Ji
 
 (7. 
 
 r^
 
 NEW NOVELS 
 
 BY 
 
 MANSFIELD TKACY WALWORTH. 
 
 I. "WARWICK. 
 II. HOTSPUR. 
 
 III. LULU. 
 
 IV. STORMCLIPP. 
 
 v. DKLAPLAINE. (Jwt Published. ) 
 
 All published uniform with this volume, sold everywhere, and sent by m til 
 postage free, on receipt of price, 1.75, 
 
 BY 
 
 G. W. CARXETON & CO., Publishers, 
 New Vork.
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 21 ftale 0f 
 
 BT 
 
 MANSFIELD T. WALWOBTH, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " HOTSPUR," " LULTT," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 G. W. Carleton fc? Co., Publishers. 
 
 LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO. 
 M.DCCC.LXXI.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1866, 
 BY GEO. W. CARLETON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District, of New York, 
 
 NEW YORK.
 
 f&ljis Sook 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO 
 
 JAMES LORIMER GRAHAM, Jr., 
 
 THE WARM FRIEND AND PATRON OF THE 
 
 AUTHORS, ARTISTS, AND LITERARY MEN OF THE METROPOLIS, 
 BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 2052384
 
 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AGAINST a cliff of the highlands of the Hudson a man was 
 clinging. He had paused in his arduous ascent of the moun 
 tain to rest, and now clung, panting and trembling from 
 exertion, to the face of the rock, with his hands clutched 
 firmly about a bush which grew from a crevice. He had a 
 foothold in the rocky wall for one foot only. If the roots of 
 the frail bush should yield to his weight, and draw out from 
 the crevice, he would fall a thousand feet into eternity. His 
 purpose savored of madness. If he could reach the summit of 
 that fearful wall, he would stand where mortal feet had never 
 stood before : an empire of beauty and grandeur for the eye 
 would be his own. He feared to look downwards over the 
 route he had climbed. There was dizziness and ruin in the 
 very thought. But a nobler and less hazardous view stretched 
 away to the southward ; and as his eye glanced along the 
 mountain wall, he discovered, miles away, a bend of the 
 Hudson, blue and calm a sleeping lake sentinelled by the 
 mountains. 
 
 But the bold climber cared not for the immense territory 
 of woods and water and Castellated hills beneath him. He 
 was pausing against the cliff for rest, not scenery. He was 
 determined to win the mountain-top before sunset, and love 
 of the beautiful was not his motive power. At length his 
 panting bosom became still, his heavy breathing ceased, and 
 muscle came again to the assistance of will. The strong 
 manly arms, which never yet had struck a blow for injustice
 
 8 STOEMCL1FF. 
 
 or wrong, reached convulsively upwards for fresh twigs and 
 rockholds for the hands and feet. Slowly and carefully and 
 tediously he toiled upwards, till at length from the base of 
 the cliff he would have appeared like a pigmy to any chance 
 wanderer in that mighty solitude of the eternal hills. When 
 -he stood at the base of the rocky wall, and raised his eyes 
 heavenwards to calculate the chances of the daring feat, he 
 was as attractive a picture of neat and muscular manhood as 
 the eye ever meets outside of the artist's canvas and the 
 sculptor's marble. But now clinging to that awful height, 
 like a doomed soul, with his strength well-nigh exhausted, 
 he had lost symmetry and beauty of person, and was bruised 
 and blood-stained from his fierce grapple with the rocks. 
 His garments were torn and dust-covered, and the heavy 
 luxuriance of his dark hair was matted with the mosses 
 which had brushed from the rocks, where he had nearly lost 
 his slippery hold for ever. 
 
 The will to attain the summit of the cliff was not impaired 
 by the severe toil of his ascent. When his hat brushed from 
 his head, and fell away into the yawning gulf beneath him, 
 he smiled a bitter smile, then clung by one hand, and with 
 the other swept back from his eyes the long hair, that he 
 might better calculate his course ; then higher and more 
 carefully he climbed with, unabated earnestness and will. 
 He knew that no other human creature had ever attempted 
 the mad feat. He knew also that the chances of his being 
 able to descend again with his life, were the chances only 
 which madmen take. But a storm was raging within him, 
 which drowned fear, and reason, and prudence ; and the ter 
 rors of the ascent were to this storm as the zephyr to the 
 tornado. 
 
 A mountain cataract, roaring and trembling in the abyss 
 below, had sounded in his ears a stern accompaniment to ' 
 the storm in his soul. Its wild, distant music had served to 
 distract his thoughts from his utter isolation from the society 
 of mortals. But now that, too, had faded and died away in
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 9 
 
 the distance below, and he was alone with silence and God. 
 Pausing again to rest, he listened, and hearing no sound 
 save his own heavy breathing, he was conscious that the top 
 of the cliff was near. Looking cautiously upwards, he spied 
 the blue sky through a cleft in the upper edge of the rocky 
 wall. The plateau on the summit of the mountain was not 
 twenty feet distant from him. Oh, horror ! this twenty feet 
 of rock, up which he must climb, instead of sloping backwards 
 from the abyss, now curved outwards over space. His body 
 must now sway away from its perpendicular, and his head 
 swing farther out over the awful gulf than his feet. Men at 
 the realization of such a position have become instantly 
 white-haired with terror. Not so this fearless climber. De 
 tecting the favorable proximity and abundance of the shrubs 
 growing along and under the edge of the clftf, he sprang up 
 wards, grasped them in his hands, and by the sheer power of 
 the muscles of his arms, raised himself from shrub to shrub 
 slowly out towards the edge of the rock, with his feet dan 
 gling in mid-air. His hands alone prevented his falling two 
 thousand feet down through the whistling wind. He shud 
 dered then, and struggled desperately upwards and outwards 
 to the edge. He caught that rocky edge in his hands, and 
 attempted to raise his body up and over it to the plateau 
 above. The muscles of his arms failed him, and he hung 
 helpless and ready to fall to his terrible doom. But nature 
 rallied her powers for the grapple with death. One mighty 
 effort, and his body slowly raised in air, the chin approached 
 nearer to his hands, the muscles of his arms gathered in 
 knots near the shoulders, the chin raised above the highest 
 edge of the cliff, the breast too passed above the rock, and 
 with a struggle the climber drew himself over it on to the 
 safe plateau above, and then fell exhausted and blood-stained 
 upon the coveted goal of his fearful climbing. He was the 
 lofty and solitary king of the highlands. 
 
 For a long time he lay stretched upon the plateau, panting 
 and trembling. At last he raised himself upon one arm and 
 
 1*
 
 ] STORMCLIFF. 
 
 glanced about him. The surface of the rock was dotted with 
 Ibw shrubs growing from the crevices, and these sole evi 
 dences of vegetable life appeared to extend backwards over 
 the plain for a great distance. He raised himself to a sitting 
 posture and looked again, but the plateau appeared to have 
 no boundary save the edge of the cliff, where his life had 
 balanced between time and eternity. Then he turned 
 towards the cliff, and gazed down over the magnificent 
 reaches of mountains, and curving river, and emerald forests, 
 and towns and hamlets, and white-winged vessels gliding 
 towards the sea. His eye roved over the familiar church- 
 spires of his native town, gleaming amid the mass of dark- 
 green maple-trees, and then wandered along the majestic 
 sweep of the Hudson, where it answered the challenge of the 
 sentinel mountains by a haughty curve to the eastward. 
 Noble old river ! how his heart was bound to it by the 
 memories of childhood ! He had watched beside its cradle in 
 the far north, where the airy-footed deer lave in its clear and 
 rippling waters. He had witnessed the early struggles of its 
 boyhood as he stood on the hill-side of Luzerne, and saw it 
 cleave for itself a channel only twelve feet wide and seventy 
 feet deep through the opposing rock. He had followed its 
 course to the Falls of Hadley, where, in its young manhood, 
 it moved proudly down upon the arena of real life like a 
 young warrior leading a charge of ten thousand snow-white 
 steeds through a mountain gorge. He had watched for a 
 quarter of a century the battles of its ripe manhood with the 
 opposing highlands. Aye, he had seen its open grave, where 
 a million of men are ever present to honor its burial. In. 
 early life he had chosen that proud and successful river as 
 his own model of action. He had anxiously observed the 
 clouds, and the storms, and the night blackness settle down 
 upon it, and had gloried to see it emerge brighter and more 
 majestic than ever. He had listened to the wild winds, as 
 they talked to it and threatened it. He had seen it grow 
 black with rage and beam again with smiles, but ever mov-
 
 STORMCLIFF. 11 
 
 ing onward to its purpose a restless and increasing bene 
 factor to the human race. Storms, and opposition, and 
 menace were its portion; but its career was ever noble, and 
 its name ever blessed of men. 
 
 Why had he failed in his purpose to be like his majestic 
 model ? God had given him a great soul ; had placed upon 
 his brow the crown genius / had whispered in his favored 
 ear the thrilling tale of a higher sphere, whence mortals are 
 allowed to gather lightning for their fellows through com 
 munion with and struggles towards the Deity. For his ear the 
 leaves of the forest trees were allowed to breathe holy music, 
 the dashing waterfall to ring with the silver cadences of the 
 angels, and the misty atmosphere, hovering over the land 
 scape, to grow tremulous with the fluttering wings of celestial 
 messengers. Look at him seated upon the edge of the cliff, 
 with an eye of fire and a heart of ice a poor, human, noble 
 heart frozen by despair. The scythe of Time has not yet 
 described thirty circles above that proud young head, and 
 yet he is bitter towards his adorable God and Creator, and 
 he has scaled that mountain cliff to execute the bidding of a 
 fiend ; for genius and madness are step-sisters, and the 
 chains of the one are more dangerous than the wild freedom 
 of the other. 
 
 He sprang suddenly to his feet, refreshed and strong 
 again, and the action revealed the fine proportions of his 
 athletic frame. He was naturally sinewy and broad-shoul 
 dered, and gymnastic exercises had developed his figure into 
 a perfect model of manly power and symmetry. He was 
 nearly six feet in height, and he looked strong enough to 
 throttle " a three-year-old bull." The beauty of his face was 
 marred by a very large square mouth ; but when he smiled 
 or conversed, this was forgotten in the charm of his utter 
 ance and the genial character of the ever-varying lines of 
 fun or sweetness which played about this exaggerated feature. 
 His cheeks were rather sunken and sallow ; but his nose, 
 though sallow too, was straight and graceful, and the per
 
 12 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 fectly arched nostrils trembled when under excitement in a 
 remarkable manner. But the glory of his face gleamed forth 
 in the glances of his large grey eyes, deep set under heavy 
 eyebrows of the same dark hue as his curling black hair. 
 These wonderful eyes, in their depth and strange lambent 
 brilliancy, flashed forth what the broad, beautiful forehead 
 more calmly indicated a master soul. The eyes and the 
 symmetry of figure were the gift of his mother. The large 
 mouth and forehead and sallow skin came from his father. 
 
 He raised his eyes anxiously towards the serene sky. A 
 deep thought rose to them, expanded their pupils, then spwead 
 its fleet wings for the realm of the unseen beyond that sky. 
 It was followed by another, which left lines of intense anguish 
 quivering on his mouth. Under the influence of the last 
 thought he walked to the cliff's edge and. looked down. He 
 shuddered and turned away, but only to execute more per 
 fectly his dreadful purpose. He would die, but it must be a 
 grand death. From a mountain crag, deemed inaccessible to 
 men, he would launch forth upon air, and rush downwards 
 to death, where none could be able to identify his crushed, 
 frightful body. He walked away a distance of more than 
 forty feet, then started towards the edge of the precipice upon 
 a full run. His quick, beating footstep sounded upon the 
 rock ; the low bushes parted from his rushing figure with 
 rustling sighs ; he bounded to the precipice, and leaped wildly 
 into the terrible embrace of a tall figure which shot up into 
 the air on the very edge of the cliff. The shock prostrated 
 both of them, and the suicide fell heavily upon his face over 
 the crevice, through which he had seen the blue sky in his 
 last climbing. He was snatched from the jaws of death by 
 a woman. 
 
 Bewildered and shocked by the presence of human life, he 
 gathered himself up and looked at her. She was sitting with 
 her lower figure hidden in the crevice, and the collision with 
 Lis rushing body had evidently injured her, for she gasped 
 for breath. He strode to her side, and kneeling down, put
 
 STOKMCLIFP. 13 
 
 his arm about her. She pointed to a wider opening of the 
 rock which had escaped his notice, hidden as it was under 
 the clustering shrubs. He saw a vein of water trickling 
 down the cleft in the rock, and his eyes soon detected a small 
 brown pitcher suspended from one of the stunted shrubs. He 
 left her, and placing the little pitcher under the trickling 
 stream, soon collected a copious draught for her, which 
 revived her, for she looked kindly at him and said : 
 
 " He shall give his angels charge concerning thee ; and in 
 their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou 
 dash thy foot against a stone." 
 
 " Oh ! Nora," he murmured, " why have you done this ? 
 One second more and I should have been free. The cruel 
 clutch on my heart of a sad life, would have been flung off 
 forever. 1 cannot live. Poverty and disappointment pursue 
 me I have struggled hard and well. None know it better 
 than you. Alas ! this burning, fevered, weary heart would 
 be at rest. There is no place in life for me. My brain burns 
 with the longings and aspirations of a seraph. But my 
 actions are feeble and foolish. Earth and Time have con- 
 
 ' " USr 
 
 spired against me. My manuscripts, you knowthem the 
 same I brought to you rhave come back upon my hands 
 valueless ; and, bitterest of all trials my last hope dear 
 old Rockview has been stolen from me. Aye ! with forged 
 papers and perjured witnesses, it has been wrested from me ; 
 and now I have not one hope, one purpose, to live for. Why 
 did you cheat the grave of its victim ?" 
 
 He paused for a moment, and then exclaimed with a sud 
 den start of surprise : 
 
 " How, in the name of God, did you climb this mountain ?" 
 The woman replied by reaching forth her trembling hand 
 for a steel-pointed staff, lying unnoticed upon the rock. By 
 its aid she raised her tall figure slowly up out of the crevice 
 till she stood upright upon the plateau beside him. Her 
 eyes were undimmed by the flight of sixty winters, and were 
 brilliantly black, searching the souls of men with the quick-
 
 14 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 ness and accuracy of inspiration. Not a grey hair glistened 
 in the coal-black tresses which she had carefully smoothed 
 back under her widow's mourning hood. She was robed 
 completely in black, and her thin withered countenance bore 
 the hue brunette. She was known to many families of the 
 highlands as the most faithful of nurses. To a select few 
 
 O 
 
 among the poor she read the word of God, and directed to 
 them the kind attentions of the charitable. Strange stories 
 were sometimes whispered concerning the old woman, along 
 the curves of the Hudson. The superstitious had been heard 
 to denounce her as being too familiar with, the learning of 
 the " Lower Kingdom." These last, however, were careful 
 not to make their statements too conspicuous, for " Old Nora . 
 Rudd" was rather a favorite among those who knew her 
 well. She was too kind and devoted to the sick to be abused 
 openly. But nevertheless it was impossible to look into her 
 strange, glittering eyes, without recalling memories of the 
 tales related in childhood of remarkable old personages who 
 had suddenly been transformed into dazzling fairies. She was 
 unusually tall and erect, and when she passed along the street 
 in the moonlight, it did seem as if her glittering eyes could 
 be recognized farther off than any other human eyes known 
 to the community. But allowances must be made for that 
 slight vein of the superstitious and the marvellous which ebbs 
 and flows in all of us. 
 
