. . 
 
 **** j
 
 3ERTKMKD SMITH 
 
 14O Pacific Ave. 
 
 LONG BEACH, 
 
 CALIFORNIA
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS 
 
 BY 
 
 AGNES BLAKE POOR 
 
 (DOROTHY PRESCOTT) 
 
 "The tallest flower that skyward rears its head, 
 Grows from the common earth, and there must shed 
 Its delicate petals." 
 
 Hartley Coleridge 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 1893
 
 Copyright, 1S93, 
 BY ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 2Smbersttg Arrest 
 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FROM MRS. BUTLER TO ARTHUR BUTLER. 
 
 LIVERPOOL, N Y., April 5, 188-. 
 
 MY DEAR SON, I was glad to hear by your 
 last that you were in good health, and 
 that your worldly prospects look so bright. I only 
 hope you spare some time to reflect on the great 
 concern of your soul's salvation. Believe, oh, be- 
 lieve an affectionate mother's word, that it is best to 
 seek the Lord in your youth. It is a constant grief 
 to me that only one of my dear children as yet 
 cherishes a hope ; but my daily prayer is that I may 
 meet you all in heaven. I have much anxiety and 
 trouble at present, and am very fatigued ; but I 
 know that in this world I must expect tribulation. 
 I wrote you fully after the arrival of dear Orlando 
 and his little family, and dropped you a postal tell- 
 ing of the birth of Ida's babe, but have not had 
 time to write a letter since, though I have com- 
 
 2047042
 
 8 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 menced several. It is a lovely but very delicate 
 infant, and its dear young mother was so sick at the 
 time of its birth that she has never been able to 
 nurse it, and we have to bring it up on the bottle, 
 and it is very hard to find a food that will agree 
 with it ; its cries are distressing. You will be 
 much pleased to hear that Orlando and Ida have 
 decided to name it Arthur, after you. The other 
 children are very well, though they have frequent 
 colds and attacks of indigestion. 
 
 Almira was here last week with her dear little girl ; 
 she said John was too busy to come. They are all 
 well, and John seems uncommonly prosperous. 
 Almira brought me a very lovely cream pitcher from 
 the store, that must have been worth at least seventy- 
 five cents at sale. I thought she was dressed too 
 much for a church member, and disliked to see the 
 little Laurea so expensively arrayed. I felt it my 
 duty to speak about it, and hope what I said may 
 have a good effect. They have asked me to make 
 them a visit, and I shall go [D. V.] as soon as 
 Orlando has found another parish. He has not 
 been able to make any effort to seek for one, he has 
 been so occupied with the care of his wife. Oh, I 
 forgot to tell you that dear Jonah is here too. He 
 has left his place, and does not wish to return to 
 Cazenovia. I am sorry he could not have stayed 
 on a little longer, but the food they gave him was 
 very poor, and Jonah is not very well, though he 
 looks healthy. I am afraid John will not be able to
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 9 
 
 find him another place ; could you not get some- 
 thing for him to do in Boston? I think he might 
 like it there better, and then you could look after 
 him. I dread his being exposed to the temptations 
 of a city, more especially as he is not yet a profess- 
 ing Christian. May that blest day soon arrive ! I 
 have no girl at present, and find the work rather 
 beyond my strength, though Flora, Ida's sister, who 
 came with them, does all she can to help me. She 
 is a very sweet girl. Of course my expenses are 
 much increased with so large a family, and I must 
 beg you, if it is not too much trouble, and you can 
 perfectly well afford it, to send me a small sum in 
 addition to the regular allowance you so kindly 
 make me, as I dread the disgrace of getting into 
 debt more than anything else. Orlando and Jonah 
 send their love, and I am 
 
 Your affectionate mother. 
 
 Mr. ARTHUR BUTLER, 
 Ames Building, Boston, Mass. 
 
 Arthur Butler was not a man given to 
 show his feelings in his face; but as he 
 slowly read for the second time the above 
 letter, written in a fine copy-book hand, and 
 closely squeezed on to the smallest possible 
 scrap of thin blue ruled paper, he looked 
 gloomy enough. He was not at his office, 
 to which it was addressed, but in his apart- 
 ment in a large old-fashioned house on the
 
 IO BROTHERS AND STRANGERS, 
 
 eastern slope of Beacon Hill, with a view, 
 over the crest, of ^he waving trees on the 
 Common. It was a handsome room, and 
 though somewhat bare to a modern eye, 
 everything in it, the furniture, the books, 
 the pictures, were good of their kind. The 
 care which was evidently taken of them was 
 greater than masculine nature is generally 
 willing to bestow on its belongings, and 
 seemed to mark their owner as not only a 
 bachelor, but an old one. Arthur, however, 
 was but two-and-thirty. He had come up 
 town earlier than usual for a particular 
 reason ; but though pressed for time, he sat 
 down, and deliberately, but with no hesi- 
 tation, wrote an answer on the thickest of 
 white paper, in a firm, decided hand, legi- 
 ble, but characteristic ; read it over once, 
 and then without making addition or era- 
 sure, folded, sealed, and addressed it. It 
 ran as follows : 
 
 Beacon Street, BOSTON, April 7, 188-. 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, I am sorry that you feel 
 under the necessity of applying to me for further 
 assistance. You know that I have never grudged 
 you anything that was in my power to give. I did 
 not expect that John, so long as you declined his 
 offer of a home in his family, would feel called upon
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 1 1 
 
 to do anything for you outside ; but I did not 
 wonder that you preferred one of your own, and as 
 soon as I was able, I established you in your own 
 old house, and insured you a comfortable income, 
 safe from anything that might happen to me. It 
 was enough to enable you to live in comfort in 
 Liverpool, and keep a servant ; but I certainly did 
 not allow for its supporting seven other people in 
 addition. If Orlando chose to marry young and 
 burden himself with children before he was able 
 properly to maintain them, he ought not to look to 
 me to help him out. I am older than he, and. if I 
 had the means, might very likely wish to marry 
 myself, which I shall not be able to do if I am to 
 be at the expense of supporting him and his family, 
 including, it seems, his wife's relations. As for 
 Jonah, he ought at least to be able to take care of 
 himself, when nothing more is expected of him. 
 They should consider that it is you on whom they 
 are living, and that what they take diminishes your 
 comfort by just so much ; and if they have any 
 manly feeling left they will bestir themselves a 
 little. 
 
 Under the circumstances, I do not think it wise 
 to increase your income ; it would only be giving it 
 to them, and that is the same thing as throwing it 
 into the sea. I have already done all I can for 
 them, and more than they had a right to look for. 
 I am very sorry that you should be exposed to morti- 
 fications and annoyances which you ought to have
 
 12 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 been spared. I presume from what you say that 
 you have already incurred debts, and look to me to 
 pay them. I shall only be willing to do this upon 
 the security that I shall not be liable to be called 
 on again. I think the best thing to do will be for 
 me to run on and see how things stand with my 
 own eyes. I can leave here Thursday in the night 
 train, and stay over Sunday with you. I will stop 
 in Syracuse and talk with John about it ; but I 
 want you to understand that I have not the least 
 desire that you should live with him if you do not 
 wish to. Perhaps it will be best for you to let the 
 house and board somewhere ; but we can decide 
 this when we meet. 
 
 Do not trouble yourself to prepare a room for 
 me ; you must be full enough, and I can put up at 
 Kemp's for the brief time of my stay. 
 
 Believe me ever your affectionate son, 
 
 ARTHUR BUTLER. 
 
 Mrs. JOHN BUTLER, 
 Liverpool, New York. 
 
 After finishing his letter, and dressing him- 
 self with scrupulous attention, he went out, 
 carrying it in his hand. Light as a feather as 
 it was, it, or what it recalled, weighed like 
 lead on his heart. Arthur Butler was not, 
 strictly speaking, handsome, but he drew 
 attention in any crowd, and was looked at 
 twice by every woman he met ; for a certain
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 13 
 
 air of distinction, that lay not so much in the 
 careful but easy elegance of his toilet and all 
 his appurtenances, and the grace with which 
 he carried his slight but muscular figure, 
 looking tall, though not much over middle 
 height, as in an elevation of expression 
 which, with the low, slow, perfect modulations 
 of his voice, and his condescending courtesy 
 of manner, impressed those who met him 
 deeply, and more or less pleasantly accord- 
 ing as he himself was pleased or displeased, 
 and made them say of him, with varying sig- 
 nificance, that he was a " born and bred 
 aristocrat." 
 
 He never looked more so than at this 
 moment, with his face darkened by a not 
 unbecoming shadow. It was a fine example 
 of the irony of nature that his thoughts were 
 running on his boyish days, when he used, 
 cold and hungry, or hot and thirsty, accord- 
 ing to the season, to peddle baskets, the 
 staple of Liverpool, made by himself, through 
 the streets of the neighboring city of Syra- 
 cuse. With the capacity of memory to take 
 in a world at once, he saw himself in a dozen 
 different phases, sweeping out the village 
 grocery store, and carrying home parcels in 
 the intervals of the district school; grown
 
 14 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 older, doing similar work in a country lawyer's 
 office, and picking up what law he could be- 
 tween times; putting himself through college, 
 teaching in all his vacations, and book- 
 keeping, copying, and what not, in all his odd 
 moments, while he won scholarship after 
 scholarship by sheer hard work, for he was 
 not quick ; all this since he had made up his 
 mind, a little, poorly fed, half clad boy of 
 seven years old, the day his father's shabby 
 funeral train had left behind an almost empty 
 house, that he would never be a poor man. 
 
 The opening and sharp sudden snap of a 
 post-box lid dispersed with a start the dreams 
 of his boyish home, and as he walked with a 
 quickened step down the long slope of Beacon 
 Hill, toward the setting sun, the clouds rolled 
 away from his face as from his heart, both 
 set forward to an anticipated pleasure. He 
 crossed the Public Garden, fresh with budding 
 leaves and bright with spring flowers, and 
 stopped in Commonwealth Avenue, where 
 the doors of the great Griswold house were 
 thrown wide open to a surging crowd, and 
 the Griswolds, devoutly hoping that no one 
 had by any ill chance been forgotten, were 
 receiving and " doing up " all who could by 
 any possibility consider themselves entitled
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 15 
 
 to be asked to meet a son of the house and 
 his bride from New York. As is usually the 
 case at such assemblages, the mixture was a 
 promiscuous one, of every set, and some of 
 no set at all. People ran against those they 
 had long thought dead, exchanged affection- 
 ate greetings with those with whom they 
 were not on speaking terms, cut their own 
 uncles and aunts, overlooked those they were 
 looking for, and miscalled half their friends. 
 No such mistakes were made by Arthur 
 Butler, or if made were never detected, as he 
 threaded the crowd, grave, courteous, re- 
 sponsive, with a quick eye to recognize, and 
 a few well chosen words for every one he 
 knew. His acquaintance was numerous, if 
 select, and he was greeted at every turn ; but 
 he could disengage himself from a conversa- 
 tion as easily as he could take it up. No one 
 detained him long, nor indeed seemed to ex- 
 pect to do so ; and when he finally made his 
 way to the goal of his wishes at the side of 
 Miss Sophy Curtis, it was with the tacit ap- 
 proval of all lookers-on, and of the young 
 lady herself, who looked up with a smile of 
 welcome that gave its fairest aspect to her 
 honest, homely face. 
 
 Miss Curtis was not beautiful, nor very
 
 1 6 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 young, nor very rich, nor very fashionable, 
 and Arthur Butler was not at all in love with 
 her ; but he thoroughly liked, respected, and 
 admired her, and hoped to make her his wife. 
 Fashion he did not care for, it implied an 
 uneasy strain to keep one's self before the 
 public eye, which shocked his fastidious taste, 
 and to which the comfortable, sheltered, easy, 
 well-assured position of the Curtises was in- 
 finitely superior. If he disliked anything 
 worse than the hard wooden made-up faces, 
 the stiff costly raiment, the loud flippant re- 
 partees of the married women of uncertain 
 age, precious in their ugliness as Byzantine 
 Madonnas, who led the present style, it was 
 to see the unmarried girls trying to imitate 
 them. As to beauty, he had little to say to 
 the blushing rose-buds of the garden, who 
 were, indeed, somewhat afraid of him. The 
 frank cordiality of Sophy's plain pleasant 
 face, and the through and through freshness 
 and neatness of her simple but well chosen 
 attire, which threw an air of refinement over 
 her vigorous health, satisfied him thoroughly. 
 He had too much pride to relish the idea of 
 marrying an heiress ; but her inheritance as 
 one of the many children of a man well-to-do 
 in business, with a comfortable property to
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 17 
 
 fall back upon, would help, not encumber, a 
 husband's ambition. Then she had further 
 expectations, not sufficiently certain to mark 
 him as a fortune-hunter, and by a curious 
 conjunction of circumstances so much more 
 likely to be gratified if she married him than 
 if she married anybody else that the match 
 might be said to be for her interest, too. 
 Altogether the thing had a fitness about it 
 which almost tempted him to believe that the 
 woman brought up in luxurious ease, to the 
 best the world could give, widely travelled, 
 assiduously taught, and the man who had 
 fought every inch of his toilsome way up- 
 ward, were " predestinated mates." 
 
 As they stood together now, he looked the 
 finer clay than she. His grand air was his 
 great charm in Sophy's eyes. She knew 
 that, as the common phrase goes, he had 
 made himself; but then, so had her own 
 grandfather; and her critical faculty was not 
 sufficiently developed to weigh the difference 
 in antecedents and starting-point between a 
 boy growing up sixty years ago on his father's 
 well-tilled farm on the richest lands in Ver- 
 mont, and one of the present day left twenty- 
 five years ago fatherless and penniless in a 
 little town in New York. There was no de-
 
 1 8 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 sign at concealment on Arthur's part; the 
 reason that he so seldom mentioned his re- 
 lations was simply that the)'' did not interest 
 him, and he did not expect them to interest 
 other people ; and Sophy, when she thought 
 of them at all, classed them with the distant 
 Curtis cousins in Vermont, who were mostly 
 plain, well-to-do people of good standing in 
 their respective towns and villages, and with 
 whom the wealthy Boston branch of the 
 family, though meeting them but seldom, 
 was on the very best of terms. 
 
 " Have you been able to find the maps? " 
 she asked with interest, as soon as the first 
 greetings had been exchanged. 
 
 " Yes, very nice ones, I should think, 
 one of the world on Mercator's projection, 
 and one in hemispheres, both on a good 
 large scale." 
 
 " Thank you ; that will be delightful ; and 
 we will begin with the Norsemen and Leif 
 Eiriksson. I will get out some of Cousin 
 Rachel's Norwegian photographs." 
 
 "And I can borrow some good ones of 
 Iceland and Greenland from Mr. Hitch- 
 cock, who went in the Bowdoin College 
 Expedition." 
 
 " How very kind ! I will take the greatest
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 19 
 
 care of them ; but we may have to keep 
 them over two times, if he does not mind." 
 
 "Would you mind if I asked Mr. Hitch- 
 cock to come and explain them himself 
 next Friday? I fear I cannot come that 
 evening." 
 
 " Oh, why not? " asked the young lady, 
 surprised ; " where are you going ? I beg 
 your pardon," she added, hastily, correcting 
 herself. 
 
 " I find I must go to Liverpool to see my 
 mother. I am afraid she is not very well." 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Sophy, with a look 
 of just the proper amount of concern. 
 
 " It is nothing serious, I hope ; but I can- 
 not be easy without seeing for myself." 
 
 " No, indeed ! " said Sophy, who supposed 
 Arthur Butler, in addition to all his other 
 virtues, must be the most devoted of sons. 
 " We shall miss you ; but of course it cannot 
 be helped. Perhaps before you leave, you 
 will give us some idea of how far we have to 
 go, for I am afraid I can never manage Eirik 
 the Red without you ; but I dare say we can 
 fill up one evening with the early Norsemen 
 and the settlement of Iceland." 
 
 " Miss Curtis was so kind as to ask me to 
 dinner, to-night, and she added to her kind-
 
 2O BROTHERS AXD STRANGERS. 
 
 ness by telling me I was to meet you. I 
 shall be very glad to help you in any way.'' 
 
 " That will be very nice," said the young 
 lady, frankly; " and you will be back, per- 
 haps, before the next time." 
 
 " I shall come back as soon as I possibly 
 can, you may be very sure." 
 
 There was something so meaning in his 
 tone that Sophy colored all over ; her healthy, 
 blooming face lacked the delicacy of texture 
 which makes a blush really becoming ; but 
 still the slight confusion which softened her 
 usually self-reliant, unsentimental expression, 
 was pleasing in the young man's eyes. Per- 
 haps, too, she reaped some advantage from 
 her lover's family troubles, which by throw- 
 ing difficulties in the way, fostered that lover- 
 like impatience which might otherwise have 
 hardly enlivened the course of so smooth 
 and satisfactory a wooing. He had been 
 feeling his way with caution, but now he be- 
 gan to see it so clear before him, that were it 
 not for this vexatious going to Liverpool 
 hanging over him, he might almost have been 
 tempted to speak out plainly now. They 
 had stopped to hold their little parley, and 
 the surging crowd, impatient of any obstacle, 
 had swept them a little out of the direct route
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 21 
 
 to the tea-room, into a corner recess, where 
 they were practically free from being over- 
 heard or interrupted ; but it was not in his 
 nature to trust to chance opportunities like 
 this ; he would have every advantage of 
 place and time, particularly as the accept- 
 ance, which he without undue presumption 
 expected, would at once entail a good deal 
 of business. 
 
 Sophy asked for no more ; he had said 
 enough, and looked enough to make her con- 
 tent in waiting for his return ; and there was 
 a happy flutter in her voice as she said, " I 
 think I must look for Cousin Rachel, now, for 
 I am sure she must want to go Ah, there 
 she is ! " as a lady on the other side of the 
 room nodded to Arthur with a look of fami- 
 liar acquaintance and pleased approval, while 
 both young people did their best to join her 
 with as little delay as possible. She was 
 twenty-five years older than her young cou- 
 sin, but was, even now, a much handsomer 
 woman. Her tall well-rounded figure, thick 
 silver-gray hair, fresh fair skin, fine eyes, fine 
 teeth, all well preserved by unremitting care 
 and the assistance of experts in every line of 
 treatment, and set off by the rich, sombre, 
 glowing hues of her dark red cashmere and
 
 22 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 velvet costume, gave the imposing effect of 
 undecayed maturity. Her presence was no 
 impediment to Arthur's love-making, rather 
 an -incentive, though she was the real lady of 
 his adoration.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2$ 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IV/TISS RACHEL CURTIS was the first 
 -L*-*- cousin of Sophy's father. Her own 
 father, with his, had come to Boston from 
 Vermont when young, and made very good 
 fortunes in the grocery business ; but the elder 
 and leading partner of the firm had more 
 largely increased his gains by investments, and 
 while his brother had a large family, who mar- 
 ried and had large families in their turn, he had 
 left an only daughter, sole heiress to a prop- 
 erty which, if not entitled to be called colossal, 
 made a highly respectable figure in the Bos- 
 ton tax lists, invested as it now was in the 
 best of real estate, bonds of the State of Mas- 
 sachusetts, Boston and Providence Railway, 
 and other " gilt-edged " securities. She could 
 spend money with a freedom and safety which 
 the possessors of more unlimited wealth do not 
 always enjoy. She was not born till her father 
 was well advanced in years and prosperity, 
 and had been left, still young, with her entire 
 fortune under her own control ; and she had
 
 24 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 never found any difficulty in managing the 
 principal, or in spending the income so as to 
 secure the largest possible amount of satis- 
 faction for herself, and every one who came 
 in contact with her, with entire independence 
 as to what others thought she ought to do, or 
 might do, or what they would do in her place. 
 For society in general she cared but little, 
 having never had any difficulty in surround- 
 ing herself with the particular society she 
 best liked; and though good-natured, she 
 was fastidious, for daughter of a grocer as 
 she was, she had enough refinement and cul- 
 ture to serve for a royal princess, perhaps 
 for two. 
 
 Whether Miss Curtis had always been as 
 thoroughly satisfied with her enviable place 
 in the world as she now appeared to be, 
 cannot with certainty be told. She had never 
 shown the slightest eagerness to purchase 
 position and rank at home or abroad, with 
 her wealth ; and it was never known that she 
 had had any real love affair, though she had 
 a very decided liking for the society of the 
 other sex, which now showed itself in taking 
 a friendly interest of a highly beneficent de- 
 scription in clever and attractive young men, 
 who in their turn could often be useful to
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2$ 
 
 her. Of all these little harmless attachments 
 the strongest was that which had drawn her 
 to Arthur Butler, whose acquaintance she 
 had made while he was still in college, at a 
 rather older age than the average under- 
 graduate. His good looks and good man- 
 ners had pleased her, and the energy with 
 which, as she discovered, he was struggling 
 to educate himself under so many drawbacks 
 won her respect and admiration. Gladly 
 would she have done more to help him than 
 his pride would allow, but no pride could 
 refuse what she did give; she threw open 
 to him her beautiful home, full of treasures 
 of literature and art, introduced him to 
 her friends, and in a hundred delicate ways 
 gave sympathy, advice, encouragement. She 
 helped him unobtrusively to business when 
 he began to practise law, and the opening 
 wedge once inserted, he was well able to get 
 
 o o 
 
 on. As eagerly did he seize every hint, every 
 example of graceful and refined custom in 
 Miss Curtis's sphere, and grasp, though 
 lightly, at the delicate tendrils by whose aid, 
 but without straining them, must be climbed 
 the flowery steeps of society. For these 
 chances he felt more grateful to her than for 
 anything else she had done for him. Now,
 
 26 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 it seemed that he might be drawn yet nearer 
 to her by relationship The Curtises, pros- 
 perous, content, and united, were not disposed 
 to cavil at any disposal Rachel might make of 
 her money, so long as the bulk of it remained 
 in the family. It might suit her to divide it 
 among her kinsfolk, or choose one as her 
 heir ; and in the latter case, Sophy, the oldest 
 child of her favorite cousin and of the espe- 
 cial friend of her girlhood, named at her 
 request after her own mother, and always 
 distinguished by her particular regard, might 
 well receive the preference. There is a natu- 
 ral wish to plan out the disposition of one's 
 fortune as far as possible, and it might make 
 some difference whom Sophy married ; but 
 if she married Arthur Butler, a favorite him- 
 self, their united claims would probably be 
 irresistible. He would not need this added 
 merit to recommend him to Sophy's parents. 
 Good girl as she was, she had never been par- 
 ticularly admired in society, and was already 
 beginning to feel the interest of an incipient 
 maiden aunt in her prettier younger sister 
 Rosamond's new establishment and new baby. 
 She did not take this much to heart, nor did 
 her parents for her. All their girls were well 
 provided for, and need not marry unless they
 
 v BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2/ 
 
 wished ; but if they did wish to marry any 
 well-favored, well-placed, well-spoken-of young 
 man, they were sure of a kind consent and a 
 generous fitting-out Arthur's personal claims 
 were beyond the common, and as to his fam- 
 ily, they would make no difference ; if unde- 
 sirable, they were at a safe distance. The 
 Curtis connection was so large that there was 
 no need of increasing it, and Sophy would 
 be glad to live among her own people, and 
 belong to them. Her feelings were begin- 
 ning to be plain enough even to herself. 
 With a double share of modesty, half as 
 woman, and half as her own individual self, 
 she could no longer mistake Arthur's mean- 
 ing. She had long known and always ad- 
 mired him, but she had never dreamed of 
 him, nor indeed of any one else as a possi- 
 ble lover, and the joy was greater when the 
 surprise came. 
 
 No one else saw it more plainly, or with 
 more pleasure, than Rachel Curtis, who was 
 quite as willing to be regarded in the light of 
 an adopted mother as any one could be to 
 have her. She was very dependent on the 
 society and attentions of both Sophy and 
 Arthur; and this was a sure way, and indeed 
 the only way, of not losing either. She was
 
 28 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 no match-maker, but she felt a little harmless 
 pride in the thought that the acquaintance 
 had begun with her, and that she might be 
 supposed to be an attraction, though a sub- 
 sidiary one. She did not know how near she 
 had come to being a principal in the affair, or 
 dream that for some time Arthur had seri- 
 ously revolved in his mind the question of 
 proposing marriage to her ; and that he had 
 been deterred, not so much by the dread of 
 the construction the world might place on 
 his motives, though this was not without its 
 weight ; for he knew truly that into such love- 
 making he could have thrown more personal 
 devotion, and less self-interest, than into his 
 present more apparently suitable aspirations; 
 not so much by doubts of his ultimate suc- 
 cess, for his suit once opened, he felt he had 
 the will and power to carry it through; but 
 from a terror of the beginning. Miss Curtis's 
 first look of blank amazement, perhaps of 
 ridicule, when he should have succeeded in 
 making her understand what he meant, would 
 keep rising before him. He had never found 
 courage to encounter it, and had at last set- 
 tled on what was safely within his reach, and 
 the more ostensible choice. There would 
 always be a little mixture of sentiment in his
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2Q 
 
 relations with his wife's aunt, all the more 
 tender because of the marriage, and sure to 
 please the future Mrs. Arthur Butler. 
 
 Miss Curtis, unsuspicious of all this, and 
 with her future more full of promise than it 
 is apt to be after the most prosperous life of 
 fifty-two years, was the happiest of the little 
 party of three, a most sociable one for that 
 proverbially unfortunate number, which gath- 
 ered round her dinner-table that night ; she was 
 certainly the liveliest. Arthur was grave, 
 and Sophy quiet; but that was natural when 
 they were to part, even for so short a time ; and 
 she thought that nothing could be prettier or 
 in better taste than the courtship of her two 
 model young people. 
 
 " Sophy tells me your mother is not well," 
 said the hostess, in a tone of concern, as soon 
 as they were fairly settled at the table. 
 
 " She is not really ill ; but I fear that she is 
 not comfortably situated, and that the others 
 do not quite understand how to make her so." 
 
 " I am sure it will do her good to see you," 
 said Miss Curtis, heartily ; " and would you 
 mind taking charge of a little present for her 
 from me? It will not be a very large par- 
 cel," she added, laughing ; "for I know how 
 much men dislike that."
 
 30 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "Thank you. Of course I shall be only 
 too happy to take anything you are so kind 
 as to send." 
 
 " It is a great favorite of mine, and if she 
 is confined to her room, perhaps she will 
 enjoy having it by her." 
 
 " Your thinking of her will give her great 
 pleasure, I know." 
 
 " You must tell us just how far to go on 
 Friday," said Sophy, as her cousin was 
 silent. 
 
 " I could write out a little outline for you 
 to refer to, but there will be no need of it. 
 You have planned out quite enough for one 
 evening." 
 
 " The boys will miss you, I am sure ; but 
 I shall put them on their good behavior, 
 by promising to report to you when you 
 come back." 
 
 "Don't you think they improve?" asked 
 Miss Curtis. 
 
 "Yes I think there is some progress," 
 said Arthur, doubtfully. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure there is ! " cried Sophy. 
 " Don't you remember how troublesome 
 Willie Maclntyre used to be? And now he 
 is so attentive. And those two little Rosen- 
 baum boys, they were perfectly stolid,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 31 
 
 and now they do show a great deal of 
 interest." 
 
 " They are interested enough, if that were 
 all; but I should like to see them able to 
 make themselves behave a little better when 
 they are not being amused." 
 
 " Oh, poor little fellows ! what can you 
 expect? Just think what homes they come 
 from. Willie's father is dead, and his mother 
 has no control over her boys ; she lets them 
 roam the streets, and only frets at them in a 
 way that is worse than saying nothing. I am 
 sure it is ruining Allan." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Curtis, " I wish we could 
 have got any hold on Allan Maclntyre before 
 he grew so wild. But I do not suppose he 
 would come to the class, even if I dared risk 
 him there, to injure the others, perhaps. You 
 must try to get at him, Arthur ; a man might 
 do something with him." 
 
 The conversation ran on about the fruitful 
 topic of the members of an evening class 
 which Miss Curtis entertained weekly at her 
 own house, selected from the most promis- 
 ing (not always the best-behaved) of the 
 many poor boys in whom she took an inter- 
 est. She made no distinctions; and French- 
 Canadian, Irish, German, Italian, even
 
 32 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 colored, of all shades, were impartially ad- 
 mitted ; the only test being whether they 
 enjoyed the entertainment provided for them, 
 at present a course of historical and geo- 
 graphical talks on the great discoverers of 
 the world, sufficiently to make them come 
 regularly and listen with some attention. It 
 had worked very well. The elegance of the 
 surroundings, and Miss Curtis's commanding 
 presence, tamed the boys down ; Sophy, well 
 trained by younger brothers, had a free, pleas- 
 ant understanding with them which won their 
 confidence ; and Arthur's unwavering firm- 
 ness under his quiet manner was a check on 
 the unruly. He had the power of controlling 
 others which comes with self-control ; and 
 his, as he used to think with pride, was abso- 
 lute ; it had been bought at the cost of too 
 many hard knocks that must be silently 
 borne. 
 
 He grew silent now while Miss Curtis and 
 Sophy lingered on their favorite theme, the 
 tastes and characters of the boys ; for some- 
 how when they were on this topic, his early 
 memories grew stronger, and he always felt 
 like one of the little ragamuffins, whose 
 orphan state, and wretched home, and scant 
 and starved condition, were the objects of so
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 33 
 
 much compassion, kind, but uncompre- 
 hending. They talked as those do who have 
 never known what it is to want a meal ; hardly 
 what it is to eat a badly cooked one. The 
 surroundings were perfect; no glare, no os- 
 tentation. The room was neither so bare as 
 to look large, nor so crowded as to look 
 small, but gave a sense of spaciousness and 
 snugness at once. The soft, dispersed light; 
 the faint fresh wafts of perfume from flowers, 
 some seen, some unseen ; the delicate prep- 
 arations which gave the sense of taste a 
 gratification not less refined ; the quiet, easy 
 serving, which anticipated every wish, these 
 were the luxuries which Arthur Butler prized. 
 He had always craved them even when he 
 knew less about them. If one only had them, 
 he thought, it might be possible to do without 
 gold-plate or Bohemian glass ; but they were 
 not less expensive. Wax candles and hot- 
 house roses cost a great deal of money ; and 
 so did such servants as Miss Curtis employed. 
 Indeed, so did Miss Curtis and Sophy them- 
 selves. Their dresses looked simple enough, 
 but the absolute unconsciousness with which 
 they were worn, as if they were so surely 
 the right thing that once put on they might 
 be safely forgotten altogether, the way in
 
 34 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 which they brought out every point that 
 would bear inspection, and dexterously sub- 
 dued those that would not, so that with all 
 Sophy's lack of any real beauty, she was 
 an attractive object, these were expensive, 
 without doubt. Even the tact and grace with 
 which his hostess, when she found his answers 
 brief and his mind apparently abstracted, 
 passed from the subject which did not seem 
 to interest him, to others more likely to bring 
 him out, and to lead to conversation not so 
 grave as to be depressing, and not so gay as 
 to be out of harmony with whatever secret 
 anxieties he might be feeling, even the 
 subtly soothing influences of her voice and 
 manner, seemed to him the last crowning 
 achievement of well-spent wealth. 
 
 " Without money," he thought, " there is 
 no such thing as living to call living!" 
 and his money must be won by his own 
 hard work, the harder, because his self- 
 respect would not allow him to forget what 
 was due to his mother, and what was due to 
 himself in providing for her. 
 
 Miss Curtis, as she bade him a kind good-by, 
 gave him the parcel to which she had alluded, 
 a square flat one, done up with most ex- 
 quisite nicety, indicating a picture within ; and
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 35 
 
 accompanied it with various friendly messages. 
 As he lingered, loath to go, and his eyes 
 upon Sophy while he talked to her cousin, 
 he seemed to take in the whole image of 
 the scene, as a parting sailor does that of his 
 home. He may be away for years; but 
 Arthur was coming back in five days at 
 most; and it was not likely that he should 
 forget, or find when he returned again that 
 anything had changed. The remembrance 
 clung to him through a day of hurried prep- 
 aration, and hovered like a dream before his 
 half-sleeping, half-waking eyes in the roaring 
 rush of the night train. The chill air of 
 early morning, hanging like gray mist over 
 the dirty old station at Syracuse, dispelled 
 the vision, and he set his face forward to the 
 task of the hour. 
 
 The morning train for Liverpool did not 
 leave for some hours ; but he had enough 
 to fill up the time. He went to a hotel, took 
 a cup of coffee and a biscuit, and made a 
 very careful and punctilious toilet before he 
 set out again into the principal business street, 
 an unwonted figure at that hour. He paused 
 before a large, thriving-looking shop, whose 
 wares were displayed under the sign " Cubitt 
 and Butler's China Parlors." It was only
 
 36 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 half-past six, and the front door was closed ; 
 but Arthur knew his way to a side door in an 
 alley, and was sure that would be open, and 
 the master within, arranging his stock with 
 the careful but energetic labor of his own 
 hands. 
 
 " Hullo, Arthur ! that you? Where 'd you 
 drop from? " was his greeting. 
 
 "How do you do, John? I came from 
 Boston last night." 
 
 "And what's brought you here?" went 
 on the owner of the shop, now hastily wiping 
 his hands on his blue-checked apron, then 
 looking at his visitor's. " Can't shake hands 
 with you, that's a fact; mine ain't clean 
 enough, before breakfast; but I'm glad to 
 see you, whatever you come for." He was 
 shorter than Arthur, but so much more heav- 
 ily built that he looked the larger man of the 
 two; and the family resemblance between 
 them was so strong that it seemed to empha- 
 size their difference in other respects. 
 
 " I came," said Arthur, " because I had 
 a letter from mother, and things seemed 
 in rather a bad way at home. I thought 
 I would stop first and have a talk with 
 you about it, better here than at your 
 house."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS, 37 
 
 " That 's so," said John ; " but I don't know 
 as I Ve much to say." 
 
 " If I had supposed, when I bought the 
 house for mother, that the others would 
 come down upon her all at once, I should 
 not have done it. Of course I expect them 
 to visit her, at her own convenience, but she 
 is not strong enough, and she cannot afford, 
 to keep them all the time. Orlando and his 
 family seem to be fixtures." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Land, " said John, with good- 
 humored contempt in his tone, " Land will 
 be a fixture, I warrant you. He 's got to 
 have some place to roost in, hain't he? " 
 
 " He has no right to come down on mother 
 in this way, when he must know perfectly 
 well that her income is not more than suffi- 
 cient to live comfortably on by herself. And 
 how can she accommodate them? I cannot 
 imagine where she can put them all." 
 
 " That 's so," said John again, leaning back 
 against his show-case, and folding his arms 
 over his feather-duster ; " there 's six of them : 
 Land and Ider, three children, one 's a 
 baby to be sure, but it 's sick, and I guess it 
 takes up as much room as anybody, and 
 the girl; to be sure, I guess she pays for 
 her board in work."
 
 38 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 11 And then Jonah." 
 
 " Yes, Jone ! he counts for one, at any 
 rate, don't he? a tight squeeze." 
 
 " It really ought not to be tolerated." 
 
 " Well," said John, " I don't see what you 
 are goin' to do about it." 
 
 " I should like to have a better idea how 
 things stand before I go there. What 's the 
 matter with Orlando? Can't he get a 
 parish?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! Land can get a parish ; he can 
 get a parish fast enough." 
 
 " Cannot keep it is that it? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, he can keep it; they'd have 
 kep' him at Pompey, if he 'd have stayed." 
 
 "Why did he go?" 
 
 " Why, the truth of it is, he could n't afford 
 to stay. Preaching pays poorly, you know, 
 unless you can get your name up, and can 
 get a good city parish. We give Dr. Todd 
 three thousand a year. Now, Land preaches 
 and prays very fairly, I '11 say that for him ; 
 but there 's hundreds that do it as well, and he 
 hain't got a mite of push in him. He has to 
 hang round in these country villages, where 
 they give five hundred a year, and they don't 
 give that not half the time, neither; no, 
 he could n't stay at Pompey ; they 'd have 
 starved, the whole lot on "em."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 39 
 
 " He ought not to have left one place 
 before he had another in view, at least." 
 
 "Well, he had his reasons The fact was 
 he was in debt, and it was gettin' worse and 
 worse, and he thought he could n't stand it 
 much longer, and that he'd better get oft" 
 while he could. What was he to do ? wife 
 always sick, and no end of children." 
 
 " He has only three, I believe." 
 
 "Only three alive; she's lost one between 
 the little girl and this last, born dead ; 
 and they ain't been married but five years." 
 
 " He had no right to marry under such 
 circumstances." 
 
 " I don't see what you 're goin' to do about 
 it," repeated John, coolly. 
 
 " If he cannot support his family by the 
 ministry, he ought to go to work at some- 
 thing else." 
 
 " Well," said John, as he flicked the dust 
 off a milk-jug on his top shelf, " I hardly 
 know what he's fit for. It 's a great pity he 
 did n't go in for being a missionary. They 're 
 well looked after, and the children always 
 stand a good chance of being adopted at 
 home ; but what 's the use of thinkin' of that 
 now? Ider could n't stand the climate, what- 
 ever it might be ; and then Land 's too old ;
 
 40 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 they have to begin young and get up the 
 language, and the Board would n't take a 
 man of his age, with a family already. I 
 suppose he thinks if he can get a little better 
 call from some other society, perhaps you '11 
 pay his debts, and let him start free." 
 
 " He had better have told me himself than let 
 me hear of it in this way," said Arthur, coldly. 
 
 " I think he was sort of shamed to and 
 then, perhaps, he thought that if he got a 
 place, he might save a little himself; but, 
 Lord bless you ! he '11 never do anything at 
 that. Why, they hain't got clothes to wear ! 
 It 's a question if Land's got a coat that he 
 could preach in, by this time. It 's a pity, 
 now, that he can't wear your old clothes ; 
 you might let him have some ; but, good 
 Lord ! your pants would be a good two 
 inches up above his ankles, I guess." John 
 waxed voluble as he spoke of the family 
 misfortunes, with a kind of cheerful alacrity, 
 not ill-naturedly, but with some gratification 
 in the idea that he was " taking down Art," 
 whose superior fortunes cost his brother some 
 heart-burnings. Arthur never assumed any- 
 thing by word or deed ; but there was some- 
 thing in his silence, and the fit of his clothes, 
 that was exasperating.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 41 
 
 " I must try and make some other arrange- 
 ment for mother; there is Jonah, could 
 you find him any place here?" 
 
 " I 've tried him ; " said John, gowing la- 
 conic at the least sign of enlargement of the 
 other's speech. 
 
 " You did not find it work well? " 
 
 " Jone ain't worth his salt, and I don't see 
 why I should keep him on to hurt the busi- 
 ness because he 's a relation." 
 
 " Could not you find some other place for 
 him?" 
 
 " I don't want to recommend him to any- 
 body here. The fact is, Jone 's lazy as an 
 old hog ; you can't shake it out of him. 
 Now, Land will work ; yes, I '11 say that for 
 him, Land would work if he only knew 
 how." 
 
 " One cannot, and the other will not ; it 
 comes to much the same thing." 
 
 John shrugged his shoulders. " Seven 
 o'clock," he said, busily stripping off his 
 apron, and the cuffs to match that protected 
 his shirt sleeves, and taking up his coat ; 
 "come to breakfast, will you, Art?" 
 
 " Thank you, yes ; I must take the half- 
 past-eight train for Liverpool." 
 
 " And what you goin' to do when you get
 
 42 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 there ? " asked John, after they had walked a 
 few steps. 
 
 " I cannot decide till I do get there." 
 A few moments more of silence passed, 
 when John, who somehow seemed put more 
 on the defensive by his brother's reticence 
 than by any appeal, direct or indirect, to his 
 feelings, said rather awkwardly, " I 'm willing 
 to do what I can for mother. I told her when 
 she left here that she could n't expect me to 
 pay out money for her if she would n't live 
 with me ; but I '11 give her all her coal, I 
 can get it with mine, and I '11 see that her 
 house is kept in repair, that is, of course, any- 
 thing in reason; not while she lets those 
 youngsters of Land's destroy and smash up 
 everything in the way they do. You see, 
 I 've got a family of my own to consider ; 
 and times are hard." 
 
 As he spoke, he opened a gate, and avoid- 
 ing the front entrance, led the way round a 
 small house covered with boards checked off 
 in squares, and neatly painted in imitation of 
 blocks of gray marble, to a back door opening 
 from a narrow veranda, and they entered the 
 dining-room, where the breakfast-table had 
 been set out over night with what might be 
 termed the stock articles, while Mrs. John
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 43 
 
 Butler, in the kitchen, labored over the novel- 
 ties of the season. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Butler," she exclaimed, in 
 sharply pitched tones as she came forward, 
 " I hope you Ve been explainin' to your 
 brother that he must n't expect anything to 
 speak of in the line of breakfast this morn- 
 ing. I don't calculate to be caught this way, 
 but I have n't got no girl just now, and I ain't 
 accustomed to doin' my own work. Of 
 course," to Arthur, " if I 'd known you was 
 comin' I 'd have had things different; you'll 
 have to excuse us." 
 
 She cast a deprecating look at her stringy 
 dark calico gown, which bore traces of her 
 having " done her own work " for some time 
 past; but the fact that the hair over her 
 forehead was tightly twisted in about a dozen 
 locks round as many hairpins, did not occur 
 to her as anything to mind, for this was the 
 morning uniform of the ladies of her circle ; 
 how else could they appear with the tightly 
 frizzled " fringe," the maintenance of which 
 was inexorably demanded as one of their 
 duties to society? A decided mark of her 
 superior position was visible in a pair of dia- 
 mond earrings, worn all the time, " because 
 it was the safest way."
 
 44 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TV/T R S. JOHN BUTLER was a largely 
 ***- built, loose-jointed woman. Her head 
 was long, especially from the nose downward, 
 and the effect was heightened by all the hair 
 not at present in a preparatory state being 
 tightly strained upward and backward into a 
 knot at the top. She had very black hair 
 and eyes, and a florid complexion, and had 
 an air of being, at least in her own opinion, 
 the superior partner in the household, per- 
 haps because she had been Miss Almira 
 Cubitt, and brought as her dowry, half in 
 the present, and half in the future, the good- 
 will and stock in trade of the China Parlors. 
 She had brought nothing else, old Cubitt 
 having been content to jog on all his life just 
 holding his business together, till John Butler, 
 with fresher notions and more energy, had 
 used the standpoint of the place and name 
 so as to double the profits in a year or two. 
 John, as well as Arthur, had inherited 
 ambition from their father, an aspiring
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 45 
 
 young carpenter, who died after a long ill- 
 ness before he had achieved his great aim of 
 becoming a master-builder; and if the elder 
 brother's hopes were more humble, they ran 
 more chance of being satisfied. He now 
 vibrated between a wish to show off his 
 prosperous condition, and a fear that if he 
 indulged it too openly Arthur would think 
 he ought to do more for his mother. 
 
 " Come, Arthur," he said, " won't you sit 
 down? We seem to have got rather a picked- 
 up breakfast, but we won't make a stranger 
 of you." 
 
