. Edith lost all 
 thought of herself in her eagerness to tell the others 
 of the Friend and Helper she 'had come to know. 
 
 " He must be God, or else He had no right to say
 
 3 88 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 to a great, troubled, sinning world, ' Come unto me. 
 The idea of a million people going at once, with 
 their sorrows and burdens, to one mere man, or an 
 angel : or any finite creature ! And just think how 
 many millions there are ! If the Bible is for all, this 
 invitation is for all. He couldn't have changed since 
 then, could He ? He can't be different in heaven 
 from what He was on earth ? " 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Groody, quickly, " for the Bible 
 says He is ' the same yesterday, to-day, and for- 
 ever.' " 
 
 " I never read in that place," said Edith, simply. 
 " That makes it clearer and stronger than ever. 
 Please, don't think I am setting myself up as a re- 
 ligious teacher. I know very little yet myself. I am 
 only seeking the light. But, one thing is settled in 
 my mind, and I like to have one thing settled beforj 
 I go on to anything else. This one thing seems the 
 foundation of everything else, and it appears as if I 
 could go on from it and learn all the rest. I am 
 satisfied that this Jesus is God, and that He said, 
 ' Come unto me/ to poor, weak, overburdened Edith 
 Allen. I went to Him, just as people in trouble 
 used to, when He first spoke these words. And, 
 Oh, how He has helped me," continued Edith, with 
 tears in her eyes, but with the glad light of a great 
 hope again shining through them. " The world can 
 never know all that He has done for us, and I can t 
 even think of Him without my heart quivering witb 
 gratitude." 
 
 Laura had now buried her face in her sister's lap,
 
 EDITH TELLS THE OLD, OLD STORY. 389 
 
 and was trembling like a leaf. Edith's words had a 
 meaning to her that they could not have for the 
 others. 
 
 " And now," concluded Edith, " I was led to Him 
 by these words, ' Come unto me all ye that labor 
 and are 1 eavy laden, and I will give you rest.' I 
 was in greater darkness than I had ever been be- 
 fore. My heart ached as if it would burst. Diffi- 
 culty and danger seemed on every side, and I saw 
 no way out. I knew the world had only scorn for 
 us, and I was so bowed down with shame and 
 discouragement, that I almost lost all hope. I had 
 been to the village, and the people looked and 
 pointed at me, till I was ready to drop in the 
 street. But I went to Mr. McTrump's, and he and 
 his wife; were so kind to me, and heartened me 
 up a li'.tle ; and they spoke about the ' Gude Book,' 
 as they call it, in such a way as made me think of it 
 in my deep distress and fear, as I sat alone watch- 
 ing with mother. So I found my neglected Bible, 
 and, in some way, I seemed guided to these words, 
 ' Come unto me ; ' and then, for two or three hours, 
 I continued to read eagerly about Him, till at last I 
 felt that I could venture to go to Him. So, I just 
 bowed my head, on His own invitation ; indeed, it 
 seemed like a tender call to a child that had been lost 
 in the dark, and was afraid, and I said, ' I am heavy 
 laden, help me.' And how wonderfully He did help 
 me._ He has been so good, so near, ever since. My 
 weary, hopeless heartache is gone. I don't know 
 what is before us. I can't see the way out of out
 
 390 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 troubles. I don't know what has become of ouf 
 absent one," she said, in a low tone and with 
 bowed head, " but I can leave all to Him. He 
 is God : He loves, and He can, and will, take care 
 of us. So you see I know very little about re- 
 ligion yet ; just enough to trust and keep close to 
 Him ; and I feel sure that in time He will teach 
 me, through the Bible, or in some way, all I ought 
 to know." 
 
 " Bless the child, she's right, she's right," sobbed 
 Mrs. Groody. " It was just so at first. He came right 
 among people, and called all sorts to Him, and they 
 came to Him just as they was, and stayed with Him, 
 and He cured, and helped, and taught 'em, till, from 
 being the worst, they became the best. That is the 
 way that distressed, swearin, old fisherman Peter 
 became one of the greatest and best men that ever 
 lived : though it took a mighty lot of grace and 
 patience to bring it about. Now I think of it, I 
 think he fell from grace worse than I did that awfully 
 hot summer. What an old fool I am. I've been 
 reading the Bible all my life, and never understood 
 it before." 
 
 " I think that if you had gone to Him that time 
 when you were so troubled and overburdened, He 
 would have helped you," said Edith, gently. 
 
 " Yes, but there it is, you see," said Mrs. Groody, 
 wiping her eyes and shaking her head despond- 
 ently, " I didn't go." 
 
 " But you are heavy laden now. I can see it. 
 You can go now," said Edith, earnestly.
 
 EDITH TELLS THE OLD, OLD STORY. 39! 
 
 " I'm afraid I've put it off too long," said Mrs, 
 Groody, settling back into something of her old 
 gloom. " I'm afraid I've sinned away my time." 
 
 With a strange blending of pathos and reproach 
 in her tone, Edith answered, 
 
 "Oh, how can you, with your big, kind heart, that 
 yearned over a poor unknown girl that dreadful 
 night when you brought me home how can you 
 think so poorly of your Saviour ? Ts your heart 
 warmer are your sympathies larger than His? 
 Why, He died for us, and, when dying, prayed for 
 those who crucified Him. Could you turn away a 
 poor, sorrowing, burdened creature that came plead- 
 ing to you for help? You know you couldn't. 
 Learn from your own heart something of His. 
 Listen, I haven't told you all. It seems as if I 
 never could tell all about Him. But see how He 
 feels about poor lost Zell, when I, her own sister, 
 was almost hating her," and, reaching her hand to 
 the table, she took her Bible and read Christ's 
 words to " a woman of the city, which was a 
 sinner." 
 
 At this Mrs. Groody broke down completely, and 
 with clasped hands and streaming eyes, cried, 
 
 " I will go to Him ; I will fear and doubt no 
 more." 
 
 A trembling hand was now laid on Edith's 
 shoulder, and, looking up, she saw Mrs. Lacey stand- 
 ing by her side with a face so white, so eager, so full 
 of unutterable longing, that it might have made a 
 Christian artist's ideal of a soul famishing for the
 
 392 WHA T CAN SHE DO 
 
 ' Bread of Life." In a low, timid, yet thrilling tone, 
 she asked, 
 
 " Miss Allen, do you think he would receive such 
 as me?" 
 
 " Yes, thus," cried Edith, as with a divine im- 
 pulse and a great yearning pity she sprang up and 
 threw her arms around Mrs. Lacey. 
 
 Hope dawned in the poor worn face like the 
 morning. Belief in God's love and sympathy seemed 
 to flow into her sad heart from the other human 
 heart that was pressed against it. The spiritual 
 electric circle was completed Edith, with her hand 
 of faith in God's, took the trembling, groping hand 
 of another and placed it there also. 
 
 Two great tears gathered in Mrs. Lacey's eyes, 
 and she bowed her head for a moment on Edith's 
 shoulder, and murmured, " I'll try I think I may 
 venture to him." 
 
 Hannibal now appeared at the door, saying, 
 rather huskily and brokenly, considering his mes- 
 sage, 
 
 " Miss Edie, you'se mudder's awake, an 'd like some 
 water." 
 
 " That's what we all have been wanting, ' water ' 
 ' the water of life,' " said Mrs. Groody, wiping her 
 eyes, " and never was my parched old heart so re- , 
 freshed before. I don't care how hot this summer 
 is, or how aggravatin things are, I feel as if I'd be 
 helped through it. And, my dear, good-night. I 
 come here to try to do you good, and you've done 
 me more good than I ever thought could happen
 
 EDITH TELLS THE OLD, OLD STORY. 393 
 
 again. I'm goin to kiss you I can't help it. Good- 
 bye, and may the good Lord bless your sweet face ;" 
 and Mrs. Groody, like one of old, climbed up into 
 her chariot, and "went on her way rejoicing." 
 
 In their close good-night embrace, Laura whis- 
 pered, " I begin to understand it a little now, Edie, 
 but I think I see everything only through your eyes, 
 not my own." 
 
 " As old Malcom said to me the other day, so 
 now I say to you, ' Ye'll learn it a' soon.' " 
 
 Edith soon retired to rest also, and Mrs. Lacey 
 sat at Mrs. Allen's side, returning the sick woman's 
 slights and scorn, somewhat as the patient God 
 returns ours, by watching over her. 
 
 Her eyes, no longer cast down with the pathetic 
 discouragement of the past, seemed looking far 
 away upon some distant scene. She was following 
 in her thoughts the steps of the Magi from the East 
 to where, as yet far distant, the " Star of Bethle- 
 hem" glimmered with promise and hope.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 HANNIBAL LEARNS HOW HIS HEART CAN BB 
 WHITE. 
 
 WHEN Edith rose the next morning she found 
 Laura only at her mother's bedside. Mrs. 
 Lacey had returned quite early, saying that she 
 would soon come again. Mrs. Allen's delirium had 
 passed away, leaving her exceedingly weak, but the 
 doctor said^at his morning call: 
 
 " With quiet and good nursing she will slowly 
 regain her usual health." 
 
 After he was gone, Laura said : " Taking care of 
 mother will now be my work, Edie. I feel a good 
 deal stronger. I'll doze in a chair during the day, 
 and I am a light sleeper at night, so I don't think 
 we will need any more watchers. Poor Mrs. Lacey 
 works hard at home, I am sure, and I don't want to 
 trespass on her kindness any longer. So if Mrs. 
 Groody sends you work you may give all your time 
 to it." 
 
 And early after breakfast quite a bundle did come 
 from the hotel, with a scrawl from the housekeeper : 
 " You may mend this linen, my dear, and I'll send 
 for it to-morrow night." 
 
 Edith's eyes sparkled at the sight of the work as 
 they never had over the costliest gifts of jewelry,
 
 HANNIBAL'S HEART TO BE WHITE. 395 
 
 Sitting down in the airy parlor, which was no longer 
 kept in state for possible callers, she put on her 
 thimble, and, with a courage and heroism greater 
 than many a knight drawing for the first time his 
 ancestral sword, she took her needle and joined the 
 vast army of sewing-women. Lowly was the 
 position and work first assigned to her only mend- 
 ing coarse linen. And yet it was with a thrill of 
 gratitude and joy, and a stronger hope than she had 
 yet experienced, that she sat down to the first 
 real work for which she would be paid, and in her 
 exultation she brandished her little needle at the 
 spectres want and fear, as a soldier might his 
 weapon. 
 
 Hannibal stood in the kitchen regarding her with 
 moist eyes and features that twitched nervously. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Edie, I neber tho't you'd come to 
 dat." 
 
 " It's one of the best things I've come to yet," 
 said Edith, cheerily. " We'll be taken care of, 
 Hannibal. Cheer up your faithful old heart. 
 Brighter days are coming." 
 
 But, for some reason, Hannibal didn t cheer up, 
 and he stood looking very wistfully at Edith. At 
 last he commenced, 
 
 " It does my ole black heart good to hear you 
 talk so, Miss Edie " 
 
 " Why do you persist in calling your heart black ? 
 It's no such thing," interrupted Edith. 
 
 " Yes, 'tis, Miss Edie," said Hannibal, despond, 
 ently, " I'se know 'tis. I'se black outside, and I
 
 396 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 allers kinder feel dat I'se more black inside. Nebef 
 felt jes right here yet, Miss Edie," said the old man, 
 laying his hand on his breast. " I come de nighest 
 to 't de toder day when you said you lubbed me. 
 Dat seemed to go down deep, but not quite to 
 whar de trouble stays all de time." 
 
 " But, Miss Edie," continued he in a whispei, 
 " I'se hope you'll forgive me, but I couldn't help 
 listenin to you last night. I neber heerd such talk 
 afore. It seemed to broke my ole black heart all 
 up, and made it feel like de big ribers down south 
 in de spring, when dey jes oberflow eberyting. I 
 says to myself, dat's de Friend Miss Edie sayshe'se 
 goin to tell me about. And now, Miss Edie, 
 would you mind tellin me little about Him ? Cause 
 if He's your Friend, I'd think a heap of Him, too. 
 Not dat I specs He'se goin to bodder wid dis ole 
 niggah, but den I'd jes like to hear about Him a 
 little." 
 
 Edith laid down her work, and turned her gl.ori- 
 ous dark eyes, brimming over with sympathy, on 
 the poor old fellow, as he stood in the doorway 
 fairly trembling with the excess -of his feeling. 
 
 " Come and sit down here by me," she said 
 
 " Oh, Miss Edie, I'se isn't " 
 
 " No words come." 
 
 Hannibal crouched down on a divan near. 
 
 " What makes you think He wouldn't bi thef 
 xvith you ? " 
 
 " Well, I'se don't know 'zactly, Miss Edie Fs 
 only Hannibal."
 
 HANNIBAL S HEART TO BE WHITE. 397 
 
 " Hannibal," said Edith, earnestly, " you are the 
 best man I know in all the world." 
 
 " Oh, Lor bless you, Miss Edie, how you talk ; 
 you'se jes done gone crazy." 
 
 " No, I haven't. I never spoke in more sober 
 earnest. You are faithful and true, unselfish and 
 patient, and abound in the best material of which 
 men are made. I admit/' she added, with a twinkle 
 in her eye, " that one very common element of man- 
 hood, as I have observed it, is dreadfully lacking, 
 that is conceit. I wish I were as good as you are, 
 Hannibal." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Edie, don't talk dat way, you jes done 
 discourages me. If you'd only say, Hannibal, 
 you'se sick but I'se got a mighty powerful medicine 
 for you ; if you'd only say, I know you isn't 
 good ; I know your ole heart is black, but I know 
 a way to make it white, I'd stoop down and kiss the 
 ground you'se walks on. Dere's sumpen wrong 
 here, Miss Edie," said he, laying his hand on his 
 breast again, and shaking his head, with a tear in 
 the corner of each eye, " I tells you dere's sumpen 
 wrong. I don't know jes what 'tis. My heart's 
 like a baby a-cryin' for it doesn't know what. Den 
 it gits jes like a stun, as hard and as heavy. I don't 
 understan' my ole heart ; I guess it's kinder sick and 
 wants a doctor, 'cause it don't work right. But 
 dere's one ting I does understan'. It 'pears dat it 
 would be a good heaven 'nuff if I'se could allers be 
 waitin' on you alls. But Massa Allen's gone ; Miss 
 Zell, poor chile, is gone ; and I'se growin' ole, Miss
 
 398 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Edie, IV; rovin' ole. De wool is white, de jints 
 are s'.ifif, and de feet tired. Dey can't tote dis ole 
 body roun' much longer. Where am I gwine, Miss 
 Edie? What's gwine to become of ole Hannibal? 
 I'se was allers afeard of de dark. If I could only 
 find you in de todder world and wait on you, dat's 
 all I ask, but I'se afeard I'll get lost, it seems such 
 a big, empty place." 
 
 " Poor old Hannibal ! Then you are ' heavy- 
 laden ' too," said Edith, gently. 
 
 " Indeed I is, Miss Edie, 'pears as if I couldn't 
 stan* it ar.oder minute. And when I heerd you 
 talkin' about dat Friend last night, and tellin' how 
 good ILe was to people, and He seemed to do you 
 such a heap of good, dat I would jes like to hear 
 little 'bout Him." 
 
 " Wait till I get my Bible," said Edith. 
 
 " Bless you, Miss Edie, you'se needn't stop your 
 work. You can jes tell me anyting dat come into 
 /ou'se head." 
 
 " Then I wouldn't be like Him, Hannibal. He 
 used to stop and give the kindest and most patient 
 attention to every one that came to Him, and, as 
 far as I can make out, the poorer they were, the 
 more sinful and despised they seemed, the more 
 attention He gave to them." 
 
 "Dat's mighty quar," said Hannibal, musingly, 
 " not a bit like de big folks dat I'se seen." 
 
 " I don't understand it all myself yet, Hannibal. 
 But the Bible tells me that He was God come down 
 to earth to save the world. He says to the lost and
 
 fTANNIBALS HEART TO BE WHITE. 399 
 
 sinful to all who are poor and needy in brief, to 
 the heavy-laden, ' Come unto me.' So I went to 
 Him, Hannibal, and you can go just as well." 
 
 The old man's eyes glistened, but he said, doubt- 
 fully, " Yes, but den you'se Miss Edie, and I'se only 
 black Hannibal. I wish we'd all lived when He was 
 here. I might have shine his boots, and done little 
 tings for Him, so He'd say, ' Poor old Hannibal, 
 you does as well as you knows how. I'll 'member 
 you, and you shan't go away in de dark.' " 
 
 Edith smiled and cried at the same time over the 
 quaint pathos of the simple creature's words, but 
 she said, earnestly, " You need not go away in the 
 dark, for He said, ' I am the light of the world,' and 
 if you go to Him you will always be in the light." 
 
 " I'd go in a minute," said Hannibal, eagerly, " if 
 I only know'd how, and wasn't afear'd." Then, 
 as if a sudden thought struck him, he asked, " Miss 
 Edie, did He eber hab anyting to do wid a black 
 man?" 
 
 Edith was so unfamiliar with the Bible that she 
 could not recall any distinct case, but she said, with 
 the earnestness of such full belief on her part, that 
 it satisfied his child-like mind, " I am sure He did, 
 for all kinds of people people that no one else 
 would touch or look at came to Him, or He went 
 to them, and spoke so kindly to them and forgave all 
 their sins." 
 
 " Bress Him, Miss Edie, dat kinder sounds like 
 what I wants." 
 
 Edith thought a moment, and, with her quick,
 
 4OO WHA T CAN SHE DOT 
 
 logical mind, sought to construct a simple chain of 
 truth that would bring to the trusting nature she 
 was trying to guide the perfect assurance that 
 Jesus' love and mercy embraced him as truly as 
 herself. 
 
 They made a beautiful picture that moment ; she ' 
 with her hands, that had dropped all earthiy tasks 
 for the sake of this divine work, clasped in her lap ; 
 her lustrous eyes dewy with sympathy and feeling, 
 looking far away into the deep blue of the June 
 sky, as if seeking some heavenly inspiration ; and 
 quaint old Hannibal, leaning forward in his eager- 
 ness, and gazing upon her, as if his life depended 
 upon her next utterances. 
 
 It was a picture of the Divine Artist's own crea- 
 tion. He had inspired the faith in one and the 
 questioning unrest in the other. He, with Edith's 
 lips, as ever by human lips, was teaching the way 
 of life. Glorious privilege, that our weak voices 
 should be as the voice of God, telling the lost and 
 wandering where lies the way to life and home. 
 The angels leaned over the golden walls to watch 
 that scene, while many a proud pageant passed un- 
 heeded. 
 
 " Hannibal," said Edith, after her momentary 
 abstraction, " God made everything, didn't He ? " 
 
 " Sartin." 
 
 " Then He made you, and you are one of His 
 creatures, are you not ? " 
 
 " Sartin I is, Miss Edie.* 
 
 " Then see here what is in the Bible. Almost the
 
 HANNIBAL'S HEART TO BE WHITE. 
 
 4OI 
 
 last thing He said to His followers before He went 
 up into heaven, was, ' Go ye into all the world and 
 preach the gospel to every creature.' Gospel means 
 ' good news,' and the good news was, that God had 
 come down from heaven and become a man, so we 
 wouldn't be afraid of Him, and that He would take 
 away their sins and save all who would let Him. 
 Now, remember, He didn't send His preachers to 
 the white people, nor to the black people, but to 
 all the world, to every creature alike, and so He 
 meant you and me, Hannibal, and you as much as 
 me. I am just as sure He will receive you as that 
 He received me." 
 
 " Dat's 'nuff, Miss Edie. Ole Hannibal can go 
 too. And I'se a gwine, Miss Edie, I'se a gwine 
 right to Him. Dere's only one ting dat troubles 
 me yet. What is I gwine to do with my ole black 
 heart ? I know dere's sumpen wrong wid it. It's 
 boddered me all my life." 
 
 " O Hannibal," said Edith eagerly, " I was read- 
 ing something last night, that I think will just suit 
 you. I thought I would read a little in the Old 
 Testament, and I turned to a place that I didn't un- 
 derstand very well, but I came to these words, and 
 they made me think of you, for you are always talk- 
 ing about your ' old black heart.' " And she read : 
 
 " I will give them one heart, and I will put a new 
 spirit within you ; and I will take the stony heart 
 out of their flesh and will give them an heart of 
 fiesh." 
 