 Her friends scouted the idea of her being familiar with the 
 Evil One, and cited with rare plausibility the fact of her well 
 known devotion to the reading of the Bible as evidence that 
 she lived near to God. She was, moreover, a member of a 
 Christian Church, in good standing, and her conduct uni 
 formly pious and exemplary. Indeed, it would have been 
 difficult to point to a single act of her mature life which 
 savored of evil. It is true she wandered much in the woods 
 and wild places alone, and she was not always inclined to 
 give-t'he public curiosity a bulletin of her daily life. To this 
 singularity might be added another perversity namely, an
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 15 
 
 unwillingness to talk of her life before her widowhood. She 
 was believed to have fallen from a condition of affluence to 
 a humbler state of life, and her conversation certainly evi 
 denced a good education. 
 
 But the rumor regarding her which gained the widest cir 
 culation, and which occasioned among many a slight feeling 
 of awe, was her reputed power to isolate herself from mate 
 rial objects for a time and hold communion with the invisible 
 world. It was said Nora Rudd had on several occasions 
 fallen into trances, and while in that unconscious state had 
 prophesied with remarkable accuracy of coming events. The 
 instance of her strange power most frequently cited was 
 during her connection with a prominent family of the high 
 lands. This family, of late years, had become the centre of 
 great speculation to those who derive the principal pleasure 
 of life from inquiries and investigations into the affairs of 
 their neighbors. Several mysterious occurrences had ren 
 dered the Traver family notorious. Grace Traver, a raven- 
 haired beauty of fifteen, and the only daughter, had been 
 hurried into a marriage with an old gentleman of sixty, 
 named Baltimore, and with equal and indecent haste had been 
 carried away to Europe, where she was said to be living very 
 unhappily from want of congeniality with this old greyhead. 
 She had been gone nearly" six years. Her brother Walter, 
 an undergraduate of Harvard, had recently been crippled 
 for life by a fall from his horse. Her father, Nicholas Tra 
 ver, the most elegant and cultivated gentleman of his county, 
 had abandoned society immediately after his daughter's sin 
 gular marriage, and was now seldom seen among men. He 
 was reputed to have been a superb horseman, and it was 
 whispered about that his principal exercise now was taken 
 upon horseback in the most unfrequented localities and upon 
 the wildest mountain roads. Another rumor ascribed to him 
 a peculiar sensitiveness in regard to being seen during the 
 summer months. He had been seen upon his famous stallion, 
 Tornado, in the springtime and in October, bounding away
 
 16 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 amid the highland solitudes. For six years lie had been seen 
 on horseback, and in nearly every month of the year ; but 
 never, it was asserted, would he ride in the summer months 
 or in September. Rumor said he was restrained at those 
 periods by some deadly terror. His fine country-seat had 
 been the ideal of elegant hospitality ; now it was a secluded 
 retreat for himself and his crippled son. A vague terror 
 had become associated with the name of Traver ; and if there 
 was a reason for it originally, the secret was well maintained 
 by the few who shared it. Curiosity, indeed, had time and 
 again hovered around the unpenetrable inclosure which divid 
 ed Nicholas Traver's property from the public highway. It 
 was in vain. Curiosity received a cold shoulder from the few 
 and reserved servants of the mysterious family. 
 
 Nora Rudd knew everything concerning that family. 
 Everybody said it, and who shall dispute what everybody 
 asserts. That remarkable personage, everybody, has blast 
 ed character, tormented innocence, made black white, and 
 caused water to run up hill, besides accomplishing a thou 
 sand equally difficult feats which have rendered its name 
 immortal. Live that immaculate Court of Appeals, Every 
 body ! Well : Nora Rudd had lived with, and nursed and 
 protected Grace Traver from infancy. She had watched the 
 little fairy, when her exquisite black eyes opened upon this 
 beautiful world for the first time. She first taught the little 
 baby brunette to curl her forefinger in the effort to point 
 heavenward and lisp the name of "God." She closed the 
 eyes of that baby's mother, and followed her to a Christian 
 burial. She taught that motherless child, that to be lovely 
 in character, and faithful to friends, is a richer gift than empire. 
 And when that child looked forth through the uncertain 
 ma^k of fifteen, the old nurse began to cherish the fond hope 
 that she would be beautiful in a year or two more. 
 
 But one stormy night, when the mountain spirits came down 
 to threaten the Hudson, and the old river was fairly boiling 
 whh rage, old Nora was refused admittance to see her darling.
 
 STORHCLTFF. 1 7 
 
 She suspected something was wrong, arid she crouched down 
 by the high paling to wait, and watch, and listen in the 
 pitiless rain till morning. In a trance a few weeks before, 
 she had prophesied (so her friends told her) that certain 
 misfortunes would come upon the Traver family. What her 
 friends told her made her very uneasy. Hence her visit on 
 the night of the terrible whirlwind. While she crouched by 
 the paling in the storm, a carriage rolled out through the 
 gate, and despite her frantic efforts to arrest its hurrying 
 wheels, passed on into the darkness and was gone. 
 
 They allowed her to enter the premises then, for her 
 darling was gone forever. She was too late to save her, but 
 she reached the Traver mansion in time to hear, amid the 
 howlings of the storm, and amid the glancing lights of the 
 deserted marriage-feast, something which haunted her like the 
 shriek of a lost soul. She heard the last fearful words which 
 reason left upon a mother's lips, ere he resigned his sceptre. 
 She heard a high-born, noble Christian lady utter a curse 
 which ran along the veins of the listeners like electric ice. 
 Oh ! that wounded mother's terrible curse that last, long 
 howl of the tigress stripped of her young ! 
 
 Quiet was restored, as becomes a gentleman's mansion, and 
 the poor lunatic lady was placed in a safe asylum, and the 
 matter was hushed. Years rolled by ; summer sunshine and 
 winter darkness came and fled. The birds sang in their 
 season, and the Traver estate grew more luxuriant in foliage ; 
 but quiet reigned, and superstition whispered and called it 
 gloom. It was rumored, however, that storms were more 
 awful on that estate than elsewhere. That the winds roared 
 louder, and the gale whistled more shrilly through its woods 
 and over its meadows, than elsewhere in the highlands. It 
 was noticed that the lightning fell oftener into its graceful 
 trees and shattered their branches. And a stranger story 
 still was told of a human voice, that travelled in dark nights 
 on the bosom of the howling wind, when it passed over 
 Nicholas Traver's mansion, and that the burden of its wail
 
 1 8 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 was, " Be ever ready to meet thy God." But this last was 
 whispered among the ignorant and the low, and everybody 
 knows how many silly things they will believe. 
 
 Such, then, were the reputed trances of Nora Rudd ; such 
 were the stories told to clothe the tall dark woman with 
 mystery as she grew old amid the highlands, but never wore 
 the silver crown of age. 
 
 As she leaned upon her steel-pointed staff, she answered 
 the athlete's startled question thus : 
 
 " Clarence Holden, I have saved your life, but you owe me 
 no thanks. You saved dear little Maggie once from a 
 watery grave. You courted death to save her, but I have 
 run no risk to save you. I have only stretched forth my 
 arms to prevent you flinging away God's precious gift. 
 You know how dear to me you have always been from 
 childhood. I believe I could hazard much to save one of 
 your race. You are indeed alone ; you have struggled 
 nobly you shall yet win. Is it nothing to you that your 
 poor old nurse loves the very ground on which you tread ? 
 Is it nothing to you that these aged arms, which cradled 
 your infancy, are always yearning to clasp your noble head 
 and your generous heart to her own? What would poor 
 old Nora have to live for when you and Grace are both gone 
 from her? Did you forget me when you said there was 
 nothing for you to live for? Live for me; live for Nora, 
 who worships your intellect who knows what the world 
 shall yet acknowledge in you. Live for the sake of the old 
 woman. You will never find a warmer heart than mine, 
 unless you learn to lean on the heart of Jesus, the adorable. 
 Oh, boy ! if you knew what a well of love is in my old heart 
 for you, you would never have attempted this. To-day you 
 have scaled the inaccessible I have only walked up a crevice 
 of the mountain, and down that hidden way you shall walk 
 with me. I will aid you I will fight for you I will pray 
 for you you shall win. I conjure you by the memory of 
 your holy mother's grave, by the memory of your noble
 
 STORMCLIFF. 19 
 
 father's deeds, by the thought of all that elevates the soul 
 above the brute, to make one more effort, one mighty effort, 
 to win your crown among men and your crown among the 
 angels ! Hark ! the wind is rising ; the spirits of the moun 
 tain talk together. The inaccessible has been conquered. 
 The highlands acknowledge a new king, and a storm shall 
 honor his coming. Gather, powers of the darkness gather, 
 lightnings and tempests to honor the coming of one whose 
 name shaU ring from crag to crag, from emerald hill to 
 foaming cataract, from rushing river to roaring sea ! Fare 
 well, brave boy, the spirit of the eternal hills shall talk with 
 thee !" 
 
 He looked at her in surprise, but she knew him no longer. 
 Her eyes were fixed upon the western sky, where the last 
 beams of the setting sun faded away in deepening purple. 
 She was ghastly as a corpse, and her stony gaze was the 
 filmy stare of the dead, 
 
 A sullen roar of distant thunder was audible, and a flash 
 lighted the gathering gloom. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 THE pall drooped lower over the departed day. It deep 
 ened the green foliage of the mountain sides and darkened 
 the bosom of the broad river. The towns and hamlets slowly 
 disappeared, the sails of the vessels grew sombre and then 
 faded away into the valley of darkness which formed between 
 the hills. Then the outlines of the sentinel mountains died 
 away against the sky, and all was gloom. The day was no 
 more, and the wind moaned over its bier. Over the lost 
 - river hurried the wild mourner, and the hidden forests 
 responded to its wail. From that fathomless abyss which 
 yawned at the cliff's edge rose strange, far-off sounds of the 
 agonized trees in death-grapple with the unseen foe. Wilder
 
 20 STOBMCLIFP. 
 
 and fiercer waxed the struggle. The reserve forces of the 
 storm gathered to the tops of the mountains, and with pierc- 
 ipg yells leaped from the crags down upon the dusky battle 
 field. The artillery of the clouds moved to commanding 
 positions, and dazzling bolts of livid fire fell far down into 
 the depths of the forests, and the monarchs of the glens were 
 riven asunder with reports which shook the shrouded hilte; 
 
 At length the violence of the storm passed by. The rain 
 ceased to fall, the wind lulled away into silence, and the elec 
 tric death moved oif to other battle-fields. But the broad 
 sheets of startling fire continued still to light the mountain 
 crag from the distance. Every clinging bush was revealed ; 
 and the profile of the mountains sprang to life with every 
 flash. Motionless upon the cliff, was revealed the tall figure 
 of the prophetess, trance-bound and ghastly pale, and sternly 
 looking westward as before. Her hands clung to her long 
 staff, whose steel point gleamed fearfully in the dangerous 
 light. At her feet crouched the rescued suicide, trembling 
 and awe-struck at the passing anger of an offended God, but 
 gazing upwards into those strange dark eyes which seemed to 
 commune with the Deity in his behalf. 
 
 When the storm came sweeping along the mountain wall, 
 he had fallen to his knees, and with clasped hands watched ner 
 countenance for a sign of her reputed power. Once only 
 had his gaze been withdrawn, when the lightning fell into the 
 midst of his own native town far below him. The nearness of 
 the falling bolt had almost blinded him as it passed, but he 
 turned again to the countenance of Nora. When the mut- 
 terings of the thunder grew faint in the distance, and the 
 pale light only glimmered near, he saw a shudder pass over 
 her, and her lips murmured inaudibly. He watched her 
 then with beating heart, and some strange instinct told him 
 that the appointed time of his message from the unseen was 
 near. He waited until the lightning passed away, and her 
 face was lost in the darkness. But, by-and-by, a star looked 
 down timidly upon the scene ; then, seeing no danger or vio-
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 21 
 
 lence near, it boldly revealed itself. Another and another 
 still gleamed forth upon the night, until the whole sky glim 
 mered with the peace of God. 
 
 So far above the homes of men, so far above the graves of 
 the loved and the lost, so much nearer to the pale holy light 
 of the stars, so much nearer to the blue belt of ether where 
 human imagination would locate Heaven it seemed, indeed, 
 an appropriate place for a kind Father to forgive a wanderer 
 and whisper to a desolate heart " hope" Ah ! the maxims 
 and the practices of men are so hard to a sensitive, finely 
 strung nature, that the wonder is, so few faint and die by the 
 wayside. A rude blow shivers the harp-strings, when a 
 gentle, considerate touch would fill the air with melody. A 
 gentle word to the struggling artist, a kind look to the pov 
 erty-stricken genius, a word of cheer to the uncrowned poet, 
 may open to men a mine of beauty and wealth in the rich 
 plain which lies near the city of God. These delicate harp- 
 strings are not remote from any man's door. They vibrate 
 in the brain of the timid child who asks for knowledge, not 
 for a sneer. They tremble with zeal in the soul of the scien 
 tific man who asks for aid in a purpose which shall furrow the 
 sea with vessels. They whisper in the heart of the poet who 
 rises oft towards his Creator's throne. They throb with pas 
 sion in the orator who would exert his latent fire upon the 
 consciences of men. And when a man, forgetful of the 
 maxims of society, scatters the pearls of kind words and 
 cheer to the struggling, he wakes an echo among the hosts 
 of Heaven, which first was heard stealing over the blue 
 waves of Galilee from the voice of the Master. 
 
 A shudder, as from a chilly wind, passed over Nora again 
 and she seemed to speak under the inspiration of another 
 sphere. 
 
 " Clarence Holden, with God and the angels, success is not 
 the test of merit. The invisible world is satisfied not with 
 the position and wealth men gain, but with the purity and 
 sincerity of their motives and the patient efforts of their
 
 22 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 lives to fulfil their destiny. The measure of worldly success 
 which shall follow upon effort is regulated by the will of God. 
 His counsels none can fathom. He best knows to whom suc 
 cess should be granted in life, and for whom it should be 
 reserved for the life to come. Let this console and strengthen 
 you. You are doing His will, when you are struggling to do 
 His will. But nerve yourself again for the mission of life. 
 Your nature is Tsuch that an easy success would wilt your 
 energies. An early coronation of your genius would furnish 
 to you luxury for the gratification of the sensual in you. 
 You shall cease to regard the sensual by the habits of self- 
 denial. The spiritual, the intellectual, the heroic in you shall 
 thrive on the barrens of poverty. Lift up your head. You 
 are formed in the likeness of God. The signet of the Eter 
 nal King has marked your soul, and the royal messengers 
 hover about you now to guide you to the inheritance. You 
 have been flung from an earthly position of honor to the 
 level of the poor. A brand has been marked on you by the 
 world ; that world will call it shame. But that shame is not 
 of your making. It was fastened on you in infancy. You 
 are no impostor. Rise soar wipe off the brand. Assert 
 your manhood ; live and conquer. An earthly crown of 
 honor hovers now above you reach upwards and take it, and 
 in the taking jeopardize not the eternal crown of Heaven. 
 
 " Hark ! the wind whistles through the cordage the foam 
 rises upon the plunging vessel, and the bowlings of the gale 
 answer the prayers of the trembling. Precious lives freight 
 the barque ; and one ah ! one, the dark-haired one is there 
 and fearless. She strains her wild eyes over the sea ; she 
 hopes when others fail ; she strengthens by her words of cheer. 
 Ah ! she wins her life and home. In the widow's garb she 
 lands upon her native soil ; many will seek her. Thy genius, 
 well directed, may win her. Try. 
 
 " The scene changes to the highlands. The river is smoothly 
 flowing, and the sky is blue. She is a graceful one this 
 second comer and the roses -flutter upon the snow of her
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 23 
 
 cheeks. Her eyes are blue, and her brown curling hair is 
 the pride of her beautiful home. Child of genius, thy destiny 
 is poised between the two. Triumph is thine, and in thy 
 arms shall be folded one thy wife." 
 
 With a sudden start the prophetess awoke as from a 
 dream, and with a bewildered look turned away. Clarence 
 Holden sprang to his feet, and taking her hand in the 
 starlight, said : " Nora, I am saved you have dreamed and 
 talked to me I know that God has sent his angel I will 
 live for truth, for victory, and for Heaven." 
 