 " Of course," repeated Mrs. John, with a 
 toss of her hairpins, " If I 'd known you were 
 comin' I 'd have had things a little different. 
 I Ve been lookin' for a girl, but it 's dreadful 
 hard to get them here. Now, Laurea, stop 
 teasin' a bit," to her five-year-old daughter, 
 who was muttering something in a whining 
 undertone, as she hung on the back of her 
 mother's chair; " 't ain't likely your uncle's 
 got any candy in his pocket for you." 
 
 " I am sorry if your little girl is disap- 
 pointed," said Arthur, too overwhelmingly 
 polite for the occasion. He was not much used 
 to children, and the present specimen was not 
 prepossessing, being a stout, heavy child,
 
 46 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 with a large head and bad teeth, and dark 
 straight hair twisted round bits of rags, with 
 a view, like her mother, to future adornment. 
 " I thought children were not allowed to eat 
 candy now." 
 
 " My stars ! I guess they '11 eat it, whether 
 they're allowed or not. Go to your seat, 
 Laurea, there 's a dear; " and then in a loud 
 whisper, " momma '11 get you some when we 
 go down street this mornin' if you '11 be a 
 good girl, and eat your breakfast." 
 
 Laurea this young lady's name had been 
 invented, or rather adapted, by her mother; 
 " I want her to have a new name that no one 
 else has," Mrs. John had said ; " and it 's very 
 easy to make one, by just putting an e on to 
 Laura" Laurea subsided, and her father 
 uttering a short and evidently stereotyped 
 grace, the meal began. John Butler was not 
 a church member, for he was not without a 
 conscience, and had an idea that the scruples 
 proper to the character might some time or 
 other stand in the way of business ; his wife 
 was one, and that kept him au conrant with 
 religious affairs, with facilities for strengthen- 
 ing the connection in case of illness or finan- 
 cial depression. 
 
 How John had contrived, in the few min-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 47 
 
 utes before breakfast, which he spent in the 
 kitchen drawing the cold water, while his wife 
 dished up her sausages and liver, to acquaint 
 her with the reasons for his brother's visit, and 
 to apprise her of more of the latter's plans 
 than he had himself disclosed, was astonishing 
 to Arthur, who could only suppose that there 
 must be a kind of free-masonry or conversa- 
 tional short-hand between married people. 
 Evidently she was, or thought herself to be, 
 thoroughly informed, and in the first lull of 
 talk, after the weather and spring crops and 
 spring markets had received attention, she 
 struck in with, " If you Ve any wish to board 
 out the old lady, Mr. Butler, I wish you 'd let 
 us have her." 
 
 " I have not thought of such a thing as yet," 
 said Arthur; " and at any rate I should want 
 my mother to decide for herself." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! only it seems a shame to be 
 payin' money out of the family, when it 
 might as well stay in." 
 
 " I guess," said John, coloring a little, 
 " that if mother wanted to come here we 
 could fix it for her without chargin" board." 
 
 " I believe she prefers her own house," said 
 Arthur. 
 
 " Well, if she paid, things would be dif-
 
 48 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 ferent here," said Mrs. John. " I 'd give her 
 the spare room, and let her have a stove in 
 it. I did n't quite feel as if I could do that 
 before." 
 
 Arthur was silent, as he turned over his 
 untasted food with his fork. He was vividly 
 recalling a conversation he had half uncon- 
 sciously overheard one day, when reading in 
 Miss Curtis's library, between herself and her 
 young cousin. " She is a strong, healthy- 
 looking woman," Sophy had said, " and her 
 references are excellent." 
 
 " Her appearance and manner are against 
 her," said Miss Curtis ; " I could not have a 
 servant who wore her hair in that alarming 
 way, and then, her voice ! " 
 
 " But, Cousin Rachel, for the laundress 
 that would n't matter so much, would it, if 
 she were a good worker? you know you 
 need scarcely see or hear her." 
 
 " Yes, I should," said Miss Curtis, deci- 
 sively. " I should hear that voice through 
 any number of doors; and I could not be 
 happy with such a person anywhere in my 
 house." 
 
 Arthur seemed to hear Miss Curtis discuss- 
 ing his sister-in-law. He had never seen the 
 objectionable laundress ; but a vivid recollec-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 49 
 
 tion came up, in contrast to Mrs. John 
 Butler, of the quiet, lady-like, low-voiced and 
 light-footed " perfect treasure " who acted as 
 Miss Curtis's own maid. He was recalled to 
 his sense of the present by his hostess. 
 
 " As long as you 're going down to Liver- 
 pool, Mr. Arthur, would you mind takin' a 
 bundle for me I mean for them?" 
 
 " I shall be most happy." 
 
 " It 's some clothes of Laurea's I thought 
 they might fix over for the little girl ; and I 
 guess I '11 send the one she 's got on, too," 
 looking at her daughter's frock, a plaid of 
 large design and aggressive colors ; " she 's 
 about got through with it, and I have n't any 
 to make it over with." 
 
 " Yes," said John, " let 'em have it, let 'em 
 have it. I '11 buy Laurea a new one, or 
 two, for that matter." 
 
 " Ider and her sister will turn up their 
 noses at it; they '11 say it 's too high colored 
 or somethin' else. They ain't very grateful, 
 and they've got such queer notions. You 
 see they were raised by an aunt of theirs, 
 and she was an old maid." 
 
 "You knew Mrs. Orlando Butler before 
 her marriage?" 
 
 " Law, yes ! I should think I did know Ider 
 4
 
 50 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Shepherd ! They come from New Hamp- 
 shire to Cazenovia after their father died. 
 I used to visit Uncle Ezra Whitten there, and 
 I went to the Female Academy to take music 
 lessons. Old Miss Shepherd come there to 
 teach, and brought the girls with her. She 
 was a queer old thing, if ever there was one. 
 She brought them girls up to think it was 
 sinful to look at a man. I don't know how 
 Ider ever got married ; though she was rather 
 pretty, too, if she ever had any style. She 's 
 not so much like her aunt as Florer is." 
 
 Arthur excused himself for hurrying away 
 by pleading the necessity of catching his 
 train, and was permitted to depart, carrying 
 with him a large parcel, particularly ill done 
 up in newspaper, while John warmly urged 
 him to come again whenever he could, and 
 Mrs. John vainly tried to make Laurea send 
 her love to her little cousins. " The fact is," 
 said her mother, " them children are such 
 yonng scamps that Laurea don't take no 
 comfort in 'em." 
 
 Arthur walked off, unpleasantly conscious 
 of the conspicuous appearance he made in 
 carrying a large bundle of the young lady's 
 out-grown clothes ; but when he entered the 
 stuffy car in the " way train," which passed
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 51 
 
 twice a day through Liverpool, he found that 
 parcels of all kinds were the rule among the 
 passengers, and that his own would pass 
 unnoticed. He sat by the window, looking 
 out at the well-remembered scenes along the 
 road, but little changed since he had gone 
 over it when a boy, though then a ride on 
 the train had been a rare treat, and more 
 often he had trudged the five miles and back. 
 How long the way had been then, and how 
 short it seemed now ! 
 
 There was the budding veil of creepers, 
 hiding with their tender green the banks of 
 every railway cutting; for Onondaga soil is 
 rich, and Nature takes upon herself the unpaid 
 task, but for her left undone, of beautifying the 
 surroundings of the New York Central Rail- 
 road and its branches. There was Onondaga 
 Lake", shallow and with flat shores, yet giving 
 the air of freshness and freedom that only 
 water can give to a landscape. Liverpool, 
 on the bank, was not without its natural ad- 
 vantages, but it had an air, like a pretty 
 woman with slovenly habits, of not making 
 the best of itself. It was built round a great 
 open green, where the now budding elms 
 threw their branches so high into the air as 
 to let the light in beneath to color the spring-
 
 52 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 ing grass; but the place was unkempt and 
 untrimmed, and spring, here, was a less be- 
 coming period of the year than it ought to 
 have been, as the inhabitants, who acted with 
 deliberation, had not yet taken time to re- 
 move the piles of ashes and rubbish which 
 had accumulated in their yards during win- 
 ter. The view of the lake was cut off by 
 the long rows of salt-sheds which lined the 
 shore. They were empty now, the business 
 having forsaken Liverpool for more produc- 
 tive fields, and they were not objects to look 
 picturesque in decay. 
 
 Arthur stopped at the inn, or rather board- 
 ing-house, wrote some business letters, and 
 leaving his luggage there walked across the 
 green, all very quiet and still in the soft sweet 
 air, to a little frame-house, the home of his 
 mother's early married life, built, and* well- 
 built, though in the worst style of a period of 
 ugly houses, by her husband's own hands. 
 When he found she could not be happy at 
 his brother's he had paid off the mortgage 
 on it, and had it thoroughly put in order for 
 her ; but it now seemed to have relapsed into 
 the state in which he remembered it in his 
 boyhood, when they had not a penny to 
 spare for repairs. The fence was broken
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 53 
 
 here and there, and looked like the one he 
 used so painfully to try to patch up to keep 
 the neighbors' hens from scratching in the 
 small plot of ground where he strove to raise 
 a few vegetables. The shrubs which he had 
 so recently ordered for the little garden were 
 some uprooted and dying, some crushed and 
 broken ; flower-borders and grass-plats alike 
 were trodden hard and bare ; and a cinder- 
 heap in the back-ground was full in view. 
 
 " Disgusting ! " he thought to himself, as 
 he strode up the path; it was not uttered 
 aloud, for he seldom allowed himself to show 
 outward signs of disturbance ; but a sharp 
 and sudden knock against his ankle drew one 
 of an emphatic nature from him. It came, 
 as he now saw, from a stone thrown by a 
 child about four years old, while a younger 
 one launched a broken door-handle with equal 
 ill-will, but less dexterity. These young per- 
 sons were indistinguishable as to sex, both 
 being clad from head to foot in long brown 
 pinafores, over which hung long fair curling 
 hair, which streamed in the wind as they now 
 fled wildly round the corner of the house, 
 from their favorite playing-place, the cinder- 
 heap, only pausing to throw back grimaces 
 over their shoulders as they disappeared. If
 
 54 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 these were the cousins to whose manners 
 Miss Laurea objected, it must be owned that 
 she had some excuse ; but the little savages 
 were so very pretty that even in spite of the 
 unpleasant tingling sensation in his ankle, 
 Arthur felt inclined to take their part against 
 her. 
 
 He advanced and turned a handle in the 
 middle of the door, which struck a bell on 
 the inside, apparently more adapted to be 
 heard by the visitor's own ears than by those 
 of any inhabitant. For some moments no 
 one came, and he had time to contemplate 
 the battered door and broken doorscraper, 
 with a fresh emotion of anger, which vented 
 itself in a more violent turn of the crank. His 
 perturbation made his usually attentive ear 
 miss the sound of a light step within, and as 
 the door swung open, he started back with 
 feelings akin to those which might have been 
 experienced by that familiar heroine of the 
 nursery, Mrs. Bond, if when seeking in her 
 pond for the familiar domestic fowl of the 
 ditty, a splendid white swan had swelled its 
 plumage full in her face. The most beautiful 
 girl he had ever seen in his life was looking 
 at him, her eyes almost on a level with his. 
 There was something, too, in the backward
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 55 
 
 set of her lovely shoulders, and her cool 
 dazzling fairness that could have maintained 
 the comparison. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " he involuntarily 
 exclaimed ; " I thought no one had heard me 
 ring." 
 
 " I could not come at first," said the girl, 
 with no apologetic accent, but as if stating 
 a fact. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Butler at home? " 
 
 "She is," said the beauty, moving slightly 
 aside to let him pass into the little front 
 sitting-room. 
 
 "Will you be so good as to let her know 
 that Mr. Arthur Butler wishes to see her? 
 I believe," he went on, "I have the pleasure 
 of speaking to Miss " He had actually 
 forgotten in his confusion the maiden name 
 of his brother Orlando's wife, whose sister, 
 he supposed, must now be standing before 
 him. 
 
 "I am Flora," said the girl, coldly, and 
 without a smile; but her words resolved the 
 puzzling effort to find a resemblance in her 
 face, which he now recognized as being to 
 his favorite statue, her namesake at the 
 Capitol, though he knew only by photographs 
 that image of divine girlhood, so sweetly and
 
 56 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 fitly crowned with a wreath of roses. This 
 poor little goddess had lost her wreath in the 
 rough ways of life, but the few curving lines 
 which defined the soft contours of her youth- 
 ful face were the same; the same, those 
 exquisite beauties he had most especially 
 admired : the firm but fine-drawn outlines of 
 the mouth; the chin so lightly set upon, 
 yet so gently melting into the round slender 
 throat; and the soft texture of the skin on 
 the temples at the roots of the backward 
 rippling hair, as if faintly powdered with 
 gold-dust, which showed even in the pictured 
 marble. She was paler than one would have 
 imagined her prototype, but no sculptured 
 goddess ever made one imagine such eyes, 
 long in shape, with a thick, dark fringe, and 
 a languishing curve and droop, that might 
 have suggested coquetry, but that there was 
 no sparkle in their blue depths, nothing but 
 pure color full of latent light, like the sky. 
 She wore a very limp, faded, chocolate- 
 brown calico gown, one of Mrs. John Butler's 
 cast-off dresses, but it seemed designed for 
 as perfect a foil to her fairness as the with- 
 ered spathe that clings to the open blossom 
 of a white narcissus. 
 
 Arthur took all this in half consciously,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 57 
 
 while she opened the parlor window and the 
 closed blinds, and then saying, "I will tell 
 Mrs. Butler you are here," floated off, leav- 
 ing him to inhale a fragrance compounded 
 of the scent of old boots, muddy carpets, 
 carbolic acid, and last week's dinners, care- 
 fully preserved like pot-pourri, by keeping 
 it shut up. In a few moments Mrs. Butler, 
 a small, delicate, still pretty woman, who 
 looked a lady in her severely plain, cheap 
 black gown, worn as much from principle as 
 economy, hurried in and greeted her son 
 affectionately, though in a pre-occupied way. 
 
 " You must excuse a very poor dinner, 
 Arthur, my dear," she began, with a nervous 
 and deprecating air, as of one who expects 
 to be found fault with ; " we did not expect 
 you till the afternoon train." 
 
 "That is of no consequence." 
 
 " I have been trying to think where you 
 are to sleep, but we are so full perhaps we 
 can arrange a bed in this room." 
 
 " You must not trouble yourself. I have 
 engaged a room at Kemp's, and I can take 
 my meals there too, if it will save you 
 trouble." 
 
 " Oh, no, of course we want to have you 
 eat here if you don't mind; you won't
 
 58 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 expect much when there 's sickness in the 
 house." Mrs. Butler, as she spoke, fidgeted 
 restlessly about, and changed her seat once 
 or twice. Her son felt that it was cruel that 
 he should be such an object of alarm, and 
 though he had included her in some of the 
 indignation he had expressed, he realized, as 
 he always did when he was with her, that 
 she was scarcely to blame. "She's not fit 
 to take care of herself," he thought. 
 
 "Dinner is ready," said Flora, appearing 
 again, and each time a fresh surprise, at the 
 door, but vanishing so quickly that by the 
 time they reached the next room she had 
 left it. The small apartment was already 
 well filled by Arthur's younger brothers ; for 
 though the inheritance of the father's energy 
 had apparently been exhausted by his two 
 eldest sons, the younger approached him 
 more nearly in size. The Rev. Orlando 
 Butler, like his maternal grandfather a 
 clergyman of the Presbyterian Church, was 
 a tall thin loose-built man, with sloping 
 shoulders; and his long close-shaven face, 
 and near-sighted eyes, above which the hair 
 was already growing thin on the top of his 
 head, had a gentle, deprecating expression, 
 just now more marked than usual. He wore
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 59 
 
 a faded old wrapper, and old slippers down 
 at the heel, but there was a certain look of 
 refinement in spite of it all, which gave his 
 outward presence something akin to his 
 brother Arthur's fastidious elegance. His 
 attention was vehemently claimed by his 
 children, one of whom had hold of each 
 hand, and who made such pertinacious resis- 
 tance to letting go, that he was obliged to 
 give up the attempt to shake hands with 
 their uncle. They were now very neatly 
 dressed in frocks of butcher-blue linen, with 
 the proper distinction in masculine and femi- 
 nine cut and make, and their rich golden 
 hair, combed out into a glittering wavy 
 mane, made them look elaborately attired. 
 
 Jonah Butler, who rose with a yawn 
 from an old sofa where he had been loung- 
 ing, was as tall as Orlando, and twice as 
 broad, a great hulking vegetable-looking 
 lout, who needed pruning. As they sat 
 down Flora came in for a moment, flushed 
 and hurried, with her dress unchanged, and 
 carrying a large tray, which, still holding, 
 she deftly loaded with a selection from the 
 dishes on the table. Still balancing the 
 heavy weight on her left hand, she tried to 
 open the door with the other, when Arthur
 
 60 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 sprang up, and taking it from her before she 
 could refuse, opened it himself. 
 
 "Thank you," she murmured, in the low- 
 est tone, and for the first time with some 
 recognition in her eyes. 
 
 "Where can I take it for you, Miss 
 Shepherd?" 
 
 "Thank you, I must take it myself; it is 
 Ida's dinner," she said rather earnestly, as 
 if she expected him to insist on retaining it; 
 but he gave it up at once as soon as he saw 
 that she really wished it, and she disappeared 
 immediately. 
 
 "Is Flora coming to dinner? " asked Mrs. 
 Butler. 
 
 "No," said Orlando; "the baby is awake, 
 and she will have to hold him while Ida has 
 hers." 
 
 " It is a pity the baby will always wake at 
 meal times," said Mrs. Butler; "it takes 
 away Ida's appetite to hear it cry." 
 
 Indeed, through the open door a wail was 
 now heard, repeated at regular intervals, 
 like the mewing of a sickly kitten, though 
 each individual cry was so feeble that it 
 seemed as if it must be the last. It was not 
 so much like a complaint occasioned by any 
 particular discomfort, as a protest against the
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 6 1 
 
 misery of living altogether; but after a 
 while it suddenly ceased, and the equally 
 faint but more steady sound of a half-mur- 
 mured lullaby came with more or less 
 distinctness, as if the singer were moving 
 about. 
 
 " It is a great mistake to walk with babies 
 to stop their crying," said Mrs. Butler; "I 
 never did with any of you." 
 
 "Ida must have her dinner in peace," 
 said Orlando, with a sigh; "she eats little 
 enough." He did not himself make much 
 show of appetite, but spent most of his time 
 cutting up his children's meat, coaxing them 
 to eat a little, and allowing them to waste 
 a great deal, for they had capricious appe- 
 tites to match their dainty looks. Jonah, 
 on the contrary, devoured in silence about a 
 pound of corned-beef, with accompaniments 
 in like measure. Neither spectacle was con- 
 ducive to Arthur's enjoyment of the occa- 
 sion, and indeed the dinner, though cooked 
 by the fair hands of the beautiful Flora, 
 was, it must be confessed, a very uninviting 
 repast. As soon as it was over, without 
 much having been said by any one, Orlando 
 took the children upstairs, where their aunt 
 took off their blue frocks, the only respect-
 
 62 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 able garments they possessed, and in which it 
 was her intention to produce them again at 
 tea, and put on the discarded calico aprons. 
 
 "Who's that man?" asked Orlando the 
 second. 
 
 " Your uncle Arthur, my dear. " 
 
 "I don't like him, then," said the boy, 
 pouting like a sulky Cupid. 
 
 "I did frow stones at man," lisped the 
 girl, smiling like a cherub in bliss. 
 
 "And I hit him," added her brother, with 
 more distinct speech. 
 
 " Oh, children, children ! you will break 
 my heart ! " cried the aunt, in despair. The 
 .truth was that all her calculations had been 
 wofully upset. Mrs. Butler had been sure 
 that dear Arthur would want to spend the 
 day with dear John, and would not arrive in 
 Liverpool till evening, by which time Flora 
 had hoped to make the children presentable. 
 She had carefully cut their silken hair 
 straight across their brows, where it lay in 
 such light wavy fringes, and cast such pearly 
 shadows on their translucent skins, that it 
 seemed an insult when Mrs. Almira took up 
 the style and "banged," as she called it, 
 Laurea's thick dark coarse straight locks 
 like a dead wall just over her eyebrows.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 63 
 
 Then Flora had done up their blue frocks as 
 nicely as she could, feeling that if Ida her- 
 self could not appear, the sight of her 
 children might be enough to melt the hard 
 heart of the uncle, whom the family idea 
 depicted as rolling in money, and able to do 
 a great deal more for them than he did, if 
 he only wanted to. Hot tears rose to her 
 eyes, as she led the little reprobates down- 
 stairs, and lured them with some hoarded 
 bits of broken crockery to confine their 
 afternoon sports to the rubbish-heap by the 
 back door; while she went in to clear off 
 the table, relieved to find that the dining- 
 room was deserted, and that she could pick, 
 her own cold dinner from among the scraps 
 left, without being stared at by Jonah from 
 the lounge. Arthur, as soon as dinner was 
 over, had said to his younger brother: 
 
 "Will you go to Kemp's and ask for a 
 couple of parcels I left there ? Some things 
 Almira sent, and a little present I brought 
 for you," he added in explanation to his 
 mother. 
 
 " O h h too heavy for you, hey ? " 
 drawled Jonah, with an effort at sarcasm. 
 
 " You seem to have nothing to do, so you 
 may as well go."
 
 64 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 " Too grand to carry a bundle yourself, be 
 yer?" inquired Jonah, with as much of a 
 sneer as his heavy features could give ; but 
 he rose all the same. He never disobeyed 
 Arthur to his face. 
 
 Mrs. Butler knew that her son wanted to 
 improve the opportunity for a tete-a-tete with 
 her, which she dreaded, and thought it well 
 to put off by murmuring something about 
 "helping Flora clear off ; " so she lingered in 
 the dining-room, scraping the leavings from 
 one plate into another, as if with some 
 vague idea that they would disappear in the 
 process, and putting away all the clean 
 dishes into the wrong places. When Flora 
 had at last set everything to rights in a way 
 which left nothing for her to do, she finally 
 changed her apron with trembling hands, 
 and went into the parlor, hoping that 
 Orlando would come down to speak for 
 himself; but he did not.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 65 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " T AM very sorry to find things in such a 
 -- condition here," began Arthur with 
 his usual polish of manner, as if he were 
 addressing a stranger, but which was more 
 alarming to his mother than if he had flown 
 out at her in a rage; "the boys ought to 
 have known better than to come down upon 
 you in this way." 
 
 " I am very sorry," murmured Mrs. Butler. 
 
 "May I ask what Orlando's plans are 
 if he has any? " 
 
 " I hope Orlando will soon get some good 
 parish." 
 
 " Has he any in view ? " 
 
 " I do not think he has ; but you know a 
 minister has to wait for a call." 
 
 " He has been waiting six months, it 
 seems, and living on you in the mean time. 
 I don't suppose that what I have sent you 
 has been enough to support such a family, 
 and I want to know if you owe anything 
 here, and how much." 
 5
 
 66 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "I am afraid we do but I can't exactly 
 say; I hope it is not very much." 
 
 "Who does know?" 
 
 "I suppose the storekeeper will have it 
 on his books, will he not? He will show 
 them to you, if you ask." 
 
 "And can you tell me if his books are 
 correct ? " 
 
 "Oh, they must be! Mr. Taylor is a 
 professing Christian ! Perhaps, Arthur, you 
 might pay him a little while you are here, 
 and I think he would wait for the rest." 
 
 "Till when?" 
 
 "I don't know till Orlando gets a par- 
 ish, I suppose." 
 
 "It seems he could not pay his own bills 
 when he had a parish. " 
 
 " He has had a great deal of sickness in his 
 family, you know; but Orlando has a great 
 feeling against being in debt; he gave up his 
 parish at Pompey because he thought it was 
 not a good example for a minister to set." 
 
 " Does he think that it is a good example 
 for a minister to set to come and make his 
 mother run in debt by living upon her? " 
 
 " It would be hard if he could not expect 
 his mother to help him;" said Mrs. Butler, 
 in a trembling voice.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 6/ 
 
 "If you could, but you have not the 
 means; and he knew that perfectly well 
 when he came here." 
 
 "I suppose," said Mrs. Butler, tearfully, 
 "that he thought " 
 
 " That I should pay them for him ? Very 
 likely." 
 
 " I should think you would feel it a credit 
 to have a minister in the family, and want 
 to do a little something for him." 
 
 " I cannot consider such conduct a credit 
 to any one, minister or no minister. The 
 fact is, that I have always done all I could 
 for you, and more than all the others put 
 together; and though I have had to econo- 
 mize closely, I never ran into debt. I have 
 done something for the boys, too. I gave 
 John and Orlando presents when they were 
 married, the best I could afford, and I kept 
 Jonah at school, till I found he was learn- 
 ing nothing. I say these things, not to boast, 
 but to show that they have no right to expect 
 more of me." 
 
 " I hope Jonah will soon find something to 
 
 do; and we really have needed him at home 
 
 this winter; he goes all our errands to the 
 
 store." 
 
 " I cannot afford to pay him for doing that. "
 
 68 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "I wish," said Mrs. Butler, now melting 
 into tears, "that some one would give us 
 some money. Perhaps the Ladies' Home 
 Missionary Society they gave Orlando his 
 education, you know would help us a 
 little." 
 
 Arthur Butler was sorry for his mother, 
 and felt as uncomfortable as a man usually 
 does at the sight of a woman's tears; but he 
 had no deeper feeling, never having had any 
 sympathy with either of his parents, or any 
 special affection for them, except that lan- 
 guid one of habit. He had just enough of 
 his mother's personal refinement to make 
 him, as a child, repelled by his father's 
 coarse, overbearing ways; and enough of 
 his father's energy to be provoked at his 
 mother's fatuity; while having twice the 
 brains of either of them, his sense of these 
 qualities was less likely to be deadened by 
 custom. Indeed, Mrs. Butler herself could 
 hardly have been said to love the husband, 
 whom she had married because he asked, or 
 rather told her to do so; and had he lived 
 longer, perhaps his love would have died out 
 as the pretty face faded by which it had 
 been won. 
 
 It was useless, Arthur felt, to say any
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 69 
 
 more to her now on this theme; he realized 
 for the hundredth time the impossibility of 
 making her understand; and after standing 
 a few moments looking blankly out of the 
 window, he asked abruptly: "Where did 
 Orlando's wife come from? " 
 
 "It is a very romantic story," said Mrs. 
 Butler, glad to change the subject, and 
 always mildly interested in anything "like 
 a story," as she called it; and she proceeded 
 in the style of the tales in the " Lady's 
 Book " which she had read in her giddy 
 youth, before her conversion, since which 
 period she had touched no work of fiction. 
 " Ida and Flora were two lovely orphans, 
 born and brought up in a beautiful but 
 secluded valley in New Hampshire, where 
 their father, a poor but pious clergyman " 
 "I thought you said they were orphans." 
 "Oh, that was not till afterwards. Their 
 father died more than five years ago, when 
 Ida was seventeen, and Flora fourteen. 
 Their mother had long been dead, and their 
 aunt, a maiden lady, but a very remarkable 
 woman, had kept house for their father, and 
 brought them up. She had taught in a very 
 fine school in Boston, and when Mr. Shep- 
 herd died, she got a situation as assistant
 
 7O BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 principal in the Female Seminary in Caze- 
 novia, where Orlando had just been settled. 
 Orlando thought a great deal of Miss Esther 
 Shepherd; and she thought a great deal of 
 him. He always said she was as fine an 
 example of female piety as he ever saw." 
 
 "Where is she now? " 
 
 "In a better world," said Mrs. Butler. 
 "She passed away three years ago, just 
 about the time Flossy was born." 
 
 Arthur would have asked more, but Jonah 
 appeared at the door, and Mrs. Butler had 
 only time to say, pleadingly, " She was sick 
 a great while, and most of her savings were 
 used up; but Ida and Flora have each a 
 nice little income of thirty dollars of their 
 own; and it saves a girl for us to have 
 Flora, she is very smart." 
 
 "Here they be," grunted Jonah, dumping 
 the parcels he carried on to the hair-cloth 
 sofa, from which they rolled, and had to be 
 picked up again. Mrs. Butler opened the 
 larger one with some curiosity, and said 
 that Almira was always so kind and liberal, 
 but her taste was too gay for her, and she 
 wished the things were a little plainer, more 
 suitable for a minister's family; but it was 
 very good in her to remember them. She
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. Jl 
 
 was still turning over the contents, crum- 
 pled from close packing, when Flora appeared 
 in the doorway with the usual quiet which 
 characterized her movements. In her arms 
 she carried the baby, which for a wonder 
 happened to be awake and silent ; and which 
 she hoped, might produce a favorable impres- 
 sion on the uncle, and perhaps do something 
 toward effacing that so unfortunately made 
 by its brother and sister. The baby was 
 very thin and small, but it had a sweet little 
 face, and at any rate it could not throw 
 stones; so she put on its best frock, and 
 wrapped it in a white shawl which had been 
 her mother's. That it might be the better 
 set off, she wore her own best gown, an old 
 blue cashmere, faded, but of a pretty shade, 
 and the only one she possessed which had 
 really been made for her; but that was a 
 long time ago, and it would not meet in 
 front, so she turned it away at the neck, 
 threw an old muslin handkerchief over her 
 shoulders, and knotting it loosely in front, 
 thought that on the whole it looked very well. 
 " Here is your dear little namesake, 
 Arthur," said Mrs. Butler; "I suppose you 
 were very much pleased to be remembered, 
 were you not ? "
 
 72 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Flora looked at the baby, and then shyly 
 at Arthur, as if to claim his attention for it; 
 but his eyes were fixed on her. No man 
 had ever looked at her in such a way before. 
 She had never had a lover who had passed 
 beyond the first stage of courtship; and that 
 stage was only associated in her mind with 
 forward remarks, and rude attempts at gal- 
 lantry, which had frightened her and made 
 her shrink away, and cling for protection 
 even to the yet more timid Ida. 
 
 As she stood with the baby in her arms, 
 its weight too light to give any impression 
 of effort in the holding, and yet enough to 
 give balance and poise to the long graceful 
 lines of her figure, Arthur was thinking that 
 she made a lovelier image than had yet been 
 given to the world of that blended expres- 
 sion which should mark the Virgin Mother. 
 He was too penetrated with her presence to 
 think that he was a young man looking at a 
 girl, till he saw her dazzling fairness flush 
 with a rosy glow like a snowpeak in the sun- 
 rise; and then he turned away, feeling that 
 if he looked longer now, the worship might 
 profane the shrine. He wondered if Ida were 
 half as beautiful as her sister, and thought 
 that if she were, it was an act of great pre-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 73 
 
 sumption in Orlando to have married her; 
 and then he wished, as he always did when 
 he saw anything lovely in nature or art, that 
 he could share his pleasure with Miss Curtis. 
 How she would enjoy it ! As for him, it 
 was well, he thought, that he could look on 
 beauty with a purely artistic delight of the 
 eye alone. 
 
 " It is very small, is it not ? " he asked, 
 trying to pay due attention to the baby; "it 
 is odd to think that they can be so tiny." 
 
 "It is improving, we hope," said Mrs. 
 Butler, " since we put it on ' Mellin's food ; ' 
 the only trouble is that it is very expensive. " 
 
 Arthur did not feel competent to discuss 
 the subject, and took up the other parcel, 
 saying, " I have brought a little present for 
 you, mother, from a friend of mine Miss 
 Curtis." 
 
 "Courtin', be yer?" asked Jonah, with a 
 more knowing grin than usual ; and Mrs. 
 Butler looked anxious as she said, "I hope 
 she is a nice young lady, I am sure, for 
 your sake, Arthur. Is she a professor of 
 religion? How long have you known her? " 
 
 "For several years," said Arthur; "but 
 there is nothing of what you imagine. Miss 
 Curtis, I should think, must be as old as
 
 74 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 you." He looked at his mother a little 
 doubtfully. She had been a very pretty little 
 woman, and was still a very pretty little old 
 lady, but to think of her as a contemporary 
 of Miss Curtis seemed thoroughly absurd. 
 
 "Is she a Christian?" went on Mrs. 
 Butler. 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "And what denomination does she be- 
 long to ? " 
 
 "She is a member of Trinity Church." 
 
 "Oh, an Episcopalian," said Mrs. But- 
 ler, with a slight shade of disappointment. 
 "Still, my dear, Episcopalians may be 
 Christians; I have known several excel- 
 lent ones in that denomination;" and she 
 slowly drew from the "parcel, which Arthur 
 had untied, a colored group of angels, after 
 Era Angelico. 
 
 " Ah, yes ; it is very pretty, and it seems 
 a sacred subject; did the lady paint it her- 
 self, my dear ? " 
 
 "No, it is a chromo-lithograph. Miss 
 Curtis has been very kind to me, mother, 
 and she sent you her regards, and thought 
 you might enjoy the picture, as it is a favor- 
 ite of her own." 
 
 " She is very kind, I am sure. How did
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 75 
 
 you come to know her? Did she board in 
 the same house with you? " 
 
 "No, I met her in society, and she has 
 invited me a great deal." 
 
 " Does she live with friends ? " 
 
 "No; in her own house. " 
 
 " Has she a house of her own ? I suppose 
 she is well off." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Mrs. Butler, "she might 
 do something for us, if you asked her. 
 Couldn't you tell her all about us, Or- 
 lando's being a minister, and Ida's having 
 such poor health? She might feel disposed 
 to help us." 
 
 "I could not possibly ask her." 
 
 "I wish I knew her, and I bet you I'd 
 ask her," said Jonah. 
 
 "I don't see why not," said his mother. 
 " I remember my dear father had a rich and 
 pious friend, Mr. Isaac Jacobus, of Utica, 
 who used to send him all his old clothes; 
 they fitted exactly, and he seldom had to 
 buy any. I dare say Miss Curtis would 
 gladly take up a collection among her 
 friends for us." 
 
 Arthur said no more ; but there was some- 
 thing in his silence that made Flora glad to
 
 76 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 seize a chance to carry the baby off; it was 
 falling asleep, and must be laid down. It 
 was always going to sleep, but it never 
 stayed asleep long, its feeble vitality per- 
 petually calling for food, which only satisfied 
 it for a few moments. She put it down, 
 however, and stood looking at it for a 
 breathing-space, while the flush faded from 
 her face. She had been prepared to dis- 
 like Arthur Butler by his letter, which his 
 mother had shown her, Mrs. Butler was 
 one of those women who show every letter 
 they receive to everybody in the house, 
 but he did not seem like the man who had 
 written it, or, what she had imagined him, 
 something like his brother John, only better 
 educated. Mrs. Butler was always fearing 
 that her two oldest sons were growing 
 " worldly and fashionable ; " but Arthur, if 
 he resembled any one she had ever seen 
 before, reminded her of her own father, to 
 whom those words certainly did not apply. 
 Nay, there was even something about his 
 elegant attire and the way he wore it that 
 recalled the country minister's old coats 
 and hats. The softened tone to women, 
 the courtesies unobtrusively offered, the 
 gentle deference, as to beings set apart,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 77 
 
 which had never been wanting from " Parson 
 Shepherd " to any woman, even to his little 
 school-girl daughters, had made him, in the 
 estimation of his female parishioners, "a 
 real gentleman." That they could exist in 
 a young man, and a man of the world, was a 
 revelation; a revelation, too, the admiration 
 for her beauty that gave them a more per- 
 sonal application. Orlando was kind and 
 good, and indulgent to feminine weaknesses ; 
 but his religion had taught him that "favor 
 was deceitful, and beauty was vain ; " and 
 even his seventeen-year-old bride, in the 
 budding bloom of her youth, had never 
 moved him to love's foolish ecstasies. 
 
 It was a mercy for Flora that she had no 
 more time to think over these problems ; 
 the few minutes she had were too much. 
 She was soon busy again, and did not appear 
 at tea, except to fill her sister's tray; and 
 she stayed up stairs to put the children to 
 bed, and settle Ida for the night, while 
 Orlando, enveloped in a big apron, patiently 
 toiled to clear away below, and Mrs. Butler, 
 in the sitting-room, told Arthur that Flora 
 was a remarkable girl, and could do any- 
 thing. Her father had fitted her to teach 
 before his death, and she was a splendid
 
 78 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 sick-nurse; she had nursed her aunt for 
 two years with a cancer, and had taken 
 care of Ida since the baby was three days 
 old. 
 
 Arthur did not come to breakfast the next 
 morning, thinking that his presence at so 
 early an hour might be an incumbrance in 
 the small, crowded house. He went out to 
 walk, and think over the hopeless muddle 
 of family affairs, and in the midst of his 
 thinking came upon Orlando, coming from 
 the village store; for though this was the 
 one piece of domestic duty at which Jonah 
 never rebelled, he had not of late been as 
 useful in it as formerly, the store-keeper 
 beginning to find that he was suddenly out 
 of the articles required. Orlando, in his cler- 
 ical character, could still command respect 
 and attention, and though it was unpleasant 
 for him to ask for what he might never be 
 able to pay for, what can a husband and 
 father do when his sickly baby refuses to 
 eat anything but Mellin's Food? He had 
 found the people unusually civil to-day, 
 owing to rumors of Arthur's arrival in the 
 town, and was returning with his little 
 parcel in his hand when the brothers met. 
 They could not talk over their private affairs
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 79 
 
 in the street, empty as it was; but when 
 they had reached home and crossed the little 
 garden, where Jonah, also under the influ- 
 ence of that overmastering presence, had 
 begun to spade up the ground in an aimless 
 way, and walked round to the back door of 
 the house, Arthur threw himself on the 
 bench in the porch, with " I should like to 
 have a few words with you, Orlando." 
 
 "In a moment," said Orlando, entering 
 the house with his parcel; and under the 
 circumstances perhaps he cannot be blamed 
 if the moment extended to two, which gave 
 Arthur, always self-possessed, time to get 
 his breath and muster his thoughts, and he 
 began with alarming formality : 
 
 " You know that J have supported my 
 mother almost entirely since I was fifteen, 
 though not at first as well as I could wish. 
 Of late years I have been able to give her a 
 sum large enough to keep her in comfort, 
 quite as large as, w,ith her simple habits, she 
 required. I was obliged for years to prac- 
 tise the greatest economy to do this. I 
 never expected any of my brothers to help 
 me. Such little assistance as John chooses 
 to give I never asked, though I am willing 
 for his own sake to accept it. I offer no com-
 
 80 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 plaint, and I make no boast. I should have 
 felt it beneath me to do any less. Now f 
 find that you have all come down upon her, 
 and are eating up her substance. The 
 allowance I make her is certainly not enough 
 to keep such a family. What reason have 
 you to suppose that I am able, even if 
 inclined, to give any more?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Orlando, deject- 
 edly, "I did not like to bring the whole 
 family to mother's, but it seemed the best, 
 that is, the only thing to do under the cir- 
 cumstances; and I did not think that it 
 would last so long." 
 
 " How much longer do you suppose it 
 will last?" 
 
 " I cannot say. Dr. Griscom hopes that if 
 Ida goes on as well as she is doing now, she 
 can come downstairs in another week or two. 
 It all depends upon the baby; worrying 
 about him keeps her back terribly. I may 
 be able to get off and preach somewhere as 
 a candidate. I should have gone before, but 
 I really could not leave her." 
 
 " I am sorry for your difficulties, but I 
 don't see that they give you the right to 
 deprive my mother, for whom you have 
 never done anything, of the comforts of her
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 8 1 
 
 home, and what is worse, of her reputation. 
 John tells me you have left your parish in 
 debt. It seems to me that it would have 
 been better to stay and face it out than to 
 come here and start afresh upon her credit." 
 
 " I hoped when I came to find something 
 to do." 
 
 "The church here is empty, it seems. 
 Was there any chance of their giving you a 
 call ? " 
 
 "No," said Orlando, with a little reluc- 
 tance; "I I don't think that a man has 
 much chance of a call where he was born 
 and brought up. I thought I should get the 
 weddings and funerals and such ; but it has 
 unfortunately happened that they have gen- 
 erally come when I was unable to attend 
 them." 
 
 "You can hardly expect people to time 
 their exit from the world so as to put burial- 
 fees into your pocket, " said Arthur. Orlando 
 made no answer, and his brother went on: 
 " I suppose you thought you had something 
 to fall back upon. You knew me well 
 enough to feel sure that I would never allow 
 my mother to be in debt in my native town. 
 Wringing money out of me in this way may 
 accord with the character of a clergyman ; 
 6
 
 82 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 I cannot say that it does with my notion of 
 a gentleman." 
 
 " I did think you might be willing to do a 
 little for us." 
 
 " My being willing, as I have told you 
 before, is not the point ; you had no reason 
 to know that I was able. You know that I 
 earned every cent that I paid for my own 
 education, and that while I was helping my 
 mother, even from the first, I had no assis- 
 tance till I won a scholarship at college; 
 while you were educated by the Ladies' Home 
 Missionary Society, and kept into the bar- 
 gain. You are only a year younger than I 
 am, and the start they gave you ought to 
 have counterbalanced that. I made one 
 resolution which I have never broken, that 
 I would never get into debt. What I spent, 
 I earned first. If I had to run in debt now 
 to pay what you owe here, I would not do 
 it ; but do it I shall, and that before I leave 
 this place." 
 
 " I hope it is not going to be too great an 
 inconvenience to you." 
 
 " Your anxiety comes rather late. I have 
 asked Taylor to send his account in to me 
 to-night. Are there any others ? '' 
 
 "There is Mr. Snyder for milk, and the
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 83 
 
 butcher for meat and vegetables, but that 
 is not much." 
 
 " Get them for me this afternoon, if you 
 please. Have you any doctor's bill? " 
 
 "Oh, no, Dr. Griscom never charges me 
 anything. He would not to a minister's 
 family." 
 
 "I do not see why he should give his time 
 for nothing to them, any more than they 
 should to him. Does he pay no pew- 
 rent ? " 
 
 "He never goes to meeting, you know;" 
 said Orlando, simply. 
 
 "I presume," said Arthur, "if he doctors 
 the clergy for nothing, he must see enough 
 of them elsewhere." 
 
 Orlando made no answer to this sarcasm, 
 and Arthur, angry at having lowered him- 
 self by making it, was silent too for a 
 moment, and then began again, still in the 
 same slow, serene, exquisitely modulated 
 voice: "The fact is, Orlando, you began 
 wrong. Your trade, if you will excuse me 
 for saying so, is a beggarly one, unless you 
 can stand at the top of it. First, your edu- 
 cation was given you, and you were sup- 
 ported while you had it, out of a parcel of 
 old women's money-boxes; that takes the
 
 84 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 stuff out of a man, and makes him go on 
 passing -the hat round the rest of his life. 
 Our grandfather was always doing so, and 
 mother was brought up to think it a matter 
 of course. I suppose your father-in-law 
 brought up his family on the same princi- 
 ple; it is the badge of the tribe. Now, if 
 the supply is greater than the demand in 
 this business, or if you don't know how to 
 meet the demand, I should say you had 
 better try something else." 
 