 To Hannibal the words seemed a revelation from
 
 402 WHA T CAN SHE DOf 
 
 heaven. Standing before her, with streaming eyes 
 he said ; 
 
 " O Miss Edie, you'se been an angel of light to 
 ire. Dat was jes de berry message I wanted. I 
 knowed my ole heart was nothin but a black stun. 
 De Lord couldn't do nothin wid it but trow it 
 away. But tanks be to His name, He says He'll 
 give me a new one a heart of flesh. Now I sees 
 dat my heart can be white like yours, Miss Edie. 
 Bress de Lord, I'se a gwine, Fse a comin," and 
 Hannibal vanished into the kitchen, feeling that he 
 must be alone in the glad tumult of his emotions.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 EDITH'S AND ARDEN'S FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 AS Edith laid aside her work for a frugal dinner 
 at one o'clock, she heard the sound of a hoe in 
 her garden. The thought of Arden at once recurred 
 to her, but looking out she saw old Malcom. 
 Throwing a handkerchief over her head she ran out 
 to him exclaiming : 
 
 " How good you are, Mr. McTrump, to come 
 and help me when I know you are so very busy at 
 home." 
 
 " Weel, nothin to boast on," replied Malcom, " I 
 tho't that if ye had na one a lookin after the garden 
 save Hannibal's ' spook,' ye'd have but a ghaistly 
 crop. But I'm -a thinkin there's mair than a ghaist 
 been here." 
 
 " It was Arden Lacey," said Edith frankly, but 
 with deepening color. Malcom, in telling his wife 
 about it said, " She looked like the rose-bush a' in 
 bloom, that she was a stonin beside." 
 
 Edith, seeing the mischievous twinkle in her little 
 friend's eye, added hastily, " Both Mrs. Lacey and 
 her son have been very kind to us in our sickness 
 and trouble, as well as yourself. But Mr. McTrump/' 
 she continued, anxious to change the subject, also
 
 404 
 
 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 eager to speak on the topic uppermost in her thoughts, 
 " I think I am beginning to ' learn it a' * as you said, 
 about that good Friend who suffeied for us that we 
 might not suffer. What you and your wife said to 
 me the other day led me to read the ' Gude Book' 
 after I got home. I don't feel as I did then. I 
 think I can trust Him now." 
 
 Malcom dropped his hoe and came over into the 
 path beside her. 
 
 " God be praised," he said, " I gie ye the right 
 hond o' fellowship an welcome ye into the kirk o' the 
 Lord. Ye noo belong to the household o' faith, 
 an God's true Israel, an may His gude Spirit guide 
 ye into all truth." 
 
 The little man spoke very earnestly, and with a 
 certain dignity and authority that his small stature 
 and rude working dress could not diminish. A 
 sudden feeling of solemnity and awe came over 
 Edith, and she felt as if she were crossing the mystic 
 threshold and entering the one true church consist- 
 ing of all believers in Christ. 
 
 For a moment she reverently bowed her head, 
 and a sweeter sense of security came over her as if 
 she were no longer an outsider, but had been re- 
 ceived into the household. 
 
 Malcom, a " priest unto God " through his faith, of- 
 ficiated at the simple ceremony. The birds sang the 
 choral service. The wind-shaken roses, blooming 
 around her, with their sweet odors, were the censers 
 and incense, and the sun-lighted garden, the 
 earliest sacred place of Bible history, where the first
 
 EDITH'S AND ARDEXTS FRIENDSHIP. 405 
 
 fair woman worshipped, was the hallowed ground of 
 the initiatory rite. 
 
 "Why, Mr. McTrump, I feel almost as if I had 
 joined the church," said Edith after a moment. 
 
 " An sae ye ha afore God, an I hope ere long 
 ye'll openly profess ye Ye faith before men." 
 
 " Do you think I ought ? " said Edith thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " Of coorse I do, but the Gude Book '11 teach 
 a* aboot it. Ye canna gang far astray wi f that to 
 guide ye." 
 
 " I would like to join the church that you belong 
 to, Mr. McTrump, as soon as I feel that I am ready, 
 for it was you and your good wife that turned my 
 thoughts in the right direction. I was almost desper- 
 ate with trouble and shame when I came to you 
 that afternoon, and it was your speaking of the 
 Bible and Jesus, and especially your kindness, that 
 made me feel that there might be some hope and 
 help in God." 
 
 The old man's eyes became so moist that he 
 turned away for a moment, but recovering himself 
 after a little he said : 
 
 " See noo, our homely deeds and words can be 
 like the seeds we drop into the mould. Look aroon 
 once and see how green and grand the garden is, 
 and a' from the wee brown seeds we planted the 
 spring. Sae would the garden o' the Lord bloom 
 and floorish if a* were dropin a 'word in season ' and 
 a bit o' kindness here and there. But if I stay here 
 an preach to ye that need na preachin, these sina
 
 4 o6 WHAT CAN SHE DO f 
 
 D the garden, the weeds, will grow apace. Go v ou 
 an look in ye're strawberry bed." 
 
 With an exclamation of delight Edith pounced 
 upon a fair sized red berry, the first she had picked 
 from her own vines. Then glancing around, one 
 and another showed its red cheek through the green 
 leaves, till with a little cry of exultation, she said : 
 
 " Oh, Mr. McTrump, I can get enough for mother 
 and Laura." 
 
 " Aye, and enoof to moisten ye're own red lips 
 wi too, I'm a-thinkin. There'll be na crop the year 
 wourth speakin of; but next June 'twill puzzle 
 ye to gither them. But ye a' can ha a dainty sau- 
 cer yoursels the season, when ye're a mind to 
 stoop for them." 
 
 Edith soon had the pleasure of seeing her mother 
 and Laura enjoying some, and as Malcom said, there 
 were plenty for her, and they tasted like the Ambro- 
 sia of the Gods. Varied experiences had so thorough- 
 ly engrossed her thoughts and time the past few 
 days, that she had scarcely looked toward her garden. 
 But with the delicious flavor of the strawberries lin- 
 gering in her mouth, and with the consciousness that 
 she enjoyed picking them much more than sewing, 
 the thought of winning her bread by the culture of 
 the ground grew in her favor. 
 
 " Oh, how much I would rather be out there with 
 Malcom," she sighed. 
 
 Glancing up from her work during the afternoon, 
 she saw Arden Lacey on his way to the village, 
 There was a strange mingling of hope and feal in
 
 EDI TITS AND ARDEWS FRIENDSHIP 407 
 
 his mind. His mother's manner had been such as 
 to lead him to say when alone with her after break- 
 fast: 
 
 " I think your watching has done you good, 
 Mother, instead of wearying you too much, as I 
 feared," 
 
 She had suddenly turned and placed both her 
 hands on his shoulders, saying: 
 
 " Arden, I hardly dare speak of it yet. It seems 
 too good to be true, but a hope is coming into my 
 heart like the dawn after night. She's worthy of 
 your love, however it may result, and if I find true 
 what she told me last night, I shall have reason to 
 bless her name forever ; but I see only a glimmer of 
 light yet and I rejoice with fear and trembling." 
 And she told him what had occurred. 
 
 He was deeply moved, but not for the same cause 
 as his mother. His desire and devotion went no 
 farther than Edith. " Can she have read my let- 
 ter ? " he thought, and he was consumed with anx- 
 iety for some expression of her feeling toward him. 
 Therefore he was glad that business called him to 
 the village that afternoon, but his steps were slow 
 as he approached the little cottage, and his eyes 
 were upon it as a pilgrim gazes at a shrine he long 
 has sought. He envied Malcom working in the 
 garden, and felt that if he could work there every 
 day, it would be Adam's life before he fell. Then 
 he caught a glimpse of Edith sewing at the window* 
 and he dropped his eyes instantly. He would not 
 be so afraid of a battery of a hundred guns as of
 
 408 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 that poor sewing-girl (for such Edith now was), 
 stitching away on Mrs. Groody's coarse hotel linen. 
 But Edith had noted his timid, wistful looks, and 
 calling Hannibal, said ; 
 
 " Please give that note to Mr. Lacey. He is 
 just passing toward the village." 
 
 Hannibal, with the impressive dignity he had 
 learned in olden times, handed the missive to Arden, 
 saying : " Miss Edie telled me to guve you dis 
 'scription." 
 
 If Hannibal had been Hebe he could not have 
 been a more welcome messenger. 
 
 Arden could not help his hand trembling as he 
 took the letter, but he managed to say : " I hope 
 Miss Allen is well." 
 
 " Her health am berry much disproved," and 
 Hannibal retired with a stately bow. 
 
 Arden quickened his steps, holding the missive in 
 his hand. As soon as he was out of sight, he 
 opened and devoured Edith's words. The light of a 
 great joy dawned in his face, and made it look noble 
 and beautiful, as indeed almost every human face 
 appears, when the light of a pure love falls upon it. 
 Where most men would have murmured at the 
 meagre return for their affection, he felt himself 
 immeasurably rewarded and enriched, and it seemed 
 as if he were walking on air the rest of the day. 
 With a face set like a flint, he resolved to be true 
 to the condition implied in the underscored word 
 " friendship/' and never to whisper of love to her 
 again. But a richer experience was still in store fof
 
 EDITHS AND ARDEWS FRIENDSHIP. 409 
 
 him. For, on his return, in the cool of the evening, 
 Edith was in the garden picking currants. She saw 
 him coming, and thought, " If he is ever to be a 
 friend worth the name, I must break the ice of his 
 absurd diffidence and formality. And the sooner 
 he comes to know me as I am, the sooner he will 
 find out that I am like other people, and he will 
 have a new ' revelation' that will cure him of his 
 infatuation. I would like him for a friend very 
 much, not only because I need his help, but because 
 one likes a little society now and then, and he seems 
 so well educated, if he is ' quar/ as Hannibal says." 
 So she startled poor Arden almost as much as if 
 one of his Shakspearean heroines had called him in 
 audible voice, by saying, as he came opposite her, 
 
 " Mr. Lacey, won't you come in a moment and 
 tell me if it is time to pick my currants, and whether 
 you think I could sell them in the village, or at the 
 hotel ? " 
 
 This address, so matter-of-fact in tone and char- 
 acter, seemed to him like the June twilight, contain- 
 ing, in some subtle manner, the essence of all that 
 was beautiful and full of promise in his heart-his- 
 tory. He bowed and went toward the little gate to 
 comply with her request, as Adam might if he had 
 been created outside of Eden and Eve inside, and 
 she had looked over a flowering hedge in the purple 
 twilight, and told him to come in. He was not 
 going merely to look at currants and consider their 
 marketable condition ; he was entering openly upon 
 the knightly service to which he had devoted him-
 
 410 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 self. He was approaching his idol, which was not a 
 heathen stock or stone, but a sweet little woman. 
 In regard to the currants he ventured dubiously : 
 
 " They might do for pies." 
 
 In regard to herself, his eyes said, in spite of his 
 purpose to be merely friendly, that she was too good 
 for the gods of Mount Olympus. He both amused 
 and interested Edith, whose long familiarity with so- 
 ciety and lack of any such feeling as swayed him, 
 made her quite at ease. With a twinkle in her eyes, 
 she said : 
 
 " I have thought that perhaps Mrs. Groody could 
 help me find sale for them at the hotel." 
 
 " I am going there to-morrow, and I will ask her 
 lor you, if you wish," said Arden, timidly. 
 
 " Thank you," replied Edith, " I would be very 
 much obliged to you if you will. You see I wish to 
 sell everything out of the garden that I can find a 
 market for." 
 
 She was rather astonished at the effect of this 
 mercenary speech, for there was a wonderful blend- 
 ing of sympathy and admiration in his face, as he 
 said: 
 
 " I am frequently going to the hotel and village, 
 and if you will let me know what you have to dis- 
 pose of, I can find out whether it is in demand, and 
 carry it to market for you." He could not help 
 adding, with a voice trembling with feeling, " Miss 
 Allen, I am so glad you permit me to be of some 
 help to you." 
 
 " Oh dear," thought Edith, "how can I make him
 
 EDITH S AND ARDEWS FRIENDSHIP. 4 1 z 
 
 understand what I really am?" She turned to him 
 with an expression that was both perplexed and 
 quizzical, and said : 
 
 " Mr. Lacey, I very frankly and gratefully accept 
 your delicately-offered friendship (emphasizing the 
 last word), not only because of my need, but of yours 
 also. If any one needs a sensible friend, I think you 
 do. You truly must have lived a ' hermit's life in 
 the world ' to have such strange ideas of people. 
 Let me tell you as a perfect certainty, that no such 
 person exists as the Edith Allen that you have 
 imagined. She is no more a reality than your other 
 shadows, and the more you know of me the sooner 
 you will find it out. I am not in the least like a 
 heroine in a romance. I live on the most substan- 
 tial food rather than moonlight, and usually have an 
 excellent appetite. I am the most practical, matter- 
 of-fact creature in existence, and you will find no 
 one in this place more sharp on the question of dol- 
 lars and cents. Indeed, I am continually in a most 
 mercenary frame of mind, and this very moment 
 here, in the romantic June twilight, if you ransacked 
 history, poetry, and all the fine arts, you could 
 not tell me anything half so beautiful, half so wel- 
 come, as how to make money in a fair, honorable 
 way." 
 
 " There," thought she, " that will be another ' reve- 
 lation ' to him. If he don't jump over the garden 
 fence in his haste to escape such a monster, I shall 
 be glad." 
 
 But Arden's face only grew more grave and gen.
 
 4 1 2 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 tie as he looked down upon her, and he asked, in & 
 low tone : 
 
 " Is it because you love the money itself, Miss 
 Allen?" 
 
 " Well, no," said Edith, somewhat taken aback. 
 " I can never earn enough to make it worth while to 
 do that. Misers love to count their money," she 
 added, with a little pathetic accent in her voice, 
 " and I fear mine will go before I can count it." 
 
 " You wish me to think less of you, then, because 
 you are bravely, and without thought of sparing 
 yourself, trying to earn money to provide home- 
 shelter and comfort for your feeble mother and sis- 
 ter. You wish me to think you common-place 
 because you have the heroism to do any kind of 
 work, rather than be helpless and dependent. Par- 
 don me, but for such a ' practical, matter-of-fact ' 
 lady, I do not think your logic is good." 
 
 Edith's vexation and perplexity only increased, 
 and she said, earnestly, " But I wish you to under- 
 stand that I am only Edith Allen, and as poor as 
 poverty, nothing but a sewing-girl, and only hoping 
 to arrive at the dignity of a gardener. The majority 
 of the world thinks I am not even fit to speak to, 1 
 she added, in a low tone. 
 
 Arden bowed his head, as if in reverence before 
 her, and then said, in a low, firm tone, 
 
 " And I wish you to understand that I am only 
 Arden Lacey, with a sot for a father, and the scorn, 
 contempt, and hatred of all the world as my heri- 
 tage. I am a slip-shod farmer. Our place is heavily
 
 EDITH'S AND ARDEN' S FRIENDSHIP. 4x3 
 
 mortgaged, and will eventually be sold away from 
 us. It grows more weeds now than anything else; 
 and it seems that nettles have been the principal 
 crop that I have reaped all my life. Thus, you see, 
 I am poorer than poverty, and am rich only in my 
 mother, and, eventually, I hope," he added timidly, 
 "in the possession of your friendship, Miss Allen; 
 I shall try so sincerely and hard to deserve it." 
 
 With a frown, a laugh, and a shy look of sym- 
 pathy at him, Edith said, " I don't see but you 
 have got to find out your mistake for yourself. 
 Time and facts cure many follies." But she found 
 little encouragement in his incredulous smile. 
 
 The next moment she turned upon him so sharply 
 that he was startled. 
 
 41 1 am a business woman," she said, " and con- 
 duct my affairs on business principles. You said, I 
 think, you would help me find a market for the 
 produce of my place ? " 
 
 " Certainly," he replied. 
 
 " As certainly you must take fifteen per cent, com- 
 mission on all sales." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Allen," commenced Arden, " I 
 couldn't " 
 
 " There," said she decisively, " you haven't the 
 first idea of business. Not a thing can you touch 
 unless you comply with my conditions. There is 
 no sentiment, I assure you, connected with currants 
 and cabbages." 
 
 " You may be certain, Miss Allen, that I would 
 comply with any condition," said Arden, with the
 
 414 WffA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 air of one who is cornered, " but let me suggest that 
 since we are arranging this matter so strictly on 
 business grounds, that ten per cent, is all I should 
 take. That is the regular commission, and is all I 
 pay in sending produce to New York." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't know that," said the experienced 
 and uncompromising woman of business, innocently. 
 " Do you think that would pay you for your 
 trouble ? " 
 
 " I think it would," he replied, so demurely and 
 yet with such a twinkle in his blue eyes, that now 
 looked very different with the light of hope and 
 happiness in them, that Edith turned away with a 
 laugh. 
 
 But she said, with assumed sharpness, " See that 
 you keep your accounts straight. I shall be a very 
 dragon over your account-book." 
 
 Thus the ice was broken, and Edith and Arden 
 became friends. 
 
 The future has now been quite clearly indicated 
 to the reader, and, lest my story should grow weari- 
 some as a " twice told tale," we pass over several 
 subsequent months with but a few words. 
 
 It was not a good fruit year, and Edith's place 
 had been sadly neglected previous to her possession. 
 Therefore, though Arden surprised himself in the 
 sharp business traits he developed as Edith's sales- 
 man, the results were not very large. But still they 
 greatly assisted her, and amounted to more than 
 the earnings of her unskilled hands from other 
 sources. She insisted on doing everything on busi-
 
 EDITH'S AND ARDEN'S FRIENDSHIP. 4^ 
 
 ness principles, and made Arden take his ten per 
 cent., which was of real help to him in this way. 
 He gave all the money to his mother, saying, "/ 
 couldn't spend it to save my life." Mrs. Lacey had 
 many uses for every penny she could obtain. 
 
 Then Edith paid old Malcom by making up bou- 
 quets for sale at the hotel, and arranging baskets of 
 flowers for parties there and elsewhere, and other 
 lighter labors. Mrs. Groody continued to send her 
 work; and thus during the summer and early fall 
 she managed to make her garden and her labor 
 provide for all family expenses, saving what was 
 left of the four hundred after paying all debts, for 
 winter need. Moreover, she stored away in cellar 
 and attic enough of the products of the garden to 
 be of great help also. 
 
 Mrs. Allen did recover her usual health, and also 
 her usual modes of thought and feeling. The men- 
 tal and moral habits of a life-time are not readily 
 changed. Often and earnestly did Edith talk with 
 her mother, but with few evidences of the result 
 she longed to see. 
 
 Mrs. Allen's condition, in view of the truth, was 
 the most hopeless one of all. She saw only her 
 preconceived ideas, and not the truth itself. One 
 day she said, with some irritation, to Edith, who 
 was pleading with her, 
 
 " Do you think I am a heathen ? Of course, I 
 believe the Bible. Of course, I believe in Jesus 
 Christ. I have been a member of the church ever 
 since I was sixteen."
 
 41 6 WffA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 Edith sighed, and thought, " Only He who can 
 satisfy her need, can reveal it to her." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Allen. With the strange infatuation 
 of a worldly mind, she was turning to it, and it 
 alone, for hope and solace. Untaught by the 
 wretched experience of the past, she was led to 
 enter upon a new and similar scheme for the aggran- 
 dizement of her family, as will be explained in an- 
 other chapter. 
 
 Laura regained her strength somewhat, and was 
 able to relieve Edith of the care of her mother, and 
 the lighter duties of the house. Her faith de- 
 veloped like that shy, delicate blossom, called the 
 " wind-flower," easily shaken, and yet with a cer- 
 tain hardiness and power to live and thrive m 
 sterile places. 
 
 Edith and Mrs. Lacey were eventually received 
 Snto the church that Malcom attended, and, after 
 the simple service, they took dinner with the old 
 Scotchman and his wife. Malcom seemed hardly 
 " in the body " all day. 
 
 " My heart's abloom," he said, " wi' a' the sweet 
 posies that God ever made blush when he looked at 
 them the first time, an' ye seem the sweetest o' 
 them a', Miss Edith. Ah, but the Gude Husband- 
 man gathered a fair blossom the day." 
 
 " Now, Mr. McTrump," said Edith, reproachfully, 
 but with a face like Malcom's posies, " you shouldn't 
 give compliments on Sunday." For Arden and 
 Rose were present also, and Edith thought " such 
 foolish 'vords will only increase his infatuation."
 
 EDITH* !> AND ARDEN'S FRIENDSHIP. 417 
 
 " Weel," said Malcom, scratching his head, in his 
 perplexed effort at apology, " I wud na mak ye vain, 
 nor hurt ye're conscience, but it kind o* slipit out 
 afore I could stop it." 
 
 In the laugh that followed Malcom's explanation 
 Edith felt that matters had not been helped much, 
 and she adroitly turned the conversation. 
 
 Public opinion, from being at first very bitter and 
 scornful against the Aliens, gradually began to soften. 
 One after another, as they recognized Edith's 
 patient, determined effort to do right, began to give 
 her the credit and the respect to which she was en- 
 titled. Little acts and tokens of kindly feeling be- 
 came more frequent, and were like glints of sunlight 
 on her shadowed path. But the great majority felt 
 that they could have no associations with such as 
 the Aliens, and completely ignored them. 
 