 She answered, still bewildered by the darkness and the 
 place : " I know not where I am I know your voice for 
 give me, but these dreams come on so suddenly I cannot 
 tell where I am. Am I home-in the village no ! the stars 
 are shining there. How wet my dress is or am I dreaming ?" 
 
 He caught at her. dress and saved her from the crevice 
 where her bewildered footsteps were leading her. At his 
 suggestion, she sat down upon the rock for a few moments, 
 to recover her senses. He recalled her to the dreadful 
 place and hour upon the cliff. She shuddered with cold ; 
 then, as the memory of his danger, and salvation at her 
 hands, returned, she murmured : 
 
 " Thanks be to God ! I was here in time ; this is my 
 secret retreat, where I can pray and meditate and talk with 
 God. Oh ! do not betray this spot to men ; I will guide 
 you safely down a crevice to the village. This mountain 
 is fractured from top to bottom ; but the lower approach 
 is hidden ; it is my secret ; promise to me that it shall re 
 main a secret promise solemnly to the old woman who 
 has saved your life." 
 
 "Strange," he muttered to himself; "I have wandered 
 about this mountain for years, and no fracture could I ever 
 find. It is singular enough that this old woman's feet 
 should find a path to the top, when all my climbing and 
 wandering about this cliff have not given me the slightest 
 clue !"
 
 24 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 Then he said aloud: 
 
 " I promise, Nora indeed I would promise anything to 
 see you safe at home again. You have saved we, but you 
 will suffer your clothes are drenched with rain but how 
 can you find your way in the darkness ?" 
 
 " I am always prepared for that," she answered. " Many, 
 many years I have ascended to this place ; and I find that 
 the great secret is best preserved by coming here just 
 before nightfall. I have always water at hand, as you see 
 here in this crevice. Now, if you will exert yourself a 
 little and grope under the bush where you found my 
 pitcher, you will find a lantern and matches in it. Light 
 the candle and hold the lantern low down under the bush, 
 and you will see your way it is wide enough and good 
 walking after the first ten feet. I will follow you, and direct 
 you when to avoid turning into the side fractures which 
 would lead you astray. Some day it may be worth your 
 while to follow out these side cracks; your feet will be 
 better explorers than an old woman's, and I would like 
 to know where they lead one. Can you find my lantern ? 
 Close under the bush where the water trickles a little far 
 ther that way you cannot miss it." 
 
 Following her directing voice, he found the lantern and 
 lighted the piece of caudle in it ; then holding it low 
 down in the -rock, he saw a broad opening which gradually 
 inclined away from him into the depths of the mountain. 
 He raised himself to an erect position in the crevice to 
 look after his companion. She was close beside him with 
 her staff. Then he commenced slowly and cautiously to 
 descend the inclined plane in the rock, holding the light 
 before him. The descent was easy enough, and the upper 
 side of the crack was more than two feet above his head. 
 As he discovered the path to be quite uniform in its cha 
 racter, following down beside the stream which had so singu 
 larly commenced at the very summit of the cliff, he re 
 gained his confidence and moved more rapidly downwards.
 
 STORMCLIFP. 25 
 
 There was wonderful charrn to his adventurous nature in 
 penetrating thus to the base of a mountain which had so 
 often excited his curiosity and speculations from childhood, 
 and which he had deemed inaccessible to aught except the 
 birds. lie had scaled that mountain under the stimulus of 
 despair. He was now returning home by a subterranean 
 way, saved, full of hope, inspired, and with a vague realiza 
 tion that the supernatural had interposed in his behalf. 
 He was twenty-eight years of age. Only one week before 
 he was the favorite and only child of an affluent and hon 
 ored father, whose domain was marked off in the village 
 not far from the base of the mountain. He was regarded 
 as the sole heir of that indulgent father's estate. Within 
 that week Judge Holden had breathed his last, and by 
 the will Clarence was ignored, and the entire property 
 devised to another. The decedent, to the astonishment of 
 the community, in the opening clause of his will declared 
 that a base imposition had been practised upon him years 
 before ; that the evidence of the fraud was conclusive to 
 his mind, and that the author should not be successful in 
 his purpose ; that Clarence, notwithstanding strong family 
 resemblances to himself and to his wife, was not his son. 
 He was confident that an exchange of children had been 
 made in infancy, and his own child had been stolen from 
 him. He stated in candor that Clarence might not yet 
 know of the affair, but he nevertheless chose to retain all 
 of his property for his own child, should he still be living ; 
 and in furtherance of that natural instinct, he made such 
 disposition of his estate that his son might receive the bene 
 fit of it, should he ever be found alive. He professed his 
 entire ignorance of the parentage of the said Clarence, but 
 declared that the evidence of his being a stranger to the 
 Holden blood was conclusive, and that his will was based 
 entirely upon facts, and not upon hasty judgment or preju 
 dice. His large estate was given to a well known citizen 
 and a relative of the testator. The only exception to this 
 
 2
 
 26 STOKMCLIF3 1 . 
 
 sweeping act of disinherison, was a brief and singular clause 
 giving to the said Clarence an old clock, which was evi 
 dently one hundred years old, and which had stood in its 
 antique beauty in the hall of the Judge's residence for 
 many years. The character of Judge Holden, and his well 
 known clearness and calmness of judgment, precluded the 
 possibility of aberration of intellect, and the will was evi 
 dently unimpeachable. Clarence was cast out upon the 
 world a beggar, and with the unfortunate position of being 
 a son of nobody. His first impulse led him to collect 
 manuscripts upon which he had been many years engaged, 
 and send them to New York for publication. They 
 had been returned to him with the assurance of the 
 publisher that such literary productions would not pay for 
 the expense of publication ; the large circle of his elegant 
 acquaintance dropped him from society at once ; he could 
 procure recommendation to no place in which an educated 
 gentleman would be able to earn a livelihood. "With the 
 impulse and the energy of despair, he scaled the mountain 
 to die. At an earlier period of life he would have clung 
 to hope and struggled longer ; but at his age life had lost 
 much of its brightness and its illusions, and this loss aided 
 his pride to seek death. He had no friend to counsel him 
 to live, to soothe his desolate heart, to whisper to him of 
 God. His old nurse clung to him on the border of death, 
 and by the force of her imagination (or as the superstitious 
 would express it, by the direct inspiration of the invisible 
 life) wooed him back to earth. 
 
 As he moved cautiously along down the inclined plane in 
 the heart of the mountain, followed by the preserver of his 
 life, the iron will which had been once so strong within him 
 returned, and with it came that enthusiasm which was wont 
 to send the hot blood pressing and whirling upon his brain. 
 He conversed at length cheerfully and earnestly, telling her 
 of new purposes and plans which he would carry out. He 
 thanked her warmly, time and again, for her interposition to
 
 STORM CLIFF. 27 
 
 save him; but more particularly did lie dwell upon the 
 inspired words which had come from her lips in the trance, 
 declaring that they filled his heart like the breath of the 
 Eternal, and moved him to feelings of awe and worship 
 which were strange to him. He assured her that, should 
 success indeed crown his efforts, he would provide for his 
 preserver during the residue of her life. And she, directing 
 him occasionally where to turn in his path, followed vigor 
 ously in his footsteps, and drawing from him, meanwhile, all 
 the singular details of his unfortunate history for the past 
 week. She told him, too, of a vacant house near the village, 
 and on the river bank, very small and very comfortable, and 
 that it could be rented for a small sum. She promised, 
 moreover, to be his security for the rent until he could raise 
 the amount. The vacant tenement had only two small 
 rooms, and would answer his purpose well. He could study, 
 arid write, and sleep in one, and cook for himself in the 
 other. Winter was yet far off, and the cost of his fuel would 
 be a mere trifle. He was already admitted to practice in 
 the courts of the State, and might be fortunate enough to 
 find legal employment before the cold weather should come 
 on. If any clients should find their way to his little office on 
 the river bank, so much the better. But his first hope was 
 his pen and his tongue. An exciting political campaign was 
 just opening, and he would take the stump for his party. He 
 determined to write a speech which should force his neigh 
 bors to secure his services for the canvass of the county. At 
 the same time he could find opportunity in the still hours of 
 the night to devote himself to his favorite pursuit, literature. 
 Nothing should daunt or discourage him again from his pur 
 pose to furnish such composition for publication as should 
 secure him fame among men of letters. 
 
 In the discussion of these plans, time sped away, and the 
 end of the subterranean journey was close at hand. At a 
 word of caution from Nora, the lantern-bearer paused, and 
 passed the light into her keeping. She advanced a few
 
 28 STORMCLTFF; 
 
 steps, and, extending the lantern before her, revealed a nar 
 row fissure in the rock upon which they were standing. 
 "With considerable difficulty she climbed down into this dis 
 mal aperture, which scarcely admitted her person. She 
 reached the bottom after a descent of some twenty feet, and 
 then held up the light to guide the descent of her com 
 panion. When he stood once more beside her, she advanced 
 a few feet further, and then pushed aside with her hand a 
 heavy pile of pine branches, which were used as a screen 
 over a narrow opening in a wall of carefully laid masonry. 
 Following his guide through this opening, he found himself 
 standing in a cellar of a house. Nora carefully covered up 
 the approach to the crevice with the green boughs, and then 
 led the way up narrow stairs to the kitchen of her own little 
 dwelling. 
 
 The surprise was complete. No one would ever find this 
 subterranean path to the summit of the mountain, so long as 
 the secret of the cellar was maintained. 
 Nora retired to her bedroom, and provided herself with 
 dry garments. Then she kindled a large fire on the hearth, 
 by which her guest succeeded in drying his own. She 
 wiped away the blood from his torn hands, and bound his 
 wounds with oil and leaves of wild plants gathered on the 
 mountain. She brought from an old iron-bound chest a 
 straw hat to supply the place of the one which had fallen 
 down the cliff. Then she cooked a supper for him, and 
 served it up on the table of her kitchen, and while he ate 
 she stood near and waited upon him with the gentleness of 
 the old nurse who had watched him in infancy. 
 
 When the hour of parting came, and he stood upon the 
 threshold of the kind old soul who had saved him, and mur 
 mured again his tearful gratitude, she said : 
 
 " It may be a strange act for you, but I charge you, do not 
 fail when you retire to sleep this night to kneel down in 
 adoration and gratitude to that Heavenly Father who has 
 protected you this day, and given hope to your existence."
 
 STOKMCXIFF. 29 
 
 The door closed upon him, and he stood in one of the prin 
 cipal streets of the village of his birth. The stars glistened above 
 Lira. It filled him with awe to realize what an immense dis 
 tance he must have travelled in the heart of the mountain 
 and under the earth to reach his present position, so near his 
 home alas! his home no longer. This would be the last 
 night he could sleep beneath that roof which he had been 
 taught to believe his own. This desolate thought staggered 
 his purpose. Ah, it is a sickening thought for an affection 
 ate heart to give up home. He yielded but a moment. 
 Clenching his fist and his teeth, he started forward along the 
 street. Then he became calm again, and whispered to him 
 self: 
 
 " But I have God and Nora ; yes, a strange old clock, too. 
 What is the mystery of this this faithful, venerable, time- 
 worn clock? it must belong to me by some stronger right 
 than this singular will. Who am I, and what is the clock ? I 
 have no father no mother I have no name, even ! And 
 yet I have a clock one hundred years old nearly four times 
 as old as myself. Never mind ! I am to succeed the spirit 
 of the highlands has said it." 
 
 Thus puzzled, and studying deeply, he passed along the 
 street ; all was quiet, and the town was sleeping. He passed 
 thoughtfully beyond the dwellings, out into the fields, in the 
 direction of Judge Holden's estate. His course led him past 
 the gloomy home of Nicholas Traver. Some unusual commo 
 tion must have transpired at that hour of the night, to gather 
 so many persons and so many lanterns about the stables of 
 the Traver family. The gate was open, and the excitement 
 seemed to invite him in. In times of public calamity, forms 
 and restraints are forgotten. He walked into the premises 
 and made his way towards the crowd at the stables. Under 
 a great tree near the barns, several men were holding lanterns 
 over a large grey object stretched on the grass. ' 
 
 "What is it?" he inquired, as he entered the cui'ious 
 circle, of a silent spectator who stood a little apart. The man
 
 30 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 addressed turned to him with an exclamation of recognition, 
 then answered : 
 
 "It is Mr. Traver's favorite stallion, Tornado; he was 
 struck by lightning to-night, and instantly killed." 
 
 The young man glanced upwards at the distant cliff, faintly 
 revealed in the clear starlight ; then turned away and walked 
 thoughtfully out into the highway. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 sat alone in the lamplight. She leaned over her table, 
 and her eyes were full of tears. The cause of her emotion 
 was a miniature painted on ivory. She had taken it from a 
 little packet which lay on her table. She dried her eyes and 
 looked at it again, bringing it nearer to her lamp. It was 
 more satisfactory in this new position, for she smiled and 
 murmured, " My own beautiful darling my own my own 
 I was sure of it indeed I was. The same proud look 
 and consciousness of power as her mother the same large, 
 lustrous eyes, hiding away from familiarity with strangers 
 under the black, sweeping eyelashes. Yes ! yes ! there is 
 the same real peach-flush in the dark cheeks. That wicked, 
 wipked smile, so full of meaning. A master hand has painted 
 this. Poor child ! what does she do with all that hair, so 
 glossy black, so heavy ? Why, I could scarcely manage it 
 then, when she was so young and now, what must it be? 
 Ah me! God is good. She looks proud and happy. It 
 has not broken her heart then. She is free of him now, and 
 her old look has come back to her. To sacrifice my darling 
 so, it was a burning, burning shame. But I must finish her 
 letter now. How sweet of her to have this painted all for 
 me for me, her old nurse !" 
 
 After another glance at the miniature, she laid it aside 
 and resumed the reading of the letter.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 31 
 
 "If I had not been such a mere child, I should have 
 insisted on knowing why papa was in such a desperate 
 strait. But you did not get my note, and I had no mother, 
 no sister, to advise me. Poor papa was so agonized, and 
 begged so hard, and I could not refuse to save my own 
 father's life. Oh ! it is such a mystery to me. I am very 
 bitter sometimes when I think of it. It cannot be right to 
 doom a woman to such torture as I have passed through, to 
 save any man's life. But I am free now, and I intend to 
 secure as much of enjoyment in life as I can consistently 
 with those principles which you taught me so faithfully. 
 Nora, dearest, the best years of my life for study and culti 
 vation have been stolen from me. To be sure, I have learned 
 much of those practical ideas of life which will aid me 
 to distrust and watch men who approach me now on account 
 of my great wealth. (Since I have been a widow, I have 
 refused six offers of marriage, for I will not marry a 
 foreigner.) But you know, dearest, that a woman needs to 
 know something besides the art of entertaining company, 
 and avoiding foolish mai'riages, and appreciating art and 
 music. Oh ! as these ancient and wonderful temples have 
 stood before me under these strange skies as these aqueducts 
 and baths and libraries have passed in bewildering review 
 before me, my brain has fairly ached to know something of 
 the empires, and rulers, and characteristics of the people 
 contemporary with them. In timid silence I have listened to 
 conversations of the learned and the cultivated, in which by 
 my birth and position I should have been a participant. I 
 am too proud to avow my ignorance, and too proud to make 
 pretensions. By every means in his power, that old husband 
 of mine sought to keep me in ignorance. He tormented me 
 by his evasive and dubious answers. He drove from me the 
 learned and the great. He would not allow me to read. 
 You know how a mean man can make his wife wretched, 
 when she is too proud to become mean herself to torment 
 him in return. I have struggled hard to retain my self-
 
 32 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 respect, and treat him as the law of God requires. But 
 now I am free, and I am as wild as a hare do you know 
 exactly what that means ? for I don't. I never saw a hare 
 in my life. Well, the first move after old Baltimore was 
 dead, was to secure a proper and dignified place for myself 
 to study in. I was ashamed to come back to my own 
 country in such a deplorable state of ignorance. I selected 
 a small house in Paris, and lived very quietly. Miss Angier, 
 a young American lady, and the daughter of an artist, lived 
 with me. I promised to support her as long as she would 
 instruct me. She has been with me constantly, and declared 
 that she has transferred to me every idea she ever had in her 
 life. I have read everything with her, and I intend to bring 
 her to America with me, to live with me. She is a good 
 girl, but she will flirt with every man that crosses her path. 
 She differs from me in this respect, for I only can flirt with * 
 men of intellect. I confess it is a solemn species of flirtation 
 for me, mixed with awe. For, I assure you, my dearest 
 Nora, I am perfectly crazy on the subject of intellect. If I 
 ever marry that is to say, if I ever love it must be a 
 genius who will win me. 
 