 "I am sure," said Orlando, in a trembling 
 voice, "I would gladly do anything I could 
 for the 'support of my wife and children. I 
 did hope I hope I have not been alto- 
 gether useless in the ministry, but I know 
 that he that provideth not for his own is 
 worse than a heathen." 
 
 " I should feel more disposed to help you 
 if you had been more ingenuous with me 
 from the first, and asked for help, instead of 
 screwing it out of me in this way; I suppose 
 you must stay on here till you find some- 
 thing, but you must keep a strict account of 
 your expenses here, and forward it to me 
 weekly. Your debts in Pompey you cannot 
 expect me to take up." 
 
 "Thank you," said Orlando; "we will try
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. . 85 
 
 to be as saving as we can. You are very 
 kind." 
 
 It was now Arthur's turn to feel as if his 
 brother might be indulging in satire, though 
 nothing could be less meaning than the tone 
 in which these words were said, and he 
 answered, with the first sign of irritation he 
 had shown: "There is one way in which I 
 should like to see you saving less; you seem 
 to be getting all the household work out of 
 that girl, and letting her pay you for doing 
 it ; it strikes me that the bargain is a dear 
 one at thirty dollars a year." 
 
 Orlando, who had winced somewhat under 
 his brother's previous sarcasms, looked sur- 
 prised at this one, as if the idea were en- 
 tirely new to him. " Flora would not be 
 happy away from Ida," he quietly remarked; 
 " she would not go if I should try to make 
 her." 
 
 "It is scandalous," said Arthur, with ris- 
 ing heat; "you ought to have one servant, 
 at least, to relieve her. See that you get 
 one as soon as possible, and I will pay her 
 wages." 
 
 "Well," said Orlando, " if you can 
 afford so much money. Girls are very 
 hard to get here, and indeed I hardly know
 
 86 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 where we can put one now, the house is 
 so full." 
 
 "Get one to come by the day, then." 
 " That would cost a great deal more. " 
 "Never mind how much it costs. I will 
 not have a young lady cooking my dinner 
 when I come here. It is not proper work 
 for her." 
 
 "Almost all our ladies here do their own 
 work," said Orlando, still mildly astonished. 
 " Even John's wife does, a good deal of the 
 time." 
 
 Arthur reddened, conscious that there was 
 something silly and snobbish in the tone of 
 his last remark, coming from a man who had 
 so many times seen his mother over the 
 cooking-stove or washing-tub; conscious too, 
 that if Flora had been Mrs. John's sister, 
 and cut out on her pattern, the spectacle of 
 her doing any kind of work would have been 
 one to regard with equanimity. He felt that 
 he was put at a disadvantage in continuing 
 the discussion and was glad when a some- 
 what awkward pause was broken by the 
 ringing of the bell for dinner, at which meal 
 Flora appeared with burning cheeks, the 
 heat produced by cooking on a languid 
 spring day having been doubled by over-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 87 
 
 hearing the whole of the above conversation, 
 carried on in audible masculine tones just 
 outside the kitchen window, at a point where 
 running away meant ruin to a not over 
 abundant repast. She had the uncomforta- 
 ble sensation, doubly so to a woman, of not 
 being able thoroughly to take part with 
 either speaker. She thought Arthur hard 
 and cruel, and yet she could not but own 
 that what he said had some justice in 
 it. She loathed, herself, to be in debt, and 
 she thought of her father's and her aunt 
 Esther's housekeeping, where every penny 
 due was paid before Saturday night; but 
 then no one was ever ill, or lazy, in those 
 far-off, far-away, halcyon days ! 
 
 As to what was said of herself, personally, 
 it touched her little. They had never kept 
 a servant at her father's, and Aunt Esther 
 had always said household work was a fit and 
 proper occupation for a lady, and that all 
 the noble women in history and poetry were 
 proficients in it. Only, Aunt Esther's house- 
 keeping was in a different style from this, a 
 housekeeping of white curtains and flowers 
 in the windows, and dainty little dishes and 
 old china on the table. She had not time 
 to do anything now as it ought to be done,
 
 88 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 and she knew that every day she was giving 
 up something that her aunt had thought 
 essential. But let things be as bad as they 
 would, she would never have a servant to 
 help her whose wages were to come out of 
 Mr. Arthur Butler's pocket!
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 89 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " A RTHUR'S going to take me to ride 
 
 \ this afternoon;" said Mrs. Butler, 
 as they rose from the table. " I asked if he 
 would n't get Hazard's double team, and 
 then you could come too, Orlando, and take 
 the children." 
 
 "Flora must go; " said Orlando. 
 
 "Thank you very much, but I cannot pos- 
 sibly," said Flora, as she left the room. 
 
 " I don't see how she can leave," said Mrs. 
 Butler. 
 
 Arthur said nothing, agreeable as the 
 prospect of the exchange was ; but Orlando, 
 leaving the room in his turn, pursued his 
 sister-in-law into the depths of the kitchen : 
 " Come, Flora, you must go ; it will do you 
 good." 
 
 " You are very kind, Orlando, but I don't 
 see how I can. If you will go, and take 
 Landy and Flossy, it will be the best thing 
 you can do ; I can get plenty of time then for 
 all the work."
 
 9O BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "So can I," said Orlando; and seeing that 
 she looked doubtful of his powers, he cut 
 short the argument by saying, " Come, come, 
 child ! run along ! you must "get out some- 
 times, and you will work better when you 
 come home. I insist upon it," he added. 
 There was a little touch of decision about 
 him when he spoke to his wife and her sis- 
 ter, and Flora turned slowly away. She 
 did not know whether she wanted most to 
 go or to stay at home; but when she had 
 hastily dressed herself and run downstairs, 
 her heart was beating fast with that tumul- 
 tuous pleasure that presages pain, perhaps 
 because, at nineteen, it was years since she 
 had had any pleasure properly so-called. 
 Arthur was waiting at the door, having 
 already settled his mother carefully on the 
 back seat of the wagon, with Flossy by her 
 side. 
 
 As the two children, for the sake of 
 peace, could not be trusted together, Master 
 Orlando must sit in front, between his uncle 
 and aunt, "like a family" as Jonah re- 
 marked from the doorstep, rather provoked 
 that he had not been asked when there was 
 plenty of room. But his words fell unheeded 
 on the ears of the pair as they drove away
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 91 
 
 from indoor cares and darkness in the quiver- 
 ing light air of early spring, too soft, too 
 sweet, too new to make one feel the need of 
 more shade than was given by the tender bud- 
 ding boughs. Arthur drove a lively pair of 
 bay horses, and drove them well. He had had 
 no early training in this and kindred pur- 
 suits; but he knew that they were part of a 
 gentleman's education; he had not in col- 
 lege worked harder at his books than at 
 athletics of all kinds, trying to replace the 
 second nature of early habit by the putting 
 of a powerful mind to master every minute 
 detail ; and he had succeeded so far that he 
 now seemed to throw no effort into his easy 
 handling of the reins, and had plenty of 
 attention to spare for his fair companion. 
 She wore her blue cashmere dress and white 
 fichu, and on the back of her head, the only 
 place where it would fit, a large, old, broad- 
 brimmed, black straw hat, too rusty and 
 broken for even Orlando's wear; but she 
 had covered it with coarse black net fulled 
 on and drawn into a great rosette at one 
 side. Even set sharply against this back- 
 ground, the lines of her throat and chin 
 were too soft, too delicate, to be fitly shown 
 by the finest pencil line, and every crisp
 
 92 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 bright tendril of her hair shone separate out 
 in a way no brush could imitate. They were 
 close before his eyes, and the arm that she 
 had thrown round the little boy was so near 
 that her small ungloved hand touched his 
 coat. Flora had no gloves or sunshade, and 
 no money to buy them ; but as she faced the 
 sun for a ten-mile drive, the pearly whiteness 
 of her skin seemed intensified by the light, 
 while the heightened color on her cheek 
 looked like some transient effect of cloud 
 or rainbow, too bright to last. "Really," 
 he thought, "she has enough points to fit 
 out a dozen professional beauties. Why, her 
 very hair is enough to found a reputation 
 on! " His being able to notice all these at- 
 tractions so minutely and accurately showed 
 that there was no danger, any more than 
 there might be from a picture he might 
 admire, and made him feel safe in trying to 
 penetrate a little below the surface. 
 
 " Have you been on many of the drives 
 about here ? " he began as they bowled 
 smoothly along. 
 
 " I have not been on any." 
 
 "Then I will choose one, if you don't 
 mind. The country here has not much to 
 boast of ; it is rather out of the way of the
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 93 
 
 scenery districts of New York; but it is 
 rich and fertile, and fields and farms any- 
 where look pleasant in spring." 
 
 "It is pretty," said Flora, shyly, "very 
 pretty, but it seems to want something ; I 
 don't know how to express it, but it is all so 
 much alike." 
 
 " It wants what a painter would call com- 
 position, you mean ? That is the lack in a 
 great deal of our pretty rural scenery; this 
 rolling ground with one great swelling field 
 after another, lacks point and contrast." 
 
 "There are beautiful trees here though," 
 said Flora, looking admiringly at a row of 
 tall oaks in a hedgerow. " I wish there 
 were more of them together so as to make a 
 wood." 
 
 " Yes, you want something bolder to set 
 off these rich, fertile foregrounds, some dis- 
 tant peak, some dark belt of forest, some rock 
 cropping out here and there." 
 
 " It seems a pity to find fault when there 
 is so much that is beautiful. Now that I 
 can see the lake in the distance, through 
 the trees, I could almost fancy that it is one 
 of the lakes at home." 
 
 " You mean at Cazenovia, or Pompey ? " 
 
 " No ; they never came to seem like home.
 
 94 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 I mean our old home ; that was at Croydon, 
 Croydon, in New Hampshire. I was 
 born there, and we lived there till my father 
 died." 
 
 "Croydon! yes, that is a beautiful place; 
 I was there last year." 
 
 "Oh, have you been there? Did you see 
 it? How long did you stay?" cried Flora, 
 now growing pale with eagerness. "Did 
 you " she began again, but paused, un- 
 able to say another word. 
 
 " I was on a coaching tour with a party of 
 friends, and we drove down through Croydon 
 on our way from Sunapee to Newport by the 
 back road over the hills and a rough road 
 it was ; but the views were so fine that I do 
 not think any of us heeded that but Man- 
 ning, who was worrying about his horses. 
 However, they did it splendidly. I shall 
 never forget that last pitch down the hill to 
 the village of Croydon Flats, do you call 
 it ? " 
 
 " Oh, how often I have been that way ! " 
 said the girl, with a long breath. 
 
 "Did you live up there? " 
 
 "No, we lived in the village, near the 
 church. Perhaps you saw the house, a 
 white house with a garden in front, and a
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 95 
 
 bow window over the porch." She looked 
 so eager that Arthur was sorry to confess 
 that he could not identify the house. 
 
 "There were several pretty old houses 
 there. I did not know but that you lived in 
 that picturesque brown house, with the holly- 
 hocks up to the eaves, on the edge of the 
 pond near the foot of the hill." 
 
 " Rocky-Bound, you mean ; we used to go 
 there. Father had to visit his parish all 
 over the hills, and he used to take us too. 
 Sometimes he took Aunt Esther, and some- 
 times Ida and me together; we could not 
 all go very often, because Deacon Wilcox 
 used to lend us his horse and chaise, and it 
 would not hold us all. The horse had to 
 walk all the way up that long hill, and 
 father would take the time to teach us our 
 lessons. He could say all the verbs from 
 memory, and a great deal of poetry." She 
 was talking more to herself than to her 
 companion, and now, suddenly seeming to 
 recollect his presence, stopped short, the 
 fugitive color flushing her cheeks again. 
 
 " I should think the scene more congenial 
 to poetry than verbs;" said Arthur, smil- 
 ing, but it was a good-natured smile, such 
 as is given to children from older ones who
 
 96 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 are fond of them, and seemed to put her at 
 her ease, for she smiled back again, showing 
 her pearls of teeth, the first time he had 
 ever seen her smile. 
 
 " Yes, is it not lovely ? And when we got 
 to the top we always used to drive into Mrs. 
 Welcome Partridge's; she lived in that 
 house did you see it? on the right hand 
 as you go up, just at the brow of the hill, 
 where you can look so far off. We always 
 used to go in there to see the view, and rest 
 the horse, and, ask how she was, for she was 
 a friend of Aunt Esther's. I wonder if she 
 lives there yet. Does it look as if she did? " 
 
 "I remember the house; it is in a lovely 
 situation, but the only one of the family I 
 saw was a dog who barked at ue. " 
 
 "Was he a large black and white dog, 
 with long hair? " 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 " If it was Bonny, he meant no harm, he 
 never bites." 
 
 " No, it was a bark of friendly character, 
 I assure you." 
 
 "But perhaps," said Flora, thoughtfully, 
 " it was not Bonny. That was more than 
 five years ago, and five years is a great while 
 for a dog."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 97 
 
 "Auntie Flora," interrupted young Or- 
 lando, " was that the dog Bonny? " 
 
 "Yes, dear, I hope so." 
 
 "Tell me how you used to make Bonny 
 jump ! " 
 
 " No, not now, Landy dear. " 
 
 "But I want you to," persisted the boy. 
 
 "There is a real dog," said Flora; "look 
 at him ; and there are oxen in the barnyard. " 
 
 She gave her attention to the children, 
 who now began to be restless; for though 
 pleased at first with the novelty of the drive, 
 their mercurial natures would not long 
 endure the confinement; and Arthur had to 
 stop his horses while their places were 
 changed, Miss Flossy clamoring for her 
 turn at driving, much to Landy 's disgust. 
 "Girls can't drive!" he insisted, rousing 
 his sister's wrath in return, until Flora set- 
 tled the point, whether by coaxing, or 
 promising, or reasoning, it is difficult to 
 say; she settled it in rather doubtful fash- 
 ion, for there were renewed outbreaks of 
 petulance from both children until the rapid 
 motion and the warm weather lulled them 
 to sleep, Landy with his head on his 
 grandmother's lap, and Flossy in her aunt's 
 arms. Arthur would now have renewed the 
 7
 
 98 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 conversation; but Flora was silent, ashamed 
 of having said so much in her momentary 
 excitement. Without appearing to notice 
 this he began to talk to her without waiting 
 for a reply, telling her about his coaching 
 trip and various little incidents connected 
 with it. He had never tried so hard to 
 please, for he would have given much to see 
 her smile again. She did not; but there 
 was an inspiring intentness in the way she 
 listened, that brought back more vividly his 
 own recollections of the lovely, lonely ways 
 that tempt you so irresistibly to trace out 
 their hidden windings among the heaped-up, 
 " green -muffled " Croydon hills. He went 
 on to describe his companions, other coach- 
 ing tours, other adventures, anything 
 that might amuse her; yet, when his 
 mother's house was reached again, and he 
 watched her till she entered the door with 
 the half -awakened children clinging to her 
 skirts, there was something in the stately 
 grace of her vanishing form that contrasted 
 all the more painfully with the contracted, 
 ill-kept surroundings, because even this 
 poor shelter was hers only on sufferance, 
 and he felt as if he had been almost cruel to 
 give her an outlook into a brighter life,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 99 
 
 his life, the one that it was in his power 
 to take up again when he left his old home, 
 where but few tender associations pleaded 
 for remembrance. Yet he was beginning to 
 perceive that the settlement of his family 
 problems was not so simple as it had 
 appeared to him from a distance, and that it 
 would cost him more money than had at all 
 entered into his calculations, and which he 
 must give if he would not look mean in his 
 own eyes. 
 
 Sunday morning dawned clear and bright, 
 and Mrs. Butler had the satisfaction of put- 
 ting on her carefully preserved black silk 
 gown, and walking to church on one son's 
 arm to hear the other preach. Neither said 
 a word to 'damp her enjoyment, though 
 Arthur would much rather have stayed at 
 home, and Orlando, but for the impropriety 
 of the thing, would much rather have had 
 him. If anything was appalling to the poor 
 fellow, it was to have Arthur for a listener, 
 perfectly dressed, imperturbably attentive, 
 with an air of condescending, critical civil- 
 ity, under which a familiar eye might 
 perceive that he was decorously amused. 
 Arthur, meanwhile, was mentally calculat- 
 ing his brother's chances of a "good parish,"
 
 IOO BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 and concluding that they were not promis- 
 ing. It seemed incredible to him that 
 Orlando could make so little of his oppor- 
 tunities. " He reads the Scriptures with 
 the regular theological-seminary whine! " 
 he thought; "and how much any one who 
 knew how could make out of that chapter ! " 
 The prayers, too, were in the old stock 
 phraseology; surely there were plenty of 
 chances for telling variations at that time 
 of day. Orlando, meanwhile, was finding 
 some comfort in the old phrases, as so many 
 cast-down souls have done before him, and 
 he gave out his text and began his sermon 
 without thinking of any one's presence, 
 until recalled by the slight, almost imper- 
 ceptible gleam of amusement in Arthur's 
 eye, as he was reflecting that Orlando did 
 not even put the case as well as it might be 
 put. " How should he," he thought, "set 
 up in a pulpit for half an hour with no 
 one to answer back again? I should like to 
 hear one of these parsons pleading a case in 
 an equity court ! It would teach them some- 
 thing to pitch them against each other. 
 They might at least learn to keep their 
 audience awake ! " as he regarded the com- 
 fortable slumbers of the honest farmers from
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. IOI 
 
 the country round. Orlando's mild counte- 
 nance and dejected, threadbare look gave 
 an apologetic air to his threats of future 
 punishment, which sounded like those he 
 gave his own naughty children, not destined 
 to be enforced ; they lost what terrors they 
 had with every repetition; for repeat he did 
 till the allotted time was up, when he sub- 
 sided into a short prayer, gave out a hymn, 
 and sank down behind his pulpit with a 
 sense of relief. 
 
 The dinner was after the usual pattern. 
 Flora did not appear at all. She had taken 
 pains to carry up her sister's tray before she 
 rang the bell ; for somehow, though she took 
 herself to task for being so silly, she did 
 not like being seen by Mr. Butler in her 
 shabby old gown ; and she could not change 
 it till she had cleared away for the after- 
 noon. Even then his presence seemed 
 somehow to pervade the whole house, mak- 
 ing her mortified as she looked around her 
 room, with its torn paper shades and dirty 
 towels, its broken toilet-set and table halt- 
 ing on three legs. How could she help it? 
 It was called hers, but she and Orlando 
 slept there on alternate nights, to look after 
 Landy and Flossy, while the other slept on
 
 102 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 a sofa in Ida's room. The small box of a 
 place was filled with the children's belong- 
 ings, and her own private possessions were 
 anywhere or nowhere. She had had no time 
 to tidy it up that morning, as while Arthur 
 was there a more elaborate dinner must be 
 cooked, for which she had neither Mrs. 
 Butler's help, nor Orlando's more efficient 
 aid. 
 
 Aunt Esther used to say that a lady's 
 chamber should always be in perfect order, 
 and a stray pair of gloves or bit of string 
 had often been made the text for a discourse 
 in the girls' little bow windowed, wainscoted, 
 rose-papered room at Croydon. How easy of 
 attainment neatness had then seemed, and 
 how Aunt Esther, when she had herself put 
 on that paper, bought at ten cents a roll, 
 had declared with some pride that one could 
 have things pretty with very little money. 
 A sense of burning shame and passionate 
 regret brought hot tears to Flora's eyes; 
 but she was too young yet for tears to leave 
 their traces long, and she came downstairs 
 "fair and fresh as rose on thorn " to find 
 Arthur conscientiously endeavoring to make 
 himself agreeable to his little nephew and 
 niece, who reminded him of fireworks, so
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 103 
 
 brilliantly pretty and unexpectedly explosive 
 were they. He could think of nothing but 
 showing them his watch, which he had tried 
 upon Mrs. Perry's Rosamond Curtis's 
 baby. They inspected it with eager and 
 dangerous curiosity, Landy remarking that 
 "poppa used to have one, but not such a 
 pretty one." 
 
 " I have tried so hard not to have them 
 catch that odious word ! " thought Flora ; 
 " but they pick up everything they hear, and 
 since Laurea came the last time they talk 
 just as she did! " The sudden pull up of a 
 horse and buggy at the gate, showed her 
 that her reminiscences had been, as they 
 often are, premonitory, and the occupants 
 descended with great flutter of drapery and 
 furling of sunshades. 
 
 "It's John and Almira," sighed Mrs. 
 Butler; "I wish they wouldn't break the 
 Sabbath so ! " and her welcome to her first- 
 born child was rather a faint one : " I am 
 very glad to see you, John, but couldn't 
 you have come yesterday ? " 
 
 "Not while I have my books to balance; 
 you '11 have to put up with me when you can 
 get me, mother." 
 
 "I 'm sure," said Almira, loudly, "plenty
 
 IO4 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 of church members ride out on Sabbath day. 
 We met Deacon Walsh himself, with his 
 brother from Utica, and Mr. Murdock with 
 a whole carriage load of his boarders. " 
 
 " Dear me ! dear me ! " said Mrs. Butler, 
 looking distressed. 
 
 "Well!" said John, "we've been to 
 church this morning, anyhow." 
 
 " I always want to go to meeting twice a 
 day, at least, only we don't have preaching 
 in the afternoon while we 've no settled 
 minister." 
 
 "Land got the job this morning, didn't 
 he?" said John, looking at his brother, who 
 was endeavoring to restrain his children's 
 vehement attentions to their gorgeously 
 arrayed cousin. 
 
 " Perhaps the children had better go out 
 to play," he suggested, mildly. 
 
 "Well!" said Mrs. John Butler, doubt- 
 fully, " only the last time they took Laurea 
 out to play, they put sand and ashes in her 
 hair, and it took me no end of time to get 
 it out. But one can't hear themselves talk 
 with them in the room. Get an apron for 
 her, Florer, will you? And if she could 
 have one of their old hats " 
 
 Flora produced a decayed straw hat of her
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 105 
 
 own, and Mrs. John removed her daughter's 
 bangles, ear-rings, and locket, remarking 
 that them young ones would smash every- 
 thing up. 
 
 " I don't think they ought to play out 
 doors, Sabbath afternoon," said the grand- 
 mother, troubled. "Can't they sit down 
 quietly, like good little children?" 
 
 Whether the youthful Orlando and Flora 
 could perform the feat alluded to, may be 
 doubted ; the fact remained that they never 
 had; and no one seeming inclined to take 
 their instruction in hand, they were allowed 
 to depart, dragging with them the trans- 
 formed Laurea, half reluctant, half eager for 
 the mad course of adventures into which her 
 cousins were wont to lead her on her "Sab- 
 bath" visits; and Flora placed herself near 
 the window, where she was supposed to 
 accomplish the feat, trying to the powers of 
 a conjurer, of "keeping her eye upon them." 
 
 " I suppose you went to meetin'," resumed 
 John, addressing himself to Arthur. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "And how were you pleased with the 
 exercises ? " 
 
 "Very well," replied Arthur, in a tone 
 which precluded further questioning.
 
 106 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "I tell Orlando," said John's wife, "he 
 ought to speak up more ; folks like to hear a 
 man preach as if he were after somethin', 
 not but what I like all he says well enough. 
 And how 's Ider? I most forgot to ask." 
 
 "A little better, we hope," replied 
 Orlando. 
 
 " Can I go up and see her ? " 
 
 " I am afraid she is hardly able to-day, " 
 said Flora ; " you see it is the afternoon, and 
 she gets tired by afternoon." 
 
 "Yes, and when I come in the morning 
 she is never ready to see any one. She'll 
 never be any better while you keep her so 
 shut up; she ought to see folks and be 
 cheered up a little. And how's the baby? 
 I can see him, I s'pose. " 
 
 "He is asleep now." 
 
 "Well he'd better be let alone then, I 
 should say. The last time I was here that 
 young one commenced to yell as soon as it 
 woke, and kept it up two mortal hours as 
 long as I stayed. If I had him I 'd soon stop 
 him; but you coddle him and spoil him." 
 
 "Did you enjoy the sermon this morn- 
 ing? " asked her mother-in-law. 
 
 " Not much ! Dr. Todd is gettin' old and 
 played-out, I guess. We haven't anythin'
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. IO/ 
 
 goin' on now. If I was the deacons, I 'd 
 make him get up somethin' ; we 'd ought to 
 be havin' a revival before this time, if he 
 means to stay." 
 
 " Come now, Almirer ! " said her husband, 
 " Dr. Todd is a pretty good sort of a man; I 
 like his sermons." 
 
 "Well, you needn't talk they haven't 
 converted you yet," said Almira, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Butler; "I wish I could 
 see the boys anxious ! Perhaps," in a low tone 
 to her daughter-in-law; "you could persuade 
 John to have a little talk with Orlando. Or- 
 lando, couldn't you say a few words to John 
 while he 's here? You might step out with 
 him. I hope you have improved your 
 chances to drop a word in season to Arthur, 
 besides what he heard from the pulpit." 
 
 All three of the brothers looked for a 
 moment extremely uncomfortable, but in 
 a moment more Arthur could not restrain a 
 smile, and even the unfortunate Orlando 
 looked feebly amused, while John burst into 
 a hearty laugh. " No, mother, thank you ; 
 'tain't fair to set Land on to any of the 
 family out of hours. What 's that? A new 
 picture, I declare; look there, Almirer."
 
 IOS BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Butler; " it 's a present 
 from a rich Episcopalian lady Arthur knows 
 in Boston." 
 
 "Art is makin' up to a rich old maid," 
 said Jonah, who had escaped his mother's 
 admonitions, owing to his elders being 
 present. 
 
 "Indeed!" said Mrs. John; "I admire his 
 taste. Why, Florer, they'll be a match for 
 you and your old beau. How 's his court- 
 ship gettin' along? " 
 
 "You should not say such things, Almira," 
 said Mrs. Butler, looking the perplexed dis- 
 tress she often felt in the company of her 
 daughter-in-law, whose vulgarity repelled 
 her own refined instincts, though in her 
 simplicity she thought it the usual mani- 
 festation of the worldliness and fashion 
 which, she sometimes feared, showed Almira, 
 though a professing Christian, to be in 
 danger of cherishing a false hope. "Dr. 
 Griscom admires Flora, and thinks her a 
 very superior young lady, but it is so long 
 now that I don't think he has any idea of 
 marrying again." 
 
 "Trust an old widower lookin' out for 
 number three, for knowin' better than that ! " 
 said Almira; "but I'm afraid he's after
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 109 
 
 money, hey, Florer? You better not let him 
 get wind of your old lady, Arthur, though 
 very likely if she can get you, she won't 
 take him." 
 
 " The picture seems to be a sacred subject, " 
 said Mrs. Butler, eager to stop this talk; 
 " I thought the lady might have painted it, 
 but Arthur says it 's a chromo. " 
 
 " It 's Japanese, ain't it? " said Mrs. John. 
 
 "I don't think so," said Mrs. Butler; 
 "there are Latin words on the back." 
 
 "Well, it looks Japanese. It's a queer 
 thing, anyhow." 
 
 "Read it, Flora," said Mrs. Butler; "you 
 can read Latin." 
 
 "Angels of the blessed Angelico of Fie- 
 sole," read Flora, carelessly; "it is not 
 Latin, Mrs. Butler, but Italian, I think." 
 
 " Lord ! how many lingoes can you read ? " 
 asked Mrs. John. 
 
 "I never learned Italian; but it is very 
 like Latin." 
 
 " Flora reads Latin and Greek too, very 
 well," said Mrs. Butler; "her father taught 
 her. She reads the Greek Testament some- 
 times, at family prayers, and it sounds most 
 interesting." 
 
 " Please, Mrs. Butler " said Flora,
 
 IIO BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 imploringly, and for the first time showing 
 some dislike to being made the theme of 
 discussion. Somewhat to Arthur's surprise, 
 she had not appeared to mind Mrs. John 
 Butler's railleries at all, but had preserved 
 a silence too indifferent to be disdainful. 
 Flora disliked being in the same room with 
 Almira so much that nothing the latter said 
 or did could increase or diminish the sen- 
 sation; but this was a very different matter. 
 
 "Never mind, Florer," said John, good- 
 humoredly, "you 're pretty enough not to be 
 hurt by it, anyhow. Come, Art, don't you 
 want to stretch your legs a bit ? " 
 
 "We'd ought to be goin' home," said 
 Almira; "I'll hunt up Laurea." 
 
 "Won't you stay to tea?" said Mrs. But- 
 ler, in a quavering voice, apparently divided 
 between fears of an acceptance or refusal. 
 
 "That 's what we come for," said John. 
 
 " Really, John " expostulated his wife. 
 
 "Why, I don't git out to mother's any too 
 often; you wouldn't have us go back with 
 nothin' but a call, would you? We'll be 
 back in a minute;" and he walked off, fol- 
 lowed by Arthur, while Orlando, who had 
 not been asked, and who knew that they had 
 gone off to discuss him and his affairs,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. Ill 
 
 remained at home to help Flora blew up the 
 fire and get tea, a process materially hin- 
 dered by what Mrs, John had termed the 
 baby's " yells " from above, not to speak of 
 sounds from the other children that more 
 justly deserved the name. Almira preserved 
 the supreme indifference of " company " as 
 she sat with Mrs. Butler in the parlor, the 
 elder lady in vain endeavoring, with occa- 
 sional remarks of a religious tendency, to 
 stem the tide of the younger 's catalogue of 
 her new clothes, broken only by the recur- 
 ring observation that " if them young ones 
 was hers, she would train them well."
 
 112 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TOHN and Arthur, meanwhile, were going 
 ** over the same circuitous course they 
 had traversed on Friday morning; the only 
 new feature was a promise from John that 
 he would see Jonah safe out of Syracuse, on 
 any road but that leading to Liverpool, with 
 ten dollars in his pocket, supplied by Arthur, 
 to seek for agricultural employment ; for, as 
 John remarked, the farmers would take any- 
 body at that time of year, though "their 
 keepin' him was another matter." They 
 did not get so far in relation to Orlando, as 
 one brother was determined not to ask any 
 aid, and the other not to offer any. 
 
 It was not until they had nearly reached 
 home that John, with a sidelong, curious 
 look, asked abruptly, "Do you think Florer 
 Shepherd a pretty girl ? " 
 
 "I should hardly call her so." 
 
 "Possible? Well, Almirer \von't allow 
 she is; but then, you know women don't
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 113 
 
 set any by each other's good looks. I don't 
 s'pose you 'd call Ider pretty, either, then? " 
 
 " Do you think her so ? " 
 
 " Why, yes ! a good many folks think her 
 prettier than Florer; but somehow there's 
 somethin' about Florer I don't know what 
 it is " 
 
 "Not prettiness, certainly," said Arthur, 
 who had no wish to go on at cross purposes, 
 " Miss Shepherd is the most beautiful girl 
 I have ever seen." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said John, with a meaning 
 intonation ; but as he received no encourage- 
 ment to proceed, he went on to think to 
 himself that if Arthur should be taken with 
 Flora, it would be an excellent thing for 
 Orlando and his family, and indirectly for 
 himself as well, since the chief part of their 
 support must then undoubtedly fall upon 
 Arthur; and that so desirable a consumma- 
 tion might be made more sure, he resolved 
 not to hint at it to his wife, whose dislike 
 to the young lady might lead her to interfere 
 with it, not that he blamed Almira so much ; 
 for there was no denying that " she 's full of 
 her airs," he finished, half unconsciously, 
 aloud. Arthur looked still more indiffer- 
 ent, and John reflected that probably the 
 8
 
 114 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 airs would not be put on to his brother. 
 They reached home in time for a family 
 tea, at which Almira questioned Arthur, in 
 a jocose way, about Miss Curtis, whose 
 name she had obtained from Mrs. Butler, 
 and Mrs. Butler, whose ideas grew more 
 secular at sundown, occasionally put in a 
 word. Mrs. John said it was funny for an 
 old maid to have so much money, and won- 
 dered how she could use it. Mrs. Butler 
 hoped she gave a great deal away to good 
 objects, she supposed the Episcopalians 
 had missionaries of their own. 
 
 " Lives in a house, and keeps a girl, does 
 she? Don't she have anybody else livin' 
 with her?" asked Almira. 
 
 " Not all the time. She often has friends. " 
 
 " I should think she 'd feel lonely when 
 her help leave her," said Mrs. Butler, who 
 regarded " help " as nomads by race. 
 
 " I never knew her to be without servants. " 
 
 "Does she keep more than one?" asked 
 Mrs. John. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How many?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Arthur, like the 
 most unwilling witness he had ever cross- 
 questioned. " I only know two or three of
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 115 
 
 them by sight; but of course there are 
 others. " 
 
 "Goodness gracious! how big is her 
 house ? " 
 
 "Her town house is not very large." 
 "Town house! how many has she?" 
 "Only three that she lives in." 
 Mrs. John was fairly silenced for a 
 moment, and Arthur, as he remembered that 
 he had been dining with Miss Curtis on 
 Wednesday, could hardly believe that it was 
 so little while ago. He always felt, when 
 in company with John and his wife, that 
 there must be a weak spot in his own social 
 armor, carefully as it had been braced and 
 girded. How could he look around the 
 table and picture himself bringing Sophy 
 there in the character of one of the family? 
 Only Flora offered a suggestion of any pos- 
 sible point of contact. The Curtises, surely, 
 could see nothing amiss in Mrs. Orlando 
 Butler's sister; and it was to be hoped that 
 Mrs. Orlando might not be unlike her. 
 
 That evening, when the John Butlers had 
 driven off, and Arthur, on the back porch, 
 was watching through the budding elm- 
 branches the young moon rising in a clear 
 cool sky, the one vision of beauty which
 
 I 1 6 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 had satisfied his boyish cravings, disgusted 
 with the cramped surroundings below, a low 
 voice at his elbow said, "Mr. Butler." 
 
 " Miss Shepherd ! I beg your pardon ! " 
 and he sprang up from the bench on which he 
 had been sitting, and offered her his place, 
 which she took without hesitation, and he sat 
 down beside her, wondering what she could 
 want with him, and his heart beating with 
 expectation of he did not know what. 
 
 "Mr. Butler, I only wanted to say that 
 Ida and I have a few things I mean books 
 and furniture that might be worth some- 
 thing if they could be sold. When we left 
 Croydon we sold some of our things there, 
 but some Aunt Esther wanted to keep, and 
 Deacon Wilcox stored them in his barn; 
 and they are there now. We meant to send 
 for them after Ida was married and we took 
 the house at Cazenovia, but it was not seen 
 to, and we moved again so soon ; the silver 
 we brought with us, and it is here now; 
 there is not much of it, but it might bring 
 something " 
 
 " My dear Miss Shepherd ! you must not 
 think of such a thing!" 
 
 " But I really think we ought. You see 
 it has cost so much to have so much sick-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. \\J 
 
 ness. Orlando would never speak of it 
 himself, but I think it would be a relief to 
 his mind. Father had some nice books, 
 and Aunt Esther always said the furniture 
 was good. It is very pretty old mahogany. 
 I don't suppose it would sell for much in 
 Croydon, but would it not be a good plan to 
 have it sent down to Boston ? if you could 
 only see about it." 
 
 "It depends on the condition of the mar- 
 ket, and the time of year, and so many other 
 things," said Arthur, slowly deliberating. 
 " I would not do anything about it just now, 
 at any rate ; " and seeing that she looked 
 unsatisfied, he went on : "I will certainly 
 see about it when I think it is best; but 
 you must not let any one else have anything 
 to do with it." 
 
 "I will not, then," said Flora, reluctantly. 
 
 "You could not find any one who would 
 attend to it as well as I could; promise me 
 that you will be sure to consult me first 
 about it in any case." 
 
 Flora looked a little surprised, but gave 
 the promise without further discussion, and 
 Arthur felt relieved at the thought that he 
 had prevented the girl from stripping her- 
 self of her few possessions; but suddenly
 
 Il8 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 struck with an idea, he exclaimed, "But 
 your sister I suppose she has an equal 
 share in them ? " 
 
 " Ida would do anything that you thought 
 that I thought was right." 
 
 He was afraid she would go away now, 
 but she sat silently on, the first time he had 
 seen her sit still; indeed she rarely had 
 the chance. There was as much grace in 
 her motionless rest as there was repose in 
 her quickest movement. He racked his 
 brains for something to say that might keep 
 her, but to his surprise they gave no response. 
 The fact was that unless he could do some- 
 thing for her, idle admiration and gallantry 
 seemed useless; and what can a man of 
 thirty-two do for a girl of nineteen, unless 
 he can do the one thing that is everything? 
 He had had some idea of beseeching Miss 
 Curtis' s good offices for her. Perhaps that 
 lady, who liked to give in a private and 
 personal way, and who was always pleased 
 with good looks in her protegees, would ask 
 Flora to come and fit herself for something 
 or other in Boston, under her own eye, as 
 she had asked plenty of other girls less 
 attractive; and Sophy, he thought with 
 pride, was much too high-minded to feel
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 119 
 
 any idle jealousy of another girl's beauty. 
 But as he looked at Flora now, transfigured 
 by the April moonlight, the plan seemed 
 less feasible. He doubted whether there 
 were not too much of the desirable quality 
 in question here, and he feared that it would 
 be awkward; that Miss Curtis would hardly 
 believe that he could hardly explain just 
 the degree and kind of interest he felt. No 
 matter what he said beforehand, she would 
 still be surprised when she saw Flora. He 
 shrank from putting his vague thoughts in 
 words, even to himself; but he was just tell- 
 ing himself again that there was nothing but 
 pity and admiration in them, if he could 
 only make other people understand him, 
 when the baby's faint cry came from above, 
 and Flora was on her feet, and half-way up 
 the stairs before the second sound. 
 
 Arthur sauntered back to his lodgings, 
 provoked that he had not had himself driven 
 into Syracuse that evening to take the early 
 Monday train for Boston. There was plenty 
 of work that he could have done Monday 
 evening, and he gained nothing by staying 
 but another desultory morning at his 
 mother's house, pervaded by a discomfort 
 yet more pronounced than usual, as befitted
 
 120 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 washing-day; and where he had the doubtful 
 pleasure of watching Flora doing the family 
 washing in the back yard. No exercise 
 could display to more advantage the nymph- 
 like grace of her form; but the satisfaction 
 it gave his eye was perhaps more than coun- 
 terbalanced by his irritation at seeing her 
 scrubbing away on Jonah's greasy shirts and 
 muddy stockings. 
 
 " Her yellow hair was braided in a tress, 
 Behind her back a yarde long, I guess ; " 
 
 and as he gazed from the window, unseen 
 himself, half feeling that he ought not, and 
 yet unable to leave off, Master Orlando, 
 passing behind her, caught the loose curling 
 end thereof, and gave it a sudden hard pull 
 that made her throw back her head with a 
 start and frown of pain, and raise one drip- 
 ping hand to relieve the shock by grasping 
 the thick heavy plait at the roots. 
 
 "This is too much!" soliloquized Arthur, 
 who in a moment more stood beside her, and 
 seized the little culprit by the arm. " You 
 are a very naughty boy," he said severely; 
 "and if your father does not punish you 
 as he ought for being so rude to your aunt, 
 I will."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 121 
 
 " Landy did not mean to be naughty, did 
 he?" said Flora; "he did not know that it 
 would hurt Auntie." She bent down and 
 held out her arms to the boy, who ran into 
 them, looking round at his uncle with the 
 defiant scowl of the incipient man who sees 
 some one coming between him and his own 
 particular piece of feminine property; but 
 as Flora murmured some sweet indistinct 
 expostulations in his ear, the scowl relaxed 
 into as thorough a smile, and he pursed up 
 his rosy mouth to meet hers, pressing her 
 cheeks between the chubby palms of his 
 dimpled hands, making so lovely a group, 
 that Arthur's " You will spoil those chil- 
 dren, Miss Shepherd," came softened into 
 half rallying admiration. But Flora took it 
 seriously. 
 
 "I hope not," she said. "Landy tries to 
 be good. Don't you, Landy?" 
 
 "I are good," said Landy, now passing 
 his hand tenderly over the rich rippling 
 locks, whose own thickness made them stand 
 up like an aureole where they rolled back 
 from her face, but with a sparkle of mis- 
 chief deep in his eyes as he looked toward 
 Arthur, which suggested, "If you say a 
 word, I'll do it again."
 
 122 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "You may come with me, if you are 
 good," said Arthur, impressively; and as 
 Master Landy, though somewhat inclined 
 to accept any offer put in the form of a 
 reward, seemed doubtful as to how much 
 real enjoyment it might promise, he rashly 
 added the bribe of his pocket note-book with 
 pencil attached, and having torn out the 
 written pages, abandoned the whole to the 
 little boy and his sister, who hovered fairy- 
 like in the background. Flora was at liberty 
 to go on with her work; and as she bent 
 over the washtub again, big tears splashed 
 into the water. What could make her so 
 silly? She was always crying since Mr. 
 Butler came. For one reason, things had 
 gone so awry, as they always do whenever 
 you are anxious about them. She had never 
 known the children behave so badly; gener- 
 ally they minded her very no, perhaps it 
 was more truthful to say, pretty well. She 
 swallowed her tears in a hurry and raised a 
 fairly cheerful countenance to meet Orlando, 
 who came out of the kitchen to bring her a 
 pail of hot water. 
 
 "Why, Flora, are you tired, poor child? 
 It is too bad we have such a big wash this 
 week; I'll wring out the clothes, for it's
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS, 123 
 
 time to get dinner, and I suppose we must 
 have dinner if Arthur 's going to stay for it," 
 went on Orlando, who, arrayed in his morn- 
 ing costume with apron, a shade worse than 
 usual for Mondays, proceeded without a 
 thought of incongruity to put the tattered 
 clothes through the rickety old wringer. 
 "I wish," he thought, but did not say, "that 
 Arthur had left last night. If he minds 
 Flora's working so hard, I wonder he did 
 not think of to-day being washing-day. 
 Why did he stay, I wonder?" 
 
 "Why, indeed?" thought Arthur, as he 
 finally found himself comfortably settled in 
 a sleeping-car section on the Grand Central 
 Railroad eastward bound. Why indeed had 
 he come at all ? He had not accomplished 
 anything by it, nay, had involved himself 
 in more expense, which he could ill afford. 
 The invisible Ida, strong in her weakness, 
 had proved too powerful an adversary. What 
 gentleman can turn his invalid sister-in-law 
 out of her bed and out of doors, no matter 
 how much she may abuse the privileges of 
 her position ? And he felt the hot blood rush 
 to his face as he recalled certain appealing 
 looks and tones by which Flora had shown 
 that she felt afraid of him and entreated his
 
 124 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 forbearance. He had always felt more self- 
 satisfaction in his politeness to women, 
 carried to the very extreme of old-fashioned 
 courtesy than in anything else in his 
 demeanor; and here was the most beautiful 
 one he had ever seen, regarding him as if 
 she were an aged pauper, and he a landlord 
 ready to evict her and hers at the slightest 
 notice. Never had a visit to his family, 
 always an uncomfortable piece of duty, been 
 so unbearable ; and he resolved that for the 
 future he would communicate with them by 
 letter. It should be two years, at least, 
 before he set foot in Liverpool again. 
 