 In her church relations, Edith and Mrs. Lacey 
 found increasing satisfaction. Many of its humble, 
 and some of its more influential members, treated 
 them with much kindness and sympathy, and they 
 realized more and more that there are good, kind 
 people in the world, if you look in the right way 
 and right places for them. The Rev. Mr. Knox 
 was a faithful preacher and pastor, and if his ser- 
 mons were a little dry and doctrinal at times, they 
 were as sound and sweet as a nut. Moreover, both 
 Edith and Mrs. Lacey were sadly deficient in the 
 doctrines, neither having ever had any religious in- 
 struction, and they listened with the grave, earnest 
 interest of those desiring to be fed.
 
 41 8 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Mrs. Groody re-connected herself with her old 
 church. " I want to go where I can shout, ' Glory ! ' " 
 she said. 
 
 Rose but faintly sympathized with her mother's 
 feelings. Her restless, ambitious spirit turned long- 
 ingly toward the world. It's attractions she could 
 understand, but not those of faith. Through her 
 father's evil habits, and Arden's poor farming, the 
 pressure of poverty rested heavier and heavier on 
 the family, and she had about resolved to go to 
 New York and find employment in some store. 
 
 Arden rarely went to church, but read at home. 
 He was somewhat skeptical in regard to the Bible ; 
 not that he had ever carefully examined either it or 
 its evidences, but he had read much of the preva- 
 lent semi-infidelity, and was a little conceited over 
 his independent thinking. Then, in a harsh, sweep- 
 ing cynicism, he utterly detested church people, 
 calling them the " holy sect of the Pharisees." 
 
 " But they are not all such," his mother would 
 say. 
 
 " Oh, no," he would reply ; "there are some sin- 
 cere ones, of course ; but I think they would be 
 better out than in such a company of hypocrites." 
 
 But as he saw Edith's sincerity, and learned of 
 her purpose to unite with the church, he kept these 
 views more and more in the background ; but he 
 had too much respect for her's and his mother's 
 faith to go with them to what they regarded as a 
 sacred place, from merely the personal motive of 
 being near Edith.
 
 EDITH'S AND ARDEN'S FRIENDSHIP. 4^ 
 
 One day Mrs. Lacey and Edith walked down to the 
 evening prayer-meeting. Arden, who had business 
 in the village, was to call for them at its close ; as 
 they were walking home Edith suddenly asked him, 
 
 " Why don't you go to church ? " 
 
 " I don't like the people I meet there." 
 
 " What have you against them ? " 
 
 "Well, there is Mr. Hard. He is one of the Mights 
 and pillars ;' and he would have sold the house over 
 your head, if you had not paid him. He can ' de- 
 vour a widow's house ' as well as they of olden 
 time." 
 
 "That is not the question," said the practical 
 Edith, earnestly. "What have you to do with Mr. 
 Hard, or he with you? Does he propose is he 
 able to save you ? The true question is, what have 
 you got against Jesus Christ?" 
 
 " Well, really, Miss Edith, I can have nothing 
 against Him. Both history and legend unite in 
 presenting Him as one of the purest and noblest of 
 men. But pardon me if I say in all honesty that I 
 cannot quite accept your beliefs in regard to Him 
 and the Bible in general. A man can hardly be a 
 man without exercising the right of independent 
 thought. I cannot take a book called the Bible for 
 granted." 
 
 " But," asked Edith keenly, " are you not taking 
 other books for granted? Answer me truly, Mr. 
 Lacey, have you carefully and patiently investigated 
 this subject, not only on the side of your skeptical 
 writers, but on God's side also. He has plenty of
 
 420 WHAT CAN SHE D01 
 
 facts, as well as the infidels, and my rich lasting 
 rational spiritual experience is as much a fact as that 
 stone there, and a good deal higher and better one, 
 I think." 
 
 Arden was silent for some little time, and they 
 could see in the moonlight that his face was very 
 grave and thoughtful. At last he said in a low tone, 
 as if it had been wrung from him, 
 
 " Miss Allen, to be honest with you and myself, 
 I have never given the subject such a fair examina- 
 tion." After a moment he continued, " Even if I 
 became convinced that all were true, I might still 
 remain at home, for I could find far more advantage 
 in reading books, or the Bible itself, than from Mr 
 Knox's dry sermons." 
 
 "I think you are wrong," said Edith, gently but 
 firmly. " Granting the premise, you admitted a 
 moment ago that Christ was one of the purest and 
 noblest of men, you surely, with your chivalric 
 instincts, would say that such a man ought to be 
 imitated." 
 
 "Yes," said Arden, "and He denounced the 
 Pharisees." 
 
 " And He worshipped with them also," said 
 Edith quickly. He went to the temple with the 
 others. What was there to interest him in the dreary 
 forlorn little synagogue at Nazareth, and yet He 
 was there with the regularity of the Sabbath. It 
 was the best form of faith and worship then exist- 
 ing, and He sustained it by every means in Hi3 
 power, till He could give the people something bet-
 
 EDITH'S AND ARDEATS FRIENDSHIP. 42! 
 
 ter, Suppose all the churches in this place were 
 closed, not one in a hundred would or could read 
 the books you refer to. If your example was fol- 
 lowed they would be closed. As far as your ex- 
 ample goes it tends to close them. I have heard 
 Mr, Knox say, that wherever Christian worship and 
 the Christian Sabbath is not observed, society 
 rapidly deteriorates. Is it not true ? " 
 
 They had stopped at Edith's gate. Arden 
 averted his face for a moment, then turning toward 
 Edith he gave her his hand, saying in a low tone : 
 
 " Yes, it is true, and a true, faithful friend you 
 have been to me to-night. I admit myself van- 
 quished." 
 
 Edith gave his hand a cordial pressure, saying 
 earnestly, " You are not vanquished by the young 
 ignorant girl, Edith Allen, but by the truth that 
 will yet vanquish the world." 
 
 After that Arden went regularly with them to 
 church, and tried to give sincere attention to the 
 service, but his uncurbed fancy was wandering to 
 the ends of the earth most of the time ; or his 
 thoughts were dwelling in rapt attention on Edith. 
 She, after all, was the only object of his faith and 
 worship, though he had a growing intellectual con- 
 viction that her faith was true. 
 
 And so the months passed into autumn, but with 
 the nicest sense of honor he refrained from word or 
 deed that would remind Edith that he was her 
 lover. She became greatly attached to him, and 
 he seemed almost like a brother to her. She found
 
 4 ?2 WHA T CAN SHE DOf 
 
 increasing pleasure in his society, for Anlen, aftef 
 the restraint of his diffidence was banished, could 
 talk well, and he opened to her the rich treasures 
 of his reading, and with almost a poet's fancy and 
 power pictured to her the storied past. 
 
 To both herself and Mrs. Lacey life grew sunnier 
 and sweeter. But they each had a heavy burden 
 on their hearts, which they daily brought to the feet 
 of the Compassionate One. They united in praying 
 for Mrs. Lacey's husband, and for Zell ; and their 
 strong faith and love would take no denial. But, as 
 Laura had said, the silence of the grave seemed to 
 have swallowed lost Zell.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 ZELL. 
 
 ii 
 
 AND the silence of the grave " ought to swal- 
 low such as poor Zell had become, is, per- 
 haps, the thought of some. All reference to her 
 and her class should be suppressed. 
 
 We firmly say, No ! If so, the New Testament 
 must be suppressed. The Divine Teacher spoke 
 plainly both of the sin and the sinner. He had 
 scathing denunciation for the one, and compassion 
 and mercy for the other. Shall we enforce His 
 teachings against all other forms of evil, and not 
 against this deadliest one of all and that, too, in 
 the laxity and wide demoralization of our age, when 
 temptation lurks on every hand, and parents are 
 often sleepless with just anxiety _? 
 
 Evil is active, alluring, suggesting, insinuating 
 itself when least expected, and many influences are 
 at work, with the full approval of society, to poison 
 forever all pure thoughts. And temptation is sure 
 to come at first as an angel of light, 
 
 There is no safety save in solemn words of warn- 
 ing, the wholesome terror which knowledge inspires, 
 the bracing of principle, and the ennobling of Chris- 
 tian faith. There are too many incarnate fiends
 
 424 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 who will take advantage of the innocence of igno- 
 rance. 
 
 Zell is not in her grave. She is sinning, but more 
 sinned against. He who said to one like her, of old, 
 " Her sins, which are many, are forgiven," loves her 
 still, and Edith is praying for her. The grave can- 
 not close over her yet. 
 
 But as we look upon this long-lost one, as she re- 
 clines on a sofa in Van Dam's luxurious apart- 
 ments, as we see her temples throbbing with pain, 
 and that her cheeks are flushed and feverish, it 
 would seem that the grave might soon hide her from 
 a contemptuous and vindictive world. 
 
 Her head does ache sadly, it seems bursting with 
 pain ; but her heart aches with a bitterer anguish. 
 Zell had too fine a nature to sin brutally and unfeel- 
 ingly. Her betrayer's treachery wounded her more 
 deeply than he could understand. Even her first 
 strong love for him could not bridge the chasm of 
 guilt to which he led her, and her passionate nature 
 and remorse often caused her to turn upon him 
 with such scathing reproaches that even he, in his 
 hardihood, trembled. 
 
 Knowing how proud and high-strung she was, he 
 feared to reveal his treachery in New York, a 
 locality with which she was familiar; so he said that 
 very important business called him at once to Bos- 
 ton, a city where he had very few acquaintances* 
 Zell reluctantly acquiesced to this further journey. 
 He meant to register in an assumed name, but the 
 landlord said to him as he entered the office,
 
 ZELL. 425 
 
 "Why, Van Dam, how are you ?" 
 
 "Where have you seen me?" was the gruff 
 reply. 
 
 " Why, don't you remember? We played poker 
 together all the way from Buffalo to Albany, and 
 you lightened my pocket-book wofully too. This is 
 your wife, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes," said Van Dam, thinking, " It will attract 
 less attention and be safest." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad to see you can give you a good 
 room. So register, and I will get a little of my lost 
 money back," and the host slapped him on the back 
 with a hearty laugh. 
 
 Van Dam with a frown wrote, 
 
 " Guilliam Van Dam and wife." 
 
 By no more sacred or gracious ceremony than 
 this did he ever reward her trust and love. They 
 jaunted about in the North and West through the 
 summer and autumn, and now have but recently 
 returned to New York. 
 
 With a wild terror she saw that his passion for 
 her was waning. Therefore her reproaches and 
 threats became at times almost terrific, and again 
 her servile entreaties were even more pitiable and 
 dreadful, in view of what a true wife's position and 
 right ought to be. He, wearying of her fierce and 
 alternating moods, and selfishly thinking of his own 
 ease and comfort, as was ever the case, had resolved 
 to throw her off" at the first opportunity. 
 
 But retribution for both was near. The small 
 pox was almost epidemic in the city : Zell's silk had
 
 426 WUA T CAN *IIL DO? 
 
 swept against a beggar's infected rags, and fourteen 
 days later appeared the fatal symptoms. 
 
 And truly she is weary and heart-sick this after- 
 noon. She never remembered feeling so ill. The 
 thought of death appalled her. She felt, as never 
 before, that she wanted some one to love and take 
 care of her. 
 
 Van Dam entered, and said, rather roughly, 
 
 " What's the matter ? " 
 
 " I'm sick," said Zell, faintly. 
 
 He muttered an oath. 
 
 She arose from the sofa and tottered to his easy 
 chair, knelt, and clasped his knees. 
 
 " Guilliam," she pleaded, " I am very sick. I have 
 a feeling that I shall die. Won't you marry me ? 
 Won't you take care of your poor little Zell, that 
 loved you so well as to leave all for you ? Perhaps 
 I won't burden you much longer, but, if I do get 
 well, I will be your patient slave, if you will only 
 marry me ; " and the tears poured over the hot, 
 feverish cheeks, that they could not cool. 
 
 His only reply was to ask, with some irritation, 
 
 " How do you feel ? " 
 
 " Oh, my head aches, my bones ache, every part 
 of my body aches, but my heart aches worst of all. 
 You can ease that, Guilliam. In the name of God's 
 mercy, won't you ? " 
 
 A sudden thought caused the coward's face to 
 grow white with fear. " I must have a doctor see 
 you," was his only reply to her appeal, and he pass 
 ed hastily out.
 
 ZELL. 427 
 
 Zcll felt that a blow would have been better than 
 liis indifference, and she crawled back to her couch. 
 A little later, she was conscious that a physician 
 was feeling her pulse, and examining her symptoms. 
 After he was gone she had strength enough to take 
 off her jewelry and rings all, save one solitaire dia- 
 mond, that her father had given her. The rest 
 seemed to oppress her with their weight. She then 
 threw herself on the bed. 
 
 She was next conscious that some one was lifting 
 her up. She roused for a moment, and stared 
 around. There were several strange faces. 
 
 " What do you want ? What are you going to do 
 with me ? " she asked, in a thick voice, and a vague 
 terror. 
 
 " I am sorry, Miss," said one of the men, in an 
 official tone ; " but you have the small-pox, and we 
 must take you to the hospital." 
 
 She gave one shriek of horror. A hand was 
 placed over her mouth. She murmured faintly : 
 
 " Guilliam help ! " and then, under the effects 
 of disease and fear, became partially unconscious ; 
 but her hand clenched, and with some instinct hard 
 to understand, remained so, over the diamond ring 
 that was her father's gift. 
 
 She was conscious of riding in something hard 
 over the stony street, for the jolting hurt her cruelly, 
 She was conscious of the sound of water, for she 
 tried to throw herself into it, that it might cool her 
 fever. She was conscious of reaching some place, 
 and then she felt as if she had no rest for many
 
 428 WHA T CAN SHE DO t 
 
 days, and yet was not awake. But through it alt 
 she kept her hand closed on her father's gift. At 
 times it seemed to her that some one was trying fr> 
 take it off, but she instinctively struggled and cried 
 out, and the hand was withdrawn. 
 
 At last one night she seemed to really wake and 
 come to herself. She opened her eyes and looked 
 timidly around the dim ward. All was strange and 
 unaccountable. She feared that she was in another 
 world. But as she raised her hand to her head, as 
 if to clear away the mist of uncertainty, a sparkle 
 from the diamond caught her eye. For a long 
 time she stared vacantly at it, with the weak, vague 
 feeling that in some sense it might be a clue. Its 
 faint lustre was like the glimmer of a star through 
 a rift in the clouds to a lost traveler. Its familiar 
 light and position reminds him of home, and by its 
 ray he guesses in what direction to move ; so the 
 crystallized light upon her finger threw its faint 
 glimmer into the past, and by its help Zell's weak 
 mind groped its way down from the hour it was 
 given to the moment when she became partially 
 unconscious in Van Dam's apartments. But the 
 word small-pox was burned into her brain, and she 
 surmised that she was in a hospital. 
 
 At last a woman passed. Zell feebly called her 
 " What do you want ? " said a rather gruff voice. 
 " I want to write a letter." 
 " You can't. It's against the rules." 
 " I must," pleaded Zell. " Oh, as you are a 
 woman, and hope in God's mercy, don't refuse me."
 
 ZELL. 
 
 4*9 
 
 " Can't break the rules," said the woman, and sh 
 was about to pass on. 
 
 " Stop ! n said Zell, in a whisper. " See there," 
 and she flashed the diamond upon her, " I'll give 
 you that if you'll promise before God to send a let- 
 ter for me. It would take you many months to 
 earn the value of that." 
 
 The woman was a part of the city government, 
 so she acted characteristically. She brought Zell 
 writing materials and a bit of candle, saying : 
 
 " Be quick!" 
 
 With her poor, stiff, diseased hand, Zell wrote : 
 
 " GuiLLlAM : You cannot know where I am. 
 You cannot know what has happened. You could 
 not be such a fiend as to cast me off and send me 
 here to die and die I shall. The edge of the grave 
 seems crumbling under me as I write. If you have 
 a spark of love for me. come and see me before I 
 die. Oh, Guilliam, Guilliam! what a heaven of a 
 home I would have made you, if you had only mar- 
 ried me. It would have been my whole life to make 
 you happy. I said bitter words to you forgive 
 them. We both have sinned can God forgive us ? 
 
 I will not believe you know what has happened. 
 You are grieving for me looking for me. They 
 took me away while you were gone. Come and see 
 mo before I die. Good-bye I'm writing in the dark 
 I'm dying in the dark my soul is in the dark 
 I'm going away in the dark where, O God, where? 
 
 " Your poor, little " ZELL." 
 
 II SMALL-POX HOSPITAL (I don't know date)."
 
 43O WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Poor, poor Zell! Like to a tempest-tossed one 
 of old, " sun moon, and stars " had long been hid- 
 den. 
 
 Almost fainting with weakness, she sealed and 
 directed the letter, drew off the ring, pressed it to 
 her lips, and then turned her eyes, unnaturally large 
 and bright, on the woman waiting at her side, and 
 said : 
 
 " Look at me ! Promise me you will see that 
 this letter is delivered. Remember, I am going to 
 die. If you ever hope for an hour's peace, 
 promise ! " 
 
 " I promise," said the woman solemnly, for she 
 was as superstitious as avaricious, and though she 
 had no hesitancy in breaking the rules and taking a 
 bribe, she would not have dared for her life to have 
 risked treachery to a girl, whom she believed dying. 
 
 Zell gave her the ring and the letter, and sank 
 back for the time unconscious. 
 
 The woman had her means of communication 
 with the city, and before many hours elapsed the 
 letter was on its way. 
 
 Van Dam was in a state of nervous fear till the 
 fourteen days passed, and then he felt that he was 
 safe. He had his rooms thoroughly fumigated, and 
 was reassured by his physicians saying daily, " There 
 was not much danger of her giving you the disease 
 in its first stage. She is probably dead by this 
 time." 
 
 But the wheels of life seemed to grow heavier and 
 more clogged every day. He was fast getting
 
 ZELL. 431 
 
 down to the dregs, and now almost ever}' pleasure 
 palled upon his jaded taste. At one time it seemed 
 that Zell might so infuse her vigorous young life 
 and vivacity into his waning years that his last days 
 would be his best. And this might have been the 
 case, if he had reformed his evil life and dealt with 
 her as a true man. In her strong and exceptional 
 love, considering their difference in age, there were 
 great possibilities of good for both. But he had 
 foully perverted the last best gift of his life, and 
 even his blunted moral sense was awakening to the 
 truth. 
 
 ! " Curse it all," he muttered, late one morning, 
 " perhaps I had better have married her. I hoped 
 so much from her, and she has been nothing but a 
 source of trouble and danger. I wonder if she is 
 dead." 
 
 i He had been out very late the night before, and 
 had played heavily, but not with his usual skill. He 
 had kept muttering grim oaths against his luck, and 
 drinking deeper and deeper till a friend had half 
 forced him away. And now, much shaken by the 
 night's debauch, depressed by his heavy losses, con- 
 science, that crouches like a tiger in every bad 
 man's soul, and waits to rush from its lair and rend, 
 in the long hours the long eternity of weakness and 
 memory already had its fangs in his guilty heart. 
 
 Long and bitterly he thought, with a iiovvn rest- 
 ing like night on his heavy brow. The servant 
 brought him a dainty breakfast, but he sullenly 
 motioned it away. He had wronged his digestive
 
 432 WHAT CAN SUE DOt 
 
 powers so greatly the night before that even brandy 
 was repugnant to him, and he leaned heavily and 
 wearily back in his chair, a prey to remorse. 
 
 He was in just the right physical condition to take 
 a contagion. 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and the servant 
 entered, bringing him a letter, saying, " This was 
 just left here for ye, sir." 
 
 "A dun," thought he, languidly, and he laid it 
 unopened on the stand beside him. 
 
 It was ; and from one whom he owed a repara- 
 tion he could never make, though he paid with his 
 life. 
 
 With his eyes closed, he still leaned back in a 
 dull, painful lethargy. A faint, disagreeable odor 
 gradually pervaded the room, and at last attracted 
 his attention. The luxurious sybarite could not 
 help the stings of conscience, the odor he might. 
 He grew restless, and looked around. 
 
 Zeli's letter caught his attention. " Might as 
 well see who it's from," he muttered. Weakness, 
 pain, and emotion had so changed Zeli's familiar 
 hand, that he did not recognize it. 
 
 But, as he opened and read, his eyes dilated with 
 horror. It seemed like a dead hand grasping him 
 out of the darkness: But a dreadful fascination 
 compelled him to read every line, and re-read them, 
 till they seemed burned into his memory. At last, 
 by a desperate effort, he broke the strong spell hei 
 words had placed upon him, and, starting up, ex- 
 claimed,
 
 ZELL. 433 
 
 " Go to her, in that pest-house ! I would see her 
 dead a thousand times first. I hope she is dead, 
 for she is the torment of my life. What is it that 
 smells so queer?" 
 
 His eyes again rested on the letter. A suspicion 
 crossed his mind. He carried the letter to his 
 nose, and then started violently, uttering awful 
 oaths. 
 