 " But I will sail soon, and be once more in your arms, 
 sweetest Nora. Then you will know exactly what I am. 
 I feel the need of your protecting care and judgment, 
 for though I am a widow, I am too young to launch forth 
 alone upon the great sea of life. And you have always 
 seemed to me so superior in education and character to the 
 ladies papa entertained at home. I never was deceived by 
 your position as my nurse, dearest Nora ; I always knew 
 you were a high-toned lady by birth ! And though you 
 have guarded your secret so completely from me and from 
 all, I shall ever look up to you as my superior in character, 
 and rank, and goodness. 
 
 " This brings me to the business part of my letter. Nora, I 
 have so much money, that I am at a loss what to do with it. 
 Mr. Baltimore was so successful in his speculations on this
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 33 
 
 side of the water, that his property is really immense. He 
 gave everything to me. He hated the few relatives he had, 
 and I have reaped the benefit of that hate. Now I assure 
 you, dearest, I intend to have a good time. I always did 
 love to spend money, and now I expect to give my tastes a 
 free rein. The property is invested in permanent securities 
 here, and here it shall remain. The interest flows in upon 
 me in a continuous stream, and I shall spend every cent of it. 
 A large sum in cash was left in bank here, and that only will 
 I transfer to the other side. Mr. Baltimore's homestead on 
 the Hudson is mine too, and I shall transform that into a 
 magnificent place. You are to live with me, and in whatever 
 character you prefer. But with me, you shall live for ever. 
 I send with this packet drafts payable to your order ; and 
 now I will tell you what I authorize my darling Nora to do 
 with the money. I expect to sail in May next. 
 
 " Take the enclosed letter to the tenant who occupies ' The 
 Glen ;' that is Mr. Baltimore's homestead. It is fifteen 
 miles distant from papa's place. It commands a fine view of 
 the river. You must know where it is, I am sure. Upon 
 receiving my letter, the tenant will prepare to leave the 
 premises. Then send for the artist in New York whose 
 address I enclose to you, and whose taste is admirable. 
 Give him the minute instructions in regard to beautifying 
 and improving ' The Glen,' which I send in this packet 
 In case of discrepancy of taste, your decision is to be final. 
 
 " I have collected a great number of elegant paintings and 
 some fine statuary; and also some antique bronzes and 
 fountains for embellishing the grounds. Tell him to spare 
 no expense to make 'The Glen,' the gem of the Hudson. 
 Be sure to arrange your own apartments to suit yourself, if 
 my plan of your rooms is not satisfactory. You will notice 
 that I have arranged some secret doors and passages ; you 
 might have surmised this from certain elements of my 
 character. You may add to these, if you like ; and then you 
 can give me a startling surprise some day. 
 
 2*
 
 34 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 " Ton will see from my instructions to the artist, that I in 
 tend to entertain a great deal of company. The selection of 
 all the servants for the place rests with you. I have written 
 to papa to purchase the finest carriage and saddle-horses for 
 my stables. He is such a splendid horseman, and can judge 
 of their qualities. 
 
 " Now everything is in your hands. Have all in readiness 
 for my coming. Recollect, ' The Glen ' will ever be your 
 home, my dear old nurse, and that I shall feel proud to have 
 you assume authority there ; and draw upon me for all the 
 funds you may need now and hereafter. I have been pre 
 sented with a full-blooded Arabian steed by an English noble 
 man. I ride constantly, and this beautiful horse is my pride. 
 His color is snow white. His name is ' Mirage of the Desert, 
 often seen in the distance, but never overtaken. You will 
 be delighted with him. 
 
 "And now good-by, sweetest Nora. I hope you will love 
 me when I come. I shall be much changed. I was a petted 
 and spoiled child. I have been a wretched wife. And now 
 I am a proud and ambitious widow. You only can make me 
 gentle and good. Pray for me. Goodness knows I need it. 
 
 " Ever your darling, 
 
 " GKACE BALTIMORE." 
 
 The letter fell from the old woman's hand, and her eyes 
 fairly blazed with some hidden joy. The secret fountain of 
 old memories, long suppressed, was suddenly opened, and 
 that desolate heart saw the hand of God extended to her by 
 the weary wayside of life in touching tenderness and cheer, 
 She fell upon her knees, and extending her aged arms across 
 the old Bible, which ever crowned her table, poured forth her 
 thanks to Him whose goodness had offered to her a soothing 
 balm on her journey to the grave. To her lonely life memory 
 and hope had come so sweetly hand in hand. Was it not 
 well that she had trusted God, now that her old age was to 
 be pillowed in ease and honor ? Had He not watched her
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 35 
 
 patience and her self-denial as she leaned over the cor.shes 
 of His suffering poor ? And was He not at this late hour 
 coming to bestow the reward which is promised even in this 
 life, to those who serve Him ? 
 
 She arose from her knees, and gathering up the miniature 
 and the letters, packed them carefully away in her chest. 
 Then she came again to her table, and leaning her forehead 
 upon her hands, studied long and deeply. She would accept 
 the charge her darling had offered her. It entailed much 
 discretion, much delicacy of action and of feeling, and much 
 care. The pleasure far outweighed the care, and by its side, 
 too, was duty. She knew " The Glen " right well ; such a 
 lovely place to live such a sweet place to die. Perchance 
 her mission was to guide that wild, beautiful woman to a 
 closer walk with God. Her own example at least should be 
 ever present to Grace, and her voice ever near at hand to 
 whisper on the side of virtue. The memory of the rescued 
 suicide was blended with her reverie, and she could not avoid 
 the hope and the prayer that he might eventually win place 
 and power, and sue successfully for the hand of the brilliant 
 young widow. And while the happy old heart pondered 
 and smiled to herself alone, the angels spread over her the 
 net of sleep, and she dreamed with her forehead resting in 
 the hollows of her hands. 
 
 While Nora slept, Clarence Holden studied and transfer 
 red to the paper before him thoughts and arguments for the 
 political campaign. His first effort had been a success. To 
 the surprise of his political friends, and indeed of the whole 
 village, he appeared at a convention called by his party for 
 the purpose of nominating a candidate for election to Con 
 gress. The impression had been general that he would re 
 tire into utter seclusion, overwhelmed with dismay and shame. 
 But the public were never more mistaken. It cost his pride 
 and sensitiveness a severe trial to advance into the presence 
 of men who were inclined to follow the public lead, and to 
 think that it was really a disgrace to be discarded by a
 
 36 STOKM CLIFF. 
 
 wealthy father. Resolutely, and with a frankness of man 
 ner which was innate, he extended his hand to his old 
 acquaintances, and by the very force of his address com 
 pelled them to talk to him. He spoke cheerfully of the 
 party prospects, and announced his determination to enter 
 by his pen and voice into the canvass. He found in the 
 crowd who gathered to the nominating hall, a laboring man 
 who was indebted to him for many favors. He found the 
 man cordial to him, and at heart sorry for his sudden fall. 
 At his request, when the public speaking commenced, the 
 laborer called lustily for " Holden ! Holden !" The name 
 sounded strangely, for it was not a familiar word in 
 political conventions. At the first call, ringing clear and 
 with emphasis over the tumultuous throng, a muscular figure 
 sprang to the platform, and a voice instantly pealed forth 
 above every sound like a trumpet-call : " I stand in the 
 midst of a party where the poor man has a hearing." 
 
 The clear powerful voice attracted instant attention. The 
 confusion of the convention subsided, and all -eyes were 
 turned to the speaker. The erect figure and the broad chest 
 were a passport. He looked like a man. 
 
 " I stand in the midst of a party where the struggling and 
 the down-trodden are listened to." 
 
 The voice rose louder and clearer over the throng : 
 
 "Aye! and by the virtue and the sincerity which once 
 dwelt in that party, I claim the right to be heard. I am an 
 outcast, and I never did a mean act, or penned an unjust 
 word, or deserted the right for the sake of lucre in my 
 whole lifetime. Why I am unfortunate and cast aside, I 
 know not. But this I do know : I see in the broad manly 
 bosoms which heave around me in the fearless, honest gaze 
 of the eyes which read me that a young man so faithful to 
 the party as I have been shall be heard. I am going into 
 this canvass with my whole soul. Greater principles were 
 never at stake, and greater efforts were never made than I 
 shall make to ensure the election of the Honorable George
 
 STORMCLIFF. 37 
 
 Robinson to Congress. Listen to my reasons, for the stamp 
 of eternal truth is upon them, and you shall see them cleave 
 their way to victory." 
 
 Then followed the most carefully digested argument which 
 ever rolled away in thunder over the souls of men. The 
 thoughts were the burning coinage of the brain, fashioned 
 under the midnight lamp, and stamped with the die of a 
 sincere heart. Sincerity glances to the brains of a hushed 
 crowd like a voice from heaven. The earnest-minded drank 
 in every word as it fell. That wonderful voice lulled oft into 
 the low musical monotone of recital ; then, like a mountain 
 tornado, it gathered force in going, till the souls of the lis 
 teners shook like forest trees, and fire thrilled through every 
 throbbing pulse. The poor outcast boy of the Hudson was 
 inspired. The lonely heart trembled with the might of his 
 native mountains, and soul triumphed over prejudice and 
 caste. 
 
 Oh ! the wild, thrilling thunders of applause drowning the 
 speaker's voice, w T hich never faltered, but, clarion-like, again 
 and again broke forth over the tumult, and hushed it with 
 regal mastery to silence. 
 
 At last, with a mighty cadence, his arm fell, and he bowed 
 hirnsel away. Victory. 
 
 Honest hands grasped him on every side, and with a burn 
 ing brain and a strange lustre in his eyes, he was led he 
 knew not whither. 
 
 The lamp burned now in his little room by the river, and 
 the shadow of his hurrying pen quivered across the paper. 
 At last the speech for his engagement by the committee was 
 finished, and the pen fell. Twenty-five dollars was nearly 
 earned. Six months rent of his little house was nearly paid. 
 Bravo, Nora! your risk of your little all was wisely taken. 
 You have nursed now the fire of genius. For " I am to suc 
 ceed the spirit of the highlands has said it." 
 
 With a sigh of fatigue, he leaned back in his hard arm 
 chair, and closed his weary eyes. His brain was overtasked.
 
 38 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 He had studied hard. His thoughts were yet hovering over 
 his exciting speech, and the blood pressed hotly to his head. 
 After a time, a reverie led him off, and his brow grew cool. 
 Then the present asserted her claims to attention. An 
 evenly marked sound fell upon his ear tick, tick, tick. He 
 barely noticed it, and dreamed away again. Then a louder 
 summons came. A whirring sound vibrated in the silent 
 room, and a distinct, solemn stroke fell like the distant 
 music of a cathedral bell. One. He opened his eyes upon 
 his only friend and relative the stately, time-worn, solemn 
 dock. 
 
 " Go to bed, shall I ? Well, after one more glance into 
 your honest old face, I will. Tell me, old faithful, who am I, 
 and who are you, any way? You've a face, and a voice, 
 and two hands. Give me some sign of identity. Tour age 
 entitles you to be heard. Come, old centenarian, own up. 
 Who am I?" Tick, tick, tick. "Who are you?" Tick, 
 *tick, tick. 
 
 " Aged, mysterious, and impenetrable a model of mind- 
 your-business and keep-within-your-sphere. But, old friend, 
 I tell you it is a very hard case that you know all about me 
 and my parents, and where I came from, and yet you won't 
 give me a single hint. What is my name ? What shall I 
 call myself? Am I legitimate, or the other thing ? Am I 
 high-born or low-born ? Tell me, old ticker, am I nobility, 
 or am I scum ? Did you stand by when I was born ? Did 
 my big mouth frighten the nurse ?" Tick tick tick. " Will 
 you answer nothing but that everlasting tick? But you 
 belong to me. I own you. I love you because I've nothing 
 else to love. Give me your hand no! You won't, eh? 
 Well, keep your hands over your face like a woman, then." 
 
 He laughed a bright, ringing laugh the first since his 
 hard fate was announced to him. Success had lightened, 'his 
 heart. Then he studied the old clock from top to bottom. 
 It was a fine specimen of the olden time. It stood seven 
 feet in height, at least. It was cased in black walnut, and
 
 STOK3ICLIFF. 39 
 
 its brazen face was polished almost to silver whiteness. 
 Long black hands stretched nearly across the face, and just 
 above their reach, near the top of the dial-plate, was en 
 graved in the brass the following: 
 
 "EDINBURGH, 17-3." 
 
 It had also the wonderful faculty of telling the day of the 
 month, in a little circle near the bottom of the dial-plate, 
 about an inch in diameter. In the centre of this circle every 
 morning, without fail, appeared the figure which marked the 
 date. 
 
 " Ah !" he murmured to himself, " if I only had the assur 
 ance that my ancestry was noble, or at least honorable, how 
 it would stimulate me to struggle to maintain that "family 
 repute ! Without a tie to bind me to the past -without a 
 reminiscence without a mother's memory to soften my 
 heart what am I but a drifting spar upon the unknown sea? 
 What shall I name myself? I have it Adam. He was in. 
 the same unfortunate position as myself. He had no ances 
 tral pride not he. But I don't like the name." 
 
 A sudden thought struck him ; he would examine- the 
 clock it was by no means improbable that in the course 
 of one 1 hundred years some writing, stamp, or mark of own 
 ership might have been made upon it. Inside and outside, 
 top and bottom, he would examine it, searching for a 
 name a name to call himself by a name to paint upon 
 his tin lawyer's sign which he would hang outside his 
 little office ; a name to transact business by, to marry by 
 and to engrave upon his tombstone. Under this new impulse 
 he turned the key and opened the long, narrow door in 
 the front of the clock, which exposed to his view the swing 
 ing pendulum. He held his lamp inside this box, but not a 
 sign of a name was apparent. He stood up in his chair and 
 held the lamp over the dust-covered top nothing there ; he 
 examined the walnut back no better success ; he laid 
 the old centenarian at full length upon the bare floor and
 
 40 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 examined the bottom nothing there ; he raised the clock 
 again to a dignified position and started the pendulum. It 
 moved off with a triumphant, baffling tick, tick, tick. He 
 stood with his arms folded contemplating his faithful com 
 panion, and with a bewildered expression on his earnest 
 face. It was too much for human endurance, that provoking, 
 baffling calmness of the old veteran monitor. He advanced 
 with a stride close to it, and his muscular frame swelled 
 with fury and his hands clenched together. The word 
 burst from him like a trumpet blast, " Speak /" 
 
 Still the calm monotonous reply : " tick, tick, tick" 
 His right hand shot out from his shoulder a terrible blow 
 upon the walnut case. The clock careened against the wall, 
 for a young giant dealt the blow. Hark ! What was that ? 
 Something fell inside the clock, surely. He took up his 
 lamp and opened the walnut door. Something glistened at 
 the bottom, something had fallen from the works. It was 
 the glimmer of brass. It was oval. A locket, by all the 
 powers of good luck ! His hand trembled as it clutched it 
 and bore it away to the table. Eagerly he pressed back the 
 clasp, and it opened. 
 