 He felt surprised when he reached Boston 
 on Tuesday morning to find how short a 
 time after all, he had been away; but he 
 found enough to do in catching up with the 
 accumulated work of the last four days. He 
 had not a moment to think, with the press 
 of business, prospects of more, promises 
 of success that might make him able to stand 
 his increased expenses for his family, and 
 yet realize his own hopes without what 
 would now be a most mortifying delay. It 
 was only working a little harder; and he 
 bent every nerve, already strained to its 
 apparent utmost, yet throbbing with a sense
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 12$ 
 
 of reserved strength, like a race-horse within 
 sight of the goal. Time flew; his condi- 
 tional engagement to dine with Miss Curtis 
 and escort her and Sophy to the Apollo 
 Club concert must go. Never mind, he 
 could meet them there and explain; and in 
 the interval at the middle of the concert he 
 was slowly walking down the middle aisle of 
 the crowded Music Hall, cool, well dressed, 
 and deliberate as ever. He knew Miss 
 Curtis would be sure to have managed to 
 get into seats at the end of the row, so that 
 he could pause and talk to them. 
 
 Why did the well known scene, the famil- 
 iar faces, look strange and dim? He was 
 tired with his journey perhaps; at any rate 
 he was stupidly passing the very pair he 
 was in search of, when Miss Curtis's voice, 
 close at his elbow, recalled him to himself, 
 and he turned sharply round, confused, at his 
 unwonted awkwardness. Yes, there she was, 
 smiling a good-natured welcome as she held 
 out her hand, and there was Sophy by her 
 side, more shyly extending hers. He shook 
 hands with both, struggling with a longing 
 to rush out of the hall out of the town 
 out of the world if he could ; for he knew 
 now, and knew it with a pang of shame and
 
 126 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 sorrow, that he could never love could 
 never marry Sophy Curtis. 
 
 He managed, he hardly knew how, to get 
 through the polite greeting proper to the 
 occasion. He thought he did it very well, 
 but something must have struck them in his 
 manner; for Miss Curtis's own grew more 
 formal by a shade, faint, but perceptible, 
 and Sophy's answers were low and short as 
 she turned and returned the leaves of her 
 programme. Thank Heaven ! the interval 
 was over at last, the performers collecting 
 on the stage again, and he could with pro- 
 priety excuse himself, and hurry somewhere 
 anywhere out of sight to the darkest 
 corner of the hall under the balcony, and 
 while standing motionless and silent as if 
 wholly absorbed in the music, try to realize 
 how utterly his life was changed, and that 
 from this moment he must walk a different 
 way, and follow another light. He knew 
 that he could never, as long as he lived, 
 forget that first dawning look of doubt and 
 wonder in Sophy's eyes; and he knew too 
 that by and-by it would rouse an unending 
 remorse, but not now, while a tenor voice 
 was singing Reichardt's " Image of the 
 Rose," and his whole being was yearning for
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 12? 
 
 a look into a pair of blue eyes, and the clasp 
 of a little hand that had hardly touched him 
 in passing. Fool that he had been ! he had 
 driven twenty miles by Flora's side, and sat 
 by her under warranting moonlight, and 
 feasted his eyes on her beauty, without 
 knowing that he could not live without her. 
 
 The concert was over, and the audience 
 rose. Tt was Arthur's privilege always to 
 see Miss Curtis to her carriage, half the 
 time to be taken as far as his own lodgings. 
 He could not stir; he saw the ladies, after 
 waiting a moment, rise, and Miss Curtis 
 look round; saw one of a hundred young 
 fellows of her acquaintance, it did not mat- 
 ter who, step forward in his stead ; saw her 
 incline to hold back to wait and Sophy, 
 eagerly determined, and well he could guess 
 why, to hurry the party on and out of the 
 hall. Poor Sophy! her dreams that night 
 could not be pleasant ones.
 
 128 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A S for Arthur, he only got himself to 
 *^ sleep sometime in the morning by 
 resolving that he would take the Wednesday 
 night train for Liverpool again ; but he did 
 not, and the middle of June found him still 
 in Boston. Things looked very different 
 when he woke to the work-a-day world from 
 which he had wandered by moonlight with 
 music ringing in his ears. His love was as 
 strong as ever. There was no question of 
 any struggle between it and worldly consid- 
 erations. He took no merit to himself for 
 the unselfishness of his devotion, because 
 he knew he could not help himself; nay, he 
 felt a good many honest regrets, vain though 
 he knew they were, for the good things he 
 was leaving on one side ; and sharper pangs 
 for Sophy's sake, not unmixed with morti- 
 fication that he had so suddenly been taken 
 captive by mere outward loveliness. Of 
 course, Flora was a good girl, or there was
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 1 29 
 
 no truth in faces; but neither she nor any 
 one else could be better than Sophy. 
 
 He delayed the inevitable action that he 
 knew must come, because he must have all 
 his plans and prospects as carefully mapped 
 out before he struggled to utter his passion 
 at Flora's feet as when he had meditated 
 that well-expressed, dignified, well-assured 
 proposal to Sophy. His ability to marry 
 was much the same in both cases. Sophy 
 would have had no great sum to start with ; 
 but her father would have given her a house 
 and an outfit, and her mother, who had a 
 nice little fortune of her own, would have 
 supplied all gaps left in the abundant gifts 
 of her relations and friends. He knew in 
 what style such things had been done for 
 Rosamond Curtis, and Sophy could have 
 had no less. Flora would have none of this; 
 but then, she would expect nothing, whereas 
 it would have cost a pretty penny to keep 
 Sophy as she, or rather her family, would 
 expect her to be kept. 
 
 The disposal of his own family weighed 
 more on his mind, though it was really 
 easier in this case than in the other. His 
 mother, he now resolved, must live with 
 him, a thing he had always regarded as 
 9
 
 130 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 impossible, and he knew that at the best 
 there must be many rubs between them; 
 but Mrs. Butler was fond of Flora, and 
 Flora seemed fond of her, that would be a 
 link. He would pay up Orlando's debts, 
 and give him the use of the house in Liver- 
 pool for a fixed term, until he could find a 
 parish. He had an opportunity of doing 
 the thing more cheaply on the face of it, 
 by getting a clerk's place for his brother in 
 Boston, where his recommendation would 
 secure to good character and willingness 
 to work a salary, small, but larger than the 
 preacher's stipend had yet been; but he dis- 
 missed the idea, thinking that it would 
 never do to have Orlando's family so near 
 himself and his wife: there would be no 
 end to what they would get out of him 
 through her. 
 
 Probably he could not have waited so 
 long if he had not felt so secure of Flora. 
 He did not dream of being loved by her; 
 she seemed to him too young and unawak- 
 ened to have thought of such a thing; but 
 how delicious it would be to woo her love 
 with delights of soft services and caressing 
 courtesy! Hers should be another sort of 
 life -when she was his! He had no appre-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS 131 
 
 hension as to any other possible lover. He 
 did not believe there was a young man in 
 Liverpool whom she would look at, even if 
 she had the time. Dr. Griscom, indeed, 
 might be a rival more to be feared. Flora 
 might be willing he could not blame her 
 if she were to marry the first not utterly 
 uncongenial wooer who came, to escape her 
 present life of drudgery; and though the 
 doctor was sixty-odd and had never been 
 handsome, yet elderly widowers, he well 
 knew, have an advantage in experience 
 which frequently carries the day with youth 
 and beauty. But though Arthur did not 
 know Flora well enough to be sure of her 
 here, he did know the doctor, who indeed 
 had brought him into the world, and whom 
 he judged to be about the last man of his 
 acquaintance to make the blunder that such 
 a match would be. He toiled on, doing the 
 work of ten, till late in June, when he felt 
 he could leave town with some prospect of 
 being able to stay away a week at least ; he 
 ought to make all arrangements, for of course 
 he did not want to go back again but once; 
 and he had his eye on a pretty cottage in 
 Newton Centre, where he could take his bride 
 directly, content to economize a few years
 
 132 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 out of society, in which he felt, did he make 
 the attempt to keep up with it, he must occupy 
 a very different place from what he had done, 
 and still more from what he had hoped to 
 do; and he felt some satisfaction, not in 
 making a sacrifice for Flora's sake, but in 
 paying the penalty for his inconstancy to 
 Sophy. Gladly would he have made any 
 confession or atonement; but how confess 
 where confession were an insult, and how 
 atone where atonement were a mockery? 
 He took what he thought the best course by 
 silently withdrawing himself from all inter- 
 course with her, with all due attention to 
 ceremony. He declined the Curtises' invi- 
 tations, always giving good and sufficient 
 reason, and called when he knew they were 
 all out. He soon perceived that the other 
 side had taken the alarm, by the gradual 
 slackening of the attentions once so freely 
 lavished; and when Miss Curtis left town, 
 unseen by him for a fortnight at least, he 
 received a rather formal invitation from her 
 to spend a week at her sea-side house at 
 Gloucester, the time specified, to him, 
 who had once known that he could come 
 and go there at his pleasure ! It was with 
 one of the sharpest pangs he ever endured
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 133 
 
 that he wrote a refusal in terms carefully 
 chosen to correspond. He knew that he 
 was rejecting one of the most precious 
 things of his life; and the worst part of it 
 was the knowledge that the suffering must 
 come hardest on those to whom he owed it. 
 He did not know which had the most right 
 to think him ungrateful ; though Miss Curtis 
 was more of a personal loss to him, and he 
 believed he should be to her. 
 
 She was, indeed, quite as wretched about 
 the matter as he could imagine, being in 
 the miserable position into which a warm- 
 hearted person accustomed to interfere 
 beneficently in her neighbor's affairs is 
 thrown when action in any direction is 
 impossible without doing harm. If things 
 had only not been at just the pass they 
 were! If Arthur's courtship of Sophy had 
 been more incipient, so that she could with 
 affected ignorance boldly ask the reason for 
 his change of manner on the score of her 
 own old friendship; or more declared, so 
 that she could have questioned either of 
 them, in the chance of a misunderstanding, 
 there would have been something to be 
 done, at least; but now, for Sophy's sake, 
 there was nothing for it but to hold her
 
 134 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 tongue, and see the girl looking pale and 
 anxious without remark; while a mutual 
 consciousness made them drop by degrees 
 all mention of his name. She made what 
 feeble effort was in her power by inviting 
 Arthur as much as she decently could, only 
 to be repelled by his exquisitely courteous 
 notes of regrets and excuses in which no 
 flaw could be discerned. She inquired a 
 little of others, but very discreetly, and 
 with no satisfactory result. Arthur Butler, 
 she heard, was working hard, and looked 
 worn and harassed. There might be some 
 family or business complication; she longed 
 to ask, but she had not been wont to sue 
 for his confidence; she had no chance of 
 seeing him alone, and she could not bring 
 herself to write, time, meanwhile, slipping 
 away like running water. Before the first 
 of June she had left town for her country 
 seat in Vermont, where she had enlarged 
 and beautified her great-grandfather's old 
 farmhouse, and where a lively party of 
 cousins now assembled; but not Sophy, who 
 said that she must go and help Rosamond 
 settle in the cottage which the Perrys had 
 taken at Cohasset. They were gone, and 
 Arthur breathed more freely till the day
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 135 
 
 when he could get away from Boston 
 himself. 
 
 Midsummer night was warm, very warm 
 at Liverpool, where Arthur was not in the 
 least expected, for he thought it best to give 
 no warning. The house was still, and there 
 was an unwonted feeling of space about it, 
 for Jonah was still away, and Orlando had 
 gone to Geneseo. The dead quiet of the 
 evening gave the feeling of a coming storm, 
 and Flora, as she went on her late way 
 upstairs, wondered, with some dim idea of 
 correspondence in the moral world, whether 
 something were not about to happen. But 
 she had had this sensation, natural to youth, 
 a great many times, and nothing ever had 
 happened. She supposed Mr. Butler's visit 
 had unsettled her, and it was not likely that 
 he would come again. She set her lamp on 
 a table in the narrow passage at the head of 
 the stairs, careful that no ray might hit the 
 eyes of any of the sleepers within the half- 
 open doors, and entering her sister's darkened 
 room, sat down on the foot of her narrow 
 couch by the baby's crib, and gave a loose 
 rein to the doubtful luxury of thought, on 
 topics which were hardly of an enlivening
 
 136 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 nature. Things were going on in the usual 
 weary way, Ida not much better and the 
 baby not much worse. It might improve 
 when cool weather came again, but the sum- 
 mer that must first be lived through would 
 make a good half of its small existence. 
 Orlando's prospects of employment were 
 still doubtful, and the expenses would mount 
 up to a frightful sum in spite of all she 
 could do to keep them down. On observing 
 that no item of the weekly account indicated 
 that a servant had been engaged, Arthur had 
 written peremptory orders that one was to 
 be immediately hired; but Flora had as per- 
 emptorily refused to have anything to do 
 with one, and as she was on the spot she 
 carried her point with Orlando, who did not 
 know how to take the initiative in the mat- 
 ter without her help. Mr. Butler, she 
 thought, had no business to concern himself 
 so much about her. She was strong and 
 healthy, and had never complained to him 
 nor to any one else. If he had spoken to 
 her about it her answer would have been 
 ready. She wanted to make him feel as he 
 ought, and to show it just once. 
 
 That just once might be sufficient was 
 probable, for as she bent over the baby she
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 137 
 
 murmured in the softest tone the word 
 " Arthur ! " There was no harm in using 
 the little fellow's name, but she started 
 guiltily and looked with alarm through the 
 dimness to see if Ida were awake. But her 
 sister slept serenely, and Flora, kneeling by 
 the little crib, buried her flushed face in the 
 cool, white pillows. Baby was her confi- 
 dant, the only one she had, and a safe and 
 sufficient one. She rarely went so far as to 
 say anything to him, but she could think 
 and dream when she had him in her arms, 
 or lay down by him as she did now, with her 
 hand ready to soothe him off when he stirred. 
 As might be supposed, dreams soon won the 
 victory over thoughts. 
 
 Arthur, meanwhile, was repeating his 
 journey of two months ago, wondering that 
 he had gone through it then so carelessly. 
 He did not go near his brother John's, but 
 set out as soon as he left the train at Syra- 
 cuse, to walk the five miles in the fresh 
 dewy morning. It had rained in the night, 
 as it had promised, and soft wreathing mists 
 and dew, reflecting sunrise skies, made every- 
 thing lovely, even where the way, under the 
 glare of noon, might have looked hard and 
 bare enough. The glamour, he knew, was
 
 138 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 partly in his own eyes, and at times, through 
 all his eagerness, faint misgivings attacked 
 him lest it might prove as fleeting as the 
 day-dawn. Should he find Flora as beau- 
 tiful as memory painted her? Had any 
 awkwardness, any vulgarity about her passed 
 unnoticed in the blaze of light? The signs 
 of intellect or heart that had glowed through 
 the calm radiance of her presence might 
 they not be partly in his own ardent desire? 
 How much of a divinity should he find his 
 marble goddess, once melted into flesh and 
 blood? He had plenty of time for these 
 fears and jealousies of love while engaging 
 his former lodgings, dressing, and then 
 strolling about aimlessly till he knew they 
 would be through breakfast at his mother's; 
 but when he could fairly allow that it was 
 late enough, and walk, this time with a beat- 
 ing heart, up the little path between beds 
 where feeble attempts at gardening had 
 resulted in an abundant crop of weeds, which 
 overhung the little-used way to the front 
 door, marking with muddy smears his immac- 
 ulate boots and trousers, and Flora herself 
 had opened the door, he felt ashamed of his 
 faithlessness to the very depths of his soul. 
 How much lovelier she was than he had
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 139 
 
 dared to picture her! But surely, in these 
 two months, she had grown more lovely. 
 With how refined a grace she met him, 
 blushing a little, but no more than the 
 suddenness of his appearance might well 
 excuse. 
 
 "How do you do, Miss Shepherd? I 
 hope you are all well?" 
 
 " Thank you, we hope Ida is a little better ; 
 but the baby is still very poorly." 
 
 "I am sorry," said Arthur, who was think- 
 ing how maddeningly sweet was her low 
 voice, especially with the mournful fall at the 
 close; then, as he followed her into the par- 
 lor, which had its usual shut-up air: "You 
 must not let me be in your way." 
 
 "Oh, no; Mrs. Butler will be very glad to 
 see you. Orlando has gone to Geneseo, but 
 we expect him back to-morrow." She was 
 hurrying away, when Arthur said, catching 
 at something to detain her: "I hope you 
 have everything you want, and all the 
 advice you need for the baby?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Flora, "Dr. Griscom 
 is very kind. He comes almost every day." 
 Arthur, looking at her, felt that perhaps he 
 had credited the doctor with too much good 
 sense; but what did it matter? He was here
 
 140 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 now, ready to bear down a stronger rival, if 
 need be, and another look at her unconscious 
 face made him ashamed again. " I will tell 
 Mrs. Butler you are here," she went on, as 
 she left the room, and Mrs. Butler, after a 
 hasty toilet, came in, nervous and appre- 
 hensive at her son's sudden appearance, and 
 exhausted herself with apologies, mingled 
 with hints, as skilfully put as she knew 
 how, to find out why he came. 
 
 "I wish," she said, "you 'd stop I mean 
 come back to dinner, Arthur ; though, to 
 be sure, we haven't much of a dinner to ask 
 you to; we did n't think of having meat, as 
 we didn't expect any of the men-folks to be 
 here. Orlando is at Geneseo ; he has gone 
 to apply for a place in the excellent academy 
 there, and we greatly hope he will succeed; 
 and Jonah you know that Jonah is work- 
 ing on a farm near Fabius ? " 
 
 "Yes; I hope he will stick to it." 
 
 " Mr. Hewson is a wealthy farmer, I be- 
 lieve, he does not give Jonah much wages, 
 but Jonah seems to like it there pretty 
 well. I believe the family are very kind to 
 him." 
 
 Arthur, inattentive to anything except 
 that there was no immediate prospect of
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 141 
 
 Master Jonah's return, bade his mother 
 good-by, and departed, promising to come 
 back to dinner, and seeing that she would 
 rather be relieved of his presence in the 
 interim. He knew that it was vain to expect 
 to get a word with Flora in the morning, but 
 perhaps in the afternoon it might be man- 
 aged. He could neither eat nor sleep till 
 he had had it over, and he felt that it was 
 going to be a terribly hard matter to get it 
 over. But once let him make the beginning 
 which her unconsciousness rendered so diffi- 
 cult, and he was sure of success, prepared 
 for, and indeed ready to enjoy any amount 
 of shyness and coyness. She should not be 
 frightened, or hurried; he could control 
 himself, and taste the full sweetness of 
 pleasures not too rashly spent.
 
 142 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A RTHUR came back punctually at the 
 \. dinner hour, and entering this time by 
 the back door, made his way past the empty 
 kitchen to the little dining-room. There, 
 upon the shabby old lounge where Jonah 
 used to loll at full length, now reclined on 
 piles of pillows the very different person of 
 Mrs. Orlando Butler, who looked up as he 
 came in, and extended a slender little hand 
 in friendly greeting before her sister had 
 time to introduce him. " I am so glad ! " 
 she said, " to meet you at last, and to thank 
 you so much for all your great kindness. " 
 
 "Don't speak of it," said Arthur, sur- 
 prised at this beginning; "it is I who am 
 fortunate to have an opportunity of meeting 
 you at last ; " and he looked with some intent- 
 ness at Flora's sister, whom "some folks" 
 thought the "prettier" of the two. As 
 beautiful, he at once saw she never could 
 have been, even before illness had robbed
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 143 
 
 her of her bloom. She could never have 
 had the same regal mould of face and figure, 
 though she might have had the same bril- 
 liant coloring, and still possessed as lovely 
 a pair of blue eyes. Perhaps the charm lay 
 in the greater degree of consciousness, with- 
 out a particle of vanity or forwardness, which 
 made her loveliness appeal more powerfully 
 to the beholder. Landy and Flossy hung 
 over the back of their mother's sofa, and 
 Flora sat on a low stool by her side. The 
 baby was quiet upstairs, having slept more 
 of late, and the group was a fair one to 
 contemplate. 
 
 " Say ' How do you do ? ' to your uncle, 
 children," said the mother. 
 
 " Do you remember me ? " asked Arthur, 
 condescendingly. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" cried Landy; "you took us to 
 ride ! Will you take us to ride again ? " 
 
 " Landy ! " said Ida, reprovingly ; then 
 turning to Arthur, " Poor little things, they 
 so seldom get a ride. They have talked of 
 that one ever since." 
 
 "I hope I can, while I am here," said 
 Arthur, conscious that all this was part of 
 his role; "and I have brought you something 
 too ; can you guess what it is ? "
 
 144 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 " A horse ! " shouted Landy, and then 
 stopped, struck dumb at his own prescience, 
 as a magnificent steed with flowing mane 
 and tail made its appearance from a large 
 parcel; while Flossy raised her head from 
 the sofa pillow, whsre it had presented noth- 
 ing but a mass of fluffy yellow curls, and 
 accepted a French doll which looked as if it 
 were modelled after her own self. Both 
 children, in their ecstasy, gave vehement 
 thanks without being reminded to do so, to 
 their aunt's secret satisfaction. 
 
 The dinner was the liveliest meal Arthur 
 remembered in his mother's house, owing to 
 the little streak of mercury in Ida's composi- 
 tion. She suddenly collapsed into weariness 
 afterward, and must be taken upstairs, 
 helped, indeed actually carried, by Arthur, 
 while Flora followed with her cushions, and 
 together they settled her comfortably. One 
 beauty thanked him with a smile, and the 
 other with a sigh; and as he went down- 
 stairs he allowed it to be very natural that 
 Flora should want to help her sister; he 
 would not stint her in making presents, so 
 long as the Orlando Butlers kept themselves 
 and their poverty at a distance. It was a pity, 
 but how could it be helped? Orlando had no
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 145 
 
 business to marry that pretty creature if he 
 could not support her better. < 
 
 "I think Mr. Butler is so very nice! " Ida 
 was saying to Flora upstairs, in a tone of 
 some surprise; "he is not a bit like John." 
 
 " Who ever said he was ? " 
 
 " I don't know, what made me think so 
 was that you never said anything about him 
 at all." She paused a moment, and then 
 went on decisively : " He is a great deal more 
 like Orlando than he is like John don't 
 you think so?" she asked, confident, as in- 
 valids are apt to be, of receiving an answer 
 where speaking is such an effort. 
 
 "No; I don't think he is like either of 
 them." 
 
 " Well ! " said Ida, wearily, " he carried 
 me upstairs very like Orlando, at any rate, 
 almost as nicely ! " 
 
 All this, Arthur thought, might be a very 
 pretty way of conducting a courtship for one 
 less in a hurry than he was. But his mind 
 was set on business, and he managed to say 
 to Flora, when she came downstairs again, 
 "Can you spare me a few moments, Miss 
 Shepherd, this afternoon? There is some- 
 thing I want very much to say to you." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I shall be very glad ! " she
 
 146 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 replied, with an eagerness in her manner 
 that rather surprised him. 
 
 "To you alone, please say nothing to 
 any one else about it." 
 
 "Of course not," she answered promptly, 
 and Arthur, rather taken aback at her readi- 
 ness, thought he might as well be explicit 
 on every point and went on: "I don't want 
 the children about." 
 
 "No," said Flora, decidedly: "they would 
 understand everything, and go right and tell 
 Ida before we were ready. I have errands 
 in the village this afternoon ; will you come 
 with me? " 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure," replied 
 Arthur, though he could have wished to tell 
 his love out of sight and hearing of the gos- 
 sip of Liverpool; and determining to give 
 the meeting a chance air, he proceeded: 
 " Let me know at what time you will be 
 through with your errands, and I will meet 
 you." 
 
 "As near four as I can," said Flora, care- 
 lessly; and then as she was leaving the 
 room, she turned, with her hand on the door, 
 to say with her usual grave earnestness of 
 manner: "Did you really come on for I 
 mean partly for this? You are very kind."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 147 
 
 She vanished, leaving him perplexed as 
 to whether it were childish simplicity that 
 could not, or coquetry that would not, under- 
 stand what he meant. What could she be 
 thinking of, or what could she imagine he 
 was thinking of? Four o'clock found him 
 on a bench on the green, commanding a 
 convenient view of the village emporium, 
 and at half-past, or nearly so, she appeared 
 on her way there, like a sculptured goddess, 
 all ivory and gold. She wore her best gown, 
 of a cheap soft cream-white material known 
 to commerce as cheese-cloth, made by her- 
 self as plainly as possible, and with no 
 particular fit. The fit, like that of the 
 draperies of a Greek statue, was in the 
 putting on. On her head was set a large 
 hat of the kind called palmleaf, and worn 
 by farm-laborers at work, which she had 
 twisted into shapeliness, and wreathed with 
 a piece like her gown. A great bunch 
 of field daisies was stuck in her belt, and 
 she carried a willow market-basket. Arthur, 
 though discerning and fastidious as to 
 woman's attire, thought hers a marvel of 
 effectiveness, and wondered where she could 
 have got it. She went into the shop scarcely 
 glancing his way, and as she came out again,
 
 148 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 after what appeared to him an interminable 
 time, he advanced, and took her basket, now 
 no light weight; but instead of retaining it, 
 he handed it to a little barefoot boy, whom 
 he astonished by the gift of a quarter of a 
 dollar, and orders to take the basket to Mrs. 
 Butler's. Flora looked on with some sur- 
 prise, but said nothing, and when at the first 
 turn they came to Arthur said, " Let us go 
 home this way, it is longer," she followed 
 him down a side street, which soon became 
 a road, and appeared to branch independently 
 off into the country, though both knew that 
 a circuit could be made which would bring 
 them home again. Not a soul was in sight 
 about the few straggling houses on the way, 
 whose front rooms were hermetically sealed 
 and shaded ; not a lounger was out at so early 
 an hour. No one met them but Dr. Gris- 
 com coming back from a call fifteen miles 
 away, doubled up half asleep in his easy 
 buggy, while his bay mare, the best in 
 Onondaga County, picked her own way at 
 an even trot, and looked intelligently at the 
 young couple, to whom her master, suddenly 
 raising his hat, bowed with a knowing 
 smile. 
 
 Flora never seemed to notice it, but
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 149 
 
 walked on like an obedient child. Some- 
 how this submission took the zest from 
 love-making, and made it more difficult of 
 beginning; but Arthur was not going to lose 
 an opportunity, and when the doctor's buggy 
 had whirled past with slightly quickened 
 speed, he said shortly and suddenly, "Will 
 you let me tell you what I came for ? " 
 
 There was something in his tone, and still 
 more in the expression of his face, which 
 made Flora start violently and then turn 
 pale, doubtful signs; and he hurried on 
 that there might be no misapprehension of 
 his meaning : " You must know, you must 
 have seen, how much I love you." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I never dreamed of such a thing ! 
 Pray, pray, say no more about it ! " 
 
 "I must speak, now that I have the 
 chance. Don't be frightened forgive me 
 for being too sudden only listen to me." 
 
 " No, please do not. It will only make it 
 worse." 
 
 "Make what worse? Surely you do not 
 love you cannot have promised yourself to 
 anybody else ? " 
 
 "No, I have not." 
 
 " Forgive me if I have been toe abrupt ; 
 but it seems to me as if a man cannot love a
 
 150 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 woman as much as I love you, without her 
 knowing it." 
 
 "I never dreamed of such a thing," 
 repeated Flora, apologetically. 
 
 " I do love you, with all the power there 
 is in me." 
 
 "Don't say such things; you ought not, 
 indeed you ought not." 
 
 "Why not? because you don't love me? 
 I don't ask it yet. Dearest, only be willing 
 to let me love you, and I will make you so 
 happy that you can't help it. Only say you 
 will be my wife, and I will take care of all 
 that." He paused, anxiously looking for 
 some sign of yielding, but there was no 
 emotion visible in the beautiful lines of her 
 profile as she looked straight before her 
 with downcast eyes. 
 
 "You don't dislike me do you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Don't you like me a little ? " 
 
 "You must not ask such questions," said 
 Flora, suddenly turning round ; " I have 
 given you no right to do so. I could not 
 think at first just what I ought to say, 
 because I was so surprised ; but I cannot be 
 your wife. I am sure of that." 
 
 " But why not ? "
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 151 
 
 "I do not want to." 
 
 " Why not?" 
 
 "That ought to be enough." 
 
 "Not for me; that will never do forme. 
 There is no possibility for me of life without 
 you. You have confessed you do not dis- 
 like me; perhaps to-morrow I can make you 
 own to a little more. Dearest Flora, you 
 don't know, you can't guess how I will strive 
 to make you happy; you don't know how 
 happy I can make you. I can give you rest 
 and care, you need them, and books 
 and music and pictures, and every delightful 
 thing you can dream of; I can take you 
 to your old home ; I will let you have 
 plenty to give to your sister. Can't you 
 like me well enough to let me do all this 
 for you ? " 
 
 " You are not fair; you give me no choice. 
 Of what use would it be for me to say I don't 
 like you ? You would not leave off asking 
 me." She stopped, a hot red flush dyeing 
 her cheeks and throat, and quivering pain- 
 fully with her labored breath. " I will tell 
 you the real reason. If a man says he loves 
 a woman, he has a right to hear the truth 
 from her. I cannot be your wife, not because 
 I do not love you, that need not come
 
 152 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 into the question at all; I cannot, because 
 you do not love me." 
 
 "Flora!" 
 
 "You think you do, maybe." 
 
 " I know it. There is nothing I know so 
 well. I loved you the first moment I saw 
 you, though I did not know it then, not till 
 I went away from you. If I had known it 
 I could not have gone. Since then I have 
 thought of you, dreamed of you, seen you 
 every minute. I love you better than every- 
 thing else in the world; indeed, it seems to 
 me sometimes that I have never loved any- 
 thing else at all." 
 
 " You have always loved yourself. " 
 
 " That was before I had seen you. " 
 
 " If you never loved any one but me, 
 your love is not the right kind. You have 
 worked and planned and thought, all for 
 yourself. I know, of course, how much you 
 have done for your family, but it was all 
 because you thought it was proper for your 
 own character and reputation that it should 
 be done; it was not for their sakes. You 
 don't love them." 
 
 " Is that wholly my fault ? " 
 
 "Very likely not. I don't blame you. I 
 have no right to do so, and I know how hard
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 153 
 
 a life you have lived, and how much you 
 have had to make you selfish; but you are 
 
 that is all. Forgive me if I say more 
 than I ought ; but I must tell you the truth, 
 or you will not be satisfied." 
 
 " I am selfish, I own it ; all men are, but 
 you would make me better. " 
 
 " All men are not selfish ! " burst out 
 Flora. " Oh ! " she went on, now trembling 
 from head to foot, "you can't have a heart 
 
 you can't love or you would love 
 Orlando, and feel for him a little. He 's 
 the best man that ever lived. You are 
 hardly fit to be his brother, and you treat 
 him as if he were the ground beneath your 
 feet. I heard all you said to him when you 
 were here last; I did not want to, but I 
 could not help it. And you have grown up 
 with him from a boy! If you don't love 
 him, you .can't love anybody." 
 
 "I did consider Orlando's conduct worthy 
 of blame. You don't understand how men 
 look at these things." 
 
 "And you don't understand how it all 
 happened. If you had loved him at all you 
 would have asked for his reasons his 
 excuses ; you would have wanted to hear 
 them, so that you might have felt it right to
 
 154 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 do more for him. '' She passed her hand over 
 her eyes, as if calling up old recollections ; 
 then, looking up, she went on with a falter- 
 ing voice: "When my father died, we had 
 so little that Aunt Esther said she and Ida 
 would have to do something. I was only 
 fourteen then, and she thought I was too 
 young to teach for another year at least. 
 Ida was seventeen, and very well fitted ; but 
 she was afraid to go anywhere alone, and 
 Aunt wrote to one of her old friends, and 
 got a place at Cazenovia. Ida was to teach, 
 and I was to study, and work some for my 
 board, and we were very glad, because we 
 could all keep together. Orlando was just 
 ordained and settled there, and he and Ida 
 became engaged directly, but they did not 
 mean to marry till they had saved a little; 
 he wanted to have his mother live with 
 them, and she wanted to, and he said he 
 knew you would go on doing something for 
 her only, he wanted to do his share. But 
 Aunt Esther felt very ill ; she did not know 
 what the matter was with her, but she 
 thought if she could only hold out another 
 year ! but she could not ; and then the doc- 
 tor Orlando had Dr. Griscom come from 
 here said it was a cancer, and could n't be
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 155 
 
 cured. She kept on a little longer." Flora's 
 eyes were now brimming with tears, which 
 she struggled to keep back. " When Orlando 
 found out how it was, he and Ida were mar- 
 ried directly, so that Auntie might have a 
 home to go to. She lived two years after 
 that, and Ida was never well after Landy 
 was born; and he could n't help running into 
 debt, though he tried, he did try, to keep 
 out of it. He took me in too, and never 
 breathed a word about its being a burden. " 
 
 "I should think that you had more than 
 paid for everything that Orlando has done 
 for you." 
 
 "We never asked which gave the most," 
 said Flora, a flash of violet light piercing 
 her eyelashes. " People don't want to be 
 done for they want to be loved. Yes, I 
 know you have done everything for your 
 mother, but Orlando has loved her. You 
 think you love me now, but you don't know 
 what it really is. You want to marry me 
 because I am pretty, or you think so; but 
 you don't know me. If I lost that there 
 would be nothing else in me for you to care 
 about. I am an ignorant girl, ignorant, at 
 least, of what you would want your wife to 
 know. I know nothing about society, or
 
 156 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 what is going on in the world. You would 
 find me stupid. I saw you looking at Ida at 
 dinner to-day, as if you wondered whether 
 she ever looked like me. She used to be a 
 great deal prettier, though perhaps you 
 would not think so now; but Orlando loves 
 her just as much as when he married her 
 more now that she is pale and sickly 
 and nervous, yes, and cross sometimes; wo- 
 men have to be when they have had so much 
 pain as she has; but he has never lost his 
 patience with her one single moment. There 
 is nothing he would not do for her; he would 
 die for her I do believe he would beg for 
 her; it could not be any worse than to bear 
 the things you said to him. I want to be 
 loved like that!" 
 
 " If I married you I should love like 
 that ! " 
 
 Flora shook her head. "No," she said, 
 " I could not make you different. I am not 
 good enough or wise enough. I should like 
 all those things you spoke of, rest and 
 freedom and pretty things; and I should 
 get drawn away from all of them here, and 
 I could not bear it. You must not think 
 that I speak only for myself, I do it for 
 your sake too. If I loved you twice as well
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 157 
 
 as I do, I would not marry you. If I did, 
 you would try to make me live your life, and 
 see with your eyes every man wants his 
 wife to do that ; you would try to make me 
 go against my own sense of what was right, 
 and we should both grow worse." 
 
 " You will drive me mad ! " burst out 
 Arthur, losing his composure. " Is happiness 
 so common a thing in this world that we 
 must both of us miss it on account of your 
 over-fine scruples ? They are foolish 
 wrong. " 
 
 " There are better things than happiness. 
 We are often unhappy here, but I can bear 
 it. Before you came, it never seemed so 
 hard. Please do not say anything more; 
 go away and don't come back; you will 
 soon get over caring for me. Try and marry 
 some girl who will be fit for the world you 
 live in, some good girl who owes no duty 
 here, and who will do you good instead of 
 your doing her harm. What she might give 
 them or do for them would be kindness, and 
 not buying them off, as it would be in me. " 
 
 She spoke in short breathless sentences, 
 with a pause after each one; and now she 
 stopped, and stood a moment, shaking so 
 that he involuntarily put out his arm to
 
 158 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 save her from falling; but she rejected it in 
 a way not to be mistaken, and walked on 
 again more rapidly. Their path was bring- 
 ing them back to the village square where a 
 livelier murmur of voices and steps had 
 begun to arise as the sun sloped toward the 
 west and the hour hand of the town clock 
 toward the nadir. 
 
 " Do you think that I am going to give 
 you up like that? " said Arthur, desperately. 
 
 " Pray, don't say any more. It will be of no 
 use, and it will only make us both unhappy." 
 
 They were crossing the green now, out of 
 hearing of every one, if not out of sight; 
 but he could not trust himself to speak with- 
 out giving full vent to the burning tide of 
 passion, love, or hate, he could not tell which, 
 for this beautiful, provoking, incomprehen- 
 sible creature. Was ever love confessed, or 
 refused, in so maddening, so tantalizing a 
 fashion? He was silent; but she looked at 
 him with some fear in her eyes, and he did 
 not wonder, for he felt sayage enough. His 
 ears were ringing, and his pulse throbbing 
 with a mad desire to seize upon her kiss 
 her, kill her! Had there but been a desert 
 around them ! But as it was, he only opened 
 the rickety gate for her to pass, and said in
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 159 
 
 his usual courteous, deliberate tones, " Don't 
 you think that you have been a little hard 
 upon me ? " 
 
 He scorned himself for saying it; as if 
 that were all that could come of that tempest 
 within ! But it seemed to touch her, for she 
 turned on the back doorsteps, and said 
 tremulously, " I am sorry if I have. Please 
 forgive me." They stood alone together 
 under the now darkening back porch, hidden 
 by its overhanging creepers. There was no 
 bearing it. He caught her hand; but she 
 snatched it from him with a sudden impulse 
 of strength which he could not have over- 
 come without using more force than the 
 still powerful instincts of a gentleman 
 allowed, and rushed into the house arid up 
 the stairs, leaving him baffled, angry with 
 himself and her, raging with the desire to 
 work his anger off, and yet perfectly at a 
 loss how. 
 
 Go back and give her up ? Never ! Stay 
 and try his fate again? Useless! She held 
 the key of the whole situation in her hands. 
 He could never be alone with her a moment 
 unless she chose; and she would not choose. 
 He now remembered, with a curse on .his 
 own folly, the little talk on business which
 
 160 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 they had had together when he was here 
 last, and which must have been in her 
 thoughts when she showed herself so easy 
 of access to-day. 
 
 The thought crossed his mind for a 
 moment of asking Orlando's good offices in 
 the matter. Orlando, he thought, would 
 have sense to see that the girl was uselessly 
 sacrificing herself and her prospects, and 
 influence enough to persuade her to listen 
 to reason, and, Arthur felt with a quick 
 responsive throb of the heart, her own incli- 
 nations. But that Orlando, of all men, 
 should have such power over a woman ! and 
 one who was not in love with him, whose 
 virgin girlish dreams (he did not allow 
 vanity to lure him with the fancy that they 
 could be any thing more) were full of 
 another's image, it was incredible! 
 
 "It shows," he thought, "how these par- 
 sons can get round the women ; " and he 
 had never used to think that Orlando made 
 much of a figure at his own trade. No, he 
 was not so poorly off yet that he need stoop 
 to that. He did not doubt of ultimate suc- 
 cess, for he had never known defeat. He 
 would stay a few days, and wait for some 
 signs to guide him on his path; and then,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. l6l 
 
 he could not go. His whole physical nature 
 craved another sight of Flora, as the starv- 
 ing crave for food. 
 
 A step on the walk made him start. He 
 had been oblivious of all his surroundings, 
 but he now recognized the approaching form 
 of his brother Orlando, in a long linen dus- 
 ter, tall and gaunt, travel-stained and weary; 
 and starting in his turn at the unexpected 
 appearance of his brother, he said, 
 
 " How do you do, Orlando ? " 
 
 "That you, Arthur? We did not expect 
 you." 
 
 " No, I had business this way, and having 
 a day or two, thought I would run out here." 
 
 This explanation seemed to clear a cloud 
 from his brother's face. "Well, we're 
 glad to see you ; I wish things were better 
 here." 
 
 "Never mind that now." 
 
 Orlando looked relieved again, set down 
 his rusty leather bag on the bench, and 
 began to unbutton his duster. 
 
 "Have you had your supper?" he asked. 
 "They must be through now; come in and 
 have some with me. Flora '11 get something. 
 Flora!" 
 
 " She is upstairs, I think. No, thank you,
 
 1 62 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Orlando, I won't trouble you to-night;" and 
 he strolled back to his boarding-house, where 
 a supper of peculiarly uninviting aspect was 
 waiting for him. He wondered, rather grimly, 
 how many such meals he was doomed to eat 
 there before he succeeded in winning Miss 
 Flora Shepherd's consent to be his. He 
 did not give two thoughts to Orlando, who, 
 indeed, was not giving two to him. Poor 
 Orlando had come home disappointed as 
 usual ; but what he found there allowed him 
 no time to dwell on anything else. 
 
 Arthur did not go to his mother's till the 
 afternoon of the next day, recognizing the 
 fact that the less Flora saw of him for a day 
 or two, the better for his cause. But there 
 was no bearing it longer, and toward sun- 
 down he set forth, telling himself that he 
 would not take her by surprise, he would 
 ring the front doorbell, and give her fair 
 warning. It would be hardly possible, if he 
 stayed long enough, that he should not see 
 her at least. But the front door was open 
 wide, though no one came or went, and he 
 walked in, and through the open door of the 
 little parlor to where she was sitting with 
 the baby on her lap. He had come gently, 
 but something there was in the hush of the
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 163 
 
 place that made his tread echo in his own 
 ears, and he stopped short, before she had 
 raised one hand ever so slightly, and his 
 eyes had followed it as it sank slowly down 
 again to rest, light as a dropped feather, over 
 the baby. Her own gaze was riveted on its 
 face, which drew his too, with a kind of 
 fascination, even when hers was so near it. 
 The little creature's' eyes were half open, 
 but no glimmer of light came from them; 
 the lines around its mouth were settling 
 sharp and rigid, as if an icy wind were 
 sweeping over them, and a little bubble 
 between its motionless lips quivered to 
 show that the breath still went and came. 
 
 " I am afraid " Arthur began in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "Yes," said Flora, "he was taken much 
 worse last night, just as I came home." 
 
 " Has the doctor seen him ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he says there is nothing to do ; he 
 cannot swallow anything. I have brought 
 him down here, so that Ida can get some 
 sleep. She was awake all night, and while 
 he is in the room she wants to keep looking 
 at him." 
 
 " Where is Orlando ? " 
 
 " He has- taken the other children out, to
 
 1 64 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 keep the house quiet. Mrs. Butler is taking 
 a nap." She paused, then answered his 
 unspoken question with, "There is nothing 
 you can do don't wait. " 
 
 "I can stay with you, at any rate," said 
 he, sitting down beside .her, his heart swell- 
 ing with pity for the lonely girl, as it had 
 done before he knew that any concern for 
 self mingled in his emotion. Surely no 
 self should enter here now! and yet, as 
 he watched her bending head, he wished 
 her his, even were that his own child in 
 her arms. Selfish as vain the wish, he told 
 himself. 
 