 " She has sent the contagion directly to me," he 
 groaned, and he threw poor Zell's appeal on the 
 grate. It burned with a faint, sickly odor. Then, 
 as the day was raw and windy, a sudden gust down 
 the chimney blew it all out into the room, and 
 scattered it in ashes, like Zell's hopes, around his 
 feet. 
 
 A superstitious horror, that made his flesh creep 
 and. hair rise, took possession of him, and hastily 
 gathering a few necessary things, he rushed out 
 into the chill air, and made his way to a large hotel. 
 He wanted to be in a crowd. He wanted the hard, 
 material world's noise and bustle around him. He 
 wanted to hear men talking about gold and stocks, 
 and the gossip of the town anything that would 
 make living on seem a natural, possible matter of 
 course. 
 
 But men's voices sounded strange and unfamiliar, 
 and the real world seemed like that which mocks us 
 in our dreams. Mingling with all he saw and heard 
 were Zell's despairing looks and Zell's despairing 
 words. He wrapped himself in his great coat, he 
 drank frequent and fiery potations, he hovered 
 19
 
 434 WHA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 around the registers, but nothing could take away 
 the chill at his heart. He tossed feverishly aii 
 night. His sudden exposure to the raw wind in his 
 heated, excited condition caused a severe cold. 
 But he would not give up. He dared not stay alone 
 in his roo.n, and so crept down to the public haunts 
 of the hotel. But his flushed cheeks and strange 
 manner attracted attention. As the days passed, he 
 grew worse, and the proprietor of the house said, 
 
 " You are ill, you must go to bed." 
 
 But he would not. There was nothing that he 
 seemed to dread so much as being alone. But the 
 guests began to grow afraid of him. There was 
 general and wide-spread fear of the small-pox in 
 the city, and for some reason, it began to be associa- 
 ted with his illness. As the suspicion was whispered 
 around, all shrank from him. The proprietor had 
 him examined at once by a physician. It was the 
 fatal fourteenth day, and the dreaded symptoms were 
 apparent. 
 
 " Have you no friends, no home to which you can 
 go ? " he was asked. 
 
 " No," he groaned, while the thought pierced his 
 soul. " She would have made me one and taken 
 care of me in it." But he pleaded, " For God's 
 sake, don't send me away." 
 
 " I must, "said the proprietor, frightened himself. 
 " The law requires it, and your presence here would 
 empty my house in an hour." 
 
 So, in the dusk, like poor Zell, he was smuggled 
 down a back stairway, and sent to the "pest-house"
 
 ZELL. 435 
 
 also, he groaning and crying with terror all the 
 way. 
 
 Zell did not die. Her vigorous constitution ral- 
 lied, and she rapidly regained strength. But with 
 strength and power of thought, came the certainty 
 to her mind of Van Dam's utter and final abandon- 
 ment of her. She felt that all the world would now 
 be against her, and that she would be driven from 
 every safe and pleasant path. The thought of taking 
 her shame to her home was a horror to her, and she 
 felt sure that Edith would spurn her from the door. 
 At first she wept bitterly and despairingly, and 
 wished she had died. But gradually she grew hard, 
 reckless, and cruel under her wrong, and her every 
 thought of Van Dam was a curse. 
 
 The woman who helped her to write the letter 
 greatly startled her one day, by saying, 
 
 " Ther's a man in the men's ward who in his 
 ravin' speaks of you." 
 
 " Could he, in just retribution, have been sent 
 here also ? " she thought. - Pleading relationship, 
 she was admitted to see him. He shuddered as he 
 saw her advancing, with stony face and eyes in 
 which glared relentless hate. 
 
 " Curse you !" he muttered, feebly, with his parched 
 lips. " Go away, living or dead, I know not which you 
 are-; but I know it was through you I came here I " 
 
 Her only answer was a mocking smile. 
 
 The doctor came and examined his symptoms. 
 
 "Will he get well?' 1 she asked, following him 
 away a short distance.
 
 436 WIIA T'CAN SHE DO ? 
 
 " No, ' said the physician. " He will die." 
 
 Her cheek blanched for a moment ; but from her 
 eyes glowed a deadly gleam of satisfaction. 
 
 ' What did he say?" whispered Van Dam. 
 
 He says you will die," she answered, in a stony 
 voice. " You see, I am better than you were. You 
 would not come to me for even one poor moment. 
 You left me to die alone ; but I will stay and watch 
 with you." 
 
 " Oh, go away ! " groaned Van Dam. 
 
 " I couldn't be so heartless," she said, in a mock- 
 ing tone. " You need dying consolation. I want 
 to tell you, Guilliam, what was in my mind the 
 night I left all for you. I did doubt you a little. 
 That is where I sinned ; but I shall only suffer for 
 that through all eternity," she said, with a reckless 
 laugh that chilled his soul. " But then, I hoped, I 
 felt almost sure, you would marry me ; and, oh, 
 what a heaven of a home I purposed to make you. 
 If you had only let even a magistrate say, ' I pro- 
 nounce you man and wife,' I would have been your 
 patient slave. I would have kissed away even your 
 headaches, and had you ten contagions, they should 
 not have brought you here, for I would have taken 
 care of you and nursed you back to life." 
 
 " Go away I " groaned Van Dam, with more 
 energy. 
 
 " Guilliam," she said taking his hand, which shud- 
 dered at her touch, " we might have had a happy 
 little home by this time. We might have learned to 
 live a good life in this world and have prepared for a
 
 ZELL. 437 
 
 better one in the next. Little children might have 
 put their soft arms around your neck, and with their 
 innocent kisses banished the memory and the 
 power of the evil past. Oh," she gasped, ' how 
 happy we might have been, and mother, Edith, and 
 Laura would have smiled upon us. But what is 
 now our condition ? " she said bitterly, her grip 
 upon his hand becoming hard and fierce. " You 
 have made me a tigress. I must cower and hide 
 through life like a wild beast in a jungle. And you 
 are dying and going to hell," she hissed in his ear, 
 " and by-and-bye, when I get to be an old ugly hag, 
 I will come and torment you there forever and for- 
 ever." 
 
 "Curse you, go away," shrieked the terror- 
 stricken man. 
 
 An attendant hastened to the spot ; Zell was 
 standing at the foot of the cot, glaring at him. 
 
 " I thought you was a relation of his'n," said the 
 man roughly. 
 
 " So I am," said Zell sternly. " As the one 
 stung is related to the viper that stung him, "and 
 with a withering look she passed away. 
 
 That night Van Dam died. 
 
 In process of time Zell was turned adrift in the 
 city. She applied vainly at stores and shops for a 
 situation. She had no good clothes, and appear- 
 ances were against her. She had a very little money 
 in her portmonnaie when she was taken to the hos- 
 pital. This was given to her on leaving, and she 
 made it go as far as possible. At last she went to
 
 438 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 an intelligence office and sat among the others, who 
 looked suspiciously, at her. They instinctively felt 
 that she was not of their ilk. 
 
 " What can you do ? " was the frequent question. 
 
 She did not know how to do a single thing, but 
 thought that perhaps the position of waitress 
 would be the easiest. 
 
 " Where are your references ? " 
 
 It was her one thought and effort to conceal all 
 reference to the past. At last the proprietor in pity 
 sent her to a lady who had told him to supply her 
 with a waitress ; the place was in Brooklyn, and Zell 
 was glad, for she had less fear there of seeing any 
 one she knew. 
 
 The lady scolded bitterly about such an ignora- 
 mus being sent to her, but Zell seemed so patient 
 and willing that she decided to try her. Zell gave 
 her whole soul to the work, and though the place 
 was a hard one, would have eventually learned to 
 fill it. The family were a little surprised sometimes 
 at her graceful movements, and the quick gleams of 
 intelligence in her large eyes, as some remark was 
 made naturally beyond one in her sphere. One 
 day they were trying to recall, while at the table, 
 the name of a famous singer at the opera. Before 
 she thought the name was almost out of her lips. 
 The poor girl tried to disguise herself by assuming, 
 as well as she could, the stolid, stupid manner of 
 those who usually blunder about our homes. 
 
 All might have gone well, and she have gained 
 an honest livelihood, had not an unforeseen circum.
 
 ZELL. 439 
 
 stance revealed her past life. Those who have 
 done wrong are never safe. At the most unexpect- 
 ed time, and in the most unexpected way, their sin 
 may stand out before all and blast them. 
 
 Zell's mistress had told her to make a little extra 
 preparation, for she expected a gentleman to dine 
 that evening. With some growing pride and in- 
 terest in her work, she had done her best, and even 
 her mistress said : 
 
 " Jane" (her assumed name,) " you are improv- 
 ing," and a gleam of something like hope and pleas- 
 ure shot across the poor child's face. A passionate 
 sigh came up from her heart, 
 
 " Oh, I will try to do right if the world will let 
 me." 
 
 But imagine her terror as she saw an old crony of 
 Van Dam's enter the room. The man recognized 
 her in a moment, and she saw that he did. She 
 gave him an imploring glance, which he returned 
 by one of cool contempt. Zell could hardly get 
 through the meal, and her manner attracted atten- 
 tion. The cold-blooded fellow, whose soul was 
 akin to that of his dead friend, was considerate 
 enough to his hostess not to spoil her dinner, 
 or rob her of a waitress till it was over. But the 
 moment they returned to the parlor he told who 
 Zell was, and how she must have just come from 
 the small-pox hospital. 
 
 The lady (?) was in a frenzy of rage and fear. 
 She rushed down to where Zell was panting with 
 weakness and emotion, exclaiming :
 
 440 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 " You shameful huzzy, how dare you come into 
 a respectable house, after your loathsome life, and 
 loathsome disease?" 
 
 " Hear me," pleaded Zell, " the doctor said there 
 was no danger, and I want to do what is right." 
 
 " I don't believe a word you say. I wouldn't 
 trust you a minute. How much you have stolen 
 now it will be hard to tell, and I shouldn't wonder 
 if we all had the small-pox. Leave the house 
 instantly." 
 
 " Oh, please give me a chance," cried Zell, on her 
 knees. " Indeed, I am honest. I'll work for you 
 frr nothing, if you will let me stay." 
 
 " Leave instantly, or I will call for a policeman." 
 
 " Then pay me my week's wages," sobbed Zell. 
 
 " I won't pay you a cent, you brazen creature. 
 You didn't know how to do anything, and have been 
 a torment ever since you came. I might have 
 known there was something wrong. Now go, take 
 your old, pest-infected rags out of my house, or I 
 will have you sent to where you properly belong. 
 Thank Heaven, I have found you out.'' 
 
 A sudden change came over Zell. She sprang 
 up, and a scowl black as night darkened her face. 
 
 " What has Heaven to do with your sending a 
 poor girl out into the night, I would like to know? '' 
 she asked, in a harsh, grating voice ; " I wouldn't do 
 it. Therefore I am better than you are. Heaven has 
 nothing to do with either you or me;" and she 
 looked so dark and dangerous that her mistress was 
 frightened, and ran up to the parlor, exclaiming :
 
 ZELL. 441 
 
 " She's an awful creature. I'm afraid of her. ' 
 
 Then that manly being, her husband, towered up 
 in his wrath, saying majestically, " I guess I'm mas- 
 ter in my own house yet." 
 
 He showed poor Zell the door. Her laugh rang 
 out recklessly, as she called : 
 
 " Good-bye. May the pleasant thought that you 
 have sent one more soul to perdition, lull you to 
 sweet sleep." 
 
 But, for some reason, it did not. When they be- 
 came cool enough to think it over, they admitted 
 that perhaps they had been a " little hasty." 
 
 They had a daughter about Zell's age. It would 
 be a little hard if any one should treat her so. 
 
 Zell had scarcely more than enough to pay her 
 way to New York. It seemed that people ought 
 to stretch out their hands to shield her, but they 
 only jostled her in their haste. As she stood, with 
 bundle, in the ferry entrance on the New York side, 
 undecided where to go, a man ran against her in his 
 hurry: 
 
 " Get out of the way," he said, irritably. 
 
 She moved out one side into the darkness, and 
 with a pallid face, said : 
 
 " Yes, it has come to this. I must ' get out of the 
 way ' of all decent people. There is the river on 
 one side. There are the streets on the ether, 
 Which shall it be?" 
 
 Oh ! it was pitiful, 
 Near a whole city full," 
 
 that no hand was stretched to her aid.
 
 442 WHAT CAN SHE DO t 
 
 She shuddered. " I can't, I dare not die yet i\ 
 must be a little easier here than there, where he 
 is." 
 
 Her face became like stone. She went straight 
 to a liquor saloon, and drank deep of that spirit 
 that Shakespeare called " devil," in order to drown 
 thought, fear, memory every vestige of the woman. 
 
 Then the depths of the gulf that La *ra shrank 
 from with a dread stronger than her lort of life.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 
 
 MRS. LACEY and Arden, at last, in the stress 
 of their poverty, gave their consent that 
 Rose should go to the city, and try to find employ, 
 ment in a store as a shop-girl. Mrs. Glibe, her 
 dressmaking friend, went with her, and though they 
 could obtain no situation the first day, one of Mrs. 
 Glibe's acquaintances directed Rose where she 
 could find a respectable boarding-house, from which, 
 as her home, she could continue her inquiries. 
 Leaving her there, Mrs. Glibe returned. 
 
 Rose, with a hope and courage not easily damp- 
 ened, continued her search the next, and for several 
 days following. The fall trade had not fairly com- 
 menced, and there seemed no demand for more 
 help. She had thirty dollars with which to start 
 life, but a week of idleness took seven of this. 
 
 At last her fine appearance and sprightly man- 
 ner induced a proprietor of a large establishment to 
 put her in the place of a girl discharged that day, 
 with the wages of six dollars a week. 
 
 " We give but three or four, as a general thing, to 
 beginners," he said. 
 
 Rose was grateful for the place, and yet almost 
 dismayed at the prospect before her. How could
 
 444 WIIA T CAN SIIE D0 * 
 
 she live on six dollars ? The bright-colored 
 dreams of city life were fast melting away before 
 the hard, and in some instances revolting, facts of 
 her experience. She could have obtained situations 
 in two or three instances at better wages, if she 
 had assented to conditions that sent her hastily 
 into the street with burning blushes and indignant 
 tears. She knew the great city was full of wicked- 
 ness, but this rude contact with it appalled her. 
 
 After finding what she had to live on she ex- 
 changed her somewhat comfortable room, where she 
 could have a fire, for a cold, cheerless attic closet in 
 the same house. " As I learn the business, they will 
 give more," she thought, and the idea of going back 
 home penniless, to be laughed at by Mrs. Glibe, 
 Miss Klip, and others, was almost as bitter a 
 prospect to her proud spirit as being a burden to 
 her impoverished family, and she resolved to sub- 
 mit to every hardship rather than do it. By 
 taking the attic room she reduced her board to five 
 dollars a week. 
 
 " You can't get it for less, unless you go to a very 
 common sort of a place," said her landlady. " My 
 house is respectable, and people must pay a little 
 for that." 
 
 In view of this fact, Rose determined to stay, if 
 possible, for she was realizing more every day how 
 unsheltered and tempted she was. 
 
 Her fresh blonde face, her breezy manner, and 
 wind-shaken curls made many turn to look after her 
 the second time. Like some others of her sex.
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 44 5 
 
 perhaps she had no dislike for admiration, but in 
 Rose's position it was often shown by looks, man- 
 ner, and even words, that however she resented 
 them, followed and persecuted her. 
 
 As she grew to know her fellow-workers better, 
 her heart sickened in disgust at the conversation 
 and evident life of many of them, and they often 
 laughed at her greenness immoderately. 
 
 Alas ! for the fancied superiority of these knowing 
 girls. They laughed at Rose because she was so 
 much more like what God meant a woman should 
 be than they. A weak-minded, shallow girl would 
 have succumbed to their ridicule, and soon have 
 become like them, but high-spirited Rose only de- 
 spised them, and gradually sought out and found 
 some companionship with those of the better sort in 
 the large store. But there seemed so much hollow- 
 ness and falsehood on every side that she hardly 
 knew whom to trust. 
 
 Poor Rose was quite sick of making a career for 
 herself alone in the city, and her money was getting 
 very low. Shop life was hard on clothes, and she was 
 compelled by the rules of the store to dress well, 
 and was only too fond of dress herself. So, instead 
 of getting money a-head, she at last was down to 
 her week's wages as support, and nothing was said 
 of their being raised, and she was advised to say noth- 
 ing about any increase. Then she had a week's sick- 
 ness, and this brought her in debt to her landlady. 
 
 Several times during her evening walks home 
 Rose noticed a dark face and two vivid black eyes,
 
 446 WHAT CAN SHE I>Of 
 
 that seemed watching her ; but as soon as cb 
 served, the face vanished. It haunted her with it3 
 suggestion of some one seen before. 
 
 She went back to her work too soon after her ill- 
 ness, and had a relapse. Her respectable landlady 
 was a woman of system and rules. From long expe- 
 rience she foresaw that her poor lodger would grow 
 only more and more deeply in her debt. Perhaps 
 we can hardly blame her. It was by no easy effort 
 that she made ends meet as it was. She had an ap- 
 plication for Rose's little room from one who gave 
 more prospect of being able to pay, so she quietly 
 told the poor girl to vacate. Rose pleaded to stay, but 
 the woman was inexorable, she had passed through 
 such scenes so often that they had become only 
 one of the disagreeable phases of her business. 
 
 "Why, child," she said, "if I did not live up to 
 my rule in this respect, I'd soon be out of house and 
 home myself. You can leave your things here till 
 you find some other place." 
 
 So poor Rose, weak through her sickness, more 
 weak through terror, found herself out in the streets 
 of the great city, utterly penniless. She was so un- 
 familiar with it that she did not know where to go 
 nor to whom to apply. It was her purpose to find 
 a cheaper boarding-house. She went down toward 
 the meaner and poorer part of the city, and stopped 
 at the low stoop of a house where there was a sign ; 
 11 Rooms to let." 
 
 She was about to enter, when a hand was laid 
 sharply on her arm, and some one said :
 
 ED 1 Til BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 44} 
 
 " Don't go there. Come with me, quick ! " 
 
 " Who are you? " asked Rose, startled and trem* 
 bling. 
 
 " One who can help you now, whatever I an? ' was 
 the answer. " I know you well, and all about you. 
 You are Rose Lacey, and you did live in Pushton. 
 Come with me, quick, and I will take you to a 
 Christian lady whom you can trust. Come." 
 
 Rose, in her trouble and perplexity, concluded to 
 follow her. They soon made their way to quite a 
 respectable street, and rang the bell at the door of a 
 plain, comfortable-appearing house. 
 
 A cheery, stout, middle-aged lady opened it 
 She looked at Rose's new friend, and reproachfully 
 shook her finger at her, saying, 
 
 " Naughty Zell, why did you leave the Home ? " 
 
 " Because I am possessed by a restless devil," was 
 the strange answer. " Besides, I can do more good 
 in the streets than there. I have just saved her," 
 (pointing to Rose, who at once surmised that this 
 was Zell Allen, though so changed she would not 
 have known her). " Now," continued Zell, thrust- 
 ing some money into Rose's hand, " take this and 
 go home at once. Tell her, Mrs. Ranger, that this 
 city is no place for her." 
 
 " If you have friends and a home to go to, 
 it's the very best thing you can do," said the 
 lady. 
 
 " But my friends are poor," sobbed Rose. 
 
 " No matter, go to them," said Zell almost fierce- 
 ly. " I tell you there is no place for you here, unless
 
 443 . WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 you wish to go to perdition. Go home, where you 
 are known. Scrub, delve, do anything rather than 
 stay here. Your big brother <ian and will take care 
 of you, though he does look so cross." 
 
 " She is right, my child ; you had better go at 
 once," said the lady, decidedly. 
 
 " Who are you ? " asked Rose of the latter 
 speaker, with some curiosity. 
 
 "I am a city missionary," answered the lady 
 quietly, " and it is my business to help such poor 
 girls as you are. I say to you from full knowledge, 
 and in all sincerity, to go home is the very best 
 thing that you can do." j 
 
 " But why is there not a chance for a poor, well- 
 meaning girl to earn an honest living in this great 
 city?" ! 
 
 " Thousands are earning such a living, but there 
 is not one chance in a hundred for you." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Rose, hotly. 
 
 " Do you see all these houses ? They are full 
 of people," continued Mrs. Ranger, " and some of 
 them contain many families. In these families there 
 are thousands of girls who have a home, a shelter, 
 and protectors here in the city. They have society in 
 relatives and neighbors. They have no board to 
 pay, and fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters 
 helping support them. They put all their earn- 
 ings into a common fund, and it supports the 
 family Such girls can afford, and will work for 
 two, three, four, and five dollars a week. All that 
 they earn makes the burden so much less on the
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 449 
 
 father, who otherwise would have supported them 
 in idleness. Now, a homeless stranger in the city 
 must pay board, and therefore they can't compete 
 with those who live here. Wages are kept too low. 
 Not one in a hundred, situated as you are, can earn 
 enough to pay board and dress as they are re- 
 quired to in the fashionable stores. Have you been 
 able?" 
 