 " O God !" he whispered, " who is this ?" It was a 
 young mother, evidently, with her little son in her lap. 
 The child might be seven, but his features were strongly 
 marked. That mouth was one in a thousand, and its dupli 
 cate was that of the nameless lawyer. He kneeled down by 
 the table and pressed his cheek against the lady of the 
 locket. " My mother, my mother ; my beautiful mother, 
 my unknown mother !" He held it from him and studied it 
 with earnest gaze with agony. O you, who have never known 
 what it is to be utterly alone ; to see existence only as a rayless 
 pall ; to feel that the sweet and tender yearnings of the soul go 
 out from you and find no home, no outstretched arms of sym 
 pathy, no heart of refuge bend low your head and worship 
 God that he has blest you with the gift of kindred ! With 
 a low mournful cry he talked .to her and studied her features.
 
 STORMCLIFF. , 41 
 
 He compared them with the features of the child. Her 
 mouth was beautiful. Otherwise her resemblance to her son 
 was marked. He kneeled long by the table ; he marked 
 not the flight of time ; he was engrossed; he was soothed; 
 he prayed God to make him worthy of that dear face. Per 
 chance her spirit hovered near him now. He would fight 
 the life-battle manfully since that sweet face had loved him. 
 No shame in that countenance. Honor, bright honor, and 
 that only. With a sigh of relief, he closed the locket aftd 
 placed it under his pillow. Then he righted the old clock, 
 and it commenced ticking away, utterly regardless of the 
 insult which had been offered to its dignity. He retired 
 to his bed and slept, not however until the mellow cathedral 
 chime of the clock struck three. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ~No wonder she paused to dream, with her hand upon the 
 porter's gate. The soft misty sunshine of October flooded 
 the woodlands and the meadows of the estate. The leaves 
 of the oaks and maples were changed, but few of them had 
 fallen yet into, the sunlit emerald of the grass. Shadows 
 trailed upon that grass, and close beside them fell golden 
 showers from the slanting rays of the sun. Under the low 
 branches of the scattered trees the eye ranged over a great 
 park; vistas in every direction of oaks and maples joining 
 arms and revelling in the sun. And far down the gravelled 
 avenue, across which swung the porter's gate, the dusky 
 outlines of an antique dwelling crowned a gentle hill. 
 Silence held a wizard's sceptre over the landscape, and the 
 estate was dreaming. The oaks and maples, wrapped in 
 their scarlet and pur pie mantles, were dreaming; the warm 
 sunshine lay stretched upon the soft grass dreaming, and 
 the hazy blue of the sky was dreaming. The deserted, far-
 
 42 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 off mansion was dreaming, and the hushed atmosphere of 
 the autumn was dreaming too. What wonder, then, that 
 she should dream under the magic influence' of the hour. 
 What wonder that the hazy faces and the muffled bells of 
 the olden time should faintly smile and gently chime. 
 
 Was it only the fancy of her dreaming old heart ? Was 
 it only the illusion of the memory bell? Far down the 
 avenue a sunbeam quivered through the trees, and fluttered 
 to the grass to sleep. She thought it was a child playing 
 upon the greensward. Hush! was not that voice the ring 
 ing laugh of merry childhood under the old trees ? A 
 cheerful face looked suddenly out from the window of the 
 distant, silent house, a.nd a thin, white hand beckoned to 
 the child. Ah, no ; it was only the slowly veering sun which 
 turned a passing smile upon the old window-frame, and then 
 upon the vine-leaves of the stone pillar of the porch. 
 Surely the heart is not deceived this time ; a bold rider is 
 coming down under the motionless branches, and a fair girl, 
 robed in snowy white, is running beside his horse in laugh 
 ing rivalry. No, aged eyes and dreaming heart ; 'tis only 
 that maple trunk has fallen into shade, and the sunbeams 
 light its neighbor oak. 
 
 Come on, come on, along the avenue, for the past is 
 1 buried, and regrets are idle. 
 
 The iron gate swung to with a clang, and the dreamer 
 entered the deserted park. Slowly she walked in the sun 
 shine for a time, along the smoothly beaten, gravelled car 
 riage way. But presently the oaks and maples spread their 
 fantastic cloaks above her head, and she walked in their 
 shadow. Now a broad belt of sunshine crossed the avenue, 
 and now she walked again in shadow. Then a scarlet fallen 
 leaf crushed under her foot, and the reproachful shadows 
 struck her in the face with their dark palms. The avenue 
 led her slowly on to a rustic bridge of unhewn oak, and the 
 rippling water below bade her a laughing welcome. She 
 stopped for an instant to look at the speckled trout, but they
 
 STORMCLIIT. ' 43 
 
 darted in terror under the low, weeping willows, and she 
 passed on. It was a royal road she travelled, sentinelled by 
 many a veteran oak in purple mantle. She cast one look 
 behind her at the distant roof of the porter's lodge, and 
 beyond it she saw the white sails gliding on the Hudson. 
 She continued on then till the full proportion of the silent, 
 antique mansion rose solemn and stately before her, Then, 
 for the first time, met her ear the dash of a tiny waterfall. 
 The stream which she had crossed swept southward, and 
 after a detour within the enclosure of the park of more 
 than a mile, came round again to the south side of the man 
 sion, where it disappeared in a rocky glen bordered by low, 
 dense pines. The water of the stream seldom sufficed to 
 raise the plashing music of the waterfall. In summer it was 
 never heard, save after torrents of rain, and the usual sound 
 from, the secluded glen was only the sighing of the pines. 
 
 The broad carriage-road now swept round in a great 
 curve to the porch, forming a huge circle in front of the 
 mansion. The oaks and the maples stood aloof from this 
 circle, which was covered only with grass. No trees were 
 planted in it, lest the view of the Hudson from the windows 
 might be impeded. Every lower window on the front com 
 manded a view of the blue river at the foot of the slope 
 beyond the porter's lodge. From the parlors of the lower 
 story the eye ranged under the branches of the trees for 
 miles up and down the stream. The view from the second 
 story was cut off by the foliage, but an immense open cupola 
 on the roof afforded a magnificent range for the eye over 
 the tree-tops, and the river, and the whole country as far as 
 the mountains of the highlands. This cupola was nothing 
 but a circular seat around the large glass dome which 
 lighted the great central room of the house. 
 
 The stately outline of the mansion's front, with its tall 
 sharp gable, was ornamented by the ivy which climbed over 
 it and clung to it till its ancient stone-work was nearly 
 veiled from sight. Over the porch, too, it climbed and
 
 44 6TORMCLIFF. 
 
 wreathed itself about the stone pillars, and nodded from 
 their capitals. The immense building was fonned of grey 
 stone, and looked competent to sustain the storms of cen 
 turies. The trees had been carefully excluded from its 
 neighborhood, and the bright sunlight had uninterrupted 
 sway to cheer and bless it with genial warmth. On the 
 south side, a broad piazza, with stone columns, extended and 
 looked upon the immense garden and graperies which 
 reached entirely down to the pine-bordered glen. 
 
 " The Glen" had been the homestead of the Baltimore 
 family for more than a hundred years. The original pro 
 prietor had accumulated a large fortune, and having pur 
 chased this tract of forest land, gradually thinned out the 
 timber until the park assumed its present form. He built 
 also the stone mansion for himself and his descendants, and 
 declared that it should be made durable enough to furnish 
 a home for the Baltimore name until he was long forgotten. 
 His descendants had taken great pride in preserving the 
 dwelling and the giant trees intact. They had resembled 
 their ancestor in industry, and were ever regarded as a 
 prosperous race of men. The Baltimore who had willed 
 the property to the daughter of Nicholas Traver, was the 
 first of his family who was bold enough to alienate the 
 noble ancestral estate. He had no children, and had quar 
 relled with his few relatives. In a moment of bitterness and 
 revenge for a fancied slight, he had drawn his will and 
 given everything to his young wife. He was well known 
 to have been subject to spasms of ungovernable temper; 
 and in one of these terrible periods he had alienated every 
 thing from his own blood. This will had been drawn 
 shortly after the singular marriage, and was the only one 
 found after his decease. The fortunate issue of his lar-e 
 
 O 
 
 speculations abroad had given him an immense property, 
 independent of anything he had received from his ancestor. 
 Nevertheless, his rage was so intense that he devised away 
 the pride of his family and the homestead of his father.
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 45 
 
 And here "reposed the deserted and lovely estate in the 
 warm embrace of the October sun. The tenant who had 
 occupied two small rooms in the rear part of the dwelling, 
 merely for the purpose of guarding the property and keep 
 ing it in order for the owner's return from abroad, had 
 taken his departure, and the key was left in possession of old 
 Nora, the prophetess. She had come to take possession in 
 behalf of the young widow, to examine the site of the pro 
 jected improvements, and prepare herself to comprehend 
 the plans which she, in connection with the artist, was ex 
 pected to execute before the return of summer. 
 
 What a commentary upon the vicissitudes of life was 
 that tall, dark mourner, seating herself upon the steps of the 
 porch, and taking in at a glance the glorious beauty of her 
 new home. The pilgrim of sixty winters the old raven- 
 haired nurse of the humble cottage, seating herself in the 
 gate of affluence, with the key of honor and of power in her 
 aged hand! "Was it not a dream? that hazy, sunlit, royal 
 park stretching away in emerald, scarlet, golden loveliness 
 as far as the eye could reach ? Were the luscious clusters of 
 purple grapes, which hung from the garden trellis in such 
 wanton abundance, real? Were the orchards of -rosy apples 
 and golden pears real? Were the rich colors of exotic 
 flowers pressing against the greenhouse sashes real ? Were 
 the plashing fountains of the garden real ? What would it 
 be, then, in the coming summer, when the hand of art should 
 have been extended over it when the sceptre of the beauti 
 ful should wave above it when the antlered deer should 
 bound under its branches when noble steeds should fly 
 along its avenues, and beautiful faces of women look from 
 its windows when music should murmur along its halls, 
 and voices of mirth echo over the greensward aye ! more, 
 when the face of her darling Grace, the queen of the estate, 
 should look up with beaming eyes, and whisper, " I love you, 
 Nora ! Oh, how dearly I love you, the only mother I have 
 ever known !"
 
 46 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 Is she not grateful to her Father in heaven' thus to bless 
 her ? Is not her old heart full of exultant rapture that 
 He has chosen this beautiful place for her to die? Alas! 
 strange inconsistency of human nature unaccountable lack 
 of gratitude. The old woman bowed her head upon the 
 porch of the mansion, and sobbed as if her poor old heart 
 would break. And there she lingered, and moaned, and 
 wept, till the October sun went down. 
 
 ********** 
 
 Hush ! a proud soul is struggling. Softly draw aside the 
 ancient drapery and look in. A lamp burns on an ottoman ; 
 the only light of a shadowy and far-reaching room. The 
 intercepted rays cast grotesque shadows on the wall. A 
 fearful silence reigns. Naught moves but a passion-heaving 
 bosom. Naught sounds but a woman's painful breathing. 
 She has flung herself upon the floor, near the lamp, to study 
 a portrait lying on a cushion on the scarlet carpet. She took 
 it from its place upon the wall, and laid it there, resting 
 against the cushion, that she might the better study it. Do 
 the passions fade with age ? Look at her. Does tenderness 
 die out and pride fail when the winter of sixty comes on ? 
 Look at her again. Her keen eye searches out every linea 
 ment of that strange face. Her lip quivers as she detects 
 the subtile lines of pathos about the mouth and the lustrous 
 tenderness of the dark eyes. The painting wears evident 
 marks of age ; even the fanciful gilding of the frame is tar 
 nished, and scales off in spots. The dress, too, is the fashion 
 of the olden time, and the curling hair is surmounted by a 
 singular velvet cap, triangular in shape, and black' in color, 
 with silken tassels pendent from the corners. Why has she 
 selected that from all the array of portraits, young and old, 
 which look down upon her from the walls with stern or 
 smiling mien? Ah! a touching memory lurks in it: a 
 memory so tender, so powerful over brain and heart. Aye ! 
 a memory so awful in its influence that it has led the aged 
 woman trembling to the verge of crime. What is her pur-
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 47 
 
 pose? Why was it taken down, and why does she glance 
 fearfully at every door and window, raising her wild, glitter 
 ing eyes from contemplation of the picture ? She means to 
 steal it. Her first act, after unbounded confidence bestowed 
 upon her, is to be theft. False to her trust. The epithet 
 stings her. At the thought, she springs to her feet. Her 
 figure casts a tall shadow on the wall. She false? The blood 
 heated in her veins at the word. Then the voice of God 
 kindly whispered, "Ask for it ask Grace she will likely 
 give it to you." Ask f Nora Rudd ask for that from any 
 living woman? Death torture first. Betray her secret 
 to the world ? acknowledge all ? shrink from her height of 
 pride low down into the depths of humility at the feet of 
 another woman ? Never. And would she forfeit all the 
 merit of her exemplary life, all the struggles to live near her 
 God, all her hopes of eternal life, to the indulgence of this 
 late temptation, which beckoned to her on the very verge of 
 her grave ? With the door of Eternity close before her, 
 would she yield to the last allurement of Time? She 
 kneeled down, and, clasping her hands over the picture, 
 prayed God to forgive her, to soften her heart, to smoothe 
 her path before her. Then she wept bitterly. "No! no! it 
 is not mine ; I have never betrayed a trust ; better far to fly 
 from this place, and wander off beyond the reach of human 
 recognition, than be false to her who loves me. If that por 
 trait remains in this room, I never will I never can." 
 
 Her eyes fell once more upon the countenance of the pic 
 ture. That gaze recalled her pride. The stern passion grap 
 pled her again, and the voice of conscience died away in fee 
 ble whispers. The Evil One, with ready tact, suggested a 
 compromise, plausible and tenable for a time. Hide the por 
 trait for the present hide it till Grace should come then 
 inform her of all. How well he knew the acceptance of his 
 compromise was the final acceptance of his whole tempta 
 tion. Once hidden, for ever hidden ; her pride had then only 
 to remain passive, reticent. There would really be nothing
 
 48 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 left but to remain silent concerning an old picture about 
 which the owner would never care a straw. The compro 
 mise was accepted. She would not steal, but only hide for a 
 time until the owner could properly be consulted. Then all 
 would be well, and the dreadful world would never know. 
 Under the influence of the temporary relief, she took up 
 her lamp and walked to the great oaken mantel over the 
 huge fireplace. She placed her lamp upon the end of the 
 mantel, and then stooping down, pressed with both hands vigo 
 rously against the oaken wainscot which lined the walls of 
 the apartment for nearly four feet in height. One of the 
 panels gave way, and swung back on hinges into the wall 
 of the house. The hinges were long disused, and yielded 
 reluctantly. In this strange opening she hid the portrait, 
 and swung the panel back to its place by grasping the wooden 
 cap on the wainscot which had swung inward with it. No 
 stranger would ever dream of a closet there. How had Nora 
 ever discovered it ? She certainly could respond without dif 
 ficulty to the request in the young widow's letter to treat her 
 to the surprise of a secret door. 
 