 They sat side by side in the darkened 
 room, silently waiting while the little depart- 
 ing life fluttered at its open gate lingered 
 passed. Still they sat long together with- 
 out moving, till it seemed to him as if the 
 cold, blue-white shadows which were deep- 
 ening on the baby's face were reflected on 
 the face that bent above it, pale too, but 
 with a difference. The pallor of life and of 
 death, of intense feeling and of eternal re- 
 pose, as he looked, seemed to grow alike and 
 to blend. He made an involuntary motion, 
 which he would fain have recalled, as she too 
 now stirred, rose, and laying her 'burden ten-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 165 
 
 derly on the sofa, drew a handkerchief over 
 its face. 
 
 "Will you mind staying here a little 
 longer?" she asked; "I must meet Orlando 
 when he comes, and tell him. He will tell 
 Ida." 
 
 Arthur was only too glad to be asked ; and 
 he stood by her at the window, till his 
 brother approached the house, a child in 
 each hand, and Flora, her eyes now brimming 
 over, met him at the door without a word. 
 
 "Poor little Flora!" said Orlando; "you 
 have been very good to him always, dear, 
 and you know he is at rest now. " He passed 
 on into the room, and raised the covering 
 from his baby's face a moment, his own 
 mouth twitching a little. "Oh, you were 
 here ? " he asked absently, as he saw his 
 brother. 
 
 "Yes," said Arthur; "I am very glad I 
 was, for I think it was a comfort to Miss 
 Shepherd to have some one." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I am glad you were ; it was very 
 kind in you. Flora, poor child, it seemed as 
 if she was bound up in him. If anything 
 could have kept him alive she would. But 
 it is all right for him ; he is safe from the 
 trials and temptations of this world."
 
 1 66 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Butler, tearfully, as she 
 now entered the room with Flora, " it is a 
 lovely thing that so many dear little lambs 
 are taken away before they know what sin and 
 sorrow are." Mrs. Butler had progressed 
 from the early Calvinistic belief of the 
 damnation of non-elect infants to the more 
 cheerful if less logical position that all 
 babies were sure to be saved in some way. 
 "It has always been a consoling thought," 
 she went on, " that one third of the human 
 race dies in infancy." 
 
 Orlando looked a little hurt at this, though 
 he had uttered this very sentiment in a ser- 
 mon ; but his mother had a way of applying 
 scraps of pulpit eloquence on inappropriate 
 occasions. 
 
 "I must go up to Ida," he said, stopping 
 to give Flora a consolatory kiss, and a few 
 whispered words. Arthur took the oppor- 
 tunity to say, " You must let me attend to 
 everything ; " and having made a few arrange- 
 ments he hurried off, Mrs. Butler aimlessly 
 following him. Flora, left alone, could 
 throw herself on the floor, and bury her face 
 in her place of refuge, the baby's white 
 nest. It was cold and still there now, but 
 that was better than to have it empty, as it
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 167 
 
 soon must be. In a moment Mrs. Butler 
 came fussing back, and the children, left 
 outside by their father, shouted under the 
 window; but she was ready for them then. 
 
 Arthur had met Dr. Griscom at the gate, 
 and stopped for a word or two with him. 
 The doctor was a man of consequence in 
 Liverpool, having a good house there, a 
 farm just out of the town, and " money out 
 at interest." He had a wide back-country 
 practice, and was often called into consulta- 
 tions in Syracuse. He was tall and thin, 
 with grizzled hair, and a kindly keen-sighted 
 look, and in his old clothes had an air of 
 superiority, the combined result of early 
 education and the long autocracy which a 
 country doctor enjoys. He was now throw- 
 ing curious glances at Arthur over his 
 spectacles, trying, as was his wont when 
 they met, to trace some link between the 
 barefoot boy of his old remembrances and 
 this elegant young man, and oddly strug- 
 gling between his former good-natured con- 
 descension and his present unavoidable de- 
 ference to one now wonted to a wider sphere 
 than his own. They walked, still talking, 
 back to the house, and would have gone in ; 
 but the sight through the doorway of the
 
 1 68 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 lonely figure by the couch stayed them, and 
 they turned again to the gate in silence, and 
 ended their colloquy in subdued tones. But 
 when the doctor had given Arthur one or 
 two addresses, and asked one or two ques- 
 tions, he still lingered, and at last, throwing 
 a quick glance at the closed blinds of the 
 windows, said, " Flora Shepherd is a very 
 uncommon girl." 
 
 "She seems to be so." 
 
 "I ought to know, and I say she would 
 appear an uncommonly fine girl anywhere." 
 
 "You are right, I have no doubt." 
 
 "Any man," went on the doctor, "any 
 young man, who had the very slightest 
 chance of getting that girl for a wife, and 
 did not try, with all his might, would be 
 the greatest fool I know." 
 
 "I agree with you entirely," said Arthur, 
 looking straight at the doctor before he 
 walked off. 
 
 "Well well!" muttered the old man 
 to himself, rather taken aback by this sud- 
 den outburst of candor, "I am glad yes," 
 choking down a rising lump in his throat, 
 "I am heartily glad of it!"
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 169 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A RTHUR worked off his excited feelings 
 ** of compassion, as men are prone to 
 do, by spending money, and ordered every- 
 thing for the baby's funeral in "real style" 
 according to the undertaker, which meant 
 everything as simple and as expensive as 
 possible. He sent out from Syracuse gar- 
 dens a great quantity of the rarest flowers, 
 which Flora touched with conflicting emo- 
 tions; but she could thoroughly sympathize 
 with Ida's gratification. It was a genuine 
 comfort to them both to think that the poor 
 baby, whose birth had been unheralded by 
 gifts, and whose life had been spent in the 
 cast-off clothes of others, should have 
 some possessions of his own at last, if only 
 a few withering rosebuds shut up within a 
 coffin-lid. 
 
 Orlando himself said the few short and 
 simple words of the funeral service, very 
 calmly, and did not, his mother thought,
 
 I/O BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 sufficiently improve the occasion. Ida was 
 just able to come downstairs, pale but 
 lovely even in her unchecked tears, which 
 flowed feebly, keeping time, as it were, to 
 her languid pulses. She did not attempt to 
 go with the rest to the grave, but when they 
 rose to go she held out her hand to Arthur, 
 saying, "Thank you so much for this and 
 all your other kindness " 
 
 We all know people whose power of comic 
 expression resides more in voice and manner 
 than in the words; but Ida and her sister 
 had tones and looks that gave a calm inten- 
 sity to all they said, no matter how trivial ; 
 and surely, nothing ever heightened the 
 power of beauty more. Flora had given no 
 direct thanks; but she consulted Arthur on 
 all the arrangements for the occasion in a 
 free and unconscious way, which pleased him 
 by showing her gratitude, if it maddened 
 him by asserting a confidence he could not 
 betray; no avoiding him, no shrinking from 
 him; she would come up to him wherever 
 he might be, and with her eyes, running over 
 with tears, full on him, talk to him as freely 
 as to Orlando. They walked side by side 
 in the short procession which entered the 
 cemetery gate, and stood side by side while
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS, Ijl 
 
 the tiny grave was filled, under the shadow 
 of a plain but handsome family monument, 
 which some of Arthur's first gains had gone 
 to erect. On its polished surface, he now 
 read a name which recalled the fact, almost 
 forgotten, that another Arthur Butler had 
 been brought here before in his babyhood, 
 an older brother of his own, who had died 
 before he was born. "Poor little man! 
 your place was soon filled up ! " he thought. 
 " You had no one to love you, like If 
 you had, I could wish I had been you ! " And 
 he looked at Flora, who was calm and tearless 
 now, for the John Butlers, who had brought 
 Laurea "to see her little cousin buried," 
 were there, and before them she would show 
 no emotion. Almira's sharp looks at her 
 were unheeded, and the doctor's kindlier 
 interest, apparent to Arthur, was unnoticed 
 by her. But when they reached the house 
 again she stopped before going up to her 
 sister, who had been left in charge of a 
 Mrs. Rand, a good-hearted, loud-spoken, 
 neighboring widow, and held out her hand. 
 "Good -by, Mr. Butler; I suppose I shall 
 not see you again; " and then in her sister's 
 words and tone : " Thank you so much for all 
 your kindness."
 
 1/2 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "I shall see you again before you go," 
 said Orlando, following her. It seemed a 
 foregone conclusion in the minds of the 
 whole family that he was going as soon as 
 possible; and indeed, what had he to wait 
 for? Flora had given him a strong hint 
 that it would be of no use to stay. 
 
 " Heard about Jonah ? " asked John, who 
 was loitering about waiting for his wife, 
 who had also gone upstairs to bid good-by 
 before her drive home. 
 
 "No, I don't remember," said Arthur, 
 vaguely recollecting that his mother had 
 said something when he first arrived. " I 
 hope he is doing well." 
 
 "So-so; he's got a place with Hewson, a 
 man who farms it out Fabius way; but I 
 guess he gets pretty poor pay; and I've 
 been wonderin' why he don't turn up here 
 again. Hewson's a Baptist, and a professor, 
 but he's a regular screw." 
 
 "You shouldn't talk against church- 
 members, John," said his mother. 
 
 "I 've traded with him," said John. 
 
 " I am glad, at any rate," said Mrs. Butler, 
 "that Mr. Hewson is a professing Christian. 
 I have a great respect for the Baptists, 
 though I see no Scriptural grounds against
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 173 
 
 infant baptism, you were all christened; 
 but if Jonah wanted to be immersed, I 
 should not mind it at all." 
 
 " He '11 be in deep enough before he gets 
 through," said John, winking. "There's a 
 girl at the Hewsons', though she 's an old one; 
 she'll get him in if Father Hewson don't." 
 
 "I hope she is pious," said Mrs. Butler, 
 wiping her eyes. " I think a pious wife 
 might do a good deal for Jonah; I did hope 
 before he left he had some serious thoughts ; 
 he had several very bad nights, which is 
 often a sign of being under conviction; but 
 it turned out that it was only the pies; 
 Flora had made the crust very heavy that 
 week." 
 
 "You mustn't be sayin' anythin' against 
 Florer, mother," said John; "it ain't fair to 
 tell the men that a girl can't make good pie- 
 crust hey, Arthur?" 
 
 " I should never think of saying anything 
 against dear little Flora," said Mrs. Butler. 
 " She is a good Christian girl if ever there 
 was one, and I should be only too glad if 
 dear Jonah would take a fancy to her. I 
 always hoped he would, living in the same 
 house, and everything. But he thinks far 
 too much of outward attractions; he says
 
 174 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 she does not carry style enough for him ; I 
 wish that Jonah " 
 
 " Oh, damn Jonah ! " interrupted Arthur, 
 but without the least hint of irritation in 
 his utterance, slow and polished as ever, so 
 that his mother at first doubted whether she 
 heard aright, and then remained speechless 
 with horror, while John, on the contrary, 
 "snatched a fearful joy" mingled with a 
 sudden reinforcement of respect for his 
 brother. Mrs. Butler had always thought 
 her second son's salvation problematical, and 
 from chat time she regarded his perdition as 
 almost inevitable. She took herself out of 
 the room, with a frightened expression, as 
 soon as the John Butlers had driven off, 
 leaving Orlando alone with him, as if for 
 purposes of exorcism. But Orlando could 
 only begin mildly with: "Thank you, 
 Arthur; you have been very good. I am 
 sorry to have caused you all this additional 
 expense." 
 
 "That was a gift don't mention it. I 
 was very glad to be able to do it." 
 
 " I hoped I should not be a burden on you 
 much longer, but the position in the 
 Geneseo Academy, for which I have been 
 applying, has been given to somebody else.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 175 
 
 There are always so many after such a 
 place." 
 
 Orlando in his best funereal array looked 
 threadbare enough, more like the "usher" 
 dear to fiction, than one likely to find favor 
 in a "growing academy." But Arthur, as 
 he turned to go, answered absently, " Never 
 mind; there will be other things probably." 
 
 " If you should come across anything 
 within my powers some secretaryship, or 
 some such thing; I can write fast and 
 legibly " 
 
 " I cannot say I know of nothing at 
 present," said Arthur, who particularly dis- 
 liked holding out expectations to his family; 
 they were ready enough, he thought, to form 
 them without encouragement. " Good-by, 
 Orlando. I am sorry to hurry, but I shall 
 miss my train." 
 
 Orlando looked wistfully after him, wishing 
 he had spoken a little sooner, when Arthur had 
 a little more time, and when he might have had 
 a better chance of explaining his wishes and 
 capabilities; and feeling, too, that he ought 
 to have expressed more gratitude ; but some- 
 how his brother was a hard person to thank. 
 
 Arthur went back. The city, divested of 
 pleasures, was full of work as ever, fuller;
 
 1/6 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 and he pushed on unsparingly. He could 
 not bear stopping to think. He was toiling 
 on for Flora's sake, but she seemed so far 
 away that no effort could bring her nearer 
 day by day. She must consent; but he 
 could never fancy her doing it. When he 
 did see her, in sleeping or waking dreams, 
 it was always bending over the dead baby in 
 her arms, and the shadow of death stealing 
 over her, and then he would awake with an 
 icy shiver at his heart; what if she should 
 die before he saw her again ? He never put 
 so much labor into his most difficult case as 
 he now spent in trying to find some situa- 
 tion for Orlando. The one he had been 
 offered was now filled, and it was likely to 
 be some time before he could lay any one 
 else who had an easy berth for a retired 
 indigent minister at his disposal under 
 sufficient obligations to obtain the filling of 
 it. But he was sure of one in time. Orlando 
 must come to Boston and bring his whole 
 family with him, including Flora of course; 
 and when he had her where he could see her 
 daily, no one else should have the very 
 smallest chance, he was sure of that ; and 
 that granted, time must work on his side. 
 How long would it be before she could for-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 1/7 
 
 get that she had refused to be " bought off " 
 by him, when every fresh kindness he did 
 for his family would remind her of it ? It 
 must be long; for himself he doubted if he 
 could ever forget it; but he thought he had 
 enough magnanimity never to reproach her 
 with it after she had changed her opinion. 
 
 In the second week in September, after a 
 day largely spent in inquiries on his brother's 
 behalf, crowded in upon a hundred other 
 matters, the sight of a little note in a well- 
 remembered handwriting, gave him a sense 
 of pre-existence. It only said: 
 
 900 Marlborough Street, BOSTON, 
 
 September 14, 188-. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. BUTLER, I am sorry that I have 
 not had the pleasure of seeing more of you this 
 summer ; but we are both of us such busy people 
 that it seemed impossible to arrange it. I have 
 come to town earlier than usual for a few days, be- 
 cause I have rather suddenly made up my mind to 
 go abroad this fall. My cousin Sophy accompanies 
 me, and we stay a year, or perhaps eighteen months. 
 I hope I may have an opportunity to wish you good- 
 by; can you not come and dine with me to-mor- 
 row, or any day this week? quite by ourselves, 
 at seven o'clock. 
 
 Yours very sincerely, 
 
 RACHEL TOWNSEND CURTIS.
 
 178 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Arthur thought over all his talks with 
 Miss Curtis, in which they had planned a 
 foreign tour. He had never gone, and she 
 often had, until, as she declared, she was 
 weary of travelling, and would not go again, 
 unless she had the excitement of taking a 
 fresh observer with her. If he could man- 
 age to run over for a few months, she really 
 did not know but she might go too, and take 
 some of the girls. Frances had never been 
 yet ; and then Sophy was asked if she would 
 not like to go again, and had blushed as she 
 replied that she would like to very much, 
 with a pleasant party. But latterly the sub- 
 ject had been dropped, Miss Curtis and 
 Arthur tacitly agreeing that it would not do 
 to bring it up till Sophy and he were openly 
 engaged. It was painful to recall all this 
 alone, and it would be more painful still to 
 recall it together, but it was a pain that 
 could not be shirked, and he wrote on the 
 spot, and accepted for the morrow. 
 
 That little party of three how like old 
 times, and yet how unlike, it seemed to 
 them all ! They talked on the old subjects, 
 after their first meeting had been as skilfully 
 got through as was in the power of high 
 breeding to accomplish; but still their talk
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 179 
 
 would languish, and their attention flag. 
 Miss Curtis, in spite of herself, had hoped 
 something from the occasion. Meeting again 
 after an interval does sometimes clear up 
 misunderstandings. She had debated whether 
 to ask a fourth or not; it might be more 
 awkward to have one, and it might be less. 
 She had vacillated asked one man who 
 could not come; had been glad of it, and 
 now felt regretful, and wished some one 
 would drop in; but no one did. All these 
 perplexities assailed her, while her tongue 
 glibly reeled off small talk, going straight 
 to Scotland not too late just the right 
 time stay with the Rantouls they have 
 taken the house on Oronsay yachting in the 
 Western Islands Staffa lona always 
 wanted to see them Culdees crosses 
 cromlechs Collins' Ode. She was won- 
 dering, meanwhile, if the others were 
 racking their brains as she was, while the 
 clock musically mocked her distress as every 
 quarter came round. 
 
 At nine o'clock there came a welcome 
 break, as the butler brought in a note with, 
 "The man wishes to know if there is any 
 answer, ma'am?" 
 
 Miss Curtis read the note once; she read
 
 l80 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 it twice; she read it thrice. It was from 
 her next neighbor but one, who was also 
 passing through town for a few days, on a 
 very trivial matter, and the simplest verbal 
 message would have sufficed for an answer; 
 but in the time which it gave her for thought, 
 she formed a plan for one last effort. Per- 
 haps a few minutes' tete-a-tete might even 
 now explain the whole; and while she read 
 the note the fourth time she made up her 
 mind, with some shame at her plotting, 
 which she set aside as her own sacrifice, that 
 no one else need ever know. 
 
 "Tell the man, please, to say to Mrs. 
 Montgomery that I will come in in a 
 moment. Excuse my leaving you," to the 
 young people; "but I find I must see Mrs. 
 Montgomery about this; I shall not be long 
 not more than half-an-hour; and you," to 
 Arthur, "will wait till I come back. It is 
 early yet." 
 
 " Cannot I see Mrs. Montgomery for you, 
 and save you the trouble?" said Arthur, 
 with unpromising readiness. 
 
 " Oh no, that would be impossible no, 
 no, don't disturb yourself don't get up;" 
 and she hurried out of the room as quickly 
 as she could, unheeding Sophy's look of
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. l8l 
 
 pleading expostulation, strong as the girl 
 dared to make it, and thought she had done 
 it, on the whole, very naturally. 
 
 In the half-hour which followed, Arthur 
 Butler expiated some of his sins, and rec- 
 ognizing the fact, made no complaint of 
 Fortune or of his old friend. He felt that 
 he deserved that the punishment should be 
 even worse than it was ; that it was not was 
 due to Sophy, who gallantly sustained the 
 credit of her sex. The longer the time grew, 
 (and Miss Curtis, now that she was " in for it, " - 
 made it long), the more unflagging was her 
 flow of talk, skimming the surface like a 
 smooth pebble, without ever once ruffling 
 the depths. They talked gossip and guide- 
 books, though the one topic was stupid and 
 the other loathsome. What did Sophy care 
 for the old world, so often traversed by her, 
 and in which she was now to look for some 
 new distraction in untrodden ways? What 
 did Arthur care for anything in nature or in 
 art that he had once longed for? Only to 
 know if a girl in a little town which he 
 knew through and through, and on which he 
 had so often gladly turned his back, was 
 thinking of him ever then just then. 
 As they both began to feel that they could
 
 1 82 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 not stand it much longer, Miss Curtis came 
 back, and Arthur rose. 
 
 "I think I must go now, Miss Curtis," 
 he said, sadly and quietly. " I have some 
 work on hand for the evening, and I ought 
 not to keep you up late; you must have a 
 great deal to see to, cannot I help you in 
 any way ? " 
 
 "No, thank you. Really there is nothing 
 to be done. I have lent this house to Mrs. 
 Tom Wilson and her daughter; they will 
 come in a fortnight or so." 
 
 " Good-night, then ; I wish you a pleasant 
 journey and safe return. Good-by, Miss 
 Sophy," taking a hand of each in his; then 
 in a still lower tone: "Thank you for all 
 your great kindness to me; good-by!" 
 
 He knew that he had turned a page in his 
 life at which there was no looking back, and 
 seeing himself, as he had long been in the 
 habit of doing, through Miss Curtis's eyes, 
 he thought he cut but a mean figure there. 
 Had it only been she with whom he was 
 alone, he perhaps could have told her every- 
 thing, and she, perhaps, might have forgiven ; 
 but it was too late for that. 
 
 " If Flora knew all this ! " he thought, 
 "she would certainly never have me; nay,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 183 
 
 she would probably insist on my proposing 
 to Sophy at once;" and he could hear her 
 doing so, in the simple way in which young 
 girls will tell a man to do the impos- 
 sible. He had a desperate feeling that he 
 should like her to know, that he wanted 
 to win her with every disadvantage against 
 him known to the bottom, and not a secret 
 to fear the look in her eyes. He had 
 always known that if Sophy were his wife 
 there must be a great region of his life 
 which she could never enter; and it had not 
 troubled him. But with Flora the idea was 
 unbearable. This secret, nevertheless, he 
 must keep for Sophy's sake; and after all, 
 Flora would have a husband in whose past 
 there was much less worthy of blame than 
 in that of most of the men he knew. Indeed, 
 in the light of sober reason, he did not see 
 that he was to blame at all ; but Conscience, 
 as is sometimes her wont, would not listen 
 to reason.
 
 1 84 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FROM ARTHUR BUTLER TO ORLANDO 
 BUTLER. 
 
 Ames Building, BOSTON, MASS., 
 Sept. 20, 188-. 
 
 DEAR ORLANDO, Mr. Marcus Spear, 
 the President of the Colonial- Historical So- 
 ciety, has at his disposal the place of Assistant 
 Secretary, and as he is under obligations of a 
 business nature to me, I was able to obtain the 
 offer of it for you. The duties are, I think, within 
 your powers, hours from nine to five, and salary 
 $800 a year. This will not be a very large sum 
 on which to support your family near Boston, but 
 you can have a room at my lodgings for the 
 present, and they can remain in Liverpool with 
 mother. I do not think it best that she should 
 remove here till I can get the house there off my 
 hands ; but when I can, without too much loss, sell 
 or lease it, you can take one in the suburbs here 
 somewhere, and I will pay you for her board at a 
 fair rate, and make her an allowance for her per- 
 sonal expenses, if you can undertake to make her 
 comfortable. I have no doubt she will be willing
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 1 8$ 
 
 to consent to this plan. I will settle your debts at 
 Pompey and set you free with the world again, and 
 you certainly ought to be able to keep so. I enclose 
 a check for your travelling expenses ; please get 
 yourself a respectable suit of clothes, and come at 
 once. Give my love to mother, and remember me 
 to your wife and Miss Shepherd. Let me hear from 
 you by return post, and believe me 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 ARTHUR BUTLER. 
 
 FROM ORLANDO BUTLER TO ARTHUR 
 BUTLER. 
 
 LIVERPOOL, N. Y., 
 Sept 22, 188-. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER, Your most kind letter of 
 the 2oth is just received, and I cannot tell you what 
 a relief it gives to my mind. I hope some day I 
 may be able to defray part of the pecuniary obliga- 
 tion, but that of your kindness I shall never be able 
 to. I accept the offer of the situation with grati- 
 tude. Mother will have no objection to leave Liv- 
 erpool, and will enjoy being located near you. She 
 only wishes to be in the neighborhood of some 
 Evangelical church where Scriptural truths are 
 really professed and taught. 
 
 Ida joins with me in fervent thanks, and seems to 
 enjoy the idea of removing eastward, though of 
 course it will be very different there from her own
 
 1 86 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 old home. But I doubt not the change will be 
 beneficial to her. Flora, much to my surprise, does 
 not seem to take to the project, and even said some- 
 thing about staying in this neighborhood, and get- 
 ting a teacher's place. Of course, Ida would not 
 hear of that, nor I either, for we could not spare 
 her ; and I think she must see that, and will not 
 object to give up her own wishes, and accompany 
 us. I don't know what her reasons are, but I hope 
 she has had no thoughts of Jonah, as mother has 
 sometimes been inclined to suspect. Though Jonah 
 is my brother, and I wish him a good wife, yet I 
 must say I cannot think him worthy of Flora, whom 
 I have always regarded as the very best girl in the 
 world, next to my own wife. John seems to think 
 he is paying attentions to another young lady ; so 
 it will be much the best plan for her to accompany 
 us. If Ida and the children are well, I hope she 
 can get time to attend some good school for a term 
 or two. Her father taught her very carefully while 
 he lived, and I always felt that she ought to have 
 more advantages in that way. 
 
 I cannot be in Boston on Monday morning with- 
 out travelling on the Sabbath, which I have never 
 done ; and I hope you will not mind if I feel that 
 I cannot conscientiously break my rule for any 
 emergency if I look to being prospered in my new 
 position. I will leave in the Monday morning train 
 and be in Boston that evening. Mother and Ida 
 both send love, and we all pray that the Lord will
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. iS/ 
 
 reward you with all spiritual blessing through Christ 
 Jesus. 
 
 Ever gratefully your brother, 
 
 ORLANDO BUTLER. 
 
 Monday evening came, but Orlando had 
 not appeared in Beacon Street. Tuesday 
 morning still he did not come ; and Arthur, 
 after waiting for him for some time sat down 
 to write a note to leave for him in no very 
 good humor. " I might have known it ! " he 
 thought. "Catch Orlando being in time, 
 even when his living depends on it ! He will 
 find unpunctuality tell more against him 
 than Sunday travelling there, I fancy." He 
 went on to save time by writing a note of 
 apology to Mr. Spear for his brother's non- 
 appearance, in case the appointed hour came 
 without him. It was pouring a heavy 
 autumn rain outside, in consequence of 
 which, perhaps, the boy was late with the 
 newspaper, the want of which still further 
 irritated him. It came as he finished his 
 last note, and as it was brought in, he saw 
 from the window the urchin who had brought 
 it pattering across the street without any 
 umbrella, like a vision of his own boyhood. 
 It haunted him as he threw himself back 
 in his comfortable study chair, and unfolded
 
 I 88 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 the damp sheet. On the first page blazed 
 in the largest of type : 
 
 DEATH ON THE RAIL! 
 
 FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT! 
 
 LOSS OF LIFE ! 
 
 TELESCOPING OF TWO TRAINS ON THE NEW 
 YORK CENTRAL AT LITTLE FALLS. 
 
 THROUGH CAR FOR BOSTON BURNED. 
 
 TWO CLERGYMEN AND A NOTED ACTOR 
 AMONG THE LOST. 
 
 His eye ran along these lines without 
 taking in the closely printed text with which 
 they were interspersed, there was no more 
 needed; and when he came to the second 
 name in the list of killed, 
 
 BUTLER, REV. ORLANDO, of Liverpool, 
 
 it seemed as if he had known years ago that 
 this must happen, as if his own folly must 
 have been in some way to blame that he had 
 not somehow warned prevented; while, 
 side by side with the old unreasoning pro- 
 test against destiny in the past, the other 
 half of his nature was as ready as ever to 
 fight it in the future. Two days' work must 
 be crowded into one before he took the night 
 train which would rush over the field of
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 189 
 
 death ; and it was all done, without a detail 
 being overlooked or forgotten. 
 
 On Wednesday afternoon John Butler was 
 making a short visit of inspection to his 
 China Parlors, hearing the reports of his 
 subordinates, and issuing his orders, with a 
 comprehensive decision as like his brother's 
 as his more limited sphere would allow. He 
 started as his office door opened, though the 
 visitor was expected. 
 
 " My stars, Arthur ! you do look done up, 
 and no mistake. Sit down, won't you?" 
 But Arthur remained standing. " I should n't 
 think you 'd had any sleep for a week ! " and 
 then, apologetically : " I thought there wa'n't 
 no need of my goin' s' long as you were 
 there, you know. " 
 
 A shake of the head was the only reply. 
 
 "You got him here, I s'pose? " said John, 
 lowering his voice. 
 
 Arthur silently assented. 
 
 "Much disfigured, was he, poor fellow?" 
 and as Arthur grew, if possible, a shade 
 whiter: ''You don't say so! Well poor 
 Land was fit to go that way if it came to that, 
 fitter than either you or I, the Lord knows ! " 
 
 Arthur poured out a glass of water with a 
 shaking hand, and slowly swallowed it.
 
 1 9O BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 " Coin' to Liverpool this afternoon ? Want 
 me to come with you ? " went on John, whose 
 voice sounded like the buzzing of some far. 
 away indistinct gnat in his brother's ears 
 
 " No thank you. I would rather go 
 alone. " 
 
 " Well, I was there better part of yester- 
 day, to be sure; and 't ain't very convenient 
 to go there every day. You tell 'em I '11 be 
 out early to-morrow; you '11 hardly have the 
 funeral till the day after? " 
 
 "Did you tell them about it?" 
 
 "No no I couldn't quite get myself 
 up to that point. Almirer said she would; 
 but I thought Ider and Florer would n't like 
 that; they never hitched their horses with 
 her; so I went and got Dr. Griscom; he's 
 accustomed to that sort of thing. He told 
 Florer, I s'pose, and then they told the 
 rest ; " then, with another sudden lowering 
 of his voice as he realized afresh that his 
 tones did not befit the occasion : " I am sorry 
 enough for Ider, poor thing. I don't see 
 what in the land she 's to do. " 
 
 " I shall take care of that " 
 
 " O h h ! " said John, who had meant 
 his remark to be the preface to an offer to 
 do something, and who felt that in his
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 191 
 
 impulse of real pity and regret for his 
 brother, and out of Almira's presence, he 
 might have gone farther than strict prudence 
 would dictate. Still, he could hardly do 
 nothing, and he went on : "I 've told Almirer 
 to get them their mournin' suits, Florer and 
 all of 'em, and I '11 pay the bill. She '11 bring 
 out the things to-morrow, to try 'em on. 
 Then you really don't want me to-day?" 
 
 Arthur was only too glad to get away 
 alone for the remainder of his weary jour- 
 ney; alone, but for that terrible companion, 
 shut out forever from human sight, whose 
 presence, though unseen, struck awe and 
 silence into the busy crowd along the way, 
 of which every mile grew harder as they 
 drew nearer home. Arthur had long given 
 up speaking, or even thinking, of Liverpool 
 as home; his home was in the future, a 
 future uncolored by tender reflections of the 
 past, which only lived for him in claims of 
 duty that he paid, as he thought, to the utter- 
 most farthing. But what few affectionate 
 remembrances of his boyhood he still dwelt 
 on with pleasure were connected with his 
 brother Orlando, his nearest in age; and his 
 sleepless hours on the road had been haunted 
 by pictures, almost forgotten till then, of
 
 192 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Orlando and himself getting together, after 
 having been bullied and hectored by John, 
 with the whispered resentment which is all 
 that juniors in such a plight dare as a rule 
 venture upon; indeed, poor little Orlando, 
 but for the promptings of his own more dar- 
 ing spirit, would hardly have ventured upon 
 that. Memory, too, was true in painting 
 himself as domineering and overbearing; for 
 though Mrs. Butler had been wont to assert 
 with satisfaction that " Arthur and Orlando 
 always agreed," Arthur knew very well on 
 which side the agreement had been ; and the 
 recollection of a headless wooden horse, 
 Orlando's only lawful possession in the play- 
 thing line, appropriated by Arthur because 
 he could better harness it to its cart, brought 
 more of a sting than that of harsh words or 
 cold neglects of later years. He might have 
 known, even then, that this was sure to 
 come! 
 
 He had gone over the particulars of this 
 and other such childish scenes, not sparing 
 himself one detail, with a feeling that he 
 must get the very worst. He had shed no 
 tears, he did not believe he ever should; 
 they were not in his way, and this was no 
 time for them; but when, for the third time,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 193 
 
 Flora, though he had hoped she would not, 
 opened the door they came fast enough, 
 and he found himself trying to speak - 
 choking struggling and then, he hardly 
 knew how, he was on a chair in the parlor, 
 with his head on the cold marble of the 
 rickety centre table, shaking it all over 
 with his violent, long-drawn sobs. They 
 seemed to him to come from some one else, 
 and he was conscious of surprise that they 
 gave him any relief ; but as he became aware 
 that they were really his own, a sense of 
 shame made him strive again for composure, 
 then break down again hopelessly, the first 
 gush of relief giving place to overpowering 
 dizzy weakness. 
 
 "Arthur dear Arthur don't, please 
 don't!" The words were in Flora's voice, 
 and she was bending over him, the loose 
 tendrils of her hair touching his neck. 
 " Dearest Arthur ! " and now she was kneel- 
 ing by him, her cheek wet with both their 
 tears. "Don't, don't feel it so terribly! 
 You made him happy, very happy, indeed 
 you did; I have never known him happier 
 than he was when he got your letter;" and 
 now the light touch of her hand was on his 
 head, and her words died away into the ten- 
 13
 
 194 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS, 
 
 der inarticulate murmur with which she 
 might have soothed one of the children. 
 
 " Did you read it ? " he managed at last to 
 get out with a gasping breath. 
 
 "Yes, but never mind that, he did 
 not. He said he did not wonder that you 
 were a little impatient with him sometimes, 
 and he knew you meant to be kind; and you 
 did mean to be did not you? " 
 
 "I I don't know." 
 
 " I saw why you could not say any more ; of 
 course he did not know; but he thought you 
 meant it just as well, and he knows it now. 
 Do do be comforted; there is so much you 
 can do for him still ! " 
 
 " He will be here soon. Do they know ? 
 What would they " 
 
 "You had better see them first, if you 
 think you can ; but wait a moment. " 
 
 She left the room, and Arthur, recovering 
 himself a little, and ashamed to ask by his 
 weakness for the heaven of her touch to be 
 continued, rose and walked with uncertain 
 step across the floor; but she was back 
 again in a moment with a tray in her hands. 
 "You must have some tea, and something 
 to eat. Yes please do ; you will feel 
 better after it."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 195 
 
 He could not let her stand by him and 
 hold the cup, and took it from her hand list- 
 lessly, but not refusing, under her eyes, to 
 drink what was in it, nor even to swallow a 
 little food, and did feel the better for it, 
 before his mother came in with a tearful 
 welcome. Mrs. Butler's griefs were never 
 too deep for tears, or words either, and her 
 talk, apt to be a little confused, was now 
 divided among sorrow for her son's loss, 
 satisfaction at his sure prospects in another 
 world, hopes that Arthur would take warn- 
 ing, and think of his own extremely unprom- 
 ising ones, and gratitude to Heaven that he 
 was so well able to take care of them all. 
 Gratitude to himself, as usual, was deemed 
 superfluous, and more thanks were bestowed 
 on John, for the promise of the "mourning 
 suits," than on Arthur for his intention, 
 taken for granted, of assuming the whole 
 care and support of his brother's widow and 
 children. He let it pass, and avoided look- 
 ing at Flora, though he could see with half 
 an eye her cheeks flush faintly; and her 
 " Will you not go up to see Ida? " was asked 
 in a trembling voice. 
 
 Ida was extended on her sofa, her arm 
 around her little girl, and her boy leaning
 
 196 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 against her shoulder, both children awed for 
 once into quietness. She seemed hardly 
 conscious of anything that was going on, 
 but when Arthur came near her, she held 
 out her little cold hand in a mechanical way, 
 as if it were a lesson she had learned. He 
 took it, and still holding it, sat down by her, 
 while the children, relieved by the interrup- 
 tion, hung about him. 
 
 " I want you to know, Ida, that henceforth 
 these children are mine." 
 
 "Thank you," murmured Ida, in so Iowa 
 tone that he could hardly catch the words ; 
 " I am sure you will ; you were always kind. " 
 She closed her eyes, and he waited a moment 
 before he laid her hand gently down, and 
 led away the children, who were glad to 
 follow him into the light. There was some- 
 thing in her indifference to all but her grief, 
 and her simple acceptance of his protection, 
 that suited him better than thanks could 
 have done. 
 
 The house was soon full of the usual sub- 
 dued bustle, surging even to the very 
 threshold of the chamber of death, and only 
 sparing Ida's room. How Flora contrived 
 to keep even Almira, with her mourning 
 and her patterns out of that, was a marvel
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 197 
 
 to Arthur, who strove silently to help her, 
 even by taking Mrs. John Butler's com- 
 plaints and cross-questions on himself, 
 repaid by the sense of a confidence between 
 him and Flora, which, indeed, she showed as 
 carelessly and freely as if he were her 
 brother. It asked but too plainly for a 
 return in kind; and yet, had there been 
 nothing more in that one fleeting outburst 
 of priceless tenderness ? Or was even that a 
 sign of her perfect trust that he would not 
 ask for more? He could not now, even if 
 the responsibilities he was taking upon 
 himself did not render dreams of love and 
 marriage impossible for years. He did not 
 have her for his companion at the funeral, 
 it being evidently considered his right to 
 support Ida, while Flora walked behind, a 
 child in either hand. Ida did her best not 
 to be troublesome to him, and wept silently 
 behind her black veil, while she tried not 
 to burden him with the whole weight of her 
 slight form. Though her sister-in-law's 
 fixed opinion to the contrary was frequently 
 and freely expressed, Ida did not like to be 
 sickly, and a burden; indeed, she would, if 
 she could, have been strong and healthy. 
 She was afraid now that she had not been as
 
 198 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 good a wife to Orlando as she ought to have 
 been; that perhaps she had not managed 
 even as well as she might ; and as she stood 
 looking into his open grave she strove hard 
 to remember the times and there were a 
 few when he had seemed happy and hope- 
 ful. To both sisters at once vividly recurred 
 the parting on that early Monday morning, 
 when Flora packed his bag, and they had 
 hoped that Arthur would think the new suit 
 good enough. 
 
 "Arthur always looks so very elegant, 
 doesn't he?" Ida had said. 
 
 "Yes," said Flora. 
 
 " I never saw any one quite like him, did 
 you?" 
 
 " No but Orlando looks as nice as any 
 one need to," Flora had replied, while at 
 the same time she held her head low down 
 over the open bag to hide a conscious blush, 
 too honest to disguise from herself that 
 everything about Arthur, even the way in 
 which his necktie was put on, was dear to 
 her, and ashamed that it should be so. 
 Orlando was the best man in the world, and 
 it would be better for Arthur if he were 
 more like him ; that she allowed, but yet, 
 if in changing he were to lose anything of
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS 199 
 
 the outward graces which had struck her 
 foolish eyes when she first set them on him, 
 she was not sure that she could wish it 
 sincerely. This was what came back to her 
 now, as she stood behind him. "Ida," she 
 thought, as she watched her sister's droop- 
 ing head, " is not so utterly unhappy. Her 
 earthly love is fixed on heaven too, but mine 
 no, it was best, much the best, that I 
 answered him as I did. Just think, if I had 
 said yes, and then had found him unable to 
 do all he ought for Ida; or unwilling ever 
 so little and I had seen it!"
 
 2OO BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 r I ""HE funeral was over, and the family, 
 -*- assembled for a few moments at their 
 mother's house, exchanged questions and re- 
 marks on one another's several affairs, as is 
 the custom when the scattered branches are 
 brought together for feasting or mourning. 
 
 "When do you go back, Art? S'pose 
 you're in a hurry, as usual?" inquired the 
 eldest brother. 
 
 " I cannot tell to-night. I shall wait a 
 few days, and see what Ida's wishes are." 
 
 "When be you goin', Jonah?" went on 
 John, a little put down by Arthur's manner. 
 
 "I ain't partickler, but I guess I'll get 
 off to-night." 
 
 "Seems to me you 're in a mighty hurry 
 to get back to old Hewson's." 
 
 Jonah snickered consciously, and looked 
 at Arthur, who took no notice but to say, 
 "If you mean to catch the train, you had 
 certainly better go directly."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2OI 
 
 "Jone wanted you to plague him a bit 
 about Miss Carrie, I guess," said John, 
 when Jonah had finally shambled off to bid 
 good-by to his mother. 
 
 " Why, does he mean to marry her? " 
 
 " I guess she means to marry him; it 's a 
 pretty sure thing, for she ain't got no time 
 to waste, and Jone has. I guess he wants 
 you to come down a little on the occasion." 
 
 " If Jonah is to be married, and tells me 
 so in a proper way, I shall be very glad to 
 make him a suitable present; but I really 
 cannot be expected to divine the reasons of 
 his behavior. You can let me know when 
 anything definite is settled;" and he walked 
 off to avoid a second farewell scene with 
 Jonah, for which he saw no occasion. It 
 was not possible to walk very far in the 
 Butler house, and he only succeeded in get- 
 ting as far as the back porch, where he sat 
 down in a mood of disgust with himself and 
 his surroundings. He did not like to feel 
 that his home annoyances had the power to 
 affect him so much, and he missed Orlando, 
 who, though with but little of dominant 
 character, had acted as a solvent to the 
 irreconcilable family elements, now bidding 
 fair to harden into utter separation, just as
 
 2O2 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Arthur felt that he craved some point of 
 sympathy. Life looked blank and barren 
 before him; but he had something to work 
 for still, and that was something to live for. 
 
 Something to live for! How the hot 
 blood surged through his pulses, and life 
 with a flash grew beautiful, if not clear; full 
 of doubts and difficulties, but. full of hopes 
 and promises; as Flora came out from the 
 kitchen door in the dingiest of her old 
 calico gowns, having slipped off her mourn- 
 ing, and run down to put on the kettle for 
 an early tea for Jonah. She sat down on 
 the bench by his side with an accustomed 
 air, and a looker-on would have supposed 
 that they were "courting" at the kitchen 
 door, much as Jonah and Miss Hewson 
 doubtless transacted their affairs. " I have 
 been waiting to see you," he began, after 
 she had sat a few moments, silent, sad, and 
 calm, awaiting his pleasure. " I am afraid 
 I shall have to leave here to-morrow, and 
 I want to arrange some plans with your 
 sister before I go. Perhaps I had better get 
 your opinion of them first. I want Ida to 
 look to me for everything, and to feel that I 
 will do my very best for her children; she 
 knows that.' 1
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 203 
 
 "I am sure she does." 
 
 "But I cannot do that to my own sat- 
 isfaction unless I have them somewhat 
 nearer me." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I shall probably be less and less able to 
 come here." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How do you think she would like to 
 come to Boston, I mean, just out of Bos- 
 ton? There is a little house in Newton that 
 I was thinking of for them. It was bought 
 in cheap by a man I know on a mortgage, 
 and I can take it for a couple of years, with 
 the privilege of buying at any time; it is 
 in a pleasant situation, and I should think 
 very healthy. " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " I think the sooner she goes, the better. 
 I could have things ready for her in less 
 than a month, and I hope by that time she 
 will be able to come. Don't you think 
 the change will be good for her in any 
 case ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do," said Flora, slowly but 
 unhesitatingly. 
 
 " I do not, as I wrote Orlando, think it 
 wise to break up here all at once, but if I
 
 2O4 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 can in time dispose of this house, I think it 
 will be much better for my mother to come 
 too, if you are sure that she and Ida will 
 be happy together in the same household. 
 I want you to tell me the exact truth. I 
 know you will." 
 
 " I think they would be very happy. They 
 were always fond of each other." 
 
 " My mother has peculiar ways of looking 
 at some things; a little different, I should 
 think, from you and your sister." 
 