 " No," groaned Rose. " I am in debt to my 
 landlady now, and I had some money to start 
 with." 
 
 " There it is," said Mrs. Ranger, sadly, " the same 
 old story." 
 
 " But these stores ought to pay more," said Rose, 
 indignantly. 
 
 "They will only pay for labor, as for everything 
 else, the market price, and that averages but six 
 dollars a week, and more are working for from three 
 to five than for six. As I told you, there are 
 thousands of girls living in the city glad to get a 
 chance at any price." 
 
 Rose gave aweary, discouraged sigh and said, " I 
 fear you are right, 1 must go home. Indeed, after 
 what has happened I hardly dare stay. 
 
 " Go," said Zell, " as if you were leaving Sodom, 
 and don't look back." Then she asked with a wist- 
 ful, hungry look, " Have you seen any of ?" 
 
 She stopped, she could not speak the names of her 
 kindred. 
 
 " Yes," said Rose gently. (Yesterday she would 
 have stood coldly aloof from Zell. To-day she wan
 
 45O WlfA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 very grateful and full of sympathy.) " I know they 
 are well. They were all sick after after you 
 went away. But they got well again, and (lowering 
 her voice) Edith prays for you night and day." 
 
 " Oh, oh," sobbed Zell, " this is torment, this is 
 to see the heaven I cannot enter," and she dashed 
 away. 
 
 "Poor child," said Mrs. Ranger, "there's an 
 angel in her yet if I only knew how to bring it out. 
 I may see her to-morrow, and I may not for weeks. 
 Take the money she left with you, and here is some 
 more. It may help her to think that she helped 
 you. And now, my dear, let me see you safely on 
 your way home." 
 
 That night the stage left Rose at the poor dilapi- 
 dated little farm-house, and in her mother's close 
 embrace she felt the blessedness of the home shel- 
 ter, however poor, and the protecting love of kin- 
 dred, however plain. 
 
 " Arden is away," said the quiet woman of few 
 words. " He is home only twice a month. He has 
 a job of cutting and carting wood a good way from 
 here. We are so poor this winter he had to take 
 this chance. Your father is doing better. I hope 
 for him, though with fear and trembling." 
 
 Then Rose told her mother her experience and 
 how she had been saved by Zell, and the poor 
 woman clasped her daughter to her breast again 
 and again, and with streaming eyes raised toward 
 heaven, poured out her gratitude to God. 
 
 " Rose," said she with a shudder, "if I had not
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME 45 1 
 
 prayed so for you night and day, perhaps you would 
 not have found such friends in your time of need. 
 Oh, let us both pray for that poor lost one, that 
 she may be saved also." 
 
 From this day forth Rose began to pray the true 
 prayer of pity, and then the true prayer of a per- 
 sonal faith. The rude, evil world had shown her her 
 own and others' need, in a way that made her feel 
 that she wanted the Heavenly Father's care. 
 
 In other respects she took up her life for a time 
 where she had left it a few months before. 
 
 Edith was deeply moved at Rose's story, and 
 Zell's wild, wayward steps were followed by prayers, 
 as by a throng of reclaiming angels. 
 
 " I would go and bring her home in a moment, if 
 I only knew where to find her," said Edith. 
 
 " Mrs. Ranger said she would write as soon as 
 there was any chance of your doing so," said Rose. 
 
 About the middle of January a letter came to 
 Edith, as follows : 
 
 "Miss Edith Allen. Your sister, Zell, is in 
 
 Bellevue Hospital, ward . Come quickly ; she 
 
 is very ill." 
 
 Edith took the earliest train, and was soon follow- 
 ing an attendant, with eager steps, down the long 
 ward. They came to a dark-eyed girl that was 
 evidently dying, and she closed her eyes with a chill 
 of fear. A second glance showed that it was not 
 Zell, and a little farther on she saw the face of her 
 sister, but so changed. Oh, the havoc that sin and 
 wretchedness had made in that beautiful creature
 
 452 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 during a few short months ! She was in a state of 
 unconscious muttering delirium, and Edith showered 
 kisses on the poor, parched lips ; her tears fell like 
 rain on the thin, flushed face. Zell suddenly cried, 
 with the girlish voice of old, 
 
 " Hurrah, hurrah ! books to the shades ; no more 
 teachers and tyrants for me." 
 
 She was living over the old life, with its old, fatal 
 tendencies. 
 
 Edith sat down, and sobbed as if her heart would 
 break. Unnoticed, a stout, elderly lady was regard- 
 ing her with eyes wet with sympathy. As Edith's 
 grief subsided somewhat she laid her hand on the 
 poor girl's shoulder, saying, 
 
 " My child, I feel very sorry for you. For some 
 reason I can't pass on and leave you alone in your 
 sorrow, though we are total strangers. Your trouble 
 gives you a sacred claim upon me. What can I do 
 for you ? " 
 
 Edith looked up through her tears, and saw a 
 kind, motherly face, with a halo of gray curls 
 around it. With woman's intuition she trusted her 
 instantly, and, with another rush of tears, said, 
 
 "This is my poor lost sister. I've- just 
 found her." 
 
 "Ah!" said the lady significantly, ' God pity 
 you both." 
 
 " Were it not for Him," sobbed Edith, with hcf 
 hand upon her aching heart, " I believe I would 
 die." 
 
 The lady sat dcwn by her, and took her hand,
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME, 453 
 
 saying, " I will stay with you, dear, till you feel 
 better." 
 
 Gradually and delicately she drew from Edith her 
 Etory, and her large heart yearned over the two 
 girls in the sincerest sympathy. 
 
 " I was not personally acquainted with your 
 father and mother, but I know well who they 
 were," she said. " And now, my child, you cannot 
 remain here much longer ; where are you going to 
 stay?" 
 
 I haven't thought," said Edith sadly. 
 
 " I have," replied the lady heartily, " I am going 
 to take you home with me. We don't live very far 
 away, and you can come and see your sister as often 
 as you choose, within the limits of the rules." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Edith, deprecatingly, " I am 
 not fit I have no claim." 
 
 " My child," said the kidy gently, " don't you 
 remember what our Master said, ' I was a stranger 
 and ye took me in.' Is He not fit to enter my 
 house ? Has He no claim ? In taking you home I 
 am taking Him home, and so will be happy and 
 honored in your presence. Moreover, my dear, 
 from what I have seen and heard, I am sure I shall 
 love you for your own sake." 
 
 Edith looked at her through grateful tears, and 
 said, " It has seemed to me that Jesus has been 
 comforting me all the time through your lips. 
 How beautiful Christianity is, when it is lived out. 
 I will go to your house as if it were His." 
 
 Then she turned and pressed a loving kiss on
 
 454 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 Zell's unconscious face, but her wonder was past 
 words when the lady stooped down also, and kissed 
 the "woman which was a sinner." She seized her 
 hand with both of hers and faltered, 
 , " You don't despise and shrink from her, then ? " 
 
 " Despise her ! no," said the noble woman. " I 
 have never been tempted as this poor child has. 
 God does not despise her. What am I ? " 
 
 From that moment Edith could have kissed her 
 feet, and feeling that God had sent his angel to take 
 care of her, she followed the lady from the hospital. 
 A plain but elegantly-liveried carriage was waiting, 
 and they were driven rapidly to one of the stateliest 
 palaces on Fifth Avenue. As they crossed the 
 marble threshold, the lady turned and said, 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear, my name is Mrs. Hart. 
 This is your home now as truly as mine while you 
 are with us," and Edith was shown to a room re- 
 plete with luxurious comfort, and told to rest till 
 the six o'clock dinner. 
 
 With some timidity and fear she came down to 
 meet the others. As she entered she saw a portly 
 man standing on the rug before the glowing grate, 
 with a shock of white hair, and a genial, kindly 
 face. 
 
 " My husband," said Mrs. Hart, " this is our new 
 friend, Miss Edith Allen. You knew her father 
 well in business, I am sure." 
 
 " Of course I did," said the old gentleman, taking 
 Edith's hand in both of his, " and a fine business 
 man he was, too You are welcome to our home,
 
 EMTH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 45 5 
 
 Miss Edith. Look here, mother," he said, turning 
 to his wife with a quizzical look, and still keeping 
 hold of Edith's hand, " you didn't bring home an 
 ' angel unawares ' this time. I say, wife, you won't 
 be jealous if I take a kiss now, will you a sort of 
 scriptural kiss, you know?" and he gave Edith a 
 hearty smack that broke the ice between them com- 
 pletely. , 
 
 With a face like a peony, Edith said, earnestly, 
 " I am sure the real angels throng your home." 
 ' " Hope they do," said Mr. Hart, cheerily. " My 
 old lady there is the best one I have seen yet, but 
 I am ready for all the rest. Here comes some of 
 them," he added, as his daughters entered, and to 
 each one he gave a hearty kiss, counting, " one, 
 two, three, four, five now, ' all present or accounted 
 for?'" 
 
 " Yes," said his wife, laughing. 
 
 " Dinner, then," and after the young ladies had 
 greeted Edith most cordially, he gave her his arm, 
 as if she had been a duchess, and escorted her to the 
 dining-room. After being seated, they bowed their 
 heads in quiet reverence, and the old man, with the 
 voice and manner of a child speaking to a father, 
 thanked God for his mercies, and invoked his 
 blessing. 
 
 The table-talk was genial and wholesome, with 
 now and then a sparkle of wit, or a broad gleam ol 
 humor. 
 
 " My good wife there, Miss Edith," said Mr. Hart, 
 with a twinkle in his eye, " is a very sly old lady.
 
 456 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 If she does wear spectacles, she sees with gieat 
 discrimination, or else the world is growing so full 
 of interesting saints and sinners, that I am quite in 
 hopes of it. Every day she has a new story about 
 some veiy good person, or some very bad person 
 becoming good. If you go on this way much 
 longer, mother, the millennium will commence be- 
 fore the Doctors of Divinity are ready for it." 
 
 " My dear," said Mrs. Hart, with a comic aside 
 to Edith, " my husband has never got over being a 
 boy. When he will become old enough to sober 
 down, I am sure I can't tell." 
 
 " What have I to sober me, with all these happy 
 faces around, I would like to know?" was the 
 hearty retort. " I am having a better time every 
 day, and mean to go on so ad infinitum. You're 
 a good one to talk about sobering down, when you 
 laugh more than any of these youngsters." 
 
 " Well," said his wife, her substantial form quiv- 
 ering with merriment, " it's because you make me." 
 
 During the meal Edith had time to observe the 
 young ladies more closely. They were fine-looking, 
 and one or two of them really beautiful. Two of 
 them were in early girlhood yet, and there was not 
 a vestige of the vanity and affectation often seen 
 in those of their position. They evidently had 
 wide diversities of character, and faults, but there 
 was the simplicity and sincerity about them which 
 makes the difference between a chaste piece of 
 marble and a painted block of wood. She saw 
 pbout her a house as rich and costly in its appoint-
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 4 57 
 
 ments as her own old home had been, but it 
 was not so crowded or pronounced in its furnish- 
 ing and decoration. There were fewer pictures, 
 but finer ones ; and in all matters of art, French 
 taste was not prominent, as had been the case in 
 her home. 
 
 The next day she sat by unconscious Zell as long 
 as was permitted, and wrote fully to Laura. 
 
 The dark-eyed girl that seemed dying the day 
 before was gone. 
 
 " Did she die ? " she asked of an attendant. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What did they do with her? " 
 
 " Buried her in Potter's Field." 
 
 Edith shuddered. " It would have been Zell's 
 end," she thought, " if I hadn't found her, and she 
 had died here alone." 
 
 That evening Mrs. Hart, as they all sat in her 
 own private parlor, said to her daughters, 
 
 " Girls, away with you. I can't move a step 
 
 without stumbling over one of you. You are always 
 
 crowding into my sanctum, as if there was not an 
 
 1 inch of room for you anywhere else. Vanish. I 
 
 want tc talk to Edith." 
 
 " It's your own fault that we crowd in here, 
 mother," said the eldest. " You are the loadstone 
 that draws us.'' 
 
 " I'll get a lot of stones to throw at you and drive 
 you out with," said the old lady, with mock severity. 
 
 The youngest daughter precipitated herself on 
 her mother's neck, exclaiming, 
 20
 
 458 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 " Wouldn't that be fun, to see jolly old mother 
 throwing stones at us. She would wrap them in 
 eider-down first." 
 
 " Scamper; the whole bevy of you," said the old 
 lady, laughing ; and Edith, with a sigh, contrasted 
 this " mother's room " with the one which she and 
 her sisters shunned as the place where their " teeth 
 were set on edge." 
 
 " My dear," said Mrs. Hart, her face becoming 
 grave and troubled, " there is one thing in my 
 Christian work that discourages me. We reclaim 
 so few of the poor girls that have gone astray. I 
 understand, from Mrs. Ranger, that your sister was 
 at the Home, but that she left it. How can we ac- 
 complish more ? We do everything we can for 
 them." 
 
 " I don't think earthly remedies can meet their 
 case," said Edith, in a low tone. 
 
 " I agree with you," said Mrs. Hart, earnestly, 
 " but we do give them religious instruction." 
 
 " I don't think religious instruction is sufficient," 
 Edith answered. " They need a Saviour.'' 
 
 " But we do tell them about Jesus." 
 
 " Not always in a way that they understand. I 
 fear," said Edith, sadly. " I have heard people tell 
 about Him as they would about Socrates, or Moses, 
 or Paul. We don't need facts about Him so much 
 as Jesus Himself. In olden time people did not go 
 to their sick and troubled friends and tell them that 
 Jesus was in Capernaum, and that He was a gieat 
 deliverer. They brought the poor, helpless crea-
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 455 
 
 tures right to Him. They laid them right at the 
 feet of a personal Saviour, and He helped them. 
 Do we do this ? I have thought a great deal about 
 it," continued Edith, "and it seems to me that 
 more associate the ideas of duty, restraint, and 
 almost impossible effort with Him, than the ideas 
 of help and sympathy. It was so with me, I know, 
 at first." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," said Mrs. Hart thought- 
 fully. "The poor creatures to whom I referred 
 seem more afraid of God than anything else." 
 
 "And yet, of all that ever lived, Jesus was the most 
 tender toward them the most ready to forgive and 
 save. Believe me, Mrs. Hart, there was more gospel 
 in the kiss you gave my sister there was more of 
 Jesus Christ in it, than in all the sermons ever writ- 
 ten, and I am sure that if she had been conscious, 
 it would have saved her. They must, as it were, 
 feel the hand of love and power that lifted Peter 
 out of the engulfing waves. The idea of duty 
 and sturdy self-restraint is perhaps too much em- 
 phasized, while they, poor things, are weak as water. 
 They are so ' lost ' that He must just ' seek and 
 save ' them, as he said lift them up keep them 
 up almost in spite of themselves. Saved that is 
 the word, as the limp, helpless form is dragged out 
 of danger. On account of my sister I have 
 thought a good deal about this subject, and there 
 seems to me to be no remedy for this class, save in 
 the merciful, patient, personal Saviour. He had 
 wonderful power over them when he was on earth,
 
 460 WHA1 CAN SHE DO? 
 
 and he would have the same now, if His people 
 could make them understand Him." 
 
 " I think few of us understand this personal 
 Saviour ourselves as we ought," said Mrs. Hart, 
 somewhat unvailing her own experience. " The Ro- 
 mish Church puts the Virgin, Saints, penances, 
 and I know not what, between the sinner and Jesus, 
 and we put catechisms, doctrines, and a great mass 
 of truth about them, between Him and us. I 
 doubt whether many of us, like the beloved disciple, 
 have leaned our heads on His heart of love, and felt 
 its throbs. Too much of the time He seems in 
 Heaven to me, not here." 
 
 " I never had much religious instruction," said 
 Edith, simply. " I found Him in the New Testa- 
 ment, as people of old found Him in Palestine, and 
 I went to Him, just as I was, and He has been such 
 a Friend and Helper. He lets me sit at His feet 
 like Mary, and the words He spoke, seem said di- 
 rectly to poor little me." 
 
 Wistful tears came into Mrs. Hart's eyes, and she 
 kissed Edith, saying : 
 
 " I have been a Christian forty years, my child, 
 but you are nearer to Him than I am. Stay close 
 to His side. This talk has done more good than I 
 imagined possible." 
 
 " If I seem nearer," said Edith, gently, " isn't it, 
 perhaps, because 1 am weaker than you aie? His 
 ' sheep follow ' him, but isn't there some place in the 
 Bible about His ' carrying the lambs in His bosom '? 
 I think we shall find at last that He was nearer to
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 461 
 
 us all than \ve thought, and that His arm of love 
 was around us all the time." 
 
 In a sudden, strong impulse, Mrs. Hart embraced 
 Edith, and, looking upward, exclaimed : 
 
 " Truly ' Thou hast hid these things from the 
 wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto 
 babes.' As my husband said, I am entertaining a 
 good angel." 
 
 The physician gave Edith great encouragement 
 about Zell, and told her that in about two weeks he 
 thought she might be moved. The fever was taking 
 a light form. 
 
 One evening, after listening to some superb music 
 from Annie, the second daughter, between whom 
 and Edith quite an affinity seemed to develop itself, 
 the latter said : 
 
 " How finely you play. I think you are wonder- 
 ful for an amateur." 
 
 " I am not an amateur," replied Annie, laughing. 
 " Music is my profession." 
 
 " I don't understand," said Edith. 
 
 " Father has made me study music as a sci- 
 ence," explained Annie. "I could teach it to-mor. 
 row. All of us girls are to have a profession. Ella, 
 my eldest sister, is studying drawing and painting. 
 Here is a portfolio of her sketches." 
 
 Even Edith's unskilled eyes could see that she 
 had made great proficiency. 
 
 " Ella could teach drawing and coloring at once," 
 continued Annie, " for she has studied the rules and 
 principles very carefully, and given great attention
 
 462 WHAT CAN SHE DO f 
 
 to the rudiments of art, instead of having a teacher 
 help her paint a few show pictures. But I know 
 very little about it, for I haven't much taste that 
 way. Father has us educated according to our 
 tastes ; that is, if we show a little talent for any one 
 thing, he has us try to perfect ourselves in that one 
 thing. Julia is the linguist, and can jabber French 
 and German like a native. Father also insisted on 
 our being taught the common English branches very 
 thoroughly, and he says he could get us situations 
 to teach within a month, if it were necessary." 
 
 Edith sighed deeply as she thought how superfi- 
 cial their education had been, but she said rather 
 slyly to Annie, " But you are engaged. I think 
 your husband will veto the music-teaching." 
 
 " Oh, well," said Annie, laughing, " Walter may 
 fail, or get sick, or something may happen. So you 
 see we wouldn't have to go to the poor-house. 
 Besides, there's a sort of satisfaction in knowing 
 one thing pretty well. But the half is not told you, 
 and I suppose you will think father and mother 
 queer people ; indeed most of our friends do. For 
 mother has had a milliner come to the house, and a 
 dressmaker, and a hair-dresser, and whatever we 
 have any knack at she has made us learn well, 
 some one thing, and some another. Wouldn't I 
 like to dress your long hair," continued the light- 
 hearted girl, " I would make you so bewitching 
 that you would break a dozen hearts in one evening, 
 Then mother has taught us how to cook, and to 
 make bread and cake and preserves, and Ella and I
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 463 
 
 have to take turns in keeping house, and marketing, 
 and keeping account of the living expenses. The 
 rest of the girls are at school yet. Mother says she 
 is not going to palm off any frauds in her daughters 
 when they get married ; and if we only turn out 
 half as good as she is, our husbands will be lucky 
 men, if I do say it ; and if all of us don't get any, 
 we can take care of ourselves. Father has been 
 holding you up as an example of what a girl can do, 
 if she has to make her own way in the world." 
 
 And the sprightly, but sensible, girl would have 
 rattled on indefinitely, had not Edith fled to her 
 room in an uncontrollable rush of sorrow over the 
 sad, sad, " It might have been." 
 
 One afternoon Annie came into Edith's room, 
 saying, "I am going to dress your hair Yes I will 
 now don't say a word, I want to. We expect two 
 or three friends in one you'll be glad to see. No, 
 I won't tell you who it is. It's a surprise." And 
 she flew at Edith's head, pulled out the hair-pins, 
 and went to work with a dexterity and rapidity that 
 did credit to her training. In a little while she had 
 crowned Edith with nature's most exquisite coronet. 
 
 A cloud of care seemed to rest on Mr. Hart's 
 brow as they entered the dining-room, but he ban- 
 ished it instantly, and with the quaint stately gal- 
 lantry of the old school, pretended to be deeply 
 smitten with Edith's loveliness. And so lovely she 
 appeared that their eyes continually returned, and 
 rested admiringly on her, till at last the blushing 
 girl remonstrated,
 
 464 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 " You all keep looking at me so that I feel as if 
 I were the dessert, and you were going to eat me up 
 pretty soon." 
 