 Taking up the lamp again, she passed along the apartment, 
 pausing occasionally to study the faces, of the Baltimore 
 family, and lingering long before the portrait of a young 
 man in a hunting suit of yellow buckskin, holding a gun. 
 The face was sharply cast, like a Grecian beauty, and the 
 dark eyes were gentle as a woman's. Then she turned to 
 inspect the furniture, passing slowly from room to room, 
 and, occasionally, removing the linen covers from the chairs 
 and sofas to examine the condition of the red damask seats. 
 The furniture was antique in pattern and carving. The dark 
 mahogany tables and chairs had lions' claws for feet, carved 
 in the wood. The sofa legs were griffins with wings 
 expanded upwards for supports to the seat. She knew the 
 damask covers would have to be renewed, but was confident 
 the carving of the furniture would be allowed to remain 
 where it was, on account of its grotesque beauty. The tar-
 
 STORMCLIFF. 49 
 
 nished gilding, and the huge rings of the cornice of the cur 
 tains, would have to come down, either to be regilded or to be 
 removed altogether ; and the faded tapestry curtains would 
 unquestionably be condemned to the seclusion of the garret. 
 The doors of the rooms were of solid oak, and in the centre 
 of each was carved the arms of the Baltimore family, in relief. 
 The original proprietor had married the daughter of a 
 Huguenot refugee in England, of noble birth ; and being him 
 self related to a noble family, but untitled, and enjoying 
 wealth only through his own industry and perseverance, he 
 adopted, at her request, the arms of her family as his own, 
 viz. a stag supporting upon his horns a lance in rest, with 
 the significant motto " Alerte." It was said of the founder 
 of this American house that he was prone to laugh at his 
 coat-of-arms, and declare it was adopted to humor a woman's 
 fancy. He rather relished the motto " Alerte," as it pro 
 perly belonged to any man who was able to make his own 
 way in the world ; but as for the rest, he referred all inquirers 
 to his Huguenot wife. But it was noticed, in spite of this 
 protest, he was always the first to mark his oaken panels, his 
 silver and his coach, his books and his china, with the ever 
 lasting, ever graceful stag, with lance in rest. The heral 
 dic assumption, however, had become sanctified in the esti 
 mation of his descendants by its age, and was stamped on 
 business wax on every favorable opportunity. The deeds 
 and conveyances of the family were not deemed suffi 
 ciently solemn without the Baltimore stag and lance in the 
 corner wax. Since that adoption by the Baltimore family 
 of a strange seal, the practice has fairly run riot on this 
 side of the Atlantic. But what was to become of the stag 
 and lance now ? The estate had passed into strange hands. 
 In all human probability, the great seal had been given to 
 the young widow, too. What would she do with it ? Pro 
 bably adopt it for her future family, and pass it down two 
 or three generations of descendants, until the estate should 
 pass into strange hands again, when it would stamp the wax 
 
 3
 
 50 STOBMCLIFP. 
 
 of a new race, who in turn should adopt it. These reflections 
 flitted through the old woman's brain, as she continued her 
 inspection of the lonely house. Finally, she reached a door, 
 which admitted her to the immense circular apartment which 
 was lighted solely from the glass dome above. This room 
 -was the original Baltimore's especial idea and favorite. He 
 always maintained that the dining-hall of a dwelling should 
 be the largest, best lighted, and most attractive gathering- 
 spot of the family. That the room should be circular, the 
 table circular, and the light should fall from a circular win 
 dow directly upon the centre of the family group. No mat 
 ter how numerous his guests might be, the wonderful round 
 table always extended to meet their wants. Sections after 
 sections were added to it, until it was competent to seat one 
 hundred guests. The walls were lined with the most luxu 
 rious divans of red damask, where one could lounge upon 
 the cushions and read by the hour choice works from the 
 libraries on every wall. The choicest engravings graced its 
 walls, and antlers of the deer slain by his own hand, stood 
 erect upon the oaken book cases. The projector of this din- 
 ing-hall had long since closed his eyes to material affairs, but 
 his genial spirit seemed to haunt the spot ; and years after 
 years of high revelry or more dignified comfort in this apart 
 ment, had attested the sense of the founder's judgment in 
 selecting this for the living room of the house. It was nearly 
 impossible to keep out of it. Every hall seemed to lead to it, 
 every door to open into it, and every staircase to descend to 
 it. One never suffered from a cold draught if indisposed for it, 
 and never wanted a cool breeze there in the season for it. 
 The floor was always covered with the softest carpets, muf 
 fling entirely the footfall of servants, and the sections of the 
 round table were bound in red baize which emitted no sound 
 in fitting together. Over the top of every door was a globe 
 lamp suspended from the neck 'of a graceful figure, a silver 
 stag with silver horns, and a lance in rest. 
 
 Nora passed on through this apartment, cheerful in look
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 51 
 
 (notwithstanding the absence of guests, and, indeed, the 
 absence of all life for six years), and entered a hall be 
 yond, which ran between suites of rooms, whose windows 
 looked into the gardens on either side. At the termination 
 of this hall was a door which would admit her to the maho 
 gany sideboards, where the valuables of the mansion were 
 kept. The door was made of very heavy planks of oak, 
 riveted together with iron rivets, whose projecting bosses 
 seemed to defy all burglarious attempts to reach the silver 
 and valuables within. It yielded, however, to the huge brass 
 key which she drew from her pocket, and slowly swung 
 back upon its creaking hinges. There was no window, and 
 no means of forcing an entrance, save by the heavy door. 
 She advanced to the first sideboard, and, turning the little 
 silver key, threw open its folding-doors. A blaze of light 
 from the silver plate and the golden tankards answered the 
 glimmering rays of her lamp. Rows of heavy spoons, mugs, 
 and castors, and bowls, all of solid* silver, were carefully 
 arranged on the shelves, and on each one was engraved the 1 
 stag and lance of the Baltimores. Much of the plate was 
 very ancient, and showed signs of the wear of a century. 
 But many articles were of recent date, and bore the initials 
 " G. B." engraved upon them. 
 
 " That will do for Grace, too," Nora murmured to herself. 
 " Gertrude Baltimore or Grace Baltimore who will know 
 the difference ?" 
 
 She turned another silver key, and swung open other 
 doors of the rich treasury. The same flashing response to 
 her lamp's rays was elicited. The sideboards contained the 
 accumulations of a wealthy family for more than a century. 
 The thought occurred to her that prudence might have pre 
 ferred the vaults of a bank to the custody of a single tenant 
 friend for all this tempting treasure. Hark ! Something 
 surely moved in the silent house. She held her lamp with 
 a firmer grip, and pressed the other hand upon her startled 
 heart. She held her breath a stealthy footstep was surely
 
 52 8TOKMCLIFF. 
 
 approaching. She darted to the heavy door to snatch out 
 the key and lock it from the inside. Her hand grasped the 
 key and drew it out, and, seizing the door, she gave it a 
 bang to. Too late ! A hand was seen entering the room, 
 and the closing door caught an arm, and could not shut. 
 The door was instantly flung so violently backwards, that her 
 lamp was extinguished ; and she was alone with him in total 
 darkness I 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MAKIE HERON was beautiful as a poet's dream. The rose- 
 flush never left her fair round cheeks ; the cherry lips were 
 ever dewy, and the large blue eyes, so tender or so passion 
 ate, were ever expanding their pupils to the passing emotion, 
 and revealing shades of color from violet to dazzling black ; 
 and yet in perfect repose, and lighted by the bright sun's 
 rays, they were only dark liquid-blue. Her hair was heavy, 
 of a light-brown hue, and wandered free upon her neck 
 and plump white shoulders hi long curls. Her height was 
 medium, her bust full, her waist slender, and her step like 
 the elastic, noiseless tread of a fawn. One never heard her 
 approach ; she did not walk in she only appeared. Her 
 movements were like her nature, gentle. Her soul was full 
 of images, and the subtile fire, poetry, thrilled her veins, and 
 oftentimes broke forth in song. Her nature shrank from 
 rudeness or vulgarity, as did her sensitive nerves from the 
 cold winds of her native clime. Tenderness worship self- 
 sacrifice music song generosity, charity were as really 
 parts of herself as her physical symmetry. Such was Marie 
 Heron by birth. Devotion and intellect had rocked her 
 cradle affluence and luxury, like a rainbow, arched the 
 sky of her girlhood ; and now she stood upon the shore of 
 womanhood, patting its golden sands with her fawn-foot,
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 53 
 
 and dreaming of the manly barque which should come to 
 bear away the precious freight of her heart's treasures. 
 
 Such tender, sensitive, refined souls spread their sails upon 
 the sea of mature life under imminent hazard, under cruel 
 disadvantages. They have faith in every wind ; they never 
 take in sail, and, often, their only compass is refined passion. 
 Love of the beautiful lures them on ; and, in contemplation 
 of the star, they forget the rock. With natures which may 
 develop the martyr and the saint, with intellects susceptible 
 of rendering wide circles of the human race happier and 
 better, they fail to perfect their mission from want of a 
 single requisite. That requisite is a pilot ; that pilot is reli 
 gion. Ah ! must that hackneyed word always start up before 
 refined, yearning, earnest hearts? that word which signi 
 fies so little in cant, so much in truth? Aye! that word 
 will ever arise and haunt the intellectual and the thoughtful 
 till the eye closes and the sod covers. The aspiration after 
 something higher and still unattained, the consciousness that 
 this poor, wandering, yearning, erring heart is susceptible 
 of improvement, cultivation, purification, flight upwards, is 
 the germ from which springs the doctrine, God. 
 
 Marie Heron had only the poetry of religion. The softly 
 stealing strains of devotional melody, the musical intonation 
 of the prayer, the beautiful regularity of divine service, the 
 mere offspring of religion, she mistook for the parent itself. 
 Oh ! it is easy to worship regularly and beautifully, to go 
 with the quiet crowd and return with it, and be like it ; to 
 share its prejudices, and deviate never from its circle. But 
 the Master of the world came to the Church, trampled upon 
 it, and scattered it to the four winds of heaven. He destroy 
 ed his own foundation, and built another, because the first 
 had lost the breath of life He had once breathed into it. He 
 came for the down-trodden, the outcast, the unfortunate, 
 and Marie did not know it ; she dreamed He came for the 
 beautiful, the harmonious, the poetical, the kneeling, the 
 regular. She fancied when He said, u Follow me," He meant,
 
 54 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " Follow the crowd, with its maxims and its prejudices, as 
 they move along to the solemn chime of the church-bells." 
 How little she dreamed He intended her to turn to the first, 
 poor, lonely, forsaken soul that was within reach and com 
 fort it, in despite of the church, and in despite of the world 
 outside of the Church ! 
 
 How startled, then, was this beautiful being, when her 
 reverend father, the erect, stately clergyman, with the drifts 
 of grey hair gathering fast in his black locks, descended 
 from his closet with traces of tears in his eyes, and seating 
 himself beside her in the drawing-room, said : 
 
 " Marie ! we must make a sacrifice for God. There is a 
 world of self-denial in your nature would that I had the 
 key to it." 
 
 She looked up curiously from her book to a face which was 
 her world since her mother was buried under the snow-drifts. 
 
 " Father, is it. the poor ?" 
 
 " Not as you mean by that term, Marie. It is not a case 
 of food or raiment." 
 
 " Is it, then, to forgive Louise Stanford, for her slanderous 
 remarks about me ? It will be rather difficult to make ad 
 vances to her. Still, if it is best and right for me I can 
 forgive her I will forgive her." 
 
 " My dear child, that is a sacrifice for you I know it a 
 great sacrifice. But I propose to make a sacrifice greater for 
 both of us than that. We must do something which will 
 start Louise Stanford's tongue again, and probably every 
 one's tongue, louder and faster than you have ever expe 
 rienced in this parish." 
 
 The case was evidently assuming serious. proportions. She 
 laid aside her book, and drawing her low rocking-chair to 
 her father's side, took his hand and listened. 
 
 " Marie, is it not the highest privilege of a Christian to 
 comfort the suffering ? " 
 
 " Yes, undoubtedly," she replied. " But will such an act 
 arouse the communitv against us ? "
 
 STORMCLIFF. 55 
 
 He went on again, without reply : " Is it not Christian to 
 aid the struggling to rise ; to assist them to be useful members 
 of society ; to strengthen the drooping heart by kind words 
 of cheer and encouragement, and thus let it know that it 
 has sympathy with its throbs and aspirations, from respecta 
 ble portions of the community?'* 
 
 That earnest, upturned gaze met his own. His meaning 
 flashed to her mind. 
 
 " You mean Clarence Holden ? " 
 
 He nodded assent. 
 
 The Church and the world were ready on her lips. 
 
 " Father, society has a right to protect itself. If legiti 
 macy carries no privileges with it if reproach does not 
 follow shame society cannot exist." 
 
 Calmly and solemnly rolled forth his response in the words 
 of the Divine Master : 
 
 " ' He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a 
 stone at her. 
 
 " ' Woman, where are those thine accusers ? hath no man 
 condemned thee ? She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus 
 said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee ; go, and sin no 
 more.' 
 
 " Marie, that was a sinner forgiven protected from the 
 laws of society. But Clarence Holden has broken no law. 
 He has never done a shameful act. His record from his 
 birth has been honorable and manly. Society forms a blind 
 judgment that some one before his existence was guilty of 
 crime, and that he is illegitimate. With fine and delicate 
 sensibilities ; with a keen sense of honor, and a conscious 
 ness of personal rectitude he is suddenly flung upon the 
 world alone. Society turns its back upon him ; the followers 
 of Jesus scorn the innocent, and in his way place stumbling- 
 blocks. At every corner, he is avoided ; at every turn of his 
 lonely life, he hears the word ' shame ' hurled at him. The 
 scorn of society, in which he has moved and lived, will pro 
 bably do more to induce him to fling away his immortal soul,
 
 56 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 than any misfortune of life. Oh ! I stood by and listened 
 when that young man sprang to the platform and struck 
 forth both arms like a drowning man for life. I never 
 heard such a speech. It was the voice of the soul pleading 
 for help. That noble, brave young heart dashed against 
 the bars of the prison society had made for him, like a 
 proud lion. The honest men who live outside of refined 
 society, heard that cry, and extended to him their arms. Is 
 the world is the infidel more Christian than the Church ? 
 do they succor Christ's little ones while his own professed 
 followers trample them down ? Marie, I am going to him ; 
 I am going to extend to him all the support my position 
 as rector of this parish, and my reputation for wealth, can 
 give him. I shall tell him that, in my opinion, he is just as 
 good as anybody, even if the worst surmises concerning his 
 origin are correct. And I intend to back that opinion by 
 every act of recognition in my power. I will offer him a 
 seat in my own pew in the Church, and will invite him to my 
 house. I will never attempt to force upon you acquaintances 
 not of your own choosing. Absent yourself on such occa 
 sions, if you so prefer. My duty to encourage the struggling 
 and the suffering is plain to me. I think I hear Christ call 
 ing to me in the person of this lonely one, buffeting the 
 waves of prejudice and custom to win honor, recognition, 
 and heaven. If you will leave me alone to face society, I will 
 not contend with you. But if you really desire to perform 
 such an act of Christian charity as will thrill the angels of 
 heaven, I advise you to be ready at sunset to-morrow, to go 
 with me to visit Clarence Hnlden. I will leave you to your 
 reflections now. I am going out to ride in the country." 
 
 And so the Rev. Charles Heron left her alone. 
 