 " Oh, that does n't matter. If we only 
 do just as Mrs. Butler wants in one or two 
 ways, she is perfectly satisfied with us ; and 
 those are no great trouble. Ida would a 
 great deal rather have her than not." 
 
 " I am very glad. " 
 
 " It will be just as well, perhaps, for her 
 to have a little rest here by herself. Mrs. 
 Rand will be glad to come and keep house 
 for her, and Mrs. Butler likes her. " 
 
 "That will be a very good thing; then 
 you will have no trouble about leaving as 
 soon as I can get ready?" 
 
 "No," said Flora, faintly. Her color 
 went and came, and her hands moved 
 uneasily in her lap. He himself felt the 
 blood rush to his face as he said, careful to
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 205 
 
 look away from her meanwhile, "You will 
 go with your sister, will you not ? " 
 
 "No, I cannot." 
 
 " How can she live without you ? " 
 
 " She must. I know it will be hard for 
 her, but she needs you the most; you can 
 do so much more for her than I can." 
 
 "She might have you too." 
 
 Flora shook her head; was silent for a 
 moment, and then said with an effort : " She 
 and the children have a claim on you for 
 your brother's sake. I have none." 
 
 " You have never forgiven me, then? " 
 
 "There is no question of that. I have 
 nothing to forgive, but I don't want to 
 live in your house any longer. I ought 
 not." 
 
 A thin wall of ice seemed to rise between 
 them, through which she glimmered, remote, 
 though so near. Could he thaw it? He 
 could not even try. He waited a minute, 
 and then said, almost humbly, "What do 
 you want to do ? " 
 
 "I want to earn my own living. I could 
 have done it before, but I never felt free to 
 leave them; perhaps I ought, but I never 
 thought," her voice faltered "I never 
 wanted to feel free before, but now I do.
 
 2O6 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 I have known what it is to feel bound." 
 She threw back her head, drawing a long 
 breath, but shivering, like one who breathes 
 the rarefied air of freedom on the heights 
 for the first time, and finds it cold ; then, 
 with a sudden practical turn : " Dr. Griscom 
 will help me to get a school somewhere 
 about here for the fall term ; he always said 
 he could any time. I don't expect much at 
 first; but I could study between, and fit for 
 a better place next- year." 
 
 " You ought not to dream of such a thing ! 
 It is not safe for you to be alone in some 
 out-of-the-way country hole," said Arthur, 
 regarding her with a look of annoyance, for 
 once uncontrolled ; but she returned it with 
 one of uncomprehending wonder, and even 
 with a very faint gleam of amusement. 
 
 "Why, what could happen to me? The 
 doctor would see that I had a good place 
 and boarded with nice people. He knows 
 everybody in all the villages round. There 
 is nothing else that I could do that I should 
 like so well." 
 
 " Could you could not you stay here 
 with my mother? I mean, of course, with 
 Mrs. Rand too; but you would be a great 
 comfort to her in many ways, and I should
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2O/ 
 
 feel so much easier about her " He 
 dared not go on. 
 
 "I cannot," she said, very low, but decid- 
 edly; "you must not ask me." She rose, 
 and he did too, and they stood a moment, 
 she with averted face, till suddenly turning 
 round she put her hand into his. 
 
 "Pray, don't be displeased with me; and 
 forgive me if I have ever said anything to 
 you that was unkind. I am sure we are both 
 doing what is right now. Good-by ! " 
 
 He could not speak a word; but he bent 
 over her, and pressed a long kiss on the 
 hand he held, exquisite in shape, like all 
 the rest of her, but hardened by work, and 
 just now cold as marble. 
 
 A rattling of all the smaller articles in 
 the kitchen announced the approach of 
 Mrs. John Butler, who had come to know 
 "if Florer didn't ever mean to get tea. 
 I 've been settin' with the old lady, or 
 I 'd have seen to it myself. If I was 
 Arthur, I 'd have taken my tea here to- 
 night," she continued, as they gathered 
 round the table. " I s'pose our set-out 
 ain't good enough for him; but it looks 
 sort of unfeelin'." Arthur had disappeared 
 unseen before her onward advance, and gone
 
 208 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 in despair to visit Dr. Griscom, conscious 
 that he was making himself ridiculous to 
 that keen-sighted observer, by his entreaties 
 to him to " look after " Flora, yet unable to 
 help suggesting various projects which the 
 doctor summarily pooh-poohed as chimeri- 
 cal. However, he promised to "write if 
 there were anything to say," and to "do 
 something" if there were "anything to do," 
 and wound up the interview, as Arthur 
 rose to go and lingered, with, " Don't 
 lose heart and back out, that 's all ! Flora 
 Shepherd is only twenty, and if you waited 
 for her ten years you would still be a 
 great deal luckier fellow than you deserve 
 to be!" 
 
 " I am happy in agreeing with you again," 
 said Arthur, as he took his leave, not dis- 
 satisfied that since the doctor must know so 
 much, he was so correctly informed. 
 
 Flora, meanwhile, was going through a 
 more difficult interview with her sister. 
 That they were to be separated had never 
 occurred to Ida for a moment, and though 
 she saw the justice of Flora's arguments, 
 and opposed none thereto, it was not with- 
 out many tears that she finally reached the 
 point of making definite arrangements for
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2OQ 
 
 her journey, Flora promising to come on 
 at any time in spite of everything, if Ida 
 were very ill, and Ida not to send unless she 
 were very ill indeed. She saw Arthur for a 
 few moments the next day before he went, 
 and agreed resignedly and gratefully to 
 everything he said, while Flora, standing 
 silent behind her, noted down in her mind 
 all the practical directions, and as soon as 
 he was gone proceeded to carry them out 
 with the assistance of her friend Dr. Gris- 
 com. The doctor knew of a school at Cold 
 Spring, within driving distance, where he 
 only had to say a word to the committee; 
 he also promised to arrange for her taking 
 a course in the Chautauqua Home Studies, 
 and to drive over on Sundays to see her 
 sometimes. He went to Boston with Ida 
 and the children, a step that amazed all 
 Liverpool, and made Mrs. John say that " if 
 Florer didn't look out, Ider would get 
 ahead of her." However, as soon as he 
 returned he drove Flora over to Cold Spring 
 to begin her duties, with her little trunk 
 strapped on behind, patting her on the 
 head as he bade her good-by, and telling her 
 to be a good child, and it would all come out 
 right, in a way that was soothing to her, 
 14
 
 210 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 though it might have exasperated Arthur 
 had he been by to see, and took his lonely 
 homeward way, unable, in his secret soul, to 
 help a subdued satisfaction in the thought 
 that it would probably be some time coming 
 out right, and that he had a fair number of 
 Sunday drives to which to look forward.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 FROM IDA TO FLORA. 
 
 NEWTON CENTRE, MASS. 
 
 May 3, 188-. 
 
 A/TY OWN DARLING FLORA, It does not 
 seem possible that it is seven whole months 
 to-day since the day I left Liverpool dear, 
 blessed place ! and you, my dearest, and took that 
 long, dreadful journey without you ; but it is. I have 
 thought of it as every month came round. I long 
 for you more to-day than any of the others, it is so 
 lovely here now, and you would enjoy it so much. 
 You don't know what splendid places there are all 
 around us, and they are all full of flowers now. My 
 own little garden is as pretty as can be, for Arthur 
 has taken great pains with it ; he had a great many 
 bulbs set out last fall, and they have been too beauti- 
 ful. The hyacinths and tulips are in full bloom now, 
 and there are a great many flowering shrubs. Since 
 you wrote to me about all you were studying, I 
 wanted to study something, too, and Miss Meade 
 is giving me and the children lessons in botany 
 together. She knows so much about everything ! 
 I should think almost too much to teach such little 
 children, but Arthur says they ought to have a lady
 
 212 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 and a thoroughly educated one about them now, even 
 more than later. I am afraid he gives her a great 
 deal, for she is worth it. She does make them behave 
 so nicely ; and then Arthur himself does so much 
 good to Landy, he is making a perfect little gen- 
 tleman of him, just what his father always longed to 
 see him. If he only could ! 
 
 I do so long to show them both to you, dearest, 
 and wish sometimes that I could truly say that I 
 was ill enough to send for you ; but I ought not to 
 want such a thing, and I really am very well indeed, 
 and so much stronger. I told you last week that 
 Katy had gone, and that I was going to try to get 
 along with only Lizzie and a woman to wash by the 
 day, and I find it answers perfectly well, though 
 Arthur was very much afraid it would not, and 
 wanted me to get some one else directly. But I 
 really like all the exercise it gives me to do part of 
 the work, and Lizzie is quite contented, for she 
 could never get along with Katy. I could not bear 
 to have Arthur spending so much of his money 
 upon us, though he says I do with wonderfully little. 
 He ought to be thinking of marrying himself, for 
 how happy he would make some nice girl, if he 
 only finds one good enough for him. 
 
 On Saturday Mrs. McCall asked the children to 
 a little party at her house ; only a very few for the 
 afternoon, and tea. I asked Arthur if I had better 
 let them go, they wanted to so much, and he 
 approved of it, and said the McCalls were very
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 21 3 
 
 respectable people. It was Miss Meade's half-holi- 
 day, and I hated to keep her all day just for that, so I 
 sent Lizzie with them, and she left them there, and I 
 went for them myself a little while before it was time 
 to come home. I dreaded it, for you know I have 
 been nowhere but to church since I came here, but 
 Mrs. McCall has been so kind to me that I thought 
 I ought to ; so I mustered up all the courage I could, 
 though I stood a quarter of an hour at the gate 
 before I could make up my mind to go in. Oh, 
 how I did long for you ! I should not have minded 
 it if we had been together ; but I did go in at last, 
 and was glad I did, for I really enjoyed it, after the 
 first shock of meeting so many was over. There 
 were not many grown-up people there, and they were 
 all so kind. Mrs. Lamson and Mrs. Searle were 
 there, who, you will remember. I told you had called 
 on me. As for Mrs. McCall, she is perfectly delight- 
 ful, just as if she were my mother. She begged me 
 to come again, and said I need not call it visiting, 
 but she wished I would bring Landy and Flossy and 
 let them play about her beautiful grounds. They 
 are far more lovely inside than seen from without, 
 and the house is magnificent. 
 
 I do think our children were the prettiest there ; 
 and they behaved so nicely ! I wish you could have 
 seen them. Landy wore the sailor suit I made for 
 him. I had his old bought one for a pattern ; but 
 Arthur was surprised I could do so well. I told him 
 I was nothing to you in such ways. As for Flossy,
 
 214 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 she wore her white frock that I wrote you about. 
 Every one did admire her hair so ; and Landy's, 
 since his was cut, curls in rings all over his head, so 
 that I am quite reconciled to having it short, though 
 1 hated the idea, and only had it done because 
 Arthur said he was getting too old for long hair. 
 
 Dearest, dearest Flora, I feel like only part of 
 myself without you. Of course, I miss dear Or- 
 lando every moment, and sometimes I feel it to be 
 almost too hard that he could not have been spared 
 to see us so much better off; but I know he is hap- 
 pier now than he could be even here. But I cannot 
 bear to think of your being all alone by yourself in 
 Cold Spring. Don't you think you might find some 
 teaching here ? I don't see why you should object 
 to teaching Landy and Flossy ; only, I should not 
 like to give up Miss Meade, on her own account, 
 for she says she likes the place better than any she 
 ever had. She seems very fond of me and the 
 children, and admires Arthur intensely. She thinks 
 him the finest man she ever saw. I shall consult 
 him, and see if he cannot think of some plan for 
 getting you here ; I am sure he will. I shall tell 
 him I can't live without you any longer. I see him 
 now coming from the station before lunch, which is 
 unusual, and he seldom comes out on Mondays, any- 
 how ; so I must close this with fondest love from 
 
 Your own IDA. 
 
 P. S. Arthur has come for me to go into town 
 with him to choose a wedding present for Jonah.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 21$ 
 
 I dare say before you get this you will have heard 
 that he is married to Carrie Hewson. They did 
 not write till it was over, and Arthur only heard this 
 morning. I hope she is a good girl, and will please 
 dear mother. Do find out all you can about her, 
 and let me know. 
 
 Miss FLORA M. SHEPHERD, 
 Care of Mr. Martin Van Slyck, 
 
 Cold Spring, New York. 
 
 Flora opened and read this letter in her 
 room, some nine feet square, at Cold Spring. 
 It held but little furniture, and what there 
 was, was cheap and well-worn, but it was in 
 the nicest and most precise order. As the 
 occupant did her own washing, she could 
 afford cleanliness as well, and the white 
 draperies, the only sign of luxury, were spot- 
 less, if scant and none too fine. The place 
 had somewhat the effect of a convent cell, 
 and Flora, in her straight, plain black gown, 
 which, though not new, had the effect of 
 being as dazzlingly fresh in black as her sur- 
 roundings in white, might have sat for the 
 nun but for the indefinite air of promise, 
 that had not yet, even in sadness, left her 
 youthful face. She read the letter over 
 again and again, with careful study. Ida 
 was evidently recovering the tone of her
 
 2l6 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 mind, and taking a little comfort in what 
 remained, that was well. Arthur was evi- 
 dently doing all he could for Ida and the 
 children, and that he could do so much was 
 well too, though it made her own hope of 
 being able to help them a much more distant 
 one. She wondered how much he spent on 
 them a year, and she took out her own small 
 savings'-bank book, though she knew without 
 looking how much she had already put by. 
 It was her dream to lay up a respectable 
 sum, until she could feel justified in apply- 
 ing for a place near Boston, a good place 
 with a good salary; and she felt that such 
 a one might be within her reach, with all 
 the time and thought she was putting into 
 hard study, so that she might offer to con- 
 tribute half of Ida's and the children's 
 expenses. It was not fair to Arthur Butler, 
 she reasoned, that if she would not have 
 him he should be deprived of the chance of 
 marrying some one else if he wanted to; 
 and if he did not want to marry any one 
 else and Flora, though she always felt 
 ashamed, and tried to hurry over this latter 
 supposition, had a secret consciousness that 
 he would not it might be well to have 
 something of her own too.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 This was a very nice little plan, the only 
 objection to it being that it required for its 
 execution at least double the time that the 
 doctor had mentioned as the limit of waiting. 
 But to Flora, whose ideas of money values 
 were on a very small scale, and who had- 
 not the faintest conception of how much 
 Arthur made or spent in a year, it seemed 
 most promising. She found her chief hap- 
 piness in thinking it over, and congratulated 
 herself on getting a vacation school for small 
 children whose mothers wished to be rid of 
 their presence for part of the day through 
 the heats of summer; the gain was small, 
 but every little would help. Sustained by 
 hope, she did not heed that her sister's 
 letters grew, as summer advanced, shorter 
 and more irregular. She supposed Ida was 
 busy, and was glad she should be, it was 
 best for her. Her good neighbors, the 
 McCalls, she wrote, were going to the Isles 
 of Shoals for the month of August, and 
 wanted her and the children to go with 
 them ; and Arthur insisted that she should, 
 it would be so good for them all, and take 
 Lizzie, so that she should have a thorough 
 rest. He would come and sleep in the 
 empty cottage, and the laundress would look
 
 21 8 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 after him, and he would try to run down 
 if he could, though he was very busy. She 
 was afraid it was a very expensive plan, but 
 it would be such a delicious change; and 
 then, to see the ocean ! If only Flora were 
 with her for her first gaze at this wonder, 
 unseen by either! The McCalls were so 
 very, very kind ; she felt as if she had known 
 them a great while; and they had even per- 
 suaded her to come in once or twice to tea, 
 no company, of course, only one or two of 
 their relations who were staying with them. 
 Her letters from the Shoals were shorter 
 still, but cheerful ; the place was charming, 
 the McCalls all goodness, the children in 
 splendid condition, and she herself better 
 and stronger than she had been since she 
 was a girl. Arthur could not manage to 
 come, which was a disappointment, but he 
 would be surprised to see how well they all 
 were when they came back.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2 1C) 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 the morning of the 8th of September, 
 Arthur was busy in his private office, 
 when his boy brought in a card, 
 
 MR. HAMLIN B. McCALL, 
 2000 MAIN STREET, 
 
 KANSAS CITY, Mo. 
 Railway Supplies. 
 
 "Tell the gentleman I will see him in a 
 quarter of an hour, or if he cannot wait now, 
 at half-past eleven," he said without rais- 
 ing his eyes, and hardly looking at the card. 
 The gentleman preferred to wait, and entered 
 punctually at the close of the stipulated quar- 
 ter, a big, ruddy-faced man, middle-aged, 
 but still alert in his bearing, with gray 
 mutton-chop whiskers; more like the popu- 
 lar conception of an Englishman than a
 
 220 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Western man. He was well dressed, though 
 with some little over-display of watch chain, 
 rings, and studs. He began in a loud, 
 cheerful, deep chest voice: 
 
 "Very glad to make your acquaintance, 
 Mr. Butler." 
 
 Arthur bowed, and offered him a seat. 
 
 " I suppose you have seen by my card 
 where I live, and what my business is," went 
 on his visitor; "I bank with the Merchants' 
 Bank here, and they and my other Boston 
 correspondents, Messrs. Fisk and Water- 
 man, can tell you it's a good one." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it. " 
 
 " I have two blocks of buildings on the 
 best part of Main Street, without encum- 
 brance, and a good lot of land out of town on 
 Western Avenue, that 's our most fashion- 
 able residence street, and sure to rise in 
 value. I am ready to build out there any 
 time a first-class house." 
 
 " You are to be congratulated. " 
 
 "I ain't sure of that yet," said Mr. 
 McCaU, laughing and looking conscious; 
 "I'm coming to that point by and by. But 
 now as to my personal character ; Reverend 
 Dr. Wilkinson, my pastor, of the First 
 Baptist Church in Kansas City he 'swell
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 221 
 
 known at the Baptist Seminary in Newton, 
 where he graduated can answer for that. I 
 should be glad to have any one write to him, 
 without introduction from me, if they wanted 
 to be sure on that point ; I know well enough 
 what he 'd say." 
 
 Arthur could only bow, wondering what 
 business all this preface portended, but sus- 
 pecting from the extreme anxiety of his 
 visitor to present his claims to the best 
 advantage that it was not likely to turn out 
 very advantageous to himself. 
 
 " My brother, Anson J. McCall, of McCall, 
 Sims, & Stodder you know them, I sup- 
 pose lives out at Newton Centre; he 
 would be very glad to see you any time, and 
 his pastor, Reverend Mr. Close, will let me 
 refer to him with pleasure." 
 
 "I dare say it will not be necessary." 
 
 "Well, I want to be all fair and square 
 and above board. Living so far off I feel 
 more anxious about it than I should if I 
 were right close by, where I knew every- 
 body, and everybody knew me." He paused 
 with a slight hesitation, and Arthur augured 
 yet more unfavorably of the overtures he 
 was doubtless about to make. 
 
 "The fact is," resumed Mr. McCall, draw-
 
 222 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 ing his chair a little closer, "I mean, you 
 might naturally suppose from my age and 
 all that that I 'm a married man, but I 'm 
 not. I was n't going to marry till I could 
 keep a wife to suit me. I 'm afraid I 've 
 waited too long, perhaps, but when I got up 
 a peg in the world, I made up my mind I 'd 
 look high. I don't feel inclined to marry 
 in Kansas City, though we have some very 
 fine ladies there, very fine indeed; but I 
 wanted something a little out of the com- 
 mon, and when I come East this summer it 
 was as much for that as anything else. I 
 mean, I thought I 'd look about me, and see 
 if I couldn't get something worth waiting 
 for." 
 
 He stopped and wiped his face, now a 
 shade ruddier than usual, with his pocket- 
 handkerchief, then proceeded in a jerky 
 style, unlike the confident swing of his 
 commencement. 
 
 "I've been staying at my brother's, and 
 then at the Shoals with his family, and I 
 have met a very charming young lady, who is, 
 I believe, your sister-in-law, Mrs. Orlando 
 Butler." The ice once broken, he went on 
 more glibly; though somewhat constrained 
 by the unresponsiveness of his hearer.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 223 
 
 " I 've never had much time to cultivate 
 ladies' society, but I ain't sorry for it, if I 
 can only get her to think of me. I never 
 saw any one to equal her never! I tell 
 you, I 'd be proud to take her West ! If she 
 won't be admired in Kan' City, I don't know 
 'em there, that 's all." 
 
 " My sister-in-law only returned day be- 
 fore yesterday, and I have seen her but 
 once. She did not speak of this to me, 
 but " 
 
 "Bless you! she don't know it! I 've said 
 nothing to her about it at all. I wouldn't 
 have felt bound to speak to any one but the 
 lady herself in most cases, but this seemed 
 a little peculiar. Living so far off I wanted 
 to be ahead of her friends, in case they 
 had any objections to make. You seem the 
 only one she 's got, and I know she thinks 
 the world of you," looking with some curi- 
 osity, faintly tinged with jealousy, at his 
 self-possessed auditor. "She's told me all 
 about your supporting her and the children. 
 It 's very good of you, I 'm sure, very good ; 
 but you must be wanting to marry your- 
 self by this time," throwing a quick glance 
 at Arthur, "and 't ain't always agreeable 
 in that case to have a whole family upon
 
 224 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 your hands, and an old mother into the 
 bargain, I believe." 
 
 " My sister and her children have never 
 been felt by me to be a burden." 
 
 " No offence, no offence, I 'm sure. She's 
 saying all the time how generous you are; 
 and you seem," looking round the room, 
 "to be doing pretty well; but it comes more 
 natural to a woman to be supported by a 
 husband than a brother-in-law, if he's ever 
 so willing; and even if you were able to 
 marry, and still keep 'em all, why, your 
 wife mightn't like it. Now, I'm willing 
 and able to take the whole family. The 
 children are nice little things, and mighty 
 pretty. The little girl will be a rip-staver, 
 I can tell you, when she grows up. I '11 
 settle a good bit of my real estate on her, 
 with reversion to them, and if I go on as I 
 hope to, I '11 push the boy ahead, and fit out 
 the girl in style. I always liked children, 
 and at my time of life I don't mind begin- 
 ning with a pair, 't ain't like a young man. 
 And she says she 's got a sister, teaching 
 school somewhere in New York State; she 
 can have her to live with her too, and I '11 
 clothe her well. If she 's anything like Ida 
 Mrs. Butler she says she 's handsomer,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 22$ 
 
 but that I don't credit she won't be on my 
 hands long in Kan' City; go off there like 
 hot cakes." 
 
 " Mrs. Butler will appreciate your gener- 
 osity; but I do not think tnat she has any 
 idea of marrying again." 
 
 " How should she?" asked his interlocu- 
 tor, triumphantly, "when she hasn't been 
 asked? She ain't one to think of a man 
 first. She 's a thorough-bred lady, through 
 and through. Perhaps you may think her 
 too good for me, so young as she is, and 
 such a beauty, but she might go further and 
 fare worse. I '11 bring 'em East every few 
 years, and first chance I get I '11 take 'em 
 all to Europe." 
 
 " My sister must decide for herself in 
 such a matter. But you must remember 
 that she has been a widow a very short time, 
 and became one under particularly distress- 
 ing circumstances, and it will, I fear, be 
 a shock to her feelings to have such a pro- 
 posal made so soon." 
 
 "Why, your brother's been dead a whole 
 year, hasn't he? Lord bless you! I haven't 
 the least doubt that he was an excellent 
 man, but you can't expect her not to marry 
 again, at her time of life ! I don't want to 
 15
 
 226 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 hurt her feelings, or to hurry her out of 
 reason; I won't expect her to give me an 
 answer just yet; but I 've got to go back to 
 Kansas City in a fortnight or three weeks, 
 and I can't go without I speak to her first, 
 and put the idea into her head at any rate. 
 I can't be back for four weeks, and I dare n't 
 let it go till then; some one else will be 
 sure to come along ! " 
 
 "Hardly she lives so very quietly." 
 "Well, here am I, you see," said the 
 Kansas Citizen, throwing his portly figure 
 back in his chair, "and there '11 be sure to 
 be some one else. It 's only fair I should 
 have the first chance. She thinks no end of 
 you, and your advice will go a great way 
 with her. I don't think it'll be fair for you 
 to set her against me, when I 've been so 
 open with you from the start." 
 
 " I should never dream of advising my 
 sister in such a case, unless there were some 
 very serious reason for it. I do not suppose 
 that there is anything to be known which 
 should prevent her marrying you if she 
 liked you. I will see your brother I have 
 met him once or twice, and know him well 
 by reputation. He and Mrs. McCall have 
 been very kind to Mrs. Butler."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 22/ 
 
 "Of course they have they couldn't 
 help it; and Lucy, my sister, she says to 
 me just as soon as I come on East this 
 time: ' Hamlin, if I haven't got just the 
 wife for you I'm mistaken!' Lucy's a 
 right good woman ! She longs to have me 
 married, which is real kind-hearted of her, 
 for her children would come in otherwise 
 for my little pile; but they'll have plenty. 
 I can tell you, Lucy '11 be pleased! She 
 and all of 'em never knew any one they 
 liked as quick as they did Mrs. Butler. 
 Lucy says she never saw anything so lovely 
 as she looked coming to church in her black, 
 with those two little children, and looking 
 a child herself! You'll think I 'm a fool, 
 but wait till you're in love yourself," with 
 another scrutinizing glance at Arthur, who 
 stood it with perfect unconcern. "I sup- 
 pose you 've always thought of her as though 
 she were a sister of your own, and if she 
 were, you might not get a really better 
 chance for her." 
 
 " I am sure your attachment is a generous 
 one, and it is due to you that she should know 
 it. As far as I am concerned, you have my full 
 consent; only, I must tell you plainly that I 
 don't think you have the slightest chance."
 
 228 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "That 's very proper; that's all I expect 
 you to say," said Mr. McCall. "Lord 
 bless you! I don't expect her to jump at 
 me. Just let me make a beginning;" and 
 he rose and departed, well satisfied. 
 
 Arthur made a few inquiries, which 
 seemed amply to confirm everything his 
 visitor had stated about himself, but did 
 not think it necessary to look very deeply 
 into the matter, not expecting to have any 
 further trouble with it; otherwise, he could 
 not have dismissed it so quietly. He had 
 grown to regard the prospect of starting in 
 life with a ready-made family With nearly 
 as much equanimity as Mr. McCall, and Ida 
 was dear to him now for her own sake, as 
 well as her sister's. 
 
 He had given up his luxurious quarters 
 in town, and kept a modest pied-a-terre 
 there, as well as one in Newton that he 
 might be able to look in upon Ida at any 
 time. He was not surprised when he called 
 that evening to find her in a state of tearful 
 agitation, and helped her to confess what 
 she seemed unable to tell by saying, " I sup- 
 pose Mr. McCall has been here." 
 
 "Yes," said Ida, blushing through her 
 tears, " I am so sorry ! "
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 22Q 
 
 " So am I. He applied to me beforehand, 
 and I would rather you had been spared 
 this; but I could not refuse my consent to 
 his speaking to you. I had no right to do 
 so. But I told him that I did not think he 
 had the slightest chance." 
 
 "No; but I am so sorry for him." 
 
 "He seems a very worthy man." 
 
 " Yes oh, yes ; he was so very kind to 
 me, and to the children, too, at the Isles of 
 Shoals. He spoke so feelingly of them, and 
 said he would be a father to them." 
 
 "Fortunately, my dear Ida, you are not 
 obliged to marry for your children's sake." 
 
 " No oh, no ; you are so generous, so 
 very kind. Mr. McCall spoke most highly 
 of you ; but he says it would be only natural 
 if you should want to marry yourself some 
 time, and then " 
 
 " He had no business to say any such 
 thing. I hope you told him that I knew he 
 would not please your taste; but it would 
 have been of no use to tell him so, or I 
 would not have let him come." 
 
 " I am sure he meant no harm. He spoke 
 of you with great admiration, and said there 
 were very few young men who would have 
 behaved like you. I felt ashamed to think
 
 230 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 how I had taken it all as a matter of course. 
 I felt as if I had never thanked you as I 
 should." 
 
 " Vulgar brute ! " muttered Arthur, be- 
 tween his teeth. 
 
 "Oh, he did not say it in that way; it was 
 all most kind. It was my fault if too much 
 was said, for I really did not know how to 
 answer him as I ought ; I was so surprised, 
 so frightened. I never dreamed at the Isles 
 of Shoals that he was thinking of such a 
 thing. I thought it was only his kindness, 
 and that he was so fond of children. He 
 admired Landy and Flossy." 
 
 " What did you say to him ? " asked 
 Arthur, feeling that the task of conveying 
 a decided rejection to Mr. Hamlin McCall 
 was to be thrown upon his shoulders, and 
 that he should take a savage pleasure in it. 
 
 "Oh, I told him I couldn't, not possibly, 
 it is so soon, so very soon; and I could 
 not think of marrying again at any rate. Of 
 course I could never love any one as I 
 had " Her voice grew stifled. "But he 
 said he should not ask me to ; all he wanted 
 was that I should consent to marry him, and 
 let him devote his life to making me happy. 
 I could hardly get him to go, but I said I
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2$l 
 
 could not bear to hear any more," said 
 Ida, relieving herself with a fresh burst of 
 tears. 
 
 " He was very selfish to give you so much 
 pain for no use. A man has no right to 
 thrust himself upon a woman in that way." 
 
 " I do not think he meant to hurt my feel- 
 ings. He seems really to be very fond of 
 me. He thinks a great deal more highly of 
 me than I deserve." 
 
 "Well, my dear, don't trouble yourself 
 about him any more. If he comes again 
 and I hope he will not refer him to me. 
 And now let us talk about something else. 
 Have you heard lately from Liverpool ? " 
 
 "I have heard from Flora; she does not 
 mention having been there since she last 
 wrote ; she cannot get to Liverpool often ; 
 but if dear mother were ill, she would be 
 sure to have heard." 
 
 " What does she say ? " 
 
 "You can see the letter if you want to," 
 said Ida, rapidly glancing over it, and satis- 
 fying herself that there was nothing private 
 in it, an expression which she had come to 
 use with a good deal of latitude, authorizing 
 her to allow Arthur to read nine tenths of 
 her letters from her sister, though she never
 
 232 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 mentioned this to Flora. " She would write 
 with less freedom," she thought; "and it is 
 so natural that Arthur should want to hear 
 all about his mother, and his old home; and 
 mother does not write often now, it is get- 
 ting to be an effort to her." 
 
 " It seems your letters have been rather 
 short lately," said Arthur, who was devour- 
 ing eight pages in Flora's delicate legible 
 hand-writing, that would have looked old- 
 fashioned if it had not been so peculiar and 
 characteristic. He could not imagine how 
 she could write so much about so little; but 
 he found it very easy to read, though he was 
 conscious of breathing a rarefied atmosphere 
 as he read her long tales about her school- 
 keeping experiences, and the characters of 
 all the children, and how she was afraid of 
 being partial to Emma Widemeyer, who 
 looked a little like Flossy, only not nearly 
 so pretty. " She speaks of your not having 
 answered some of her questions." 
 
 " Oh, yes it is too bad ; but there was so 
 much going on at the Shoals. Poor Mrs. 
 McCall! she and all of them were so kind! 
 I am afraid she will feel very sorry about 
 this. I don't suppose the idea ever occurred 
 to her when she asked me to go there."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 233 
 
 "Don't you think she will visit you this 
 autumn ? " 
 
 " It would be very kind in her, but I am 
 sure her feelings must be hurt. Oh, you 
 mean Flora! no, I don't think she will. I 
 have asked her several times, and told her 
 that I knew you wished it, but Flora is very 
 independent. She told me when she came 
 here that she could not live in your house ; 
 but I should think she might make a visit, 
 when you are so kind, and I do so long to 
 see her ! Mr. McCall spoke so kindly about 
 her! He wanted her to live with me, and 
 said she should be like his own sister!" 
 
 Again Ida seemed tearfully inclined, and 
 Arthur thought it best to leave her to sleep 
 off her worries. He could imagine that her 
 refusal had been couched in the mildest 
 terms, and accompanied with many apolo- 
 gies ; but he was not prepared for the 
 appearance of the rejected lover the next 
 morning at his office, in the best of spirits. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Butler ! have you 
 seen your sister?" 
 
 "Yes, I called on her last evening." 
 
 "How is she?" 
 
 " I found her rather painfully agitated." 
 
 "Yes, she was a good deal overcome, I
 
 234 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 think; she's a delicate little thing. But 
 she gave me all the .encouragement I could 
 ask for. I have no doubt it will be all 
 right now." 
 
 "I must say I received a very different 
 impression. She told me she did not wish 
 to marry you at all, and that it was most 
 painful to her to have the subject brought 
 before her so soon." 
 
 " Lord bless you ! what else could she say? 
 She'll say it a good many times yet, of 
 course. But I 've no fear but what I can 
 bring her round. Why, if she were dead 
 set against marrying again at any price, 
 there would n't have been so much said about 
 it's being too soon, don't you see? It was 
 her saying that so often that made me see I 
 had a good chance, if I pressed it. " 
 
 " Perhaps you have, if you press it without 
 regard to her wishes. " 
 
 "Sho! girls don't know what they wish 
 or want; and Ida, though she's been mar- 
 ried, is really but a girl, more innocent 
 than any girl I ever saw. A country min- 
 ister's wife, married at seventeen, what 
 should she know of the world? But it 's all 
 right; if she'd been a regular widow on 
 the look-out for a husband she 'd never have
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 235 
 
 caught me. I don't mean to say anything 
 against your brother, you know. She'll 
 never hear a word from me that isn't most 
 respectful to his memory. It 's natural you 
 should feel a little sore on the subject, but 
 it should n't make you try to prejudice her. " 
 
 " I shall do no such thing. I shall only 
 interfere if I see that she is annoyed and 
 harassed by useless persistency on your 
 part." 
 
 "Well, we may differ as to how useful 
 it is. I hope I know how to pay my 
 addresses to a lady without making myself 
 disagreeable. She shan't be hurried; I'll 
 give her till I get back from Kan' City to 
 decide. All I ask is that you should n't use 
 your influence against me while I 'm gone. 
 I know she feels bound to you by affection 
 and gratitude, and all that, though as to 
 the latter, why, if it comes to that, I '11 pay 
 back every cent she's ever cost you." 
 
 " If you continue to talk in this way I 
 shall be obliged to ask you to leave my 
 room." 
 
 "That's set your back up, has it? No 
 offence. A self-made man like me isn't up 
 to all your fine notions." 
 
 " No man can be more self-made than I. "
 
 236 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "Well well I meant no harm; I'll 
 be proud to owe you something, for I 
 respect your conduct; but you're not her 
 legal guardian, she's of age; she must 
 take her own way in the matter." 
 
 " I do not call it letting a woman take her 
 own way to torment her into marrying you 
 whether she wants to or not." 
 
 "I'm only coaxing her for her good, and 
 because I know that I can make her happy 
 happier than she ever dreamed of before. 
 Wait till you 're in love yourself, and then 
 we'll see what you'll stick at." 
 
 Arthur, conscience-stricken by a sudden 
 rush of memory which made him see himself 
 caricatured, as it were, before his own eyes, 
 was silent, and his visitor rose, triumphant 
 at having made a good hit, and held out his 
 hand with invincible good-humor. " You 
 mustn't blame me for doing the best I can 
 for myself." 
 
 "Good-by, and don't blame me if you 
 don't succeed," said Arthur, taking the 
 proffered hand ; for he felt it would be foolish 
 and undignified to pick a quarrel with this 
 man, repugnant as was his presence to him, 
 and doubly repugnant the idea of Ida as 
 his wife. Dear little Ida! he was sincerely
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 237 
 
 fond of her, and, he hoped, unselfishly so. 
 It was the jarring sense of impropriety in 
 this business that hurt him, and his jeal- 
 ousy, if he had any, was for his brother's 
 sake and her own. 
 
 He could not trust himself to go near her 
 for a day or two. When he did go, just 
 before tea, he found her little parlor fra- 
 grant and brilliant with costly flowers, and 
 herself looking prettier than ever. He 
 thought her dressed with unwonted care, 
 though she had not added to or taken from 
 her usual attire by a single thread; but there 
 was something in the dainty way in which 
 her deep mourning dress was put on beyond 
 her usual matter-of-course neatness; and 
 never did head-dress, surely, sit so exquis- 
 itely as that little tulle cap did over her 
 golden locks just as much less abundant 
 than her sister's as suited her slighter, 
 smaller frame without some study on the 
 wearer's part of its fitness to the face below. 
 She received her brother-in-law with all 
 cordiality, but shyly, something as she had 
 done when she first came to Newton, before 
 constant intercourse had put them on the 
 easy footing of family life; and looking 
 apologetically at the flowers, murmured that
 
 238 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 she was very much surprised when they 
 came. The children, who had had their tea 
 before their daily governess had left, now 
 appeared, loaded with new toys, and with an 
 air of expectation which culminated when 
 Mr. McCall appeared. He was very carefully 
 arrayed, and though somewhat taken aback 
 at the sight of Arthur in evening dress, 
 hastened to regain his command of the situ- 
 ation by bringing forward the large basket 
 which he carried, with, " Here, children, 
 here are some peaches for you; I remember 
 your mamma does not approve of candy." 
 
 "It is so bad for their teeth," said Ida. 
 
 " It would be a shame to spoil such pretty 
 teeth as Flossy's," said Mr. McCall, paring 
 a peach for that young lady, who took it in 
 the daintiest way; for even greediness with 
 her had a grace. " She looks just like you," 
 went on the lover, admiringly. 
 
 " She looks much more like her Aunt 
 Flora, after whom she is named; don't you 
 think so?" said Ida, appealing to Arthur, 
 who could not see it. He was fond of 
 Flossy, who was a winning little witch, but 
 surely at her age Flora had been as unique 
 as she was now. 
 
 It was not pleasant to him to make a third
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 239 
 
 in the party, after the children had gone to 
 bed, though Mr. McCall directed most of his 
 conversation to him. Ida said very little, 
 but bent over her work with her delicate 
 blush-rose tint a little brighter than usual, 
 answering very sweetly when spoken to, but 
 seeming well-pleased to listen to a discourse 
 on politics the tariff the fall elections 
 anything that could give them a safe 
 meeting-ground. It could not be denied 
 that Mr. McCall spoke with good sense and 
 moderation on all these topics, nor that his 
 manners, in the presence of the lady of his 
 love, had less of self-assertion than when 
 alone with her brother-in-law. As for her, 
 the wooer had nothing to complain of, whether 
 she intended to accept or reject him at last. 
 She evidently wished Arthur to sit him out, 
 and he on his part made no objection, for he 
 rose and took his leave at a very proper early 
 hour, content with a gracious smile and a 
 few graceful unmeaning words from his 
 hostess. 
 
 " I am sorry he will keep coming in this 
 way," she murmured, when he was out of 
 hearing. 
 
 " If you do not wish him to, I will let 
 him know that it is unpleasant to you. He
 
 240 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 is not so ungentlemanly as to persist in the 
 face of your positive commands." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I could not do that. I could 
 not bear to hurt his feelings when he is so 
 kind ; and he goes out to Kansas City so very 
 soon that I think I would not say anything 
 before that. That will put an end to it, 
 most likely." She paused, and as Arthur 
 said nothing she added, timidly, "Don't you 
 think he is a very intelligent man, as well 
 as good -hearted ? " 
 
 " He seems a good sort of man enough." 
 " I wish he had not taken this unfortunate 
 liking for me into his head. I do hate 
 so much to make him unhappy! If Flora 
 had only been here, he would have fancied 
 her instead, and I should have been so glad 
 of that ! He would have been just the hus- 
 band I should have been proud of for her! " 
 Then, a little hurt at Arthur's unresponsive- 
 ness, " I do want Flora to have a chance to 
 show something of what is in her! She is, 
 really and truly, a very remarkable girl ! 
 Dear Orlando always said so. It seems to 
 me sometimes as if she were wasted where 
 she is ; and I, who am not nearly so fit to 
 have things, have such an easy life!"
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 241 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A RTHUR, for the next three weeks, 
 ** played the part of a passive spectator 
 of Mr. McCall's courtship. The further 
 inquiries which he felt it his duty to make 
 were so satisfactorily answered that he had 
 no excuse for putting forward any objections. 
 Mr. McCall was most anxious to please him, 
 though he did not always know how to do 
 so. In trying to please Ida, Arthur had to 
 allow that he showed more skill. He lav- 
 ished most of his direct attentions on the 
 children, and treated her with punctilious 
 respect, while sending showers of flowers, 
 fruit, new magazines, and every pleasing 
 trifle which she could not refuse. He took 
 Landy and Flossy to drive with his sister- 
 in-law, a powerful ally, and sometimes, but 
 not always, asked Mrs. Butler to join the 
 party. 
 
 He evidently made no more proposals till 
 just before his departure for Kansas City; 
 16
 
 242 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 but at Arthur's first call after this he found 
 Ida in tears, and when he asked the reason, 
 
 " Mr. McCall was here to-day to say good- 
 by; he said he could not go unless he had 
 a little hope; and and would you 
 feel very grieved, Arthur dear, if if it 
 came to anything?" 
 
 " I should have no right, if I thought it 
 for your happiness; if I were sure you knew 
 what you wanted." 
 
 " I don't know," said Ida, confusedly plait- 
 ing the ribbons of her belt, "I don't know 
 as my happiness is of so much consequence, 
 and he loves me so much ! He says he 
 never cared for any woman in real earnest 
 before. It seems cruel to blight his life, 
 because I have had so many sorrows of my 
 own. Of course, you don't suppose that I 
 can ever forget dearest Orlando, or cease to 
 love him and respect his memory. Mr. 
 McCall would never wish for that he is 
 too good. He is not a bit jealous, and 
 says he will never ask me to give up caring. 
 He only wants me to marry him, and says he 
 doesn't care for anything else; he says he 
 is sure I shall make far too good a wife for 
 him anyhow;" and the faintest of smiles 
 curled her pretty lips as she added, " I wonder
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 243 
 
 what he could see in such a worn-out old 
 thing as I am! " 
 
 "Well, my dear Ida, I suppose by this 
 that you gave him some reason to hope." 
 
 "Not exactly," said Ida, blushing; "I 
 told him I couldn't decide so quickly; and 
 he said he would wait till he came back for 
 my answer; but but when he does come 
 back, I suppose he will be very anxious; 
 and and " 
 
 " You must not consider him only in this 
 matter." 
 
 "But it would be such a good thing for 
 the children ; he would be such a father to 
 them 1 I don't forget I appreciate fully 
 all you have done for them, dearest Arthur; 
 it was a great deal more than I had any right 
 to expect, and I don't think I ought to have 
 let you " 
 
 "Ida, if you really feel I won't say 
 gratitude, for I don't deserve it but if you 
 feel any affection for me, you will not allow 
 such a consideration to influence you for a 
 moment. I cannot find words strong enough 
 to tell you how utterly you mistake me if 
 you do ; but you wrong yourself terribly, if 
 you let it affect your decision in the slight- 
 est degree."
 