 " I speak for the biggest bite," cried Mr. Hart ; 
 and they laughed at her and petted her so that she t 
 said : 
 
 " I feel as if I had known you all ten years." 
 
 But ever and anon, Edith saw traces of the cloud 
 of care that she had noticed at first. And so did 
 Mrs. Hart, for she said : 
 
 " You have been a little anxious about business 
 lately. Is there anything new ? " 
 
 " No," said Mr. Hart, who, in contrast to Mr. 
 Allen, talked business to his family, " things are 
 only growing a little worse. There have been one 
 or two bad failures to-day. The worst of it all is, 
 there seems a general lack of confidence. No one 
 knows what is going to happen. One feels as if in 
 a thunder-shower. The lightning may strike him, 
 and it may fall somewhere else. But don't worry, 
 good mother, I am as safe as a man can be. I have 
 a round million in my safe ready for an emer- 
 gency." 
 
 The wife knew just where her husband stood that 
 night. 
 
 At nine o'clock, Edith was talking earnestly with 
 Mrs. Ranger, whom she had expressed a wish to 
 see. There were a few other people present cf the 
 very highest social standing, and intimate friends of 
 the family, for her kind entertainers would not ex- 
 pose her to any strange and unsympathetic eyes,
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 465 
 
 Annie was flitting about, the very spirit of innocent 
 mischief and match-making, gloating over the pleas- 
 ure she expected to give Edith. 
 
 The bell rang, and a moment later she marshalled 
 in Gus Elliott, as handsome and exquisitely dressed 
 as ever. He was as much in the dark as to whom 
 he should see as Edith. Some one had told Annie 
 of his former devotedness to Edith, and so she in- 
 nocently meant to do both a kindness. Having a 
 slight acquaintance with Elliott, as a general society 
 man, she invited him this evening to " meet an old 
 friend." He gladly accepted, feeling it a great 
 honor to visit at the Hart's. 
 
 He saw Edith a moment before she observed him, 
 and had time to note her exquisite beauty. But 
 he turned pale with fear and anxiety in regard to 
 his reception. 
 
 Then she raised her eyes and saw him. The 
 blood rushed in a hot torrent to her face, and then 
 left it in extreme pallor. Gus advanced with all the 
 ease and grace that he could command under the 
 circumstances, and held out his hand. " She can- 
 not refer to the past here before them all," he 
 thought. 
 
 But Edith rose slowly, and fixed her large eyes, 
 that glowed like coals of fire, sternly upon him, and 
 put her hand behind her back. 
 
 All held their breath in awe-struck expectation. 
 She seemed to see only him and the past, and to 
 forget all the rest. 
 
 " No, sir," she said, in a low, deep voice, that
 
 466 WffA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 curdled Gus s blood, " I cannot take your hand. \ 
 might in pity, if you were in the depths of poverty 
 and trouble, as I have been, but not here and thus. 
 Do you know where my sister is ? " 
 
 " No," faltered Gus, his knees trembling under him. 
 
 " She is in Bellevue Hospital. A poor girl was 
 carried from thence to Potter's Field a day or two 
 since. She might have been if I had not found 
 her. And," continued Edith, with her face darken- 
 ing like night, and her tone deepening till it sent a 
 thrill of dread to the hearts of all present, " in 
 Potter's Field / might now have been if I had lis- 
 tened to you." 
 
 Gus trembled before her in a way that plainly 
 confirmed her words. 
 
 With a grand dignity she turned to Mrs. Hart, 
 saying. " Please excuse my absence ; I cannot 
 breathe the same air with him," and she was about 
 to sweep from the parlor like an incensed goddess, 
 when Mr. Hart sprang up, his eyes blazing with 
 anger, and putting his arm around Edith, said 
 sternly : 
 
 " I would shield this dear girl as my own daugh- 
 ter. Leave this house, and never cross my threshold 
 again." 
 
 Gus slunk away without a word. As the guilty 
 will be at last, he was " speechless." So, in a mo- 
 ment, when least expecting it, he fell from his 
 heaven, which was society : for the news of his 
 baseness spread like wildfire, and within a week 
 every respectable door was closed against him.
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WAND^.ER HOME. 467 
 
 Is it cynical to say that the well -known and wide- 
 ly-honored Mr. Hart, in closing his door, had influ- 
 ence as well as Gus's sin, in leading some to close 
 their's? Motives in society are a little mixed, 
 sometimes. 
 
 Mr Hart went down town the next morning, a 
 little anxious, it is true, on general principles, but 
 not in the least apprehensive of any disaster. " I 
 may have to pay out a few hundred thousand," he 
 thought, " but that won't trouble me." 
 
 But the bolt of financial suspicion was directed 
 toward him ; how, he could not tell. Within half 
 an hour after opening, checks for twelve hundred 
 thousand were presented at his counter. He tele- 
 graphed to his wife, " A run upon me." Later, 
 " Danger! " Then came the words to the up-town 
 palace, " Have suspended ! " In the afternoon, 
 " The storm will sweep me bare, but courage, God, 
 and our right hands, will make a place and a way 
 for us." 
 
 The business community sympathized deeply with 
 Mr. Hart.' Hard, cool men of Wall street came in, 
 and, with eyes moist with sympathy, wrung his 
 hand. He stood up through the wild tumult, calm, 
 dignified, heroic, because conscious of rectitude. 
 
 " The shrinkage in securities will be great, I fear," 
 he said, " but I think my assets will cover all liabili- 
 ties. We will give up everything." 
 
 When he came up home in the evening, he looked 
 worn, and much older than in the morning, but his 
 wife and daughters seemed to envelop him in an
 
 468 WHA T CAN SHE DOf 
 
 atmosphere of love and sympathy. They were si 
 strong, cheerful, hopeful, that they infused their 
 courage into him. Annie ran to the piano, and 
 played as if inspired, saying to her father : 
 
 " Let every note tell you that we can take care 
 ol ourselves, and you and mother too, if necessary." 
 
 The words were prophetic. The strain had been 
 too great on Mr. Hart. That night he had a stroke 
 of paralysis and became helpless. But he had 
 trained his daughters to be the very reverse of help- 
 less, and they did take care of him with the most 
 devoted love and skilled practical energy, making 
 the weak, brief remnant of his life not a burden, but 
 a peaceful evening after a glorious day. They all, 
 except the youngest, soon found employment, for 
 they brought superior skill and knowledge to the 
 labor market, and such are ever in demand. Annie 
 soon married happily, and her younger sisters event- 
 ually followed her example. But Ella, the eldest, re- 
 mained single ; and, though she never became emi- 
 nent as an artist, did become a very useful and 
 respected teacher of art, as studied in our schools as 
 a refining accomplishment. 
 
 To return to Edith, she felt for her kind friends 
 almost as much as if she were one of the family. 
 
 " Do not feel that you must go away because c f 
 what has happened," said Mrs. Hart. " I am glad 
 to have you with us, for you do us all good. Indeed, 
 you seem one of us. Stay as long as you can, dear, 
 and God help us" both to bear our burdens." 
 
 "Dear, 'heavy-laden' Mrs. Hart," said Edith.
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 469 
 
 " Jesus will bear the burdens for us, if we will let 
 Him." 
 
 " Bless you, child, I am sure He sent you to me.' 
 
 As Edith entered the ward that day, the attend- 
 ant said, " She's herself, Miss, at last." 
 
 Edith stole noiselessly to Zell's cot. She was sleep- 
 ing. Edith sat down silently and watched for her 
 waking. At last she opened her eyes and glanced 
 fearfully around. Then she saw Edith, and instant- 
 ly shrank and cowered as if expecting a blow. 
 
 " Zell," said Edith, taking the poor, thin hand, 
 " O Zell, don't you know me ? " 
 
 "What are you going to do with me ?" asked 
 Zell, in a voice full of dread. 
 
 " Take you to my home take you to my heart 
 take you deeper into my love than ever before." 
 
 " Edith," said Zell, almost cowering before her 
 words as if they hurt her, " I am not fit to go 
 home." 
 
 " O Zell, darling," said Edith, tenderly, " God's 
 love does not keep a debit and credit account with 
 us, neither should we with each other. Can't you 
 see that I love you ? " and she showered kisses on 
 her sister's now pallid face. 
 
 But Zell acted as if they were a source of pain 
 to her, and she muttered, " You don't know, you 
 can't know. Don't speak of God to me, I fear Him 
 unspeakably." 
 
 " I do know all," said Edith, earnestly, ' and I 
 love you more fondly than ever I did before, and 
 God knows and loves you more still."
 
 470 WffA T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 " I tell you you don't know," said Zell, almost 
 fiercely. " You can't know. If you did, you would 
 spit on me and leave me for ever. God knows, and 
 he has doomed me to hell, Edith," she added, in a 
 hoarse whisper. " I killed him you know whom. 
 And I promised that after I got old and ugly I 
 would come and torment him for ever. I must keep 
 my promise." 
 
 Edith wept bitterly. This was worse than deli- 
 rium. She saw that her sister's nature was so 
 bruised and perverted, so warped that it almost 
 amounted to insanity. She slowly rallied back into 
 physical strength, but her hectic cheek and slight 
 cough indicated the commencement of consump- 
 tion. Her mind remained in the same unnatural 
 condition, and she kept saying to Edith, " You 
 don't know anything about it all. You can't 
 know." She would not see Mrs. Hart, and agreed 
 to go home with Edith only on condition that 
 no one should see or speak with her outside the 
 family. 
 
 At last the day of departure came. Mrs. Hart 
 said : " You shall take her to the depot in my car 
 riage. It will be among its last and best uses." 
 
 Edith kissed her kind friend good-bye, saying, 
 " God will send his chariot for you some day, and 
 though you must leave this, your beautiful home, if 
 you could only have a glimpse into the Mansion 
 preparing for you up there, anticipation would 
 almost banish all thoughts of present loss." 
 
 " Well, dear," said Mrs. Hart, with a gleam of
 
 EDITH BRINGS THE WANDERER HOME. 471 
 
 her old humor, " I hope your ' Mansion ' will be r/ext 
 door, for I shall want to see you often through all 
 eternity." 
 
 Then Edith knelt before Mr. Hart's chair, and the 
 old man's helpless hands were lifted upon her head, 
 and he looked to heaven for the blessing he could 
 not speak. 
 
 " Our ways diverge now, but they will all meet 
 again. Home is near to you," she whispered in his 
 ear as she kissed him good-bye. 
 
 The old glad light shone in his eyes, the old 
 cheery smile flitted across his lips, and thus she left 
 him who had been the great, rich banker, serene, 
 happy, and rich in a faith that could not be lost in 
 any financial storm, or destroyed by disease, or en- 
 feebled by age, she left him waiting as a little child 
 to go home
 
 . CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 EDITH'S GREAT TEMPTATION. 
 
 rpHOUGH even Mrs. Allen was tearful and kind 
 -*- in her greeting, and Laura warm and affection- 
 ate in the extreme, old Hannibal's welcome, so 
 frank, genuine, and innocent, seemed to soften Zell 
 more than any one's else. 
 
 " You poor, heavenly-minded old fool," she said, 
 with an unwonted tear in her eye, " you don't know 
 any better." 
 
 Then she seemed to settle down into a dreamy 
 apathy ; to sit moping around in shadowy places. 
 She had a horror of meeting any one, even Mrs. 
 Lacey and Rose, and would not go out till after 
 night. Edith saw, more and more clearly, that she 
 was almost insane in her shame and despair, and 
 that she would be a terrible burden to them all if 
 she remained in such a condition ; but her love and 
 patience did not fail. It would, had it not been 
 daily fed from heavenly sources. " I must try to 
 show her Jesus' love through mine," she thought. 
 
 Poor Edith, the great temptation of her life was 
 soon to assail her. It was aimed at her weakest 
 yet noblest side, her young enthusiasm and spirit of 
 self-sacrifice for others. And yet, it was but the 
 natural fruit of woman's helplessness and Mrs.
 
 EDITH'S GREAT TEMPTATION. 473 
 
 Allen's policy of marrying one's way out of poverty 
 and difficulty. 
 
 Simon Crowl had ostensibly made a very fair 
 transaction with Edith, but Simon Crowl was a 
 widower at the time, and on the lookout for a wife. 
 He was a pretty sharp business-man, Crowl was, or 
 he wouldn't have become so rich in little Pushton, 
 and he at once was satisfied that Edith, so beautiful, 
 so sensible, would answer. Through the mortgage 
 he might capture her, as it were, for even his vanity 
 did not promise him much success in the ordinary 
 ways of love-making. So the spider spun his web, 
 and unconscious Edith was the poor little fly. 
 During the summer he watched her closely, but from 
 a distance. During the autumn and winter he com- 
 menced calling, ostensibly on Mrs. Allen, whom he 
 at once managed to impress with the fact that he 
 was very rich. Though he brushed up his best coat 
 and manners, that delicate-nosed lady scented an 
 air and manner very different from what she had 
 been accustomed to, but she was half-dead with 
 gnnui t and, after all, there was something akin be- 
 tween worldly Mrs. Allen and worldly Mr. Crowl. 
 Then, he was very rich. This had covered a multi- 
 tude of sins on the Avenue. But, in the miserable 
 poverty of Pushton, it was a golden mantle of light. 
 Mrs. Allen chafed at privation and want of delica- 
 cies, with the increasing persistency of an utterly 
 weak and selfish nature. She had no faith in Edith's 
 plans, and no faith in woman's working, and the 
 garden seemed the wildest dream of all. Her hard,
 
 474 WHAT C4X SHE DOt 
 
 narrow logic, constantly dinned into her ears, dis- 
 couraged Edith, and she began to doubt herself. 
 
 Mr. Crowl (timid lover) had in Edith's absence 
 confirmed his previous hints, thrown out to Mrs. 
 Allen as feelers, by making a definite proposition. 
 In brief, he had offered to settle twenty-five thou- 
 sand dollars on Edith the day she married him, and 
 to take care of the rest of the family. 
 
 " I have made enough," he said majestically, 
 " to live the rest of my life like a gentleman, and 
 this offer is princely, if I say it myself. You can 
 all ride in your carriage again." Then he added, 
 with his little black eyes growing hard and cunning, 
 "If your daughter won't accept my generosity, our 
 relationship becomes merely one of business. Of 
 course I will foreclose. Money is scarce here, and I 
 will probably be able to buy in the place at half its 
 worth. Seems to me," he concluded, looking at 
 the case from his valuation of money, " there is not 
 much room for choice here." 
 
 And Mr. Crowl had been princely for him. 
 Mrs. Allen thought so too, and lent herself to the 
 scheme with all the persistent energy that she could 
 show in these matters. But, to do her justice, she 
 really thought she was doing what was best for 
 Edith and them all. She was acting in accord- 
 ance with her life-long principle of providing for 
 her family, in the one way she believed in and 
 understood. But sincerity and singleness of pur- 
 pose made her all the more dangerous a tempter. 
 
 In one of Edith's most discouraged moods she
 
 EDlTti'S GREAT TEMPTATION. 475 
 
 broached the subject and explained Mr. Growl's 
 offer, for he, prudent man, had left it to her. 
 
 Edith started violently, and the whole thing was 
 so revolting to her that she fled from the room. 
 But Mrs. Allen, with her small pertinacity, kept re- 
 curring to it at every opportunity. Though it may 
 seem a little strange, her mother's action did not so 
 shockEdithassomemight expect; nordid the propo- 
 sition even seem so impossible as it might to some 
 girls. She had been accustomed, through her 
 mother, to the idea of marrying for money all her 
 life, and we can get used to about everything. 
 
 In March their money was very low. Going to 
 Zell and taking care of her had involved much 
 additional expense. She found out that her mother 
 had already accepted and used in part a loan of fifty 
 dollars fiom Mr. Crowl. Laura, from the long 
 confinement of the winter, and from living on fare 
 too coarse and lacking in nutrition for her delicate 
 organization, was growing very feeble. Zell seemed 
 in the first stages of consumption, and would soon 
 be a sick, helpless burden. The chill of dread grew 
 stronger at Edith's heart. 
 
 " Oh, can it be possible that I shall be driven to 
 it ! " she often groaned ; and she now saw, as poor 
 Laura said, " the black hand in the dark pushing 
 her down." To her surprise her thoughts kept re- 
 verting to Arden Lacey. 
 
 " What will he think of me if I do this ? " she 
 thought, with intense bitterness. " He will tell me 
 I was not worthy of his friendship, much less of his
 
 476 WHAT CAN SHE DO1 
 
 love that I deceived him ;" and the thought ol 
 Arden, after all, perhaps, had the most weight in 
 restraining her from the fatal step. For then, to 
 her perverted sense of duty, this marriage began to 
 seem like a heroic self-sacrifice. 
 
 She had seen little of Arden since her return. 
 He was kind and respectful as ever, outwardly, but 
 she saw in his deep blue eyes that she was the 
 divinity that he still worshipped with unfaltering 
 devotion, and as she once smiled at the idea of be- 
 ing set up as an idol in his heart, she now began to 
 dread falling from her pedestal unspeakably. 
 
 One dreary day, the last of March, when sleet 
 and rain were pouring steadily down, and Laura 
 was sick in her bed, and Zell moping with her 
 hacking cough over the fire, with Hannibal in the 
 kitchen, Mrs. Allen turned suddenly to Edith, and 
 said : 
 
 " On some such day we will all be turned into 
 the street. You could save us, you could save 
 yourself, by taking a kind, rich man for your lawful 
 husband ; but you won't." 
 
 Then Satan, who is always on hand when we 
 are weakest, quoted Scripture to Edith as he did 
 once before. The words flashed into her mind, 
 ' He saved others, himself he cannot save." 
 
 In a wild, mingled moment of enthusiasm and 
 desperation, she sprang up before her mother, and 
 said, " If I can't pay the interest of the mortgage 
 if I can't take care of you all by some kind of work, 
 I will marry him But if you have a spark of love
 
 ED/TITS GREAT TEMPTATION. 477 
 
 for me, save, economize, try to think of some other 
 way." 
 
 Mrs. Allen smiled triumphantly, and tried in her 
 gratitude to embrace her daughter, saying, " A kind 
 husband will soon lift all burdens off your shoul- 
 ders." The burden on the heart Mrs. Allen did not 
 understand, but Edith fled from her to her own 
 room. 
 
 In a little while her excitement and enthusiasm 
 died away, and life began to look gaunt and bare. 
 Even her Saviour's face seemed hidden, and she 
 only saw an ugly spectre in the future Simon 
 Growl. 
 
 In vain she repeated to herself, " He sacrificed 
 Himself for others so will I." The nature that 
 He had given her revolted at it all, and though she 
 could not understand it, she began to find a jarring 
 discord between herself and all things. 
 
 Mrs. Allen told Mr. Crowl of her success, and he 
 looked upon things as settled. He came to the 
 house quite often, but did not stay long or assume 
 any familiarity with Edith. He was a wary old 
 spider; and under Mrs. Allen's hints, behaved and 
 looked very respectably. He certainly did the 
 best he could not to appear hideous to Edith, and 
 though she was very cold, she compelled herself 
 to treat him civilly. 
 
 Perhaps many might have considered Edith's 
 chance a very good one ; but with an almost des- 
 perate energy she set her mind at work to find some 
 other way out of her painful straits. Everything,
 
 478 WHAT CAN SHE DOf 
 
 however, seemed against her. Mr. McTrump was 
 sick with inflammatory rheumatism. Mrs. Groody 
 was away, and would not be back till the last of May. 
 On account of Arden she could not speak to Mrs. La- 
 cey. She tried in vain to get work, but at that season 
 there was nothing in Pushton which she could do. 
 Farmers were beginning to get out a little on their 
 wet lands, and various out-of-door activities to re- 
 vive after the winter stagnation. Moreover, money 
 was very scarce at that season of the year. She at 
 last turned to the garden as her only resource. She 
 realized that she had scarcely money enough to carry 
 them through May. Could *he get returns from 
 her garden in time ? Could it be made to yield 
 enough to support them ? With ax\ almost desperate 
 energy she worked in it whenever the weather per- 
 mitted through April, and kept I '\annibal at it also. 
 Indeed, she had little mercy on the old man, and he 
 wondered at her. One day he ventured : 
 
 " Miss Edie, you jes done kill us W"h," but hij 
 wonder increased as she muttered ; 
 
 " Perhaps it would be the best thing fo\ us both." 
 Then, seeing his panic-stricken face, she abided more 
 kindly, " Hannibal, our money is getting low. and 
 the garden is our only chance." 
 
 After that he worked patiently without a word 
 and without a thought of sparing himself. 
 