 On the ensuing day, just as the setting sun disappeared 
 behind the hills, a carriage, drawn by two spirited chestnut 
 bays, came down the river road at a fast trot. It was a 
 light, open vehicle, and in it sat a party engaged in animated 
 discourse. The Rev. Charles Heron was driving, and on the
 
 STORMCLIFF. 57 
 
 back seat were his daughter and the young man who had 
 occasioned so much remark in the town. The outcast had 
 adopted a new name for himself, and painted it upon a tin 
 sign which was nailed to the door of his cottage, thus : 
 
 "CLARENCE RUTHERFORD, 
 Attorney & Counsellor -at-Law^ 
 
 The clergyman had succeeded in reaching the heroic vein 
 in his daughter's temperament. She had been engaged in 
 reading a poem on the subject of self-sacrifice. She was 
 thrilled by the poet's conception, and when the evening came 
 around, she was ready ready for the drive; ready for the 
 strange carriage companion ; ready, in fact, to do anything 
 which should, in the future, secure her the enviable notoriety 
 of appearing in some painting as a maiden robed in white, 
 with the palm of the saint in her hand, and a star upon her 
 forehead marked "sacrifice" She was engrossed by the 
 idea as the carriage drove up to the little office, and the 
 bewildered lawyer was forced to accept the invitation to 
 ride. As he seated himself beside her, she whispered to 
 herself, " Self-sacrifice I am equal to it." As the singular 
 trio dashed along the principal thoroughfare of the town, 
 and people stopped on the walks to stare, she braced herself 
 a little higher against the carriage back, and clenched her 
 teeth together with the thought, "sacrifice." She well 
 knew that no other lady in town would occupy her seat 
 beside him for worlds. The news of it would travel like 
 wildfire. " Shame ! the Herons have taken him up." She 
 felt confident that hereafter her own position in society 
 vrould be precarious. "I like the Herons very well but I 
 don't care to meet such people as that. They must not 
 expect me to call." She anticipated innuendoes to the effect 
 that it was an affair of the heart ; that they had been en 
 gaged for a long time ; and, consequently, she was too fasci 
 nated to break it off. At this terrible apprehension, her 
 
 3*
 
 58 STOEM CLIFF. 
 
 teeth clenched tighter, holding between them that magnifi 
 cent word, " sacrifice." She was confident no one had ever 
 won a place in a historical painting without precisely such 
 painful struggles with pride and society as she was under 
 doing at that moment. But worse than all, on the broad 
 walk loomed up a female figure, walking leisurely. She 
 loosened her hold on the word " sacrifice," and prayed men 
 tally that the dreadful pedestrian might not see her. Such a 
 prayer was thrown away, of course. Who had ever known 
 those eyes to miss strange and equivocal occurrences on the 
 streets ? The lady raised her eyes in passing, bowed, and 
 sweetly smiled. Instantly her eyes studied Rutherford, and 
 that glance seemed to petrify her, for she paused, and looked ' 
 after the carriage in blank astonishment. The clergyman 
 remarked, " That looks like Miss Louise Stanford." 
 
 Well ! the first act of martyrdom was accomplished. It 
 was painful indeed. None but a woman can perfectly appre 
 ciate it. The next occurrence was a relief, and a certain 
 amount of pleasure mingled with it. They passed an excited 
 throng before a hotel. The announcement had just been 
 made of the election of the Honorable George Robinson to 
 Congress. Cheers, shouts, and booming of cannon were on 
 the air. A man recognised the face of Rutherford, and 
 darted at once to the front of the horses. The clergyman 
 was obliged to rein in his steeds. The man caught the reins 
 near the bit, and held the horses securely, while a voice 
 shouted, " Three cheers for our next member of Congress, 
 Hon. George Robinson !" The response came from the vast 
 crowd in thunder tones. " Nine cheers for Clarence Holden, 
 who elected him," called out the clear, single voice again. 
 The call seemed to electrify the assembly. They cheered, 
 shouted, yelled, and danced around the carriage like mad 
 men. Rutherford rose to his feet, and, removing his hat, 
 bowed once, and resumed his seat. The man at the horses' 
 heads let go the reins, and the spirited steeds dashed ahead. 
 Cheers and calls for Rutherford, the orator, followed after
 
 STOSMCLIFF. 59 
 
 the receding vehicle until it turned a corner in the distance. 
 The Herons had gone up above par in the estimation of that 
 crowd. Intellect and innocence were recognised outside of 
 society and the Church. 
 
 This agreeable incident had removed, in a measure, the 
 embarrassing reflections of the riding party. When the out 
 skirts of the town were reached, and the horses dashed off 
 at a fleet pace across the country, conversation, cheerful and 
 natural, arose between the trio, who had been associated in 
 many a pleasant ride in the years that were past. Reference 
 to Judge Holden's name or family was carefully avoided, 
 and the clergyman turned into a side road immediately after 
 passing the fine, but gloomy, estate of Nicholas Traver. He 
 thus avoided driving past Judge Holden's place. After 
 a time, the party came around to the Hudson again, and 
 followed the bends of the river for several miles. When 
 they had traversed nearly half the distance to " The Glen," 
 the horses' heads were turned towards home. The sun was 
 rapidly sinking in the purple and golden sea of the west 
 when they reversed their course, and by the time they 
 reached the neighborhood of the Traver estate, a narrow 
 belt of purple, hovering low to the horizon, was the only 
 relief to the eye in the mass of sombre, darkening clouds 
 which gathered to the grave of the lost sun. The darkness 
 now fell fast, and the horses were urged to greater speed, 
 for there would be no moon to light the path of the belated. 
 The outlines of the Traver barns and mansion finally loomed 
 up in the twilight, when suddenly the flying horses stopped 
 with such violence that the party were nearly unseated, and 
 then attempted to dash away from some dark object lying 
 directly in the road, and which they would not step across. 
 They made several plunges towards the ditch, preparatory 
 to the destruction of the carriage and a mad flight. -But 
 Rutherford, with a bound, was in the road, and darted to 
 their heads, seizing them by the reins with the grip of an 
 athlete. He quieted them in a moment, and requested the
 
 60 STORM CLIFF. 
 
 clergyman to jump out and remove the dark obstacle from 
 the road. The reverend gentleman complied, while his 
 daughter leaned forward to examine the cause of the fright. 
 What was their dismay to discover that it was the corpse of 
 a man. It was growing too dark for recognition of the face 
 of the dead. A discussion arose as to what course should be 
 pursued. Finally it was decided, that as the gate of Nicho 
 las Traver was so close at hand, it would be best to summon 
 some of his servants with lights. The clergyman walked on, 
 and swinging open the gate, entered the silent premises. A 
 light glimmered away In the distance from a window of the 
 mansion. He walked on towards it till he was close to the 
 piazza, when the warning bark of a watch-dog brought him 
 to a stand-still. He shouted loudly for help. In a few 
 moments the front door opened, and the proprietor appeared, 
 lamp in hand. He recognised the clergyman, and said, in a 
 kindly tone : 
 
 " You are welcome, Mr. Heron. Can I be of service to 
 you ? Will you come in ?" 
 
 When informed of the unknown corpse, he exclaimed : 
 
 " I trust it is none of my servants ; some of them live 
 just above on the road ; your daughter, then, is with you 
 here ; take this lamp and walk on. I will overtake you in a 
 moment, when I summon Thomas and his brother." 
 
 The clergyman with the lamp walked on to the gate, and 
 passed into the highway, but before reaching the carriage, 
 he was joined by Nicholas Traver. As the two approached 
 the horses, the light fell full upon the countenance of Marie 
 Heron, and Mr. Traver raised his hat gracefully to her, with 
 a brief salutation. Then the two bent over the prostrate 
 form in the road, holding the light low down over the coun 
 tenance of the dead. The recognition was instantaneous. 
 Nicholas Traver, with a shriek of agony, flung himself upon 
 his knees beside the body of his murdered son. There was 
 no doubt of it. Walter Traver was lying there dead 
 strangled to death by evident finger-prints on the throat.
 
 STORMCLIFF. 61 
 
 The expression of the face was dreadful to behold. The 
 young lady sat in the carriage, shivering with terror ; but the 
 shrieks of the poor father over his son reached even the 
 servants hurrying down from the estate. 
 
 Retribution flapped her dark wings over the scene, and 
 the memory of the curse returned: "May thy bright and 
 beautiful ones perish by violence, and thy name be the 
 symbol of terror for all time !" 
 
 Scenes of horror have their limits like all else. Finally the 
 father arose to his feet, and kind hands assisted him to carry 
 his dead. The murdered youth was borne to the hall of the 
 mansion. Thei'e was no mother to receive him, for she slept 
 beneath the sod. No sister was there to smoothe out the 
 distorted limbs, and compose the features for the grave, 
 for she had been sacrificed in her trusting girlhood and 
 sent beyond the sea. The clergyman and his daughter, and 
 Rutherford, were kind and attentive, and remained at the 
 gloomy house until their services were no longer required. 
 Then they drove away, and Nicholas Traver was left alone 
 with his dead. Alone ! how terribly significant that word in 
 the silence of that starless night ! The accomplished gentle 
 man, the scholar, the wit, the star of the social circle, alone 1 
 It had been desolate enough before, with the crippled son for 
 company. Now the pride of his heart was lying there cold, 
 and his only companion must be that dreadful howling wind, 
 which often sounded like a voice human, and seemed to 
 utter the warning-note of a sudden death. Alone ! utterly 
 alone ! The proud unrepenting man shuddered and leaned 
 over his dead. Did his strong will falter ? Was he ready 
 for reparation, for satisfaction, with the calm eye of his God 
 regarding him there alone? Or would he brace himself 
 against repentance, and risk the coming of the remaining 
 unfulfilled anathema, the fearful curse which already had filled 
 his nights and days with terror ? What, after all, was a 
 woman's curse? Should a reasoning man dread, as the 
 ignorant and superstitious dread ? Could he, so long defiant
 
 62 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 and wrapped in the glory of his pride, fear the vengeance of a 
 God he had never seen, and knew only through the prattle 
 of the priesthood ? " Never !" The word came out from his 
 teeth, even as he sat alone beside his murdered, his only son. 
 He, Nicholas Traver, make such reparation ! He scorned the 
 voice of conscience, sitting beside his dead, and mocking the 
 voices of the autumn wind which rose and fell, and moaned 
 away in that solemn night of his soul. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT was a beautiful bonnet; and naturally she lingered a 
 moment before her glass to contemplate it. The material 
 was uncut velvet of a light blue color. The soft crown was 
 fashioned of exquisite white lace in the shape of ivy leaves. 
 The narrow cape was made of the same uncut velvet ; the lace 
 leaves of the crown drooping gracefully upon it. The inside 
 was trimmed with white illusion, puffed and ornamented with 
 pink moss rose-buds. The bonnet strings were broad blue 
 ribbons. The blonde was radiant in her new bonnet, and her 
 cheeks glowed with the excitement and the chill air of that 
 autumn drive, which had been for a time intercepted by that 
 tragic death lying across the highway. 
 
 With a sigh she turned away from her boudoir glass, and 
 removed from her curls her bonnet. She flung aside her cir 
 cular, and in. a few moments descended to the tea-room to 
 superintend the preparation of her father's tea. During the 
 whole time of the evening meal, while the absorbing subject 
 of the murder was discussed, that sigh was present to her 
 heart. It clung to her during the long evening that she 
 remained with her father in his library and read or talked 
 with him, sitting before the glowing coals of his grate fire ; and 
 when she kissed him good-night, the clergyman said : 
 
 " Marie, this sad affair has depressed you too much. Do
 
 STORMCLIFF. 63 
 
 not allow your thoughts to dwell upon it in your room. The 
 dead are withdrawn from our charity, but the living require 
 our aid. I am so proud of you to-day ; for you have assisted 
 me to encourage that desolate heart who needs so much sup 
 port to keep him from despair." 
 
 She took up her lamp without reply, and moved off in her 
 noiseless way to her room, with her curls falling softly upon 
 her brown merino dress. She was not absorbed by the tra 
 gedy of the death, as her father supposed. The living engrossed 
 her thoughts, and when she reached her room, held supreme 
 control over her reverie. She had gone forth to that ride, to 
 face society, with a romantic enthusiasm based upon an ardent 
 nature. It would be grand to sacrifice herself for the suffer 
 ing, and receive the sharp poniards of women's tongues ; for 
 some day her reward would come, in the praise of the world, 
 which often hastens to laud those whom it has once trampled 
 upon. Unlike her father, her motive Avas of the earth, earthy. 
 His generous heart was serving God. Her heart was looking 
 towards the crown which the enthusiastic and the romantic 
 see ever clinging on danger's precipice. But strange to 
 relate, when she was once more in her own room, the task 
 which in the morning seemed so formidable, so repugnant to 
 her society maxims and prejudices, assumed the form of 
 pleasure. She could associate with the outcast now, and 
 realize only happiness and contentment. The society of 
 Rutherford would bring no pain, no inconvenience. Why 
 this sudden change ? Ah ! she had looked into the genius- 
 depths of his glorious eyes. She had seen them kindle with 
 inspiration as they swept their glances along the beauties of 
 the mountains and the river. She had listened with thrills 
 of poetic rapture to his vivid utterances, as he discoursed of 
 the noble, and pure, and exalted in life of the soul which 
 alone renders men beautiful and grand. She was led by him 
 captive, through his wonderful renderings of history and his 
 torical characters, as his intellect came in contact with the 
 calm erudition of her excellent father. What he touched
 
 64 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 upon in her own favorite authors sprang to a new life, invest 
 ed with new meanings. She had known him before, but had 
 always regarded him as separated from her society, in a great 
 measure, by the discrepancy of their ages. He was ten years 
 her senior. But under the culture of the past two years her 
 intellect had developed rapidly, and she began to realize that 
 congeniality of soul is not to be estimated by divisions or 
 durations of time. The stain which seemed to attach to his 
 birth was forgotten. No matter if his features did resemble 
 strongly those of the deceased Judge. It was not conclusive 
 evidence of parentage. In so extraordinary an instance of 
 disinherison, chanty demanded of society unusual forbear 
 ance in the expression of opinion. She was resolved at all 
 hazards to defend Rutherford, so completely had he fascinated 
 her in that ride. It was splendid to know and receive one to 
 friendship who had studied and thought so deeply one to 
 whom poetry would be a necessary nutriment of the intellec 
 tual life one who could not ridicule the sublime and the 
 generous. 
 
 There are moments in life when the intellects of the young 
 spring to rapid but correct conclusions as to the character 
 and destiny of those with whom they are brought in contact. 
 It is a flash, an instinct, a species of the divine attribute of 
 insight granted to them; and the idea of character thus 
 formed, remains with them for ever. Persecution cannot 
 change it; the remonstrances of friends and parents who 
 claim by long experience to be masters of the art of reading 
 men, can never eradicate it. Commands may be dutifully 
 obeyed, isolation from the object may ensue, or the compa 
 nionship with the object may be reluctantly accepted ; but the 
 idea, favorable or otherwise, is eternal. So was it with Marie 
 Heron. She read Rutherford, the outcast, in that hour of 
 the drive, and the reading was favorable. With just the 
 impulsive nature calculated to form hasty and erroneous 
 opinions, she nevertheless decide'd instantly, and decided cor 
 rectly. He was a noble being, untamed by sorrow, liable
 
 STOKHCLIFF. 65 
 
 to make mistakes in the life battle, but ever recovering his 
 balance by the pressure of an honest soul. He could be 
 trusted, for guile was not in him. Whatever belonged to 
 another, the honor of a woman who trusted him, the property 
 of a friend who confided in him, was sacred. He could be 
 trusted with another's purse, but not with his own. She saw 
 in his eyes ambition, a love of praise well earned, a will able 
 to wear out chains till they crumbled, and a love of the beau 
 tiful powerful to refine and purify that will. She had trea 
 sured up every expression he had employed, every shade of 
 opinion he had offered during the ride, and when she sat 
 down in her room that night, to pen the accustomed pages of 
 her journal, these lines trembled out upon the maiden record : 
 " He has thrilled me to-day. I cannot define the emotion 
 of my heart he has aroused. I am constrained to look up to 
 him, but the position brings with it no sense of mortifying 
 inferiority. His whole manner has seemed to invite me 
 upward to a new plane of thought. He is like one reaching 
 down his arm to me, and saying, ' Come up to this strange 
 place I know you will appreciate the view.' He is gene 
 rous, he is earnest ; but something whispers to me that he 
 is no partisan in religion or politics, or, indeed, in anything. 
 He will seek to secure the triumph of the right by the 
 mediumship of many parties, and by the employment of 
 diverse interests. He can never become a bigot, and the 
 world will often style him ' inconsistent ;' but he will be 
 consistent in his efforts to benefit humanity, whatever name 
 he may put off or on. He believes that in the dominant 
 party rests the efficient power for good. When, by the fail 
 ure of his present association to attain power, right and the 
 interest of humanity are confined to mere declaration and 
 assertion, he will, fearless of reproach, go over to the enemy 
 to wrest from them a share of the good for his race, which 
 can only be secured in the, favor of the dominant faction. 
 To his view, sincere motives exist in rival cliques, and he 
 would use either when in a position to effect the most per-
 
 66 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 fectly the carrying out of his principles. Once a Jew, he 
 would not remain a Jew always. Yesterday Judaism was 
 the infallible Church of God to-day, the apostles have 
 become ' turncoats.' To think and to pray God, each day 
 as it comes, for light to do and know His holy will with 
 reference to the ever-changiug and novel perplexities of life, 
 is the Christian's privilege, and he should never be the slave 
 of yesterday. I run over in my mind the list of historical 
 statesmen when I hear Rutherford talk, and I pause at the 
 name of Halifax. Oh ! he is so like him ; flitting ever 
 between foes and rival opinions, to secure blessings for his 
 country and his people. This poor, lonely soul, with his 
 glorious eyes, and his proud, pale forehead, and his superb 
 figure, has entranced me to-night. His expressions and his 
 thoughts haunt me. I have dreamed of him for hours, sitting 
 here alone in my room. I am sure I shall dream of him all 
 night." 
 