 244 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 " Mr. McCall says you ought to be think- 
 ing of getting married yourself." 
 
 "If I ever marry, which is certainly not 
 likely at present, I shall have enough to 
 provide for all; and I shall never have a 
 wife who will interfere with my duty to you, 
 or even wish to do so." 
 
 " Such girls are not very common. To 
 be sure, I don't expect you to get a wife who 
 is quite good enough for you." 
 
 "You are partial, my dear child; but sis- 
 ters are privileged in that way. As to your 
 own affairs, all I have to say is that I have 
 nothing against Mr. McCall, and I have no 
 right to advise you ; but this much I will say, 
 that you must not marry him unless you like 
 him well enough." 
 
 Another bright blush on Ida's face almost 
 made words superfluous, but she was not 
 used to keep Arthur waiting for an answer, 
 and she said resignedly, " You surely don't 
 dislike him? " 
 
 "I? no; but that is not the point." 
 
 "There is a great deal in him to like, 
 don't you think so? All his family are so 
 fond of him ; and Lucy, I mean Mrs. Anson 
 McCall, says he is as good through and 
 through as he seems at first sight." She
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 245 
 
 opened a velvet case on her writing-table 
 and took out a photograph. " He had that 
 taken to give me when he left; don't you 
 like it?" 
 
 "Very good indeed." 
 
 "I don't suppose he is what you would 
 call handsome; but I never cared for that, 
 and I do think he is very fine-looking. He 
 wanted mine so much that I gave him one 
 like that I had taken to send Flora; you 
 don't think that was wrong, do you?" 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 " He said he could not live till he came 
 back, without one." 
 
 "By the bye, what does your sister say 
 about it ? " said Arthur, who had not read 
 Flora's last few letters. He had not found 
 Ida reading one, and he never asked directly 
 for them. 
 
 "Flora? oh, she does not know. I never 
 thought of mentioning him at first, and now 
 I don't think it best to tell her till I can 
 tell her something a little more decided. I 
 hope Flora won't mind, and I do hope she '11 
 be willing to live with me, as he wishes. 
 He is sure he shall be very fond of her." 
 
 "How is she? What does she say in her 
 last letters ? "
 
 246 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "Oh nothing particular. She is very 
 well. Would there be any harm, do you 
 think, in my answering Mr. McCall's letters, 
 while he is away? " 
 
 " No, you could not write a letter which 
 it would do you any harm to have seen." 
 
 " Of course I shall write only as a 
 friend," said Ida, satisfied; "he has prom- 
 ised me to say nothing of his proposals till 
 he comes back." 
 
 The weeks of Mr. McCall's absence 
 seemed to be regarded by her somewhat in 
 the light of a respite; but Arthur did not 
 expect that another would be asked or 
 granted, and was not surprised when they 
 were over to receive the following note : 
 
 NEWTON CENTRE, Oct. 25, 188-. 
 DEAR MR. BUTLER, I am proud and delighted 
 to inform you of my engagement to your lovely 
 sister. Ida wishes me to write you the news at 
 once, and excuse her for not doing so herself; but 
 she will be glad to have you call as soon as you 
 can. I am most deeply sensible of the kindness 
 you have shown her and the children, and hope to 
 be regarded in the light of a brother by you. As 
 I expect to see you soon, and tell you all our plans, 
 no more at present from 
 
 Your ever grateful and affectionate 
 
 HAMLIN B. McCALL.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 247 
 
 Arthur went out to the cottage, and was 
 received by Ida alone, all smiles and tears, 
 but with the former predominating. " Oh, 
 Arthur you don't mind; you are pleased, 
 are you not ? " 
 
 " Surely I am, if you are. " 
 
 " I can't help it, when every one else is so 
 happy. The children, poor little things, 
 are wild with joy. He has just gone out to 
 walk with them, because he thought I would 
 rather see you alone first ; he is so considerate. 
 I wanted to tell you that I shall feel just as 
 much your sister as ever, and I hope you will 
 still feel that you are my brother; you have 
 been a better one than many a real one." 
 
 "Do not say such things; I don't deserve 
 them." 
 
 " I must and I am sure Mr. McCall 
 agrees with me most fully; and I want to 
 tell you, too, that I shall never forget or 
 cease to love my dear husband. I shall 
 never leave this off, " she looked at her deli- 
 cate little hand, where an immense solitaire 
 diamond blazed above the slender gold line 
 of her marriage ring, "but oh, I do think 
 that where he is, he is glad that his wife 
 and children should be so cared for, so cher- 
 ished. He never had any jealousy either."
 
 248 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 " Well, you have chosen, Ida, and I hope 
 for the best. I can only say, God bless 
 you! I shall miss you; but we will not talk 
 of that," he added more cheerfully, as the 
 tears that were gathering in Ida's lovely 
 eyes, threatened to overflow. 
 
 " Oh, there he comes with the children, 
 and I had so much more to say to you ! I 
 must see you alone again. Stay after he 
 goes away, will you not ? " 
 
 "If possible, I will," said Arthur, as the 
 door opened, and the children rushed up to 
 him. He was no longer the first object of 
 their attention, but they were delighted to 
 see him, and to inform him that they were 
 going to have a "new papa." Ida, at this, 
 put on a look a little like one of her sister's, 
 to which Mr. McCall responded with, "I 
 hope I '11 always be a good father to them; 
 if being as fond of them as one will do it, 
 I shall. If you '11 consent to it," to Ida, " I 
 will adopt them legally, and give them my 
 name from the day we're married." 
 
 "Thank you," said Ida, "but I would 
 rather my children should keep their father's 
 name ; " and she swept onward to the lunch 
 table, now ready in the dining-room for the 
 early dinner, with an accession of dignity,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 249 
 
 which heightened her lover's admiration, 
 while it amused Arthur, who augured a 
 beneficial training in the matrimonial school 
 for the worthy Kansas Citizen, who was 
 evidently on his best behavior, and painfully 
 anxious to improve. 
 
 The elders were all so silent that the 
 lunch-party would have been a quiet one but 
 for the children. Even the demure little 
 middle-aged governess was lamenting the 
 probable loss of a good place, and trying to 
 make up her mind whether or not to accept 
 Mr. McCall's amazing offer to take her with 
 them to Kansas City, since Mrs. Butler and 
 the children were so fond of her, and it 
 would be such an opportunity for her. " It 
 would be a swell thing to have a governess," 
 he informed Ida, in private, "and there's 
 no reason why she shouldn't get a husband 
 out there. She ain't so very old, nor bad- 
 lookin', either." 
 
 When she had borne off the children after 
 lunch, Ida said quietly to her betrothed: 
 " I should like to see Arthur alone a few 
 moments before he goes back to town, Mr. 
 McCall. There is a little business I want 
 to speak to him about." 
 
 "All right," replied Mr. McCall; "I'll
 
 250 BROTHERS AND STRAA r GERS. 
 
 go round to Anson's for a minute or two. 
 You see, Arthur, I ain't jealous of leaving 
 her with a handsome young man. Now, in 
 return for that pretty speech I expect you 
 to help me persuade her to set the day just 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 " I cannot say anything about that till I 
 have told my sister," said Ida. 
 
 "Well then, do hurry up and tell her," 
 said the lover, going into the hall for his 
 hat; and returning to say at the door, "and 
 hurry up your talk too, for I '11 be back at 
 half-past three with a buggy to give you a 
 ride, little madam!" 
 
 "Yes, I will be ready," said Ida, and as 
 he departed, with a lingering look behind, 
 she went on : " It is about Flora that I 
 wanted to speak to you. She doesn't know 
 yet, and I don't quite know how to tell her. 
 I don't know how she will feel, that is, I 
 am afraid she will feel excited, troubled 
 about it." 
 
 " Why should she ? " 
 
 "I don't know; but she will think she 
 was so fond of Orlando; she will feel very 
 unhappy, I am afraid." 
 
 " You must write to her, and explain all 
 your reasons, and she will surely not
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 251 
 
 "Oh, but she can't understand! I don't 
 know how to make her; I have begun several 
 letters, and torn them all up! " 
 
 " It is a pity you did not tell her sooner, 
 is it not? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I suppose now it is; but I did 
 not think of I was not sure of it; and 
 I thought there was no use in worrying her 
 when things were so uncertain." 
 
 " But if she knows how good a thing it is 
 for you and that you are happy, surely she 
 will not object." 
 
 " You don't know Flora ! " 
 
 Both were silent for a moment, till Ida, 
 looking timidly up, said, " I cannot tell how 
 to write to her, and I thought " 
 
 " Well ! " said Arthur, encouragingly, 
 "what did you think?" 
 
 "That perhaps perhaps you would 
 write," said Ida, looking pleadingly at him. 
 " I am sure you could make her understand 
 a great deal better than I. Tell her I love 
 her so much, just as much as I ever did; 
 and that I shall never forget dear Orlando, 
 but that I did not think I ought to refuse 
 to make some one else happy. And tell her 
 that I am I mean, that I could be happy 
 myself if I were sure that she was. Tell
 
 252 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 her that you approve I mean that you 
 don't mind it much; she will think a great 
 deal of that." 
 
 " I am afraid I cannot write all this to 
 her," said Arthur; "but if you like, Ida, I 
 will go and tell her myself." 
 
 "Will you, oh, will you? How good, 
 how more than good you are ! Then you can 
 see if she minds it very much; if she does," 
 and her tears began to stream again, " I don't 
 know how I am ever to go through with it 
 myself." 
 
 " I will tell her all I can ; and I can see 
 my mother at the same time, if you wish." 
 
 "Oh, thank you; though I know dear 
 mother will not object. She will be glad we 
 are so well taken care of. Tell her that Mr. 
 McCall is a member of a Baptist church. I 
 hope she will not mind my going with him 
 most of the time; he does n't expect me to 
 join it. I told him I could never leave my 
 own." She stopped in her eager flow of 
 talk, and then with a sudden access of shy- 
 ness : " Flora is going to spend next Sunday 
 at mother's. If you could " 
 
 " Yes, I can go then very well. " 
 
 "I know Flora will think it is so soon; 
 but then she has n't been here and does n't
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 253 
 
 know. Mr. McCall was so hasty; but he 
 says he had to speak, he couldn't help it. 
 But tell her I cannot think of marrying yet, 
 unless she thinks it is proper." 
 
 " I suppose Mr. McCall is in a hurry to 
 have the time set ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he says he can only stay here 
 six weeks now, and must run back to Kansas 
 City in the midst of it at any rate. He 
 wants me to go back with him before Christ- 
 mas ; he must be there after that, but I told 
 him I never, never could unless you thought 
 it right; and I want Flora satisfied too, I 
 can't bear that she should think Oh, there 
 he is ! I must hurry and get my hat. Do, 
 Arthur, wait till I come down." 
 
 She tripped off, appearing again in a few 
 moments, younger and prettier even than 
 when she went upstairs, so much did every 
 change in her dress tell ; and now she had 
 divested her hat of its crape, and advanced 
 to the startling novelty of a violet ker- 
 chief round her throat. Arthur walked out 
 to the gate with her and helped her in, and 
 as he carefully tucked in the carriage rug 
 over her dress, she bent forward with a 
 smile, and "Give my very best love to dear- 
 est Flora! " and then whirled away, behind a
 
 254 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 fast trotting horse, while Arthur stood looking 
 after them. " Poor Orlando ! " he thought ; 
 and then he remembered how presumptuous 
 he had thought his brother in appropriating 
 Ida at seventeen. Why should he not take 
 this common-sense view of the question 
 now? 
 
 The betrothed pair, meanwhile, were 
 driving through the shady Newton roads, 
 now radiant in their autumn colors, and Mr. 
 McCall had begun with, " How perfectly 
 beautiful you look to day!" He was in the 
 habit of making such remarks, and Ida, 
 though a little ashamed of herself, could 
 not but own that she did not dislike them. 
 Both Ida and Flora knew of their beauty, 
 as they knew their height and weight, or 
 any other physical trait; but they had too 
 little of the quality of self-absorption to 
 let the fact linger in their minds, whose 
 outlook on the world was all extrospective, 
 to coin a word. Still, no woman but enjoys 
 a man's sincere admiration of her looks. 
 Ida's first brief courtship had been enliv- 
 ened by few such passages, Orlando's love 
 having been of the kind that does not clothe 
 itself in compliment, and her wedding a 
 hurried, unadorned piece of business. She
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 255 
 
 had never learned coquetry, and now an- 
 swered in a matter of fact way : " It must be 
 because I have put on a violet scarf for 
 the first time." 
 
 "Nonsense! and yet, now I look at it, it 
 is mighty becoming. I remember, the first 
 time I saw you, I thought there was never 
 anything so stunning as you were in your 
 mourning, but now I sort of long to see you 
 in colors. You must have no end of gowns, 
 so I can decide which becomes you best; 
 and speaking of clothes, Ida, you can draw 
 on me to any extent, at any time you 
 know that." 
 
 "Thank you," said Ida; "I prefer that 
 you should not give me my clothes at pres- 
 ent. Arthur has never grudged me anything 
 suitable yet, and it is not likely that he will 
 do so now." 
 
 "Well done, little madam! it is worth 
 making a blunder to set you up a bit. Let 
 Arthur pay your bills, then; it will show 
 him what he 's got before him when he 
 marries. Was that what you were talking 
 so long about? " 
 
 " No ; there is no hurry about that, yet. 
 I was telling Arthur how much I hated 
 writing to Flora, and I said I wished he
 
 256 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 would; and he was n't he kind? offered 
 to go himself and tell her." 
 
 "Whew w w!" whistled Mr. McCall; 
 "he knows what he's about, doesn't he? 
 Making up to your sister, that's plain." 
 
 Ida's blue eyes grew round with a stare of 
 unaffected surprise. "What! Flora!" she 
 exclaimed. " Oh, no, I don't believe Arthur 
 ever had any thoughts of her. He has seen 
 so much of the world. Flora and I were 
 only little country girls to him. He will 
 want to marry some Boston young lady, 
 with family and position, and very brilliant 
 and cultivated." 
 
 "Well, then, he'd be a fool, that's all 
 that I can say, and a snob into the bargain ; 
 and I don't think he 's that, though he has a 
 pretty good conceit of himself. I thought 
 at first it was you he had in his mind, he 
 was so confounded stiff when I began on 
 the subject with him; and I was jealous, I 
 can tell you. But I 'd be very glad to have 
 your sister marry him, though I did mean to 
 fit her out in style myself. You'll see if 
 I 'm not right," as Ida shook her head, 
 smilingly unconvinced.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 257 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 r I ""HE Friday night train for Syracuse was 
 -* detained on the road, and it was broad 
 daylight before Arthur traversed the scene 
 of his terrible search little more than a year 
 ago, now settled down into commonplace 
 oblivion, without a trace of the agony that 
 had passed there. Where was there a trace ? 
 A little still lingered in Ida's black attire, 
 spite of violet ribbons; and the tightening 
 of his throat, as he passed the indelibly 
 imprinted scene, told him, and he was not 
 sorry, that he should carry one as long as he 
 lived. 
 
 He did not reach his mother's house till 
 the middle of the afternoon, to find it 
 locked and barred. The place looked unlike 
 any of his recollections of it, bearing tokens 
 of the skill with which Mrs. Rand, an effi- 
 cient, bustling dame, administered Mrs. But- 
 ler's allowance. The house was neat, and the 
 garden trim. Some one must soon come 
 home, and he sat down on the well-known 
 17
 
 258 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 bench on the kitchen-door porch, with the 
 autumn wind blowing the red falling leaves 
 of the Virginia creeper about him. There 
 were too many memories rising here, too, to 
 make the hour of waiting a cheerful one. 
 Every now and then the scurrying leaves, as 
 they pattered along the garden path, startled 
 him like a coming tread; but gradually, as 
 thoughts grew deeper, he ceased to notice 
 them, till, when they rustled with the light 
 but measured sound that responds to a real 
 footfall, and Flora appeared coming alone 
 around the corner of the house, he was 
 almost as much surprised as she was. Their 
 eyes met for a moment in an eager look of 
 glad recognition, too brief, too costly for 
 the price that must be paid down for it upon 
 the spot ; for Flora in another instant grew 
 deadly pale, and gasped out, " Ida ! you have 
 come to tell me that something has hap- 
 pened to Ida! " 
 
 "Ida is well, well and happy. I swear 
 she was when I left her, and that was only 
 day before yesterday. Do believe me; you 
 must believe me." 
 
 " The children, is anything the matter 
 with the children?" 
 
 "No, nothing nothing;" and as she
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2$<) 
 
 sank down on the bench from which he had 
 just risen, her heart beating so that he could 
 hear it, " What have I done, how can I 
 have looked to give you such a terrible 
 fright?" 
 
 " I am sorry to be so foolish, but some- 
 thing made me think of that last time you 
 came; and I don't know why, I could not 
 help feeling that you had something to tell 
 me." 
 
 " Cannot I tell you anything you would 
 like to hear, then?" he asked; but he was 
 bitterly ashamed of himself as he watched 
 her trembling subside, and a delicate flush 
 rise on her cheek, just enough to tempt him 
 to go on; he could not while his untold 
 secret lay heavy on his heart, and it was 
 mean, meaner than he could stoop to be, 
 to play on her hopes and fears to win assur- 
 ance for himself. She tried with a still 
 shaking hand to put the key she carried into 
 the keyhole, but failed, and he took it from 
 her, and opening the door, followed her 
 into the now darkening house, and through 
 the passage into the parlor, and watched her, 
 while with steadier movement she struck 
 a match, and lighted the lamp. She turned 
 to look at him afresh in the growing glow.
 
 26O BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "There is something I am sure there is 
 something," she said, again apprehensive. 
 "Do tell me, and I shall not be so silly. 
 Surely, surely, nothing can have happened 
 to you ? " and she regarded him with fixed 
 anxious attention, as if, sound and strong as 
 he stood before her, he might be hiding the 
 loss of an eye, or a limb. 
 
 "It is I who am silly, perhaps," he said, 
 " to make such a mystery of what, after all, is 
 a very natural, harmless piece of news; 
 but Ida, somehow, felt some hesitation in 
 telling you, and asked me; and I thought I 
 would rather see you than write." ("Why 
 the devil can't I get it out? " he thought, as 
 he looked at her widening eyes and parted 
 lips, of solemn expectation more than fear, 
 like a child listening to a thunder peal.) 
 "You must remember," he went on, "that 
 your sister is still young, and has a great deal 
 of her life before her; and how shut up she 
 has always been. She has regained so much 
 of her health and strength you would be 
 surprised to see how well she looks now. I 
 ought not to have been astonished, though 
 I confess I was, but it is the most natural 
 thing in the world that she should want to 
 marry again. "
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 261 
 
 " She cannot ! I am sure she would never 
 dream of such a thing! " 
 
 " She would not, of course, unless her 
 hand had been earnestly asked for by a man 
 whom she has every reason to believe sin- 
 cerely attached to her, and deserving of a 
 return. " Then, as she looked at him with her 
 incredulity merging into dawning horror: 
 " I am only telling you the truth. God 
 knows it is hard enough for me, if it makes 
 you unhappy." 
 
 "How could she? Oh, how could she?" 
 moaned the girl, twisting her hands together, 
 and rocking back and forth in tearless agony. 
 
 " Don't pray, don't feel it so terribly. 
 Dearest Flora, don't for my sake I can- 
 not bear it." 
 
 "Forgive me," said Flora, trying to stop 
 the restless motion of her hands, "you can't 
 help it. You are very kind; but I could not 
 believe you at first. I have heard of women 
 doing such things, but I never believed 
 one really could ; and I never thought that 
 one would be Ida. Oh, Ida! Ida!" she 
 repeated in a less constrained voice; and as 
 a heavy burst of tears made its way, she 
 seemed somewhat relieved, for her nervous 
 motion ceased, and she sat, her face buried
 
 262 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 in her hands, quite still, except for the long- 
 drawn sobs that shook her when they came. 
 He sat by her, his own heart swelling, and 
 feeling as if he would gladly tear it out if it 
 would do her any good. He longed to take 
 her in his arms and comfort her, but he 
 could not even touch her. Suddenly she 
 raised her head. " Perhaps when she thinks 
 it over, she will see how wrong it is, and 
 give it up." 
 
 " I am afraid it is too late ; her word is 
 given, and everything will soon be arranged." 
 
 " And to think of Orlando ! Orlando, of 
 all men! to be forgotten, not cared for 
 how could she, how could any one ? " 
 
 " You should not think so hardly of her. 
 She has not forgotten Orlando. She told 
 me she should never cease to remember him 
 and love him." 
 
 " Love him ! How can she love him ? A 
 woman cannot have two husbands ! " 
 
 "You told me once how Orlando loved 
 her; do you think he would have wanted to 
 have her unhappy all her life about him? " 
 
 " She need not have been unhappy ; it is 
 not long to wait ; and then, there were the 
 children. Oh, those children! How can she 
 marry another man, who is not their father] "
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 263 
 
 " Indeed, I think the children will be 
 very well and kindly cared for. I could 
 not have consented if I had not felt sure of 
 that." 
 
 " Did she ask you about it ? " 
 
 " Yes, she did ; but I saw that I could not 
 prevent it without using more opposition 
 than I felt to be right. She is of age, and 
 I have no authority over her. She must 
 decide such an important matter for herself, 
 when she once knows all the reasons for and 
 against it ; and I had no real reason to give 
 against it. Nobody holds second marriage 
 to be a crime. You must consider, as I 
 said, that there is nothing unnatural in any 
 man's loving Ida, and nothing wrong in 
 her returning it." 
 
 " If you were married, " burst out Flora, 
 with one of those rare lightning flashes from 
 her eyes that seemed to dry up her tears in 
 a moment; "would you like to think of your 
 wife doing such a thing?" 
 
 "No, by God!" he exclaimed instinc- 
 tively, her beautiful face, dazzling in its 
 pallor, forcing the words from his mouth ; " it 
 would make me turn in my grave to think 
 of it ! " Then, his excitement urging him on : 
 "But you would never do it."
 
 264 BROTHERS AND STRAXGERS. 
 
 "No," said Flora, "I never could." She 
 spoke seriously, with as little thought of any 
 personal application of her words as if he 
 and she were already disembodied spirits; 
 "but I should never have thought that Ida 
 could. It seems as if anything might happen 
 now." She was silent a moment, her hands 
 moving restlessly again, like one burning 
 with fever. " If I had only been with her 
 she never, never would, I know! I could 
 not go how could I?" 
 
 " You must not mind that so much. Sup- 
 pose you had been with her, this particular 
 thing might not have happened ; but she 
 would have been capable of it, all the same. 
 It 's the being able to do a thing, not so much 
 the doing it, that makes character ; we have 
 not much to be thankful for if lack of 
 opportunity be all." 
 
 Flora looked up doubtfully, as if inclined 
 to question this; but the sight of tears in 
 Arthur's eyes checked her. It was the only 
 thing he could do for her, but he could have 
 done nothing better; and hers flowed again 
 as she said : 
 
 " I should not have thought she could have 
 done it while she had you ; she was always 
 writing about you, and all you did for her,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 26$ 
 
 and how good you were. She did not seem 
 to miss me as much as I had been afraid she 
 would; but I never dreamed of this. I do 
 not think she did just right to you when you 
 had been so very good to her; and then, to 
 take the children away from you, when you 
 had once had them ! You might have felt a 
 little hurt for yourself." 
 
 "So I did," said Arthur, frankly, "but it 
 would have been selfish to have let that 
 affect me. If it had not been for my know- 
 ing it I might have advised Ida more 
 strongly against this marriage; and yet, I 
 don't think that would have made any differ- 
 ence in the end. You must remember that 
 this has been coming on me gradually, not 
 suddenly, as it has on you. I do think that 
 Ida ought to have given you some hint, at 
 least, before she made up her mind, and 
 saved you the shock." 
 
 " No it does not matter. I should have 
 tried to do something, then, and very likely 
 done something wrong, and it might have 
 been of no use, after all. I don't seem to 
 understand how Ida feels about it, or what 
 she thinks. She is like a stranger, and not 
 Ida." 
 
 " I do not in the least suppose that she
 
 266 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 would have married again, certainly not so 
 soon, if Mr. McCall had not been so very 
 determined to have her." 
 
 "Is that his name?" asked Flora, with a 
 shudder, as if some noxious animal were in 
 question. 
 
 " Yes, and he is a very worthy, kind- 
 hearted man. He can give your sister many 
 more advantages than I can. It was partly 
 the consciousness of this that kept me from 
 showing any wounded feelings I might have 
 for I was hurt, I confess," he added, 
 smiling. 
 
 The confession seemed to please her, and 
 she said with gratitude in her look: "I am 
 glad you minded it too. I don't mean to 
 be selfish, and I want I do want to have 
 Ida happy; but I do not feel as if this could 
 ever be right. I hope," she went on anx- 
 iously, " that she said that she knows how 
 much she owes to you. " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, they have both said all that 
 was proper for them to say, and more than 
 I deserved or expected, more than I wanted ; 
 but I am sure he is a well-meaning man, if 
 he does not always suit me in everything. 
 I am sure, very sure, he will be good to her 
 and the children ; and as to you, he is most
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 267 
 
 anxious to be a friend to you. He wants 
 you to come and live with them, and be like 
 his own sister, and I have no doubt he 
 means it." 
 
 "I cannot do that." 
 
 " Ida wishes it so much. I think she will 
 be very unhappy if you do not come. I do 
 believe she loves you better than anything 
 else in the world." 
 
 "I cannot do it." 
 
 " She sent you more love than I can find 
 time to give you, I fear; and now she will 
 write herself directly, as soon as she knows 
 you have heard ; " and as she made no reply : 
 " It pains me more than I can say to give 
 you pain, but it would not be right not to 
 tell yu that she and Mr. McCall both want 
 you to give up your school immediately and 
 come to them. He will gladly pay any sum 
 required to supply your place till the end of 
 the term, and Ida says she cannot be married 
 unless you are at the wedding, and that she 
 will not fix the time until she hears when 
 you can come." 
 
 " I cannot come." 
 
 " Ida will be very much grieved." 
 
 "Oh!" said Flora, with a long sigh of 
 utter exhaustion, " I cannot help it ! I have
 
 268 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 tried and tried to do things, but there was 
 always some use in them ; now there is no 
 use in anything. Ida does not really need 
 me now. Can't you won't you tell her 
 how it is, and that I do love her, and wish 
 them both well and happy, but I cannot 
 live with them; I cannot live under his 
 roof and eat his bread." 
 
 "Yes, I will make that all right; don't 
 trouble yourself about it any more," he 
 said, alarmed at her agitated breath, and the 
 throbbing flush that came and went on her 
 temples. 
 
 "And do you think that I am doing 
 wrong? " 
 
 "No, indeed, I do not." Words of praise 
 of love rose to his lips ; but he recog- 
 nized the fact that to one sick at heart, 
 sugar-plums were loathsome. " I understand 
 perfectly how you feel, and I know just what 
 you want me to say to Ida ; you may set your 
 mind at rest about that. There is my mother 
 at the gate with Mrs. Rand;" and as she 
 looked nervous and frightened: "You had 
 better go upstairs and leave me to see her; 
 go to bed, and don't come down again 
 to-night. Your head aches terribly, I am 
 sure."
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 269 
 
 "Yes," said Flora, putting her hand to 
 her head, mechanically, "but that is no 
 matter. " 
 
 "Do go," he repeated, and she rose, 
 instinctively obedient, and with a languid 
 "Thank you" dragged herself out of the 
 room, and up the stairs, before the elder 
 women bustled in from the sewing society, 
 laden with work-bags and cap-boxes.
 
 2/O BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 S. BUTLER had no reason now to 
 dread her son's appearance, but her 
 greeting was confused, perhaps from habit, 
 and he thought, or fancied, she was more 
 slow in recovering her composure than for- 
 merly. She heard his news with some little 
 surprise, but with satisfaction. 
 
 "It is wonderful," she said with fervor, 
 "to think how the Lord provides for the 
 widow and orphan ! Poor, dear Orlando ! 
 How thankful would he have been could he 
 have been spared to know of this ! Truly, 
 we may say with the sweet singer of Israel, 
 ' I have never seen the righteous forsaken, 
 or his seed lacking bread.' Where is Flora; 
 has she not come yet? You say he wants 
 her to live with them ? " 
 
 " Yes, he offers to treat her like a sister 
 of his own." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Butler, wiping her 
 eyes, " I shall miss dear Flora, but I would 
 not be so selfish as to object to what is for
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2/1 
 
 her good; and as Mr. what did you say 
 his name was ? " 
 
 "McCall, Hamlin McCall." 
 
 "You said he was a Christian, did you 
 not?" 
 
 " I don't remember; but he is a member of 
 a Baptist church, if that makes him One." 
 
 " I have known a great many good Bap- 
 tists," said Mrs. Butler. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Rand, "there's good 
 and bad in them, as there is in every 
 denomination, and some must be mighty 
 good to make up for the others." 
 
 Mrs. Butler seemed to shrink from some 
 personal application in these words, and 
 said meekly, "Mr. McCall will not expect 
 Ida and Flora to become Baptists, will he? " 
 
 "No; Ida is willing to attend his church 
 with him, but he will not expect her to 
 join it." 
 
 "The girls both joined their father's 
 church when they were very young, and I 
 don't think they would like to give it up. 
 I have heard Mr. Shepherd was rather lax; 
 Dr. Todd, who knew about him, said he 
 even doubted the eternal punishment of the 
 heathen; many Congregational clergymen 
 in New England do, I hear. But Orlando
 
 2/2 BROTHERS AND STRAXGERS. 
 
 always said a better Christian than Miss 
 Esther could not be, and I am sure Flora is 
 one. I am confident that prosperity will 
 not spoil her." 
 
 " Probably not ; as she does not intend to 
 accept Mr. McCall's offer." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Mrs. Butler, amazed. 
 
 "She does not like the idea of Ida's 
 marrying again." 
 
 "Dear me! dear me! that is very singu- 
 lar; surely there is nothing wrong about it. 
 Saint Paul expressly says to Timothy, ' I 
 will that the younger women marry;' and 
 Dr. Todd says th'at the context shows he 
 included widows." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Rand, "you and I 
 ain't followed Gospel teachin', then. To 
 be sure, I was gettin' on when I lost Mr. 
 Rand; but you was young enough, Mrs. 
 Butler." 
 
 "I had my chances," said Mrs. Butler, 
 bridling a little, "and some good ones; but 
 none that I could conscientiously accept. 
 Mr. Montandon, the wealthy butcher from 
 Utica, wanted to marry me, and was most 
 generous in his offers; but he was a Uni- 
 versalist, and I wouldn't have anything to 
 do with him unless he became a Christian.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2/3 
 
 Then Deacon Hiland, father to the pres- 
 ent deacon, he was a very pious man, but 
 he did n't want to be troubled with the boys, 
 and said if I married him they must all be 
 bound out as soon as they were seven, and 
 I could n't bear to think of that. Did you 
 say Flora didn't like it?" she asked after 
 looking for her knitting-bag, which hung on 
 her arm the while. 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 "That 's very strange. I shall talk to her 
 about it. She ought not to object if I don't, 
 and I 'm sure no one loved poor Orlando 
 more than I did. But I know if he were 
 here that he would be the first one to 
 rejoice in it. He was so very unselfish. 
 Where is she? " 
 
 " She has gone to bed, and I think she 
 had better not be disturbed." 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Rand; "let her sleep it 
 off; and you, Mrs. Butler, you'd better be 
 goin' to bed yourself. She always goes to 
 bed early society evenings, she gets so 
 tired," she explained, and Mrs. Butler, who 
 was evidently accustomed to obey her com- 
 panion, after a little more fussing, departed. 
 
 "I guess the old lady's mind is beginnin' 
 to fail," said Mrs. Rand, cheerfully, after 
 18
 
 274 BROTHERS AA r D STRANGERS. 
 
 she had gone. " She gets very confused 
 now whenever she's tired." 
 
 " She cannot be old enough for that ! " 
 said Arthur, starting. 
 
 "She is young to break up," said Mrs. 
 Rand, "but she 's worked hard in her clay, 
 and I guess she wa' n't never very strong." 
 Mrs. Rand was fond of Mrs. Butler, and 
 appreciated her comfortable position with 
 her, but it was her wont to hail all happen- 
 ings with a sort of desperate cheerfulness. 
 She went on : "I wish Jonah would let her 
 alone; he keeps writing for money all the 
 time." 
 
 " Does she send it ? " 
 
 "Gracious, no! I don't let her have any. 
 She got a letter from him this morning, and 
 that kinder put her out. I wrote and told 
 him to ask you himself. I guess he won't 
 do that yet awhile. It 's them Hewsons 
 that put him up to it ; and it makes her feel 
 real bad that they should act so when they 're 
 church members. I was real provoked that 
 it should happen to-day when Florer was 
 comin', because she 's been lookin' forward 
 to that. Florer pets her up, you see, and 
 does a lot cf things for her that I can't get 
 time for, and I don't know as I 'd have the
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2?$ 
 
 patience to fiddle with them, neither," con- 
 cluded Mrs. Rand, stopping to take breath. 
 
 " I am afraid Miss Shepherd will not be 
 able to do anything to-morrow. Please do 
 not let her be disturbed." 
 
 "Oh, she '11 get over it! Girls have their 
 fancies, and Florerhas no end of 'em, though 
 she 's the nicest girl I ever seen by a long 
 chalk. She '11 be all right to-morrow." 
 
 Arthur did not feel so sure of that; and 
 when he had drunk a cup of Mrs. Rand's tea, 
 with accompaniments more appetizing than 
 he was used to there, he left the house to 
 its early darkness, and wandered disconso- 
 lately off to believe himself by unburdening 
 as many of his cares as he could bring him- 
 self to, to Dr. Griscom, the process being 
 easier for his conviction that his confidant 
 knew a great deal more than he was told. 
 
 The doctor thought Mrs. Butler far from 
 strong, but did not know why with care she 
 might not live for many years; "and you are 
 doing all you can for her," he wound up. 
 
 " Yes I am doing all I can for her, 
 now. " 
 
 "You always did that." 
 
 Arthur said nothing, and the doctor 
 looked for something; further to follow to
 
 2/6 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 account for his visitor's evident low spirits, 
 and listened with a more lively interest to 
 the second part of his tale. 
 
 "So! Ida's going to be married again!" 
 he commented. "Well well! I shouldn't 
 have thought she 'd have wanted to do it quite 
 so soon. I suppose you didn't either?" 
 
 " Hardly. I don't know that she wants 
 to now, but Mr. McCall wants to have her, 
 there is no doubt of that." 
 
 "Poor child! I don't suppose she ever did 
 know what she wanted; she never had the 
 chance. If she had ever had her own way 
 she might know how to take it now." 
 
 "I think she will have some chance of 
 learning." 
 
 "Yes? Well, if she isn't happy and he 
 too, it will not be her fault. She is a dear 
 little thing, but hardly strong enough to go 
 through all she has. Poor Orlando ! he was 
 a good fellow if ever there was one. They 
 loved each other fondly; and yet if she 
 had died first, and I 've expected it, more 
 than once, most likely he 'd have married 
 again. There 's hardly a country minister 
 that has n't used up more than one wife. 
 Well well I've done it myself; but, 
 Lord help us! we haven't learned yet not
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 277 
 
 to expect more of women." The doctor 
 ran on, trying to dissipate some of his own 
 wounded feelings, as well as what he fancied 
 were his companion's; and meeting no 
 response, he stopped and put the question 
 direct: u How does Flora like it?" 
 
 " Not at all. Indeed I fear she will make 
 herself ill over it. She has gone to bed 
 now; but if she is not better in the morn- 
 ing I wish you would go and see her." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I'll go and see her; but you 
 needn't worry yourself; let her sleep it off, 
 and cry it off. She is but a baby yet; she '11 
 have to live and learn, like the rest of us; 
 she'll know better when she's older." 
 
 "I hope not," said Arthur, decidedly. 
 
 "Well," said the doctor, with a sudden 
 change of expression, "perhaps she won't, 
 if you never teach her ! " 
 
 Arthur called at his mother's early the 
 next morning, but Flora was not visible. 
 "She says," said Mrs. Rand, "that she's 
 got too bad a headache to get up; but don't 
 be scared, she ain't goin' to be sick. She 's 
 real silly! I bet I could get her up by 
 scoldin' her a bit; but somehow I don't 
 make no good hand at scoldin' Florer." 
 
 Arthur lingered disconsolately about till
 
 2/8 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 the doctor called, and went upstairs, where 
 he stayed a great deal longer than was suffi- 
 cient to administer a dose of antipyrine, 
 which he declared was all the medicine his 
 patient needed. But when he came down 
 he brought with him two open notes, one 
 addressed to Ida, the other, as Arthur rec- 
 ognized with a great throb of the heart, his 
 own first letter from Flora. They ran as 
 follows: 
 
 LIVERPOOL, Oct. 29, 188-. 
 
 DEAR MR. BUTLER, I am very sorry that I cannot 
 see you again before you go. Thank you for com- 
 ing here, and all your kindness. I have written to 
 Ida. Will you please, if it is not too much trouble, 
 read it, and if you do not think it says what is just 
 right, destroy it, and tell Ida I will write as soon as 
 I am able. I do not know just what to say, but I 
 don't want to make her unhappy. Pray, tell her 
 so, and give her my best love. I am very sorry 
 that you are going to have all the care and trouble 
 about this, and that I have made you more instead 
 of helping you any. 
 
 Yours very sincerely, 
 
 FLORA MARY SHEPHERD. 
 
 LIVERPOOL, Oct. 29, 188- 
 
 DEAR IDA, Please don't mind if I cannot come. 
 I do hope you will be happy, I do indeed ; and if
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 279 
 
 my coming would make you any more so, I would 
 try, but I know it would not. I am afraid I am 
 not fit to be at any place where every one ought to 
 be cheerful. I wish I were, for I do love you 
 you know I do just as much as ever, and I am 
 sure you do me. You have been away in new 
 places, and among new people, and it is not strange, 
 perhaps, that things look different to you. I sup- 
 pose Jast year seems a long time ago to you, but oh ! 
 to me it is like yesterday. J cannot help it, though 
 perhaps I ought. Kiss my darling Landy and 
 Flossy for me a thousand times, and tell Mr. Mc- 
 Call I wish him all happiness. I am sure he is a 
 good man, or Mr. Butler would not have been 
 willing you should marry him. God bless you 
 dearest ! 
 
 From your ever-loving sister, 
 
 FLORA. 
 
 P. S. Mr. Butler has said all you could have 
 wished him to, in the very kindest way. 
 
 FROM ARTHUR TO FLORA. 
 
 LIVERPOOL, Oct. 29, 188-. 
 
 DEAR Mrss SHEPHERD, Thank you very much 
 for your note, and for letting me see that to your sis- 
 ter, which I shall give her, as I do not see how you 
 could write differently. It is much the best way 
 to be truthful, if it hurts at first. I will see that she 
 fully understands. I am very sorry to leave with-
 
 2 80 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 out seeing you again, but must go to-night, as I 
 have important engagements for Monday. Dr. Gris- 
 com has promised not to let you go back to Cold 
 Spring until he thinks you quite able, and to write 
 to me how you are, or I could not go. 
 Your devoted 
 
 ARTHUR BUTLER. 
 
 Arthur would have liked to treat his reso- 
 lution by sending some flowers with this 
 note, but did not feel that he had the right to 
 expose Flora to the comments and inquiries 
 of his mother and Mrs. Rand, and he jour- 
 neyed back to Boston, reading and re-reading 
 her two little notes,till the one to Ida began to 
 show too visible signs of wear. He had them 
 by heart, but it was refreshing to touch the 
 paper her hands had held. These letters 
 were the only gifts that had ever passed be- 
 tween them, and as he folded hers away in 
 an inner compartment of his note-case, never 
 to leave him till he had another, he smiled 
 rather sadly at his own sentimentality, and 
 then wondered where Flora would keep hers. 
 
 He found Ida lovely, bright, and beam- 
 ing after four days of Mr. 'McCall's society 
 without the memento mori of his own pres- 
 ence. It seemed cruel to plunge her at once 
 into successive depths of surprise, disap-
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 28 1 
 
 pointment, and despair. For the next six 
 weeks his own worry and harass were dis- 
 tracting. Ida wished her wedding to be 
 indefinitely postponed, and showed, without 
 losing an iota of her sweetness and gentle- 
 ness of manner, more strength of will than 
 he had given her credit for. It was he 
 himself who put his to bear down hers, and 
 as might be expected, successfully. He 
 felt that things had now gone too far for 
 such a step to be properly taken, and that 
 her betrothed husband's claims could not 
 be ignored. He was powerfully seconded 
 by Mr. McCall, of whom his opinion was 
 highly raised before the wedding came off. 
 That he should show no jealousy of Arthur, 
 in or out of Ida's presence, though it spoke 
 him thoroughly good at heart, was not sur- 
 prising; but his holding back himself from 
 all active persuasion, and leaving his cause 
 in the other's hands, evinced diplomatic 
 talent which one would hardly have given 
 him credit for. He gained immensely by it, 
 as Ida's interviews with Arthur were all 
 marked by tears and arguments, and those 
 with him by soothing and consolation. She 
 drew nearer to him through it all, and when 
 at last on a bright frosty morning in early
 
 282 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 December, Arthur led her up the aisle of 
 the great empty church to meet the quietest 
 and smallest of wedding parties, she looked, 
 under all her modest shrinking, a sufficiently 
 willing bride to gladden a bridegroom's 
 heart. The sorrow at her sister's absence, 
 which softened her eyes with liquid dew, 
 and sent one or two drops down the blushing 
 roses of her cheeks, was only deep enough 
 to simulate well a maiden's becoming regret 
 at leaving home. She had never looked more 
 beautiful, perhaps because for the first time 
 in her life she was beautifully dressed, in 
 rich cloth of the palest silvery gray, trimmed 
 with costly gray fur, and a picturesque beaver 
 hat and feathers to match, with delicate rose 
 satin showing in the lining, to match the 
 pale pink roses in her hand, all, and much 
 more, Arthur's last gifts to his now fondly 
 loved sister, the only one to whom he 
 acknowledged such a tie. He remembered 
 certain dreams of one day giving such things 
 to Flora, since grown more vague and 
 doubtful ; and as he watched the heavy ring 
 slide on to Ida's small hand, where the 
 slender little token of her first marriage had 
 been smothered in gold and gems, he felt 
 as if it marked the snapping as well as the
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 283 
 
 binding of a tie. He had not much time to 
 think before it was over, and Mrs. Hamlin 
 McCall was surrounded by all her enrap- 
 tured aew relations. The newly married 
 pair were to set out from the church door 
 for New York, where the Anson McCalls 
 were to meet them the next week with Miss 
 Meade and the children, who, according to 
 their mother's very decided wish, were not 
 present at the ceremony. 
 