 Edith insisted on the closest economy in the 
 house, though she was too sensible to stint herself 
 in food in view of her constant toil. But one day 
 she detected Mrs. Alien with her small cunninar and
 
 EDI TII'S GREA T TEMP TA TION. 479 
 
 determination to carry her point, practising a little 
 wastefulness. Edith turned on her with such fierce- 
 ness that she never dared repeat the act. Indeed, 
 Edith was becoming very much what she was before 
 Zell ran away, only in addition there was something 
 akin, at times, to Zell's own hardness and reckless- 
 ness, and one day she said to Edith : 
 
 "What is the matter? You are becoming like 
 me." 
 
 Edith fled to her room, and sobbed and cried and 
 tried to pray till her strength was gone. The sweet 
 trust and peace she once enjoyed seemed like a 
 past dream. She was learning by bitter experience 
 that it can never be right to do wrong ; and that a 
 first false step, like a false premise, leads to sad 
 conclusions. 
 
 She had insisted that her mother should not 
 speak of the matter till it became absolutely neces- 
 sary, therefore Laura, Zell, and none of her friends 
 could understand her. 
 
 Arden was the most puzzled and pained of all, 
 for she shrank from him with increasing dread. He 
 was now back at his farm work, though he saici to 
 Edith one day despondently that he had no heurt 
 to work, for the mortgage on their place would prob- 
 ably be foreclosed in the Fall. She longed to tell 
 him how she was situated, but she saw he was un- 
 able to help her, and she dreaded to see the scora 
 come into his trusting, loving eyes ; she could not 
 endure his absolute confidence in her, and in his 
 presence her heart ached as if it would break, so
 
 4.80 MM T CAN SHE DOt 
 
 she shunned him till he grew very unhappy, and 
 sighed : 
 
 " There's something wrong. She finds I am not 
 congenial. I shall lose her friendship," and his ach- 
 ing heart also admitted, as never before, how dear 
 it was to him. 
 
 Nature was awakening with the rapture of 
 another Spring; birds were coming back to old 
 haunts with ecstatic songs ; flowers budding into 
 their brief but exquisite life, and the trees aglow 
 with fragrant prophecies of fruit ; but a Winter of 
 fear and doubt was chilling these two hearts into 
 something far worse than Nature's seeming death.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 SAVED. 
 
 EDITH'S efforts still to help Zell to better 
 things were very pathetic, considering how un- 
 happy and tempted she was herself. She did try, 
 even when her own heart was breaking, to bring 
 peace and hope to the poor creature, but she was 
 iaught how vain her efforts were, in her present 
 mood, by Zell's saying, sharply, 
 
 " Physician, heal thyself." 
 
 Though Zell did not understand Edith, she saw 
 that she was almost as unhappy as herself, and she 
 had lost hope in everybody and everything. Though 
 she had not admitted it, Edith's words and kind- 
 ness at first had excited her wonder, and, perhaps, 
 a faint glimmer of hope ; but, as she saw her sister's 
 face cloud with care, and darken with pain and 
 fear, she said, bitterly, 
 
 "Why did she talk with me so? It was all a 
 delusion. What is God doing for her any more 
 than for me?" 
 
 But, in order to give Zell occupation, and some- 
 thing to think about beside herself, Edith had in- 
 duced her to take charge of the flowers in the 
 garden. 
 
 21
 
 482 WIIA T CAK SHE DO t 
 
 " They won't grov/ for me," Zell had said at first; 
 * They will wither when I look at them, and white 
 blossoms will turn black as I bend over them." 
 
 "Nonsense !" said Edith, with irritation ; "Won't 
 you do anything to help me ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly," wearily answered Zell. " I will 
 do the work just as you tell me. If they do die, it 
 don't matter. We can't eat or sell them." So Zell 
 began to take care of the flowers, doing the work in 
 a stealthy manner, and hiding when anyone came. 
 
 The month of May was unusually warm, and 
 Edith was glad, for it would hasten things forward. 
 That upon which she now bent almost agonized 
 effort and thought was the possibility of paying the 
 interest on the mortgage by the middle of June, 
 when it was due. All hope concentrated on her 
 strawberries, as they would be the first crop worth 
 mentioning that she could depend on from her place. 
 She gave the plants the most careful attention. Not 
 a weed was suffered to grow, and between the rows 
 she placed carefully, with her own hands, leaves she 
 raked up in the orchard, so that the ground might 
 be kept moist and the fruit clean. Almost every 
 hour of the day her eyes sought the strawberry bed, 
 as the source of her hope. If that failed her, no 
 bleeding human sacrifice in all the cruel past could 
 surpass the agony of her fate. 
 
 The vines commenced blossoming with great 
 promise, and at first she almost counted them in 
 her eager expectation. Then the long rows looked 
 like little banks of snow, and she exulted over th
 
 SA VED. 483 
 
 prospect. Laura was once about to pick one of the 
 blossoms, but she stopped her almost fiercely. She 
 would get up in the night, and stand gazing at the 
 lines of white, as she could trace them in the dark- 
 ness across the garden. So the days passed on till 
 the last of May, and the blossoms grew scattering, 
 but there were multitudes of little green berries, 
 from the size of a pea to that of her thimble, and 
 some of them began to have a white look. She 
 watched them develop so minutely that she could 
 have almost defined the progress day by day. Once 
 Zell looked at her wonderingly, and said : 
 
 " Edith, you are crazy over that strawberry bed. 
 I believe you worship it." 
 
 For a time Edith's hopes daily rose higher as the 
 vines gave finer promise, but during the last week of 
 May a new and terrible source of danger revealed 
 itself, a danger that she knew not how to cope 
 with drought. 
 
 It had not rained since the middle of May. She 
 saw that many of her young and tender vegetables 
 were wilting, but the strawberries, mulched with 
 leaves, did not appear to mind it at first. Still she 
 knew they would suffer soon, unless there was rain. 
 Most anxiously she watched the skies. Their 
 sereneness mocked her when she was so clouded 
 with care. Wild storms would be better than these 
 balmy, sunny days. 
 
 The first of June came, the second, third, and 
 fourth, and here and there a berry was turning red, 
 but the vines were beginning to wilt. The suspense
 
 484 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 became so great she could hardly endure it. Her 
 faith in God began to waver. Every breath almost 
 was a prayer for rain, but the sunny days passed 
 like mocking smiles. 
 
 " Is there a God ? " she queried desperately. 
 " Can I have been deceived in all my past happy 
 experience ? " She shuddered at the answer that the 
 tempter suggested, and yet, like a diuvvning man, 
 she tried to cling to her faith. 
 
 During the long evenings, she and Hannibal 
 sought to save the bed by carrying water from the 
 well, but they could do so little, it only seemed to 
 show them how utterly dependent they were on the 
 natural rain from heaven ; but the skies seemed 
 laughing at her pain and fear. Moreover, she noticed 
 that those they watered appeared injured rather 
 than helped, as is ever the case where it is insuffi- 
 ciently done, and she saw that she must helplessly 
 wait. 
 
 Arden Lacey had been away for a week, and, 
 returning in the dusk of the evening, saw her at 
 work watering, before she had come to this conclu- 
 sion. His heart was hungry, even for the sight of 
 her, and he longed for her to let him stop for a 
 little chat as of old. So he said, timidly, 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Allen, haven't you a word 
 to welcome me back with ?" 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Edith, not heeding his salutation, 
 " why don't it rain ! I shall lose all my straw* 
 berries." 
 
 His voice jarred upon her heart, now too full, and
 
 SAVED. 485 
 
 she ran into the house to hide her feelings, and left 
 him. Even the thought of him now, in her morbid 
 tate. began to pierce her like a sword. 
 
 4 She thinks more of her paltry strawberry bed 
 than of me," muttered Arden, and he stalked 
 angrily homeward. " What is the matter with Miss 
 Allen? "he asked his mother abruptly. "I don't 
 understand her." 
 
 " Nor I either," said Mrs. Lacey with a sigh. 
 
 The next morning was very warm, and Edith saw 
 that the day would be hotter than any that pre- 
 ceded. A dry wind sprang up and it seemed worse 
 than the sun. The vines began to wither early 
 after the coolness of the night, and those she had 
 watered suffered the most, and seemed to say to 
 her mockingly, 
 
 " You can't do anything." 
 
 " O heaven," cried Edith, almost in desp< ir, 
 " there is a black hand pushing me down." 
 
 In an excited, feverish manner she roamed rest- 
 lessly around and could settle down to nothing. 
 She scanned the horizon for a cloud, as the ship- 
 wrecked might for a sail. 
 
 " Edie, what is the matter? " said Laura, puttii g 
 her arms about her sister. 
 
 " It won't rain," said Edith, bursting into tears. 
 " My home, my happiness, everything depends ON 
 rain, and look at these skies." 
 
 " But won't He send it ?" asked Laura, gently. 
 
 " Why don't He, then ? " said Edith, almost i.l 
 irritation. Then, in a sudden passion of grief, she
 
 486 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 hid her face in her siste/'s lap, and sobbed, " Olv. 
 Laura, Laura, I feel I am losing my faith in Him. 
 Why does He treat me so ? " 
 
 Here Laura's face grew troubled and fearful 
 also. Her faith in Christ was so blended with her 
 faith in Edith that she could not separate them in 
 a moment. " I don't understand it, Edie," she 
 faltered. " He seems to have taken care of me, and 
 has been very kind since that that night. But I 
 don't understand your feeling so." 
 
 "Oh, oh, oh!" sobbed Edith, "I don't know 
 what to think what to believe ; and I fear I shall 
 hurt your faith," and she shut herself up in her 
 room, and looked despairingly out to where the 
 vines were drooping in the fierce heat. 
 
 " If they don't get help to-day, my hopes 
 will wither like their leaves," she said, with pallid 
 lips. 
 
 As the sun declined in the west, she went out 
 and stood beside them, as one might by a dying 
 friend. Her fresh young face seemed almost grow- 
 ing aged and wrinkled under the ordeal. She had 
 prayed that afternoon, as never before in her life, 
 for help, and now, with a despairing gesture up- 
 ward, she said : 
 
 " Look at that brazen sky ! " 
 
 But the noise of the opening gate caused her to 
 look thither, and there was Arden entering, with a 
 great barrel on wheels, which was drawn by a 
 horse. His heart, so weak toward her, had relented 
 during the day. "I vowed to serve her, and I
 
 SA VED. 48; 
 
 will," he thought. " I will be her slave, if she will 
 permit." 
 
 Edith did not understand at first, and he came 
 Coward her so humbly, as if to ask a great favor, 
 that it would have been comic, had not his sincerity 
 made it pathetic. 
 
 " Miss Allen," he said, " I saw you trying to 
 water your berries. Perhaps I can do it better, as I 
 have here the means of working on a larger scale." 
 
 Edith seized his hand and said, with tears : 
 
 " You are like an angel of light ; how can I thank 
 you enough ? " 
 
 Her manner puzzled him to-night quite as much 
 as on the previous occasion. " Why does she act 
 as if her life depended on these few berries ? " he 
 vainly asked himself. " They can't be so poor as 
 to be in utter want. I wish she would speak frankly 
 to me." 
 
 In her case, as in thousands of others, it would 
 have been so much better if she had. 
 
 Then Edith said, a little dubiously, " I hurt the 
 vines when I tried to water them." 
 
 " I know enough about gardening to understand 
 that," said Arden, with a smile. " If the ground 
 is not thoroughly soaked it does hurt them. But 
 see," and he poured the water around the vines till 
 the dry leaves swam in it. " That will last two 
 days, and then I will water these again. I can go 
 over half the bed thoroughly one night, and the 
 other half the next night ; and so we will keep 
 them along till rain comes."
 
 488 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 She looked at him as if he were a messengef 
 come to release her from a dungeon, and murmured, 
 in a low, sweet voice : 
 
 " Mr ; Lacey, you are as kind as a brother to 
 me." 
 
 A warm flush of pleasure mantled his face and 
 neck, and he turned away to hide his feelings, but 
 said : 
 
 " Miss Edith, this is nothing to what I would do 
 for you." 
 
 She had it on her lips to tell him how she was 
 situated, but he hastened away to fill his barrel at a 
 neighboring pond. She watched him go to and fro 
 in his rough, working garb, and he seemed to her 
 the very flower of chivalry. 
 
 Her eyes grew lustrous with admiration, gratitude, 
 hope, and yes, love, for before the June twilight 
 deepened into night it was revealed in the depths 
 of her heart that she loved Arden Lacey, and that was 
 the reason that she had kept away from him since 
 she had made the hateful promise. She had 
 thought it only friendship, now she knew that 
 it was love, and that his scorn and anger would 
 be the bitterest ingredient of all in her self-immo- 
 lation. 
 
 For two long hours he went to and fro unwearied- 
 ly, and then startled her by saying in the distance 
 on his way home, " I will come again to-morrow 
 evening," and was gone. He was afraid of himself, 
 lest in his strong feeling he might break his implied 
 promise not even to suggest his love, when she
 
 SAVED. 489 
 
 came to thank him, and so, in self-distrustfulness, 
 he was beginning to shun her also. 
 
 An unspeakable burden of fear was lifted fronj 
 her heart, and hope, sweet, warm, and rosy, kept 
 her eyes waking, but rested her more than sleep. In 
 the morning she saw that the watering had greatly 
 revived one half of the bed, and that all through the 
 hot day they did not wilt, while the unwatered part 
 looked very sick. 
 
 Old Crowl also had seen the proceeding in the 
 June twilight, and did not like it. " I must put a 
 spoke in his wheel," he said. So the next afternoon 
 he met Arden in the village, and blustered up to 
 him, saying ; 
 
 " Look here, young Lacey, what were you doing 
 at the Aliens' last night ? " 
 
 " None of your business." 
 
 " Yes, it is my business, too, as you may find out 
 to your cost. I am engaged to marry Miss Edith 
 Allen, and guess it's my business who's hanging 
 around there. I warn you to keep away." Mr. 
 Crowl had put the case truly, and yet with charac- 
 teristic cunning. He was positively engaged to 
 Edith, though she was only conditionally engaged 
 to him. 
 
 " It's an accursed lie," thundered Arden, livid 
 with rage, " and I warn you to leave you make me 
 dangerous." 
 
 " Oh, ho ; touches you close, does it ? I am 
 sorry for you, but it's true, nevertheless." 
 
 Arden looked as if he would rend him, but, by a
 
 49 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 great effort he controlled himself, and in a low ' 
 meaning voice said, 
 
 "If you have lied to me this afternoon, woe be 
 unto you," and he turned on his heel and walked 
 straight to Edith, where she stood at work among 
 her grape-vines, breaking off some of the too thickly 
 budding branches. He was beside her before she 
 heard him, and the moment she looked into his 
 white, stern face, she saw that something had 
 happened. 
 
 " Miss Allen," he said, abruptly, " I heard a re- 
 port about you this afternoon. I did not believe it; 
 I could not ; but it came so direct, that I give you 
 a chance to refute it. Your word will be sufficient 
 for me. It would be against all the world. Is there 
 anything between you and Simon Growl ? " 
 
 Her confusion was painful, and for a moment she 
 could not speak, but stood trembling before him. j 
 
 In his passion, he seized her roughly by the arm 
 and said, hoarsely, " In a word, yes or no ? " 
 
 His manner offended her proud spirit, and she 
 looked him angrily in the face and said, haughtily 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He recoiled from her as if he had been stung. 
 
 Her anger died away in a moment, and she leaned 
 against the grape-trellis for support. j 
 
 " Do you love him ? " lie faltered, his bronzedi 
 cheek blanching. 
 
 " No," she gasped. 
 
 The blood rushed furiously into his face, and he 
 took an angry stride towards her. She cowered
 
 SA VED. 491 
 
 before him, but almost wished that he would strike 
 her dead. In a voice hoarse with rage, he said, . 
 
 " This, then, is the end of our friendship. This 
 is the best that your religion has taught you. If 
 not your pitiful faith, then has not your woman's 
 nature told you that neither priest nor book can 
 marry you to that coarse lump of earth ? " and he 
 turned on his heel and strode away. 
 
 1 1 is mother was frightened as she saw his face. 
 ' What has happened? " she said, starting up. He 
 stared at her almost stupidly for a moment. Then 
 he said, in a stony voice, 
 
 " The worst that ever can happen to me in this 
 or any world. If the lightning had burned me to a 
 cinder, I could not be more utterly bereft of all that 
 tends to make a good man. Edith Allen has sold 
 herself to old Growl. Some priest is going through 
 a farce they will call a marriage, and all the good 
 people will say, ' How well she has done!' What a 
 miserable delusion this religious business is ! You 
 had better give it up, mother, as I do, here and 
 now." 
 
 " Hush, my son," said Mrs. Lacey, solemnly. 
 " You have only seen Edith Allen. I have seen 
 Jesus Christ " 
 
 ' There is some mystery about this," she added, 
 after a moment's painful thought. " I will go and see 
 her at once." 
 
 He seized her hand, saying : 
 
 " Have I not been a good son to you ? ** 
 
 " Yes, Arden."
 
 492 WHAT CAN SHE DO f 
 
 " Then by all I have ever been to you, and as 
 you wish my love to continue, go not near her 
 again." 
 
 " But, Arden " 
 
 " Promise me," he said, sternly. 
 
 " Well," said the poor woman, with a deep sigh, 
 " not without your permission." 
 
 From that time forth, Arden seemed as if made 
 of stone. 
 
 After he was gone Edith walked with uncertain 
 steps to the little arbor, and sat down as if stunned. 
 She lost all idea of time. After it was dark, Han- 
 nibal called her in, and made her take a cup of tea. 
 She then went mechanically to her room, but not to 
 sleep. Arden's dreadful words kept repeating 
 themselves over and over again. 
 
 " O God ! " she exclaimed, in the darkness, 
 " whither am I drifting? Must I be driven to this 
 awful fate in order to provide for those dependent 
 upon me ? Cannot bountiful Nature feed us ? Wilt 
 Thou not, in mercy, send one drop of rain ? O 
 Jesus, where is Thy mercy ? " 
 
 Ihe next morning the skies were still cloudless, 
 and she scowled darkly at the sunny dawn. Then, 
 in sudden alternation of mood, she stretched her 
 bare, white arms toward the little farm-house, and 
 sighed, in tones of tremulous pathos: 
 
 " Oh, Arden, Arden, I would rather die at your 
 feet than live in a palace with him." 
 
 She sent down word that she was ill, and that she 
 would not come down. Laui i, Mrs. Allen, and even
 
 !>A VED. 493 
 
 Zell, came to her, but she kissed them wearily, and 
 sent them away. She saw that there was deep 
 anxiety on all their faces. Pretty soon Hannibal 
 came up with a cup of coffee. 
 
 " You must drink it, Miss Edie," he said. " cause 
 ve'se all a leanin' on you." 
 
 Well-meaning words, but tending unconsciously 
 to confirm her desperate purpose to sacrifice herself 
 for them. 
 
 She lay with her face buried in the pillow all day. 
 She knew that their money was about gone, that 
 provisions were scanty in the house, and to her 
 morbid mind bags of gold were piled up before 
 her, and Simon Crowl, as an ugly spectre, was beck- 
 oning her towards them. 
 
 As she lay in a dull lethargy of pain in the after- 
 noon, a heavy jar of thunder aroused her. She 
 sprang up instantly, and ran out bare-headed to the 
 little rise of ground behind the house, and there, in 
 the west, was a great black cloud. The darker and 
 nearer it grew, the more her face brightened. It 
 was a strange thing to see that fair young girl look- 
 ing toward the threatening storm with eager, glad 
 expectancy, as if it were her lover. The heavy 
 and continued roll of the thunder, like the ap- 
 proaching roar of battle, were sweeter to her than 
 love's whispers. She saw with dilating eyes the 
 trees on the distant mountain's brow toss and writhe 
 in the tempest ; she heard the fall of rain-drops on 
 the foliage of the mountain's side as if they were 
 the feet of an army coming to her rescue. A fe\v
 
 494 WHA T CAN SHE D0t 
 
 large ones, mingled with hail, fell arounc her like 
 scattering shots, and she put out her hands to catch 
 them. The fierce gusts caught up her loosened hair 
 and it streamed away behind her. There was a 
 blinding flash, and the branches of a tall locust near 
 came quivering down she only smiled. 
 
 But dismay and trembling fear overwhelmed her 
 as the shower passed on to the north. She could 
 see it raining hard a mile away, but the drops ceased 
 to fall around her. The deep reverberations rolled 
 away in the distance, and in the west there was a 
 long line of light. As the twilight deepened, the 
 whole storm was below the horizon, only sending 
 up angry flashes as it thundered on to parts un- 
 known. With clasped hands and despairing eyes, 
 Edith gazed after it, as the wrecked floating on a 
 raft might watch a ship sail away, and leave them 
 to perish on the wide ocean. 
 
 She walked slowly down to the little arbor, and 
 leaned wearily back on the rustic seat. She saw 
 night come on in breathless peace. Not a leaf 
 stirred. She saw the moon rise over the eastern 
 hills, as brightly and serenely as if its rays would not 
 fall on one sad face. 
 