 The bridegroom was in no way disturbed 
 that his bride at parting clung to her 
 brother-in-law in a shower of tears. " Come 
 on to New York next week, Arthur," he 
 said heartily, "and visit us at the Fifth 
 Avenue, and we'll have a regular blow-out 
 in honor of this wedding. She '11 be all 
 ready to celebrate it by that time, I know; 
 hey, Ida? There, you've got to leave him 
 some time or other; but he shall put you 
 into* the carriage he deserves it; "and he 
 himself turned on the step after his wife 
 was in to give Arthur an emphatic shake of 
 the hand, with, "'Twill be your turn next, 
 I hope." 
 
 Arthur looked after them, conscious of 
 some relief that the thing was fairly over. 
 He was tired out by the strain of it, and not
 
 284 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 at ,all disposed to take up the dreary post- 
 festal tasks of paying the bills, closing the 
 cottage, and storing the furniture. He had 
 much to do that usually falls to a woman's 
 share, and he had not even a woman's advice. 
 He did not accept the invitation to New 
 York; but his labors were enlivened by the 
 following letters: 
 
 FROM MRS. BUTLER TO ARTHUR BUTLER. 
 
 LIVERPOOL, Dec. 14, 188-. 
 
 MY DEAR ARTHUR, We have been much ex- 
 cited at the arrival of dear Ida and her good hus- 
 band. They stopped at Syracuse with the darling 
 children, Miss Meade, their worthy governess, and 
 Christine, their French nurse, who seems an excel- 
 lent person, though a Catholic, a delightful party. 
 Mr. and Mrs. McCall rode out with the children to 
 see us that very afternoon, and they asked Mrs. 
 Rand and me to spend the very next day at their 
 hotel with them ; also Flora, whom they had tele- 
 graphed to, and who had come here to meet them ; 
 which she could do very well, as it was Friday. I 
 told them I seldom went into such gay scenes, and 
 they must excuse me. But Mr. McCall would not 
 take no for an answer, and Ida came out by herself 
 the next morning in a splendid carriage drawn by 
 two horses, and took us first to the cemetery, where 
 we visited our lot where dear Orlando's remains
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 285 
 
 and those of his precious babe repose. She seemed 
 much affected, and said she should bring her chil- 
 dren the next time they came East ; just now she 
 thinks them too young to understand. 
 
 Mr. McCall is a noble-looking man, and a true 
 Christian ; he paid me the very highest honor and 
 respect, not looking down on my humble cottage, 
 though so wealthy. I hope he will not be more 
 extravagant than a Christian should be. I was al- 
 most alarmed at the elegant dresses worn by Ida ; 
 she said you gave them to her. I fear you did 
 not remember what snares such things are to the 
 soul. 
 
 The children are much grown and improved. I 
 think Miss Meade a very fine lady, though much 
 grieved to find out that she was a Unitarian, a 
 sect, I believe, much like the Universalists here, and 
 foes to Evangelical truth. I wish you had chosen 
 otherwise, even an Episcopalian would have been 
 better than one who is not a Christian at all ; but 
 she seems a lady of great learning, and was very 
 kind and affable to me. 
 
 Dear Ida was full of kind attentions to us all, and 
 rejoiced especially at meeting her beloved sister after 
 so long a separation. She brought Flora and me 
 many lovely gifts from New York, a beautiful 
 black satin dress piece for me, and a copy of the 
 Holy Scriptures, beautifully illustrated by a talented 
 young Frenchman, named Dore ; and an exquisite 
 little cabinet from Japan, knowing how much I
 
 286 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 have always been interested in the narratives of the 
 missionaries about that lovely but benighted land. 
 She gave Flora a white silk for a gown, which she 
 said would wash, and a gold brooch, and an elegant 
 box with brushes and combs, and other articles. 
 Oh, and I forgot to tell you, she gave us both her 
 photograph and the children's, and Mr. McCall's. 
 Flora did not wish to take the presents, but Ida felt 
 so unhappy about it that at last she consented. I 
 hope Mr. McCall did not think her ungrateful. 
 She has very peculiar ideas. He, and Ida, too, are 
 very earnest that she shall go and live with them, 
 but she positively refuses. I felt it my duty to urge 
 her not to neglect such advantages, but cannot be 
 sorry to have the dear girl remain so near me, 
 though she will not come here nearly as often as I 
 want her to. 
 
 I am very tired, so must defer till another oppor- 
 tunity the description of the day in Syracuse, and 
 the superb dinner at the hotel in a private dining- 
 room. John and Almira, with Laurea, and Dr. Gris- 
 com, came afterwards, and stayed to tea. Ida had 
 presents for all of them, and some to send to Jonah 
 and his wife. I am happy and thankful to hear 
 from Jonah that he has joined the Baptist Church, 
 and been immersed, as I told you he intended, and 
 is, I hope, walking a consistent course ; but he 
 seems distressed for money. I hope you will find 
 it in your power to help him with a little. The Lord 
 has blessed you with prosperity ; oh, forget him not !
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 287 
 
 and remember that he may be sought and found, 
 even at the eleventh hour ! 
 
 From your affectionate mother. 
 
 FROM IDA TO ARTHUR. 
 
 Palmer House, CHICAGO, Dec. 15, iSS-. 
 
 DEAREST ARTHUR, We are stopping here for a 
 few days, as Mr. McCall has business, and thought 
 it would be a good chance to show us the city ; so 
 I have time to write you about our visit to Syracuse 
 and Liverpool. I could not then, so much was 
 going on all the time, and so many memories were 
 brought back. I don't know that I should have 
 had the courage to stop there, though I did so long 
 to see dear mother (I shall never call her anything 
 else) and dearest Flora, but Mr. McCall was so 
 kind, and insisted upon it. He has been so inva- 
 riably good and kind ! I wish I were worthier his 
 love and care. 
 
 I cannot tell you how I felt when I saw the dear 
 old place again once more. I could do nothing but 
 cry, and Flora too, though she does not seem to feel 
 quite so unhappy as I have feared ever since I first 
 heard from her. Oh, it is such a relief to have seen 
 her ! She looks beautiful, but rather tired, I thought. 
 I felt so mean to have her working away at school- 
 teaching, while I am so coddled and petted ; but it 
 is not Mr. McCall's fault. He would only be too 
 thankful to have her come and live with us. She 
 will not consent yet, but I have great hopes of per-
 
 288 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 suading her in time. Can't you advise her to? She 
 thinks so much of your judgment. 
 
 Mr. McCall thinks her a perfect beauty. I hope 
 she really likes him. She says he seems to be very 
 nice ; but one must live with him to know how really, 
 truly good he is. He did not at all wonder that I 
 wanted to visit the sacred spot where my dear ones 
 are laid, and said he thought I had better go with- 
 out him this time. Sometime we will bring our 
 children together. How beautifully you have had 
 the place kept ! And Flora, too, has visited it often, 
 and seen to the flowers. I could not help feeling, 
 as I stood there, that dear Orlando knows all, and 
 is glad with and for me and his children. 
 
 I found dear mother looking pretty well ; but she 
 seems to get tired and confused much more easily 
 than she used to. Mrs. Rand seems attached to her, 
 and is, I should think, an excellent person to be with 
 her. I hope you will soon go and visit her, for she 
 feels lonely, with her family so scattered. Flora has 
 spent another Sunday with her, which is a great 
 pleasure to them both, and the doctor is very 
 attentive. 
 
 Mr. McCall has come in, and wants me to come 
 out for a drive with him on the lake shore. The 
 sleighing is very fine here now, so I must go, though 
 I have a great deal more to say ; but I am ever 
 and ever 
 
 Your grateful and loving sister, 
 
 IDA.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 289 
 
 FROM DR. GRISCOM TO ARTHUR BUTLER. 
 LIVERPOOL, Dec. 15, 188-. 
 
 DEAR ARTHUR, I suppose you have heard that 
 we have had the bridal party here, including chil- 
 dren, governess, French maid, and little dog, and 
 I won't say how much baggage, but Mr. McCall 
 appears competent to engineer it all. He made a 
 pleasant impression here ; and " little madam," as 
 he calls her, seems well disposed to be happy, in 
 spite of a few natural tears. She looked charm- 
 ingly pretty, and was as sweet and affectionate to all 
 her old friends as ever. The man must really be 
 excused for falling in love with her. 
 
 It was a hard strain on poor Flora, but it did not 
 last long, and she behaved very well, just as she 
 should. The worthy McCall seemed rather amazed 
 at her appearance. He was very ready to second 
 all Ida's entreaties about her living with them ; but he 
 told me privately he did not expect her to accept 
 them. I think he can put two and two together as 
 well as most men. 
 
 Your mother enjoyed the meeting very much, 
 but felt fatigued afterwards. She seems weaker 
 than I thought, and shows a lack of recuperative 
 power. I will keep my eye upon her without alarm- 
 ing her, and let you know if she has any decided 
 symptoms. Meanwhile believe me 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 BENJAMIN F. GRISCOM.
 
 2QO BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 FROM JOHN BUTLER TO ARTHUR BUTLER. 
 CUBITT AND BUTLER, CHINA PARLORS. 
 
 SYRACUSE, N. Y., Dec. 29, iSS-. 
 
 DEAR ARTHUR, I write to say that mother has 
 had what seems to be a paralytic stroke. The doc- 
 tor sent for me, and asked me to telegraph you, but 
 I thought it hardly worth the expense, as she has 
 rallied some and is in no danger just yet, and I 
 did n't know as you would care to come on so soon 
 again. She can speak, though not very plain, and 
 she asks to see you, but Almira thinks she don't 
 know what she 's talking about. 
 
 Mrs. Rand says she thinks she 's been running 
 down for some time, though she 's been going 
 about to church and everywhere. The doctor says 
 she may live a good while yet, but this was a pretty 
 serious one for the first ; so I don't look to see her 
 ever get back to where she was before. Mrs. Rand 
 says she must have some one to help her, but Al- 
 mira thinks she could get along perfectly well, as 
 mother is very quiet ; but I don't suppose Mrs. 
 Rand will stay without some one, or more pay. I 
 don't know how you will feel about it. I am sorry 
 I can't do more at present than I am doing. I paid 
 for all the repairs on that house last year, except 
 putting in water upstairs, which you can't call a 
 repair exactly ; and I 've had a great deal to do to 
 my own house this year, besides enlarging the
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 2QI 
 
 store. Very likely Ida's husband would do some- 
 thing if he was asked. He seems rich, though 
 Almira says it may be all show ; but they do dash 
 out, there's no mistake. Ida looked stunning 
 when she was here. I should ask them, at any 
 rate. 
 
 There is no other news here, except that the 
 Hewsons are going to California, and Jonah and 
 his wife with them. They are going to join a Bel- 
 lamy co-operative colony. I don't suppose it will 
 last long, as they 've got Jone in it ; but as some of 
 them were fools enough to put in money, it may 
 keep up a year or two. Almira sends her love. 
 Please write soon and tell me what to say to Mrs. 
 Rand. With regards of 
 
 Your brother, 
 
 JOHN BUTLER.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ARTHUR spent his New Year's Eve in 
 the night train for misnomered Syra- 
 cuse, whose shabby station loomed up, in 
 the dim light of the early winter morning, 
 darker than ever against the pure whiteness 
 of the freshly fallen snow-drifts, whiter 
 than the quarried marble of her ancient fore- 
 runner. He did not go near his brother, 
 whom he had no wish to meet till all his 
 arrangements were made, but took his way 
 with as little delay as possible to Liverpool 
 and to his mother's house, where Mrs. Rand 
 greeted him with, "Well, Mr. Butler! I 
 didn't think you'd be here so soon! but 
 I 'm glad you 've come, and that 's a fact." 
 
 " How is my mother?" 
 
 " She ain't much changed since she was 
 first took. Seems as if she felt worse to-day 
 than usual, because Florer's just gone." 
 
 " Miss. Shepherd has been here, then? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Rand, who looked as if she 
 thought this ceremonious address a waste of
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 293 
 
 breath ; " she come as soon as she heard your 
 ma was sick, and stayed here till to-day. She 
 could, you know, because it was vacation- 
 time. I don't know what I 'd done without 
 her; she can make out what Mrs. Butler 
 wants better 'n I can. School don't begin till 
 day after to-morrow, but she would n't stay 
 because she. said you'd be sure to come. I 
 suppose she thought you 'd want her room ; 
 that is, I '11 take it, and give you mine, for 
 hers opened into your ma's. If you '11 set 
 with the old lady a bit, I '11 tidy up that is, 
 unless you want your breakfast." 
 
 " I have had it, thank you. You must not 
 let me incommode you. I can get a lodging 
 out" 
 
 " I 'd full rather you 'd stay here, at least 
 till I see what 's going to be done. I 'd as 
 soon not be in the house with her alone, over 
 night." 
 
 "You^must have some one to help you, 
 certainly; that is, if you wish to stay. My 
 brother wrote that you might perhaps want 
 to leave." 
 
 Mrs. Rand gave an inarticulate snort of 
 contempt. " Yes, pretty likely that I 'd be 
 leavin' just as she 's took sick ! I 'd thank 
 Almirer not to be sayin' things about me.
 
 294 BKOTHEAS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 No, I '11 stay and see Mrs. Butler through, if 
 I 'm spared myself. She and I was always 
 good friends. I told 'em I knew you 'd do 
 what was proper, and they need n't bother 
 themselves." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you. I will stay 
 till something is decided." 
 
 " Florer 's going to see if she can get Lena 
 Snyder to come and wash to-day; she's a 
 good hand to work, and perhaps she 'd stay, 
 if she was asked. She " 
 
 " I thought you said Miss Shepherd had 
 gone back to Cold Spring," Arthur contrived 
 to get in. 
 
 " Yes, she 's gone ; the doctor was a-goin' 
 to drive her, and she said she 'd stop at 
 Snyder's on the way. The doctor '11 be back 
 at dinner-time, if you want to see him," went 
 on Mrs. Rand, as she led the way upstairs. 
 
 Arthur sat with his mother an hour or 
 two, while Mrs. Rand bustled in ^and out, 
 until Lena Snyder, a short, apple- cheeked 
 German woman, arrived, and tying on her 
 blue-checked apron, set to work in a matter- 
 of-course fashion, and Mrs. Rand came up and 
 released him. It was weary work to sit by 
 Mrs. Butler, who looked pleased to see her 
 son at first, and again whenever she took
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 295 
 
 cognizance of his presence ; but she seemed 
 trying with painful effort to keep her mind 
 at a point from which it would perpetually 
 slide, just as she was endeavoring to make her 
 words understood, evidently aware that some- 
 thing was the matter, though uncertain what 
 it was, or whether it was in herself or her 
 hearer. 
 
 " They sober down and get quieter when 
 they get used to it," said Mrs. Rand ; " she 
 won't be so restless long. Now what is it, 
 your handkerchief ? No? She '11 use one word 
 when she means another, till you 've gone 
 through everything you can think of, and per- 
 haps tain't any of 'em. Florer could under- 
 stand her real quick oh, it 's her she wants," 
 as the patient struggled to get out the name, 
 and succeeded. "Well, she can't come now; 
 she 's got to go back to school ; but she '11 
 be comin' back on Sabbath-day. Now, Mr. 
 Butler, you 'd better go down and have your 
 dinner, it 's all ready ; and I '11 set with her. 
 Most likely she '11 go to sleep soon." 
 
 " Did Miss Shepherd say she would come 
 back on Sunday?" inquired Arthur, as she 
 followed him to the door. 
 
 "No, she didn't; but gracious! your ma 
 don't know what day it is. There ain't no
 
 296 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 harm in tellin' her things. She '11 have for- 
 got it all when Sunday comes." 
 
 Arthur was not so sure of that. There 
 was a sense to him of comprehension in the 
 questioning imprisoned soul. He had no 
 appetite for his lonely dinner; but as he 
 walked to the doctor's the fresh keen air set 
 every nerve thrilling with the joy of health 
 and strength. There was a difference in be- 
 ing out under the cloudless blue heaven, 
 upon the shining white earth, which seemed 
 so much wider than when it was green, and 
 being shut in by prison walls that must nar- 
 row day by day, and hour by hour. He 
 would do what money could to alleviate his 
 mother's condition ; but that seemed like 
 nothing at the moment. 
 
 The doctor's house was a good one, one of 
 the best in the place, and boasted of a double 
 parlor with sliding doors ; but since the last 
 Mrs. Griscom had died, and the last Miss 
 Griscom had married, this apartment was 
 rarely entered. The doctor inhabited his 
 office on the other side of the hall, in front 
 of the dining-room, where for a brief space 
 after his early dinner he was once in a while 
 to be found, his only approach to office- 
 hours. He was not there now, and the only
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 297 
 
 person waiting was a young lady, who looked 
 up as the door opened. 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Shepherd? I did 
 not expect to find you here." 
 
 " No, I have been waiting for the doctor 
 since nine o'clock. I expected him long be- 
 fore now." 
 
 " I suppose he is never certain." 
 
 " No, but he promised to take me back ; 
 he will come home sometime to-day, at any 
 rate." 
 
 " A re-assuring prospect ! " said Arthur, 
 gravely, seating himself in the doctor's own 
 arm-chair. "Have you had any dinner?" 
 for she looked pale and tired. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Prince said that it was a pity 
 some of it should not be eaten before it was 
 cold, and that very likely the doctor would 
 get his out somewhere, and come back in a 
 hurry to be off." 
 
 " He leads a hard-worked life, does he 
 not?" 
 
 "I think he likes it," said Flora. It 
 seemed each time a great effort for her to 
 speak, but she went on : " How did you find 
 Mrs. Butler?" 
 
 " Much the same as when you saw her, I 
 suppose ; only she misses you a great deal."
 
 298 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Then, as she made no answer: "It was very 
 kind in you to go there." 
 
 " I could not help it." 
 
 " How was Ida when you last heard from 
 her?" 
 
 " Very well ; has she not written to you 
 since she went to Kansas City? " 
 
 " Yes, once ; of course she is very busy. 
 I do not expect her to keep it up." 
 
 " There is the doctor," said Flora, with an 
 air of relief. 
 
 "How do you do, Arthur? I did not ex- 
 pect to find you here. Well, Flora ! tired of 
 waiting? It's too bad. I've been at Van 
 Buren, where one of the Germans chose to 
 keep his ScJiutzcnfcst last night with an old 
 gun that burst when it went off, and I've 
 been probing him for the pieces. Oh, he '11 
 get over it ; he 's a tough customer," as Flora 
 grew paler. " They Ve not been starving 
 you here, have they? Let me have a snack, 
 for I 'm hungry, and I '11 drive you back 
 directly. Your mother is n't worse, Arthur, 
 is she?" 
 
 " No ; I only wanted to ask you a few 
 questions about her." 
 
 " Come and sit by me for five minutes 
 while I have my dinner; I've no time to
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 299 
 
 lose, three or four calls to make on my 
 way back." 
 
 " You had better let me drive Miss Shep- 
 herd to Cold Spring, if she does not object; 
 that will save you time, and of course, be 
 very agreeable for me." 
 
 " I think you had better much better. 
 It will give me time to eat my dinner like a 
 Christian. I '11 tell them to harness Fly into 
 the cutter for you ; he 's rather slow, but 
 you Ve got the afternoon before you ; and 
 Jessie, when she 's had her oats, will do well 
 enough for me in the pung. .Flora, my dear, 
 you don't object, do you? " with a twinkle in 
 his eye, as he left the room. 
 
 Flora resignedly drew on her jacket and 
 buttoned her gloves, and when the cutter 
 came to the door, she let the doctor help her 
 in, and settle the rug carefully round her feet, 
 without a look at Arthur. There was intense 
 delight in being with him, and she was not 
 going to refuse anything he might ask; but 
 she longed, as so many women have longed 
 in vain, to be understood as well as loved. 
 Sometimes she had felt that she was; but 
 she knew she could not expect it now. 
 
 "I hope you do not mind my coming with 
 you," he began, when they were well clear 
 of the village.
 
 300 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 " No," said Flora, " I am very glad to see 
 you." 
 
 " If I had not found you here, I should 
 have come to Cold Spring to see you." Then 
 after a pause, which she did not break : " You 
 have seen the state my mother is in. I cannot 
 tell how long it may last. The doctor says a 
 few years, but not many. She needs some 
 one to care for her, and she has no daughter. 
 There is no one she loves better than she 
 does you. She will know you and want you 
 as long as she wants, anything. And then, 
 do you remember what you said to me when 
 you and I last met, that you could not bear 
 to have Orlando forgotten? You do not for- 
 get; you are unhappy because you cannot. 
 I thought perhaps you would be glad to have 
 a chance to do something for him still." 
 
 " I should be, very," said Flora, with a 
 great sigh of relief. 
 
 " And I thought," he went on, " forgive 
 me if I am wrong, but it seemed to me 
 that last time that you were sorry for me, and 
 that you felt that I had a little reason to be 
 hurt on my own account by Ida's marriage. 
 I thought perhaps you would like to do some- 
 thing, you don't know how much, for me; 
 something I could never do for myself." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I should ! "
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 30! 
 
 " Will you come and live with her and take 
 care of her? Don't promise till you under- 
 stand. If you come, you must let me give 
 you all you need ; you can't live quite on 
 nothing, Don't be frightened," he said, smil- 
 ing ; " I shall not give you more than I 
 should any one else who was equally compe- 
 tent, perhaps less, for I don't know any such 
 person; but I shall not let you wear your- 
 self out ; that would be foolish, when I have 
 enough to provide you with proper help. If 
 you come, will you let me arrange these 
 things as I think best, and trust me that it 
 is so?" 
 
 " Yes," said Flora, very low. 
 
 Arthur and Flora were wont in their after 
 life to look back upon the period that now be- 
 gan for them as a happy one, though of such 
 happiness as rarely comes to youth ; more 
 like the quiet days of late middle life, when 
 without age's feebleness there is something of 
 age's peace. They never planned what their 
 lives were to be when it was over, sure only 
 that they were to be spent together. They 
 never asked how long it would last, for Mrs. 
 Butler failed so surely, though slowly, that 
 they knew it could not be very long. Flora,
 
 302 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 indeed, could have wished it longer, were it 
 not for her charge's sake, as the pleasures of 
 second childhood began to grow weariness. 
 For herself, her daily life, with its little eddies 
 of interest round a chair, and then around a 
 bed ; its regular relaxations of air and exercise ; 
 its long quiet evenings, when she wrote her 
 daily letters to Arthur, and read the books he 
 sent her ; the periodical excitements of his 
 visits, and her drives and walks with him, were 
 as full of happiness as she could dream that 
 earthly life might be. She did not picture 
 to herself what was to come beyond it, any 
 more than she did what heaven was like ; 
 only, she longed to be more worthy of it 
 before it came, and tried with reading and 
 study, and learning all he would teach her of 
 the ways and customs of society, to fit herself 
 for being Arthur's wife. As for Arthur, he 
 knew that no effort he could make would 
 ever make him fit to be Flora's husband. It 
 is hard to "climb up the high and rugged 
 barriers " of heaven, but harder far to stoop 
 to it. He hoped that knowing his unworthi- 
 ness was at least a first step, and the rest of 
 the way he thought she must show him. If 
 he enjoyed the time of waiting less than she, 
 he never betrayed any impatience, and found
 
 BROTHERS AND STRAA'GERS. 303 
 
 his consolation when away from her in writ- 
 ing to her, working for her, saving for her. 
 No pledge was asked, no promise given, till 
 two years and more of watching were passed, 
 and then when the funeral was over, and they 
 had returned together to the lonely house, 
 and stood together in the empty room, all 
 Arthur said was: 
 
 " Flora, I know that mother would care for 
 nothing but to have us happy. She would 
 not wish us to wait. How soon shall we be 
 married? " 
 
 And Flora answered : " Whenever you 
 please." 
 
 Arthur's relations and the Liverpool public 
 in general were not surprised, as they had 
 long accepted the evident fact that " Arthur 
 Butler and Flora Shepherd were keepin' com- 
 pany ; " neither were the McCalls. Mr. McCall 
 had growled furiously when he first heard of 
 the arrangement for Mrs. Butler's behalf, de- 
 claring it to be a piece of meanness on 
 Arthur's part of which he never could have 
 believed him guilty. " Could n't he hire a 
 trained nurse for the old lady instead of 
 getting it out of Flora? I declare," he 
 wound up, " I '11 write, and offer to pay for 
 one myself."
 
 304 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 " Flora writes as if she were glad to go," 
 said Ida, tearfully. " Oh dear ! she will never 
 come here now ! " 
 
 " No, I don't believe she will. I suppose 
 when his mother 's dead, he '11 condescend to 
 marry her, and she '11 take him with thanks." 
 
 " Hamlin ! you must not say such things ! " 
 
 " Well, well, he 's a good fellow enough 
 in his way, just the kind that girls fall head 
 over ears in love with because they put on 
 airs, while we poor fellows who do our best 
 to please you, have to stand your airs hey, 
 little madam ! " 
 
 Ida appeased her husband's wrath by ca- 
 resses and soft words, suppressing meanwhile 
 some anxieties of her own in the subject; 
 which, however, were laid to rest when she 
 met her sister and Arthur again.
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 do you think has bou s ht tne 
 
 house at the corner? " inquired one 
 of the cousins in Miss Curtis's drawing-room. 
 It was late in the autumn, and all the Curtis 
 connection had come back to town, and were 
 running in and out of one another's houses, 
 eager as the Athenians of old to hear and to 
 tell some new thing. No one topic had the 
 slightest chance of monopolizing attention, 
 and the question was speedily submerged in 
 a torrent of talk, " Smiths going abroad 
 Joneses come back Fanny Tiffany really en- 
 gaged, Nelly Mallory really not " before 
 some one found breath or time for " The 
 house on the corner, some one bought it, 
 did you say? " 
 
 " Symphony tickets all gone where are 
 yours? mine shocking will not go under 
 the balcony anything better than too far 
 forward " ran on the talk. 
 
 "Yes, Arthur Butler has bought it, I 
 hear."
 
 306 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 ^'Nothing to wear children in rags 
 perfectly destitute " buzzed the female por- 
 tion of the gathering ; the persons alluded to 
 not being any indigent proteges, but them- 
 selves and their own well-fed, healthy off- 
 spring, fresh from rural sports. 
 
 " Indeed ! Arthur must be doing well." 
 
 " He 's married, is he not? " 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Curtis ; " he was married 
 in the spring. Why, did n't you get his 
 cards? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, we had some cards, I don't 
 know what became of them ; they had no 
 address on them." 
 
 " No, they went abroad directly, so I 
 heard." 
 
 By this time the topic of Arthur Butler 
 and his marriage had risen to the top of the 
 wave, and all the duets and trios of conver- 
 sation merged in one grand scene. Mrs. 
 Curtis remarked that " since they had come 
 to live so near, right in the midst of every- 
 body, she supposed we must call." 
 
 " Yes, and send them presents," said Ros- 
 amond Perry. 
 
 " Rather late in the day, is n't it? " drawled 
 her husband. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied the young lady,
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 307 
 
 decidedly. " Arthur Butler sent me a lovely 
 one when we were married." 
 
 " I sent him one as soon as I received the 
 cards," said Miss Curtis. 
 
 " Oh, Cousin Rachel, you always do so 
 exactly what you ought ! But I am sure it 
 will be a sufficient excuse that they went off 
 so soon." 
 
 " Well," acquiesced Tom, lazily, " better 
 late than never." 
 
 " I will ask them to the wedding," said 
 Frances Curtis, loftily ; " that is, to the church, 
 
 I don't know about the house." 
 "Anybody know anything about her?" 
 
 asked Tom Perry, who liked news, but was 
 too lazy to pick them up for himself. 
 
 " I hear she 's some ordinary sort of a girl 
 from that country-place where he came from, 
 
 somewhere in New York what 's the 
 name?" said Miss Snow, a purveyor of gos- 
 sip for genteel society, and a self-constituted 
 toady to Miss Curtis, who did not like her, 
 but thought it her duty to help her, as she 
 was poor and needed it. 
 
 " Dear me, what a pity ! " said Rosamond. 
 
 " Yes," said her husband, " a low match is 
 the ruin of a man. I didn't think Arthur 
 Butler, somehow, was the sort of fellow to do 
 such a thing."
 
 308 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 "What kind of a note did she write when 
 you sent them your present? " asked Frances. 
 
 " Arthur wrote, very nicely, as he always 
 does," replied her cousin, 
 
 " Very likely she does n't know how to 
 write a note ; that is apt to be their stum- 
 bling-block," said Miss Snow, who thought she 
 knew enough of the family affairs to be sure 
 that these remarks would please. 
 
 " It is a very foolish thing," said Rosa- 
 mond, " if he has made a mesalliance, for 
 them to take that house. It is always a mis- 
 take for a man to try and drag a woman up, 
 when she has n't it in her. Now, Aleck 
 Silsbee showed some sense when he married 
 a shop-girl ; he went and lived in Somerville, 
 and went with the people there." 
 
 " This girl was the nurse, I believe, who 
 took care of his mother, when she was ill ; 
 she died last spring," said Miss Snow. 
 
 " She was a clergyman's daughter, the 
 newspapers said," said Miss Curtis, shortly; 
 " Reverend I forget the name Shepherd, 
 of some town in New Hampshire." 
 
 " That 's not saying much," said Rosamond. 
 
 " Perhaps she was a trained nurse ; some 
 of them are quite lady-like," said Miss Snow, 
 in despair at the dark cloud settling on her
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 309 
 
 patroness's brow ; and she did her best to 
 change the subject, not in time to save her- 
 self from the displeasure of Miss Cuftis, to 
 whom all these hits were so many stabs. 
 Sophy, she saw, took them with perfect calm- 
 ness, but then she really believed sometimes 
 that the disappointment had not been so 
 great to Sophy as it was to her. She thought, 
 and rightly, that when she knew him no wo- 
 man had ever come nearer to Arthur Butler 
 than herself. Though he had been unseen 
 and unmentioned for years, his place had not 
 been could never be filled, and the feel- 
 ings which the chance familiar sound of his 
 name stirred up showed her that he was still 
 dear. 
 
 Miss Curtis and Sophy had prolonged their 
 stay abroad to two years and a half; and 
 when they came back it was summer, every 
 one was scattered ; and when they took up 
 the threads of their old life Arthur's was not 
 the only one missing. In spite of all the 
 attractions of the lady's lot, it looked less 
 roseate than a few years ago, when her 
 dreams of her own future linked with Ar- 
 thur's and Sophy's were so bright. One had 
 disappointed her, and though the other was 
 the same good girl as ever, yet their inter-
 
 310 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 course, by the necessity of avoiding one prom- 
 inent subject, and care not to touch on painful 
 allusions, had grown less frank and free than 
 of old. Since their return from abroad they 
 had seen less of each other, and in a less con- 
 fidential way. The Curtis family had greatly 
 enlarged its borders. Rosamond had two 
 more children, and Frances was going to be 
 married, and Willie's engagement was just 
 announced, and Lucy was coming out this 
 fall ; while in the other branches the changes 
 were almost past reckoning. In all these 
 experiences Miss Curtis and Sophy must 
 lend sympathy and help, while, with the inevi- 
 table tendency of love to run downward, 
 Sophy's mind was now much taken up with 
 the rising generation of nephews and nieces, 
 while her parents had grown older, and 
 needed her more at home as the other girls 
 married off. Miss Curtis began for the first 
 time in her life to realize the fact that she 
 was growing old herself. 
 
 She said nothing more then, but the very 
 next day she quietly walked off to call on 
 Mrs. Arthur Butler. She did not ask Sophy's 
 or any one's company, for she thought that 
 whether her first impressions were pleasant 
 or unpleasant, she would rather have them
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 311 
 
 over by herself. The house was a pretty, new 
 one, finished and fitted to suit the purchaser's 
 taste; and Miss Curtis liked the looks of the 
 drawing-room, though it did not at all resem- 
 ble that of other newly married couples of her 
 acquaintance; perhaps for that very reason. 
 The furniture was some of it old, all of it 
 good, but it was barely more than necessary 
 in quantity, and there was a marked defi- 
 ciency of bric-a-brac, dear or cheap. " Not 
 many wedding-presents," she thought; "a pity, 
 but then how should there be ! " She knew she 
 had given a silver tea-set, as pretty a one as 
 she could choose; and the Hamlin McCalls, 
 though this she did not know, had spared no 
 expense in the forks and spoons ; but these 
 were not gifts that could be displayed with- 
 out occasion, and there were but few others. 
 Perhaps the room gained by reflecting the 
 individual taste of its owner, rather than the 
 reflected taste of the owner's friends and 
 acquaintances. Almost everything in it had 
 been bought by Arthur himself, from the 
 hour when he had first felt that he could 
 afford to spend a few of his savings in that 
 way, through the later years, when with 
 Flora's image in his mind, he had selected 
 surroundings for her, up to the time when
 
 312 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 they had chosen a few things together 
 abroad. 
 
 " I should know the room was Arthur's if 
 I saw it in Japan ! " thought Miss Curtis as 
 she looked around on the pictures, the books, 
 even the writing-things. " I wonder what 
 her taste is like, or if she has any ! At any 
 rate, the room looks homelike, and as if she 
 let him live in it." 
 
 So short a time did her hostess keep her 
 waiting that she found herself, in the midst 
 of her observations, shaking hands with a 
 young lady who was saying, " I am very glad 
 to see you." 
 
 " And I am very glad that I am fortunate 
 enough to find you at home," said Miss 
 Curtis. She tried to add something kind 
 and encouraging to relieve the shyness she 
 thought the young stranger might be feel- 
 ing, but stopped, suddenly struck silent. It 
 seemed incredible that she should not have 
 heard of Mrs. Arthur Butler before, no matter 
 how low the latter's position, or how far off 
 she lived. She was keenly alive to beauty in 
 all shapes, and Flora was as much more beau- 
 tiful now than when she had first opened the 
 door for Arthur as four years of life and love 
 could make her. " It is not to be expected,"
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 313 
 
 thought Miss Curtis, " that any man could 
 keep from falling in love with such a girl as 
 this ! but it is a pity, it must have made 
 him overlook so much else ! " 
 
 " Arthur has often spoken to me about 
 you, and all your great kindness to him," 
 said Flora. Miss Curtis could not tell why 
 these simple words gave her so much pleas- 
 ure, but she rallied from her surprise, and 
 answered : 
 
 " I may call myself, I hope, an old friend 
 of your husband's, though we have not met 
 so much lately." 
 
 " Arthur has missed you ; and he hoped, 
 when we came to live so near you, that he 
 should see you sometimes." 
 
 " I hope we shall meet a great deal," said 
 Miss Curtis, her astonishment increasing at the 
 rashness with which she was making advances 
 at the very outset. She checked herself, and 
 as she looked about for some suggestion to 
 change the subject, her eye fell on a chromo- 
 lithograph in a slightly worn frame, hanging 
 above an old-fashioned writing-desk, evidently 
 belonging to the mistress of the house. 
 
 " I dare say you remember that," said 
 Flora, following her glance; "it was one that 
 you once sent Mrs. Butler by Arthur; it
 
 314 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 always hung in her room, and when she was 
 shut up so long she enjoyed looking at it so 
 much." 
 
 " I am very glad, and I am glad you like 
 to keep it here." 
 
 " Yes, I grew very fond of it. When we 
 went abroad Arthur took me straight to 
 Florence to see the original, and all the 
 others of his that we could." 
 
 "I suppose you had a delightful journey; 
 but of course you did." 
 
 " We enjoyed it very much ; but we were 
 glad to get home. It is so long since Arthur 
 had any home, you know." 
 
 " Your home looks like a charming one, 
 and I hope you will be very happy in it. 
 You must let me say that I have always 
 thought that Arthur's wife would be a very 
 fortunate woman." 
 
 She began to feel that her youthful hostess's 
 beauty was rendered almost too impressive by 
 the gentle gravity that seemed a little strange 
 in her position, and longed to see her face 
 lighted by a smile. But perhaps some lurk- 
 ing memories of her own made her own 
 speech earnest in tone ; and Flora replied, " I 
 am sure of that," in like manner. 
 
 Miss Curtis, irresistibly attracted, went on :
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 315 
 
 " Now that we are both settled I hope that 
 you and Arthur will come and dine with me 
 sociably, with no one else but perhaps a rela- 
 tive or two, let us say on Thursday, if you 
 have no engagement. We can learn to know 
 each other so much sooner, if you will 
 come ; don't try to call first, if you are very 
 busy." 
 
 " Thank you very much," said Flora, " we 
 have been nowhere. It is so short a time 
 since Arthur lost his mother ;" and she looked 
 down on her severely plain but exquisitely 
 made black dress. 
 
 " Oh, don't let that prevent you ! " inter- 
 rupted her visitor. " You see," she went on, 
 " it is not as if you knew more people here. 
 It is not good for you to be entirely shut up. 
 Most people have relations among whom 
 they can go about a little; can't you con- 
 sider me as one? I should be so pleased if 
 you would treat me as your aunt, if you only 
 had one here." 
 
 " Thank you ; since you are so kind, we 
 shall be very glad to come," answered Flora, 
 immediately. " It will be a great pleasure to 
 Arthur, as well as to me." 
 
 Miss Curtis, struck with consternation at 
 her own temerity in adopting another niece
 
 316 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 on the spot, was yet forced to go on with, 
 " And would you not like to come and read 
 with me and one or two others on Wednes- 
 day mornings? Only a few intimate friends. 
 We have not begun our meetings yet, but we 
 propose to have Signer Corticelli read Dante 
 to us in the original. I do not know whether 
 you read Italian ? " She paused, again alarmed 
 at the involuntary throwing open of her most 
 inner circle. " But some of us do not, and will 
 follow with a translation," she added, fearful 
 of being supposed to assume superiority. 
 
 " You are very kind ; I should enjoy it very 
 much, if I did not keep the others back ; and 
 Arthur will be very glad that I have the 
 chance. He likes me to read Italian, but I 
 never had any real teaching, except for the 
 little time we were in Italy last spring." 
 
 " Had you studied it before? " 
 
 " Arthur sent me the books, and I got on 
 as well as I could alone. I had learned a 
 little Latin, and that helped of course." 
 
 " You must be very persevering." 
 
 " Arthur was so pleased, I could not help 
 being." 
 
 " Well ! " thought Miss Curtis, " I wonder 
 how long Arthur has been educating this 
 child ! " A burning desire seized her to
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 317 
 
 know, it might help to clear up some points 
 on which she must ever be doubtful ; and 
 yielding to a sudden impulse and angry with 
 herself the next moment for having yielded 
 to what she felt to be intrusive curiosity, she 
 said : " You and Arthur were engaged a long 
 time, were you not? 
 
 " I do not know," replied Flora, with so 
 much simplicity that Miss Curtis, while she 
 felt that she had received a rebuff, could not 
 suppose that it was intended for one. Flora, 
 who really did not know, saw no reason for 
 not saying so; but she thought she ought 
 to show more confidence in so old a friend, 
 and continued, " We met each other first four 
 years ago last spring." 
 
 Miss Curtis rapidly travelled backwards in 
 her mind. " It was destiny ! " she thought, 
 " and that is all that can be said. I only 
 wonder why he waited so long ! " but she 
 could ask no more questions. The past 
 had best be buried, with all its regrets. She 
 made no effort in bidding Flora farewell in 
 the very kindest manner, and it was a com- 
 fort she could hardly understand why it 
 was so great a one to receive as kind a 
 response. They parted, it might be called 
 affectionately, and Miss Curtis, as she trod
 
 318 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 the pavements, marvelled at herself, and 
 thought she must be bewitched. She went 
 into her cousin's, thinking that to formulate 
 her impressions in words might help her to 
 be more sure of them. 
 
 " I have been to call on Mrs. Arthur Butler," 
 she announced to the very fair representation 
 of the family who were present. 
 
 "Oh, have you? how exciting! What is 
 she like? " asked Rosamond. 
 
 "I do not know," replied Miss Curtis, glad 
 to borrow Flora's answer. 
 
 " Is she pretty? " asked Frances. 
 
 " Pretty ! " repeated Miss Curtis, in supreme 
 disgust ; " pretty? no, indeed." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Rosamond, " I never 
 thought that Arthur Butler would marry an 
 ugly girl ! I should really like to see them 
 together ; it would be funny." 
 
 " I am sure," said Frances, " Richard Wil- 
 kinson, who met them the other day, said she 
 was pretty." 
 
 " Richard Wilkinson calls every girl pretty 
 that is not actually deformed," said Rosa- 
 mond, scornfully. 
 
 Miss Curtis turned from them in lofty pity 
 for their ignorance. " They are coming to 
 dine with me on Thursday," she said to their
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 319 
 
 silent elder sister; "will you come, Sophy, 
 and meet them? I think," she added, "that 
 you will like her." 
 
 Sophy accepted very pleasantly. She had 
 none of the proverbial fury of a woman 
 scorned against Arthur, and felt none of the 
 natural feminine satisfaction in his wife's pos- 
 sible plainness or awkwardness. She would 
 have liked her successful rival to be a worthy 
 one. 
 
 The joys of our maturer age are oftenest 
 those which youth despises, even when it 
 possesses them ; and when Sophy's heart was 
 thrilling with just recognized love, responding 
 to a preference so plainly shown by Arthur 
 Butler, it might have sounded cheerless 
 enough to her to be told that one of the 
 principal sources of her future happiness was 
 to be a very tender and life-long friendship 
 with Arthur Butler's future wife ; but so it 
 was, and the friendship was all the stronger 
 because so much less was expressed than was 
 felt ; because it rested on an unseen founda- 
 tion of forgiveness, and sacrifice none the less 
 real that it was compulsory. Arthur was not 
 without his part in the latter ; for Flora, as 
 he had foreseen, was never to know the secret 
 he would fain have told her.
 
 32O BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. 
 
 Miss Curtis, too, found that Arthur's soci- 
 ety and his successes and his family life 
 were still to make one of her life's best satis- 
 factions, though differently, indeed, from what 
 her hope had pictured. She was relieved, if 
 somewhat ashamed, to find how soon she 
 could dearly love the unconscious interloper ; 
 perhaps the more because about Flora there 
 was a slight veil of mystery which heightened 
 her charm. No one could be in the company 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Butler without being 
 sure, not only that they loved each other 
 with an entire and perfect devotion, but that 
 their mutual sympathy was so profound that 
 the exclusiveness of love gave way in them 
 to a union in their friendships which gave 
 these a double fervor ; and no one knew this 
 better than Miss Curtis ; but all this being 
 true, surely Flora should look happier. 
 
 " Not that she looks unhappy," thought 
 Miss Curtis, as for the hundredth time she 
 studied the calm, pathetic sweetness of her 
 young neighbor's expression, " but if I were 
 a man I don't think I should like my wife 
 to look like that. To be sure," she always 
 wound up, "Arthur seems satisfied, and if 
 he is, surely every one else ought to be 
 only "
 
 BROTHERS AND STRANGERS. $21 
 
 Arthur was satisfied. Flora was his ; and 
 to know how entirely she was so stimulated 
 him as well. He knew that if she were not 
 happy it was because there must be some- 
 thing better than happiness, and that she had 
 found it. He could wait for time to bring all 
 lesser blessings too, and for her own babies 
 in her arms to awake the sleeping smiles 
 about her lovely mouth. 
 
 THE END.
 
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