 Hannibal called, but she did not answer. Then 
 he came out to her, and put the cup of tea to her 
 lips, and made her drink it. She obeyed mechani- 
 cally. 
 
 " Poor chile, poor chile," he murmured, " I wisli 
 ole Hannibal could die for you." 
 
 She lifted her face to him with such an expression.
 
 SA VED. 495 
 
 that he hastened away to hide his tears But she 
 sat still, as if in a dream, and yet she felt that the 
 crisis had come, and that before she left that place 
 she must come to some decision. Reason would be 
 dethroned if she lived much longer in such suspense 
 and irresolution And yet she sat still in a dreamy 
 stupor, the reaction of her strong excitement. It 
 seemed, in a certain sense, peaceful and painless, 
 and she did not wish to goad herself out of it. 
 
 " It may be like the last sleep before execution," 
 she thought, " therefore make the most of it," and 
 her thoughts wandered at will. 
 
 A late robin came flying home to the arbor where 
 the nest was, and having twittered out a little ves- 
 per-song, put its he?'! under its wing, near his mate, 
 which sat brooding in the nest over some little 
 brown eggs, and the thought stole into her heart, 
 " Will God take care rf. them and not me ? " and she 
 watched the peaceful sleep of the family over her 
 head as if it were an emblem of faith. 
 
 Then a sudden bn-eze swept a spray of roses 
 against her face, and their delicate perfume was like 
 the " still small voic^ " of love, and the thought 
 passed dreamily acros? Edith's mind, " Will God do 
 so much for that little duster of roses and yet dc 
 nothing for me." 
 
 How near the Father was to his child. In this 
 calm that followed her !ong passionate struggle, 1 1 is 
 mighty but gentle Spirit could make itself feltj and 
 it stole into the poor girl's bruised heart with 
 heavenly sug^e^tiop anc? Dealing Doiver. The happy
 
 496 WHAT CAN SHE DO? 
 
 days when she followed Jesus and sat daily at His 
 feet were recalled. Her sin was shown to her, not 
 in anger, but in the loving reproachfulness of the 
 Saviour's look upon faithless Peter, and a voice 
 seemed to ask in her soul, " How could you turn 
 away your trust from Him to anything else ? How 
 could you think it right to do so great a wrong ? 
 How could you so trample upon the womanly na- 
 ture that He gave you as to think of marrying 
 where neither love nor God would sanction? " 
 
 Jesus seemed to stand before her, and point up to 
 the robins, saying, " I feed them. I fed the five thou- 
 sand. I feed the world. I can feed you and 
 yours. Trust Me. Do right. In trying to save 
 yourself you will destroy yourself." 
 
 With a divine impulse, she threw herself on the 
 floor of the arbor, and cried, 
 
 " Jesus, I cast myself at Thy feet. I throw myself 
 on thy mercy. When I look the world around, 
 away from Thee, I see only fear and torment. If 
 1 die, I will perish at thy feet." 
 
 Was it the moonlight only that made the night 
 luminous? No, for the glory of the Lord shone 
 around, and the peace that "passeth all under- 
 standing" came flowing into her soul like a shining 
 river. The ugly phantoms that had haunted her, 
 vanished. The " black hand that seemed pushing 
 her down," became her Father's hand, shieldLg 
 and sustaining. 
 
 She rose as calm and serene as the summer even- 
 ing and went straight to Mrs. Allen's room and said
 
 SAVED. 497 
 
 " Mother, I will never marry Simon Growl." 
 Her mother began to cry, and say piteously, 
 " Then we shall all be turned into the street." 
 "What the future will be I can't tell," said Edith, 
 gently, but firmly, " I will work for you, I will beg 
 for you, I will starve with you, but I will never 
 marry Simon Crowl, nor any other man that I do 
 not love." And pressing a kiss on her mother's 
 face, she went to her room, and soon was lost in 
 the first refreshing sleep that she had had for a long 
 time. 
 
 She was wakened toward morning by the sound 
 of rain, and, starting up, heard its steady, copious 
 downfall. In a sudden ecstacy of gratitude she 
 sprang up, opened the blinds and looked out. The 
 moon had gone down, and through the darkness 
 the rain was falling heavily ; she felt it upon her 
 forehead, her bare neck and arms, and it seemed to 
 her Heaven's own baptism into a new and strongef 
 faith and a happier life.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 CLOSING SCENES. 
 
 THE clouds were clearing away when Edith 
 came down late the next morning, and all 
 saw that the clouds had passed from her brow. 
 
 "Bress de Lord, Miss die, you'se yoursef 
 again!" said Hannibal, joyfully. " I neber see a 
 shower do such a heap ob good afore." 
 
 " No," said Edith, sadly ; " I was myself. I lost 
 my Divine Friend and Helper, and I then became 
 myself poor, weak, faulty Edith Allen. But, 
 thanks to His mercy, I have found Him again, and 
 so hope to be the better self that He helped me to 
 be before." 
 
 Zell looked at her with a sudden wonder, and 
 went out and stayed among her flowers all day. 
 
 Laura came and put her arms around her neck, 
 and said, " O Edie, I am so glad ! What you said 
 set me to fearing and doubting ; but I am sure we 
 can trust Him." 
 
 Mrs. Allen sighed drearily, and said, " I don't 
 understand it at all." 
 
 But old Hannibal slapped his hands in true 
 Methodist style, exclaiming, " Dat's it ! Trow 
 away de ole heart! Get a new one! Bress de 
 Lord ! "
 
 CLOSING SCENES. 499 
 
 Edith went out into the garden, and saw that 
 there were a great many berries ripe ; then she 
 hastened to the hotel, and said : 
 
 " O Mrs. Groody, for Heaven's sake, won't you 
 help me sell my strawberries up here? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear," was the hearty response : " both 
 for your sake and the strawberries, too. We get 
 them from the city, and would much rather have 
 fresh country ones." 
 
 Edith returned with her heart thrilling with hope, 
 and set to work picking as if every berry was a 
 ruby, and in a few hours she had six quarts of fra- 
 grant fruit. Malcom had lent her little baskets, 
 and Hannibal took them up to the hotel, for Arden 
 would not even look toward the little cottage any 
 more. The old servant came back grinning with 
 delight, and gave Edith a dollar and a half. 
 
 The next day ten quarts brought two dollars and 
 a half. Then they began to ripen rapidly, the rain 
 having greatly improved them, and Edith, with con- 
 siderable help from the others, picked twenty, thirty, 
 and fifty quarts a day. She employed a stout boy 
 from the village, to help her, and, through him, she 
 . soon had quite a village trade also. He had a per- 
 , centage on the sales, and, therefore, was very sharp 
 in disposing of them. 
 
 How Edith gloated over her money; how, with 
 more than miserly eyes, she counted it over every 
 night, and pressed it to her lips. 
 
 In the complete absorption of the past few weeks 
 Edith had not noticed the change going on in Zell.
 
 500 WHA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 The poor creature was surprised and greatly 
 pleased that the flowers grew so well for her. Every 
 opening blossom was a new revelation, and theT 
 sweet perfume stole into her wounded heart lik? 
 balm. The blue violets seemed like children's eye.* 
 peeping timidly at her ; and the pansies looked su 
 bright and saucy that she caught herself smiling 
 back at them. The little black and brown seeds, 
 she planted came up so promptly that it seemed as 
 if they wanted to see her as much as she did them 
 " Isn't it queer," she said one day to herself, " thav 
 such pretty things can come out of such ugly littlr 
 things." Nothing in Nature seemed to turn away 
 from her, any more than would Nature's God. The 
 dumb life around began to speak to her in many and 
 varied voices, and she who fled from companionship 
 with her own kind, would sit and chirp and talk to 
 the birds, as if they understood her. And they did 
 seem to grow strangely familiar, and would almost 
 eat crumbs out of her hanck 
 
 One day in June she said to Hannibal, who was 
 working near, " Isn't it strange the flowers grow so 
 well for me ? " 
 
 "Why shouldn't dey grow for you, Miss Zell?" 
 asked he, straightening his old back up. 
 
 " Good, innocent Hannibal, how indeed should 
 you know anything about it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I does know all about it," said he, earnest- 
 ly, and he came to her where she stood by a rose- 
 bush. " Does you see dis white rose ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Zell, " it opened this morning. I'v 
 been watching it."
 
 CLOSING SCENES. jOl 
 
 Poor Hannibal could not read print, fcv/i he 
 seemed to understand this exquisite passage Ha Na- 
 ture's open book, for he put his black finge: on the 
 rose (which made it look whiter than before), and 
 commenced expounding it as a preacher mi{;ht his 
 text. " Now look at it sharp, Miss Zell, 'cause it'll 
 show you I does know all about it. It's white, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Zell, eagerly, for Hannibal held rhe 
 attention of his audience. 
 
 " Dat means pure, doesn't it ? " continued he 
 
 " Yes," said Zell, looking sadly down. 
 
 " And it's sweet, isn't it ? Now dat means lab. 
 
 And Zell looked hopefully up. 
 
 *' And now, dear chile," said he, giving her a little 
 impressive nudge, " see whar de white rose come 
 from right up out of de brack, ugly ground." 
 
 Having concluded his argument and made his 
 point, the simple orator began his application, and 
 Zell was leaning toward him in her interest. 
 
 " De good Lord, he make it grow to show what 
 He can do for us. Miss Zell," he said, in an awed 
 whisper, " my ole heart was as brack as dat ground, 
 but de blessed Jesus turn it as white as dis rose. 
 Miss Edie, Lor* bless her, telled me 'bout Him, and 
 I'se found it all true. Now, doesn't I know about 
 it ? I knows dat de good Jesus can turn de brack- 
 est heart in de world jes like dis rose, make it white 
 and pure, and fill it up wid de sweetness of lub. I 
 knows all about it." 
 
 He spoke with the power of absolute certainty
 
 502 WHA T CAN SHE DO f 
 
 and strong feelinj, therefore, his hearer was deeply 
 moved. 
 
 " Hannibal," she said, coming close to him, and 
 putting her hand on his shoulder, " do you think 
 Jesus could turn my heart white?" 
 
 " Sartin, Miss Zell," answered he, stoutly, " Jes 
 as easy as He make dis white rose grow." 
 
 "Would you mind asking Him? It seems to 
 me I would rather pray out here among the flowers," 
 she said, in low, tremulous tones. 
 
 So Hannibal concluded his simple, but most 
 effective service by kneeling down by his pulpit, the 
 rose-bush, and praying : 
 
 " Bressed Jesus, guve dis dear chile a new heart, 
 'cause she wants it, and you wants her to hab it. 
 Make it pure and full of lub. You can do it, 
 dear Jesus. You knows you can. Now, jes please 
 do it. Amen" 
 
 Zell's responsive " Amen " was like a note from 
 an Eolian harp. 
 
 " Hannibal," said she, looking wistfully at him, 
 " I think I feel better. I think I feel it growing 
 white." 
 
 " Now jes look here, Miss Zell," said he, giving 
 her a bit of pastoral counsel before going back to 
 his work, " don't you keep looking at your heart, 
 and scein how it feels, or you'll get discouraged. 
 See dis rose agin ? It don't look at itself. It jes 
 looks up at de sun. So you look straight at Jesus, 
 and your heart grow whiter ebery day." 
 
 And Hannibal and the flower did gradually lead
 
 CLOSING SCENES. 503 
 
 poor Zell to Him who " taketh away the sins of the 
 world," and He said to her as to one of old, " Thy 
 faith hath saved thee , go in peace." 
 
 On the evening of the I4th of June, Edith had 
 more than enough to pay the interest due on the 
 1 5th, and she was most anxious to have it settled. 
 She was standing at the gate waiting for Hannibal 
 to join her as escort, when she saw Arden Lacey 
 coming toward her. He had not looked at her 
 since that dreadful afternoon, and was now about 
 to pass her without notice, though from his manner 
 she saw he was conscious of her presence. He 
 looked so worn and changed that her heart yearned 
 toward him. A sudden thought occurred to her, 
 and she said, 
 
 " Mr.' Lacey." 
 
 He kept right on, and paid no heed to her. 
 
 There was a mingling of indignation and pathos 
 in her voice when she spoke again. 
 
 44 1 appeal to you as a woman, and no matter 
 what I am, if you are a true man, you will listen." 
 
 There was that in her tone and manner that re- 
 minded him of the dark rainy night when they first 
 met. 
 
 He turned instantly, but he approached her with 
 a cold, silent bow. 
 
 44 1 must go to the village to-night. I wish your 
 protection," she said, in a voice she tried vainly to 
 render steady. 
 
 He again bowed silently, and they walked to the 
 village together without a word. Hannibal came
 
 504 WHAT CAN SHE DOt 
 
 out in time to see them disappear down the road 
 one on one side of it, and one on the other. 
 
 " Well now, dey's both quar," he said, scratching 
 his white head with perplexity, " but one ting is 
 mighty sartin, I'se glad my ole jints is saved dat 
 tramp." 
 
 Edith stopped at the door of Mr. Growl's office^ 
 and Arden, for the first time, spoke hastily, 
 
 " I can't go in there." 
 
 " I hope you are not afraid," said Edith, in a tone 
 that made him step forward quick enough. 
 
 Mr. Crowl looked as if he could not believe his 
 eyes, but Edith gave him no time to collect his wits, 
 but by the following little speech quite overwhelmed 
 both him and Arden, though with different emo- 
 tions. 
 
 " There, sir, is the interest due on the mortgage. 
 There is a slight explanation due you and also this 
 gentleman here, who -was my friend. There are four 
 persons in our family dependent on me for support 
 and shelter. We were all so poor and helpless that 
 it seemed impossible to maintain ourselves in inde- 
 pendence. You made a proposition through my 
 mother, never to me, that might be called generous 
 if it had not been coupled with certain threats of 
 prompt foreclosure if not accepted. In an hour of 
 weakness and for the sake of the ethers, I said to 
 my mother, never to you, that if I could not pay 
 the interest and could not support the family, I 
 would marry you. But I did very wrong, and I be- 
 came so unhappy and desperate in view of this par-
 
 CLOSING SCENES. 505 
 
 tial promise, that Ithought I would lose my reason. 
 But in the hour of my greatest darkness, when I saw 
 no way out of our difficulties, God led me to see 
 how wrongly I had acted, and to resolve that under 
 no possible circumstances would I marry you, nor 
 any man to whom I could not give a true wife's 
 love. Since that time I have been able honestly to 
 earn the money there ; and in a few days more I 
 will pay you the fifty dollars that my mother bor- 
 rowed of you. So please give me my receipt." 
 
 "And remember henceforth," said Arden sternly, 
 " that this lady has a protector." 
 
 Simon was sharp enough to see that he was beaten, 
 so he signed the receipt and gave it to Edith with- 
 out a word. They left his office and started home- 
 ward. When out of the village Arden said timidly, 
 
 "Can you forgive me, Miss Edith?" 
 
 11 Can you forgive me ? " answered she, even 
 more humbly. 
 
 They stopped in the road and grasped each 
 other's hands with a warmth more expressive than 
 all words. Then they went on silently again. At 
 the gate Edith said timidly, 
 
 " Won't you come in ? " 
 
 " I dare not, Miss Allen," said Arden, gravely, 
 and with a dash of bitterness in his voice. " I am 
 a man of honor with all my faults, and I would 
 keep the promise I made you in the letter I wrote 
 one year ago. I must see very little of you," he 
 continued, in a very heartsick tone, " but let me 
 serve you just the same." 
 22
 
 506 W. HA T CAN SHE DO? 
 
 Edith's face seemed to possess more than human 
 loveliness as it grew tender and gentle in the 
 radiance of the full moon, and he looked at it with 
 the hunger of a famished heart. 
 
 " But you made the promise to me, did you 
 not ? " she asked in a low tone. 
 
 " Certainly," said Arden. 
 
 " Then it seems to me that I have the right to 
 absolve you from the promise," she continued in a 
 still lower tone, and a face like a damask-rose in 
 moonlight. 
 
 " Miss Allen Edith " said Arden, " oh, for 
 Heaven's sake, be kind. Don't trifle with me." 
 
 Edith had restrained her feelings so long that 
 she was ready to either laugh or cry, so with a peal 
 of laughter, that rang out like a chime of silver 
 bells, she said, 
 
 " Like the fat Abbot in the story, I give you full 
 absolution and plenary indulgence." 
 
 He seized her hand and carried it to his lips: 
 " Edith," he pleaded, in a low, tremulous tone, 
 " will you let me be your slave ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said she, sturdily. " But," she 
 added, looking shyly up at him, " if you will take 
 me as your little wife, I will take you as my big 
 husband." 
 
 Arden was about to kneel at her feel, but she 
 said : 
 
 " Nonsense ! If you must get on your knees, 
 come and kneel to my strawberry-bed you ought 
 to thank that, I can tell you.' And so the matter-
 
 CLOSING SCENES. 507 
 
 of- fact girl, that could not abide sentiment, got 
 through a scene that she greatly dreaded. 
 
 They could see the berries reddening among the 
 green leaves, and the night wind blowing across 
 them was like a gale from Araby the Blest. 
 
 " Were it not for this strawberry-bed you would 
 not have obtained absolution to-night. But, Ar- 
 tlen, she added, seriously, " here is your way out 
 of trouble, as well as mine. We are near good 
 markets. Give up your poor, slipshod farming (I'm 
 plain, you see,) and raise fruit. I will supply you 
 with vines. We will go into partnership. You 
 show what a man can do, and I will show what a 
 girl can do." 
 
 He took her hand and looked at her so fondly, 
 that she hid her face on his shoulder. He stroked 
 her head and said, in a a half mirthful tone : 
 
 " Ah, Edie, Edie, woman once got man out of 
 a garden, but you, I perceive, are destined to lead 
 me into one ; and any garden where you are will 
 be Eden to me." 
 
 She looked up, with her face suddenly becoming 
 grave and wistful, and said, 
 
 " Arden, God will walk in my garden in the cool 
 of the day.' You won't hide from Him, will 
 you ? " 
 
 " No," he answered, earnestly. " I now feel sure 
 that, through my faith 'in you, I shall soon have 
 fattt in Him."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 LAST WORDS. 
 
 T^DITH did sustain the family on the products 
 -I-/ of her little place. And, more than that, the 
 yield from her vines and orchard was so abundant, 
 that she aided Arden to meet the interest of the 
 mortgage on the Lacey place, so that Mr. Crowl could 
 not foreclose that Autumn, as he intended. She 
 so woke her dreamy lover up, that he soon became 
 a keen, masterful man of business, and, at her sug- 
 gestion, at once commenced the culture of small 
 fruits ; she giving him a good start from her own 
 place. 
 
 Rose took the situation of nurse with Judge Clif- 
 ford's married daughter, having the care of two 
 little children. She thus secured a pleasant, sheltered 
 home, where she was treated with great kindness. 
 Instead of running in debt, as in New York, she was 
 able to save the greater part of her wages, and, in 
 two years, had enough ahead to take time to learn 
 the dressmakers' trade thoroughly, for which she 
 had a taste. B - it a sensible young mechanic, who 
 had long been attentive, at last persuaded her to 
 make him a happy home. 
 
 Mrs. Lacey's prayers were effectual in the case of 
 her husband, for, to the astonishment of the whole
 
 LAST WORDS. 509 
 
 neighborhood, he reformed, and became a con- 
 sistent member of the church. Laura remained a 
 pale home-blossom, sheltered by Edith's love. 
 
 With the blossoms she loved, Zell faded away in 
 the Autumn, but her death was like that of the 
 flowers, in the full hope of the glad Spring-time 
 of a new life. As her eyes closed and she bieathed 
 her last sigh out on Edith's bosom, old Hannibal 
 sobbed : 
 
 " She's a white rose now sure 'nuff." 
 
 Arden and Edith were married the following 
 year, on the I4th of June, the anniversary of their 
 engagement. Edith greatly shocked Mrs. Allen by 
 having the ceremony performed in the garden. 
 
 "Why not?" she said. "God married a couple 
 there once." 
 
 Mrs. Groody, Mr. and Mrs. McTrump, Mrs. Ran- 
 ger, Mrs. Hart and her daughters, and quite a num- 
 ber of other friends, were present. 
 
 Hannibal stood by the white rose-bush, that -.vas 
 again in bloom, and tears of joy, mingling r/ith 
 those of sorrow, bedewed the sweet flowers. 
 
 And Malcom stood up, after the ceremon) , .-rid 
 said, with a certain dignity, that for a mc-f/ent 
 hushed and impressed all present : 
 
 4 Tho' I'm a little mon, I sometimes ha' ;jreat 
 tho'ts, an' I have learned to ken fra my gu>l$ v/ife 
 there, an' this sweet blossom o' the LorJ's, that 
 woman can bring a' the wourld to God if he will. 
 That s what she can do."
 
 A 000 027 749 1