 While the clergyman's daughter indulged herself in reve 
 rie over the incidents of the evening ride, Rutherford was 
 at his lonely home in puzzled meditation over a package he 
 had found placed on the step outside his door. When the 
 carriage left him at his humble gate, he walke'd slowly and 
 thoughtfully up the path to his house. Drawing his key 
 from his pocket, he advanced his foot to the step, but found 
 something impeding him. Stooping down, and groping in 
 the darkness, his hands met a large bundle containing some 
 hard and heavy substance. He removed it to one side, and 
 entered his house for a lamp. Returning with the light, he 
 saw his name written upon the package in a bold, free hand, 
 which he did not recollect to have ever seen before. It read 
 thus : " For Clarence Rutherford, Esq., Attorney and Coun- 
 sellor-at-Law." In the corner was written in small letters, 
 in the same handwriting: " The gift of a friend." 
 
 He eagerly dragged the bulky present into his office, and 
 closed the door. Then, placing his lamp on a chair, he drew 
 his knife-blade across the coarse twine which bound the
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 67 
 
 "bundle securely, and severed it in several places. He tore 
 off the brown wrapping-paper, and exposed the contents to 
 view. A cry of joy escaped him. u Law books! glory! 
 this is luck just the very ones, the very identical ones, I 
 needed : Revised Statutes, splendidly bound ; two works on 
 Evidence; ten volumes of Supreme Court Reports; the Law 
 of Contracts, &c., &c. Who could have sent this? I am 
 the luckiest man alive." 
 
 He looked with beaming eyes upon his treasure. Then his 
 face assumed a bewildered look. Then he burst into tears. 
 Poor fellow! it was too much 'for him, and coming right 
 upon the kindness of the clergyman and his daughter, too. 
 He could not stand up firm and manly against kindness. It 
 overpowered him. It was too much for him. Trample upon 
 him, and it was all right he was ready for fight ready to 
 struggle against adversity like a hero ; but kindness, gentle 
 ness to him in his loneliness, was a weapon which rendered 
 him tame drove out the last spark of fire in him and he 
 cried as a broken heart only can cry. Some one loved him, 
 then. Some great, generous soul was watching the outcast. 
 Some noble heart, too great for this contemptible world, was 
 leaning towards him, yearning towards him would rejoice 
 to see him triumph, and cleave his way through the dreadful 
 barriers of shame. Oh ! he laid his proud head low down 
 upon the books, and vowed before God that no ambition of 
 his life should ever equal his effort to find out this bene 
 factor, and pay him back a thousandfold. Presently he sat 
 up on the floor, and pressed his hand to his forehead. Who 
 could have sent the books ? Nora had no money. The 
 clergyman might be the secret giver. He had unaccount 
 ably befriended him that afternoon. No ! the quick instinct 
 of a generous heart came to Rutherford. Nothing but gra 
 titude could have sent him that timely present. It was the 
 man he had so signally served, so triumphantly battled for, 
 so palpably elected to power. It could be no other than the 
 Hon. George Robinson, the member elect.
 
 68 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " God bless his generous old heart," he exclaimed ; " 1 
 would work from now till doomsday to elevate him -to any 
 place of honor or profit he might look for. We might have 
 put up an abler candidate to represent this district, no doubt, 
 but this shows the man has a soul. I thank God I have been 
 able to serve him." 
 
 Under the pleasing reflections inspired by this last thought, 
 he arose to his feet and proudly prepared a place on his 
 writing-table for the law books. He had hardly arranged 
 his useful treasures in their places on the table, and cleared 
 away the wrapping-paper and twine from the -floor, when 
 a knock, as of a club, sounded upon his door, heavy and 
 thrice repeated. He turned at the unexpected summons and 
 said: 
 
 " Who's there ? come in." 
 
 The door opened, and a tall figure stood at the entrance, 
 vaguely revealed against the dark background of the night. 
 It was Nora, with her staff. The lawyer welcomed her 
 most cordially, placing a seat for her near his little fireplace, 
 and closing the door against the wind, which followed her 
 in with such rushing violence that his lamp was nearly 
 extinguished. She appeared to be much agitated, and her 
 eyes glittered with excitement, sitting as she did in the full 
 glare of the red fire-light. After glancing about at the few 
 articles of furniture in the room, but failing to notice the 
 clock behind her, she entered into conversation, briefly 
 detailing her appointment to the custody of " The Glen," 
 and the progress she was making in carrying out the plans 
 of the widow. She was once interrupted by the strange 
 moans of the wind. The chimney appeared to be full of low, 
 muttering voices, occasionally rising together into a dis 
 cordant wail as the storm gathered force and rushed past 
 the windows, rattling the sashes and swinging the blinds 
 with a startling boom back against the clapboards. She 
 seemed to have brought the storm with her. From the 
 moment her glittering eyes appeared at the door, there was
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 69 
 
 nothing but a bedlam of strange sounds outside ; and the 
 puffs of wind even descended the chimney and stirred the 
 ashes on the hearth. It made the lawyer shudder to hear 
 them, those tenor sounds of woe ; and he could not but 
 recall the superstitious belief that they are the spirits of the 
 unburied, who fly moaning over the earth pleading for 
 sepulture. 
 
 A lull came, and then she told him the object of her visit. 
 She was in trouble, and needed help out there in the dark 
 ness and the storm. She could trust no one but him. It 
 involved hazard and secresy, delicacy and tact. It might 
 require his exertions the whole night. Would he go with 
 her and assist her, and thus secure her gratitude for life ? 
 She repeated her question, looking eagerly into his face from 
 under her mourning bonnet. He calmly revolved her request, 
 with his eyes fixed upon the glowing coals. Then he said : 
 
 "Nora, I would be willing to die for you, I think. You 
 did right to come to me. I will stand by you in this matter. 
 It verges upon violation of the laws of the land ; but I think 
 you are right under the circumstances, and I will help you. 
 You have given me my life and hope, and I never will refuse 
 you anything. I will go with you at once. Oh ! have 
 you heard of the murder ? We were riding home at dusk 
 to-night, and found almost under our horses' feet the body 
 of Walter Traver. He was murdered plainly enough 
 strangled to death frightful frightful. It was near his 
 father's gate, and the lonely man, Nicholas Traver, is sitting 
 up to-night with the body. I will be ready to go with you 
 in one moment ; let me direct this letter first for the mail ; 
 I will leave it at the office on our way down the street." 
 
 He turned away to his table and took up his pen. He 
 did not hear her reply, the first whispered sentence which 
 came from her pale lips, nor see the strange intelligence 
 which darted to her averted eyes. He only heard her 
 second utterance, guarded and modulated to the proper 
 surprise of the occasion.
 
 70 STOBMCLIFP. 
 
 " This is dreadful news. What an unfortunate family ! 
 are you sure he was murdered ? were there marks of vio 
 lence ? Oh, my poor Grace ! how sad and desolate has 
 been her life, and now this news must go to her ! But tell 
 me w hy was it ? who is suspected ? was he robbed ?" 
 
 He answered with his head bent over the table, and 
 attending to the sealing of his letter : 
 
 " Nobody is suspected, so far ; his papers were untouched. 
 We examined everything on the spot. I cannot say whether, 
 or not, he usually carried money about him. Now I am 
 ready." 
 
 It was well for her that his attention was diverted by the 
 letter, otherwise he would have certainly detected her agita 
 tion; She was ghastly pale and trembling ; and when he 
 arose from his letter and sought his hat and overcoat, she 
 turned away further from him and attempted to conceal her 
 emotion in the study of the firelight. He extinguished the 
 light and led the way out of the house. Intense darkness 
 enveloped them for several rods, but finally they reached the 
 light of the stores in the public street. Nora expected to 
 find her lantern at her cottage, which masked the approach 
 to the crevice in the mountain. There, also, she informed 
 him, was the horse tied which she had purchased by order 
 of the widow, to drive about the country in fulfilling the 
 duties of her responsible agency. They penetrated to the 
 heart of the town, walking rapidly, in consequence of the 
 chill wind, in which the signs of the offices and shops swung 
 backward and forward with a shrill, creaking sound, and the 
 fallen leaves whirled and rattled away over the pavements. 
 They passed beyond the shops into the darkness which 
 enveloped the scattered dwellings at the end of the street, 
 and after some difficulty in finding their way along the 
 irregular and broken pavement, succeeded in reaching Nora's 
 vacant tenement. The horse was standing with the buggy 
 before the door. The old woman entered the house, and 
 bade her companion follow her. He entered, in the darkness,
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 71 
 
 and she immediately locked the ,do r to prevent any inter 
 ference from chance passers on the street. This last precau 
 tion seemed hardly necessary, as the house was quite retired 
 and isolated from other buildings on the street, and was 
 rarely passed at night by pedestrians. She groped about till 
 she found matches, and lighted her lantern. The bare walls 
 only were revealed. The furniture was all removed to a 
 room at "The Glen." She descended her cellar stairs with 
 the light, and he followed. When they stood upon the floor 
 of the cellar, he heard a strange sound which seemed to 
 arise from the bowels of the earth. A long, wild howl of 
 human agony and terror. Nora turned her eyes upon his 
 countenance. A strange, pleading tenderness was in them ; 
 a deep unutterable sympathy for suffering and woe. She 
 said, with a slight tremor in her voice : 
 
 " For Christ's dear sake, be as gentle as you can ! There 
 has been such dreadful suffering no tongue can express it ; 
 the soul has been wrung with anguish deadly anguish and 
 the poor body has been needlessly made to suffer, too. You 
 are so powerful in limb, and so true of heart, that I have 
 entrusted this charge to you for to-night. For God's sake, 
 deal as gently with this unfortunate being as you can ! Come 
 on." 
 
 She pulled away the branches which had been heaped up 
 against the cellar wall, and the entrance to the huge crevice 
 of the mountain was revealed. She swung the lantern be 
 fore her, and entered the narrow aperture. Her companion 
 followed, until he saw a strange, startling picture before him. 
 A beautiful woman, perhaps forty years of age, with her 
 raven-black hair falling wildly about her, was sitting on the 
 rock, bound hand and foot with cords ; a rope passing round 
 her waist, confined her securely to a rude pillar of rock, 
 against which she leaned. At the sight of Rutherford, with 
 his flashing eyes and his commanding mien, she commenced 
 a piteous cry for mercy, raising her fettered hands, so white 
 and delicate, to ISTora :
 
 72 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " Oh, Nora, the good God will love you, and be so sweet 
 and kind to you, if you will save me from them ! I beg you, 
 I pray you, for Jesus' sake, save me poor helpless me. God 
 will let me come back from the kingdom of heaven to com 
 fort you and bless you, when I am laid in my sad grave. 
 Oh, Nora, save me !" 
 
 The tears gathered in the eyes of the old nurse as she 
 replied : 
 
 " Hush, child ; did I ever desert you ? They shall never 
 have you again trust my.promise for ever ! Here, lean your 
 poor head on my breast, while I show this kind friend how 
 the wretches have mutilated you." 
 
 Nora seated herself on the rock and drew the pitiful face 
 tenderly and caressingly to her breast. The beautiful wo 
 man suffered her head to rest there, quiet and peaceful as a 
 lamb, while the nurse unhooked her dress behind and expos 
 ed her snow-white shoulders to Rutherford's gaze. She had 
 been cruelly whipped and beaten with cords, and the act was 
 the work of a demon. The wounds and gashes were healed, 
 but the scars were frightful witnesses before the court of 
 Heaven. An expression of anguish passed over his face, and 
 he turned away. Then his hands clenched together with 
 rage, and his countenance for an instant was perfectly white 
 with passion. He turned to Nora's inquiring gaze, and said 
 with tremulous emphasis : 
 
 " You were more than right. It would be an outrage on 
 manhood to suffer her to fall into their clutches again ; I will 
 follow your directions blindly; lead on I will aid you to 
 the death. Will she go with me ? " 
 
 There was something in his tone and look which gave con 
 fidence to the poor creature, for she raised her sad eyes and 
 said quietly : 
 
 " Oh, yes, I will go with you, for you are Nora's friend ; 
 Nora loves me with a love passing the love of a mother. If 
 she confides in you, you are worthy of confidence ; where will 
 you take me, now to my child ? I am a wanderer on the
 
 STOEMCLIFP. 73 
 
 face of the earth. I have no place to lay my head, like my 
 Saviour. But I am a lady in spite of these fetters." 
 
 She raised her head from Nora's breast and drew herself 
 proudly up. " Yes ! I am a lady look at me !" 
 
 The old nurse said : 
 
 " Will you promise then, on the honor of a lady, that you 
 will go quietly with us make no noise submit to our direc 
 tions until we take you to your daughter's home ? If you 
 will promise this, we will remove all these cords, except the 
 one on your wrists." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, Nora ; I will do everything you ask ; only take 
 them off quick ; it is so undignified for a lady to be bound." 
 
 She motioned to Rutherford to remove the fetters from 
 the captive. He stepped forward at the sign, and while 
 Nora held the lantern, untied the cords and flung them 
 aside. The lady arose with quiet dignity and grace to her 
 fret, and stood contemplating the two with grateful smiles. 
 Then she said, as if awaking from a dream : 
 
 " I am ready now ; put your kind arms around me, Nora, 
 and support me through this wilderness world." 
 
 The old nurse complied with her request, and relinquished 
 her lantern and staff to Rutherford. And thus they walked 
 along slowly into the cellar, and ascending the stairs, passed 
 through the house into the dark street, where the horse and 
 vehicle were awaiting their coming. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE captive shuddered as she met the cold air of the street. 
 But Nora was prepared for the emergency. She had brought 
 a man's cloak, and a hood well lined, which she drew from 
 under the seat of the vehicle, and with them completely en 
 veloped the figure and head of the lady. Then Rutherford 
 caught the muffled captive in his arms, and lifted her into 
 
 4
 
 74 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 her seat, and instantly sat down beside her, passing his arm 
 around the back of the seat, to be prepared to arrest any sud 
 den movement she might make to escape. Nora placed her 
 lantern in his lap to light their way. Then she unfastened 
 her horse, and climbing to her seat on the other side of the 
 lady, gathered up her reins and drove off. She turned into 
 a street which led them away from the lights of the shop win 
 dows, and being anxious to avoid observation, made a wide 
 detour which carried them far to the south of the town. The 
 powerful horse, at a brisk trot, kept steadily on his way, and 
 the lantern light streaming on ahead and dancing back and 
 forth on the fences and hedges, enabled Nora to find the proper 
 turning-places on her route. A fearful pall of darkness had 
 settled upon the earth, and the mournful wind went howling 
 on its starless way, now roaring through the tops of the pines, 
 now rattling together the leafless branches of the oaks and 
 maples, and then at the openings of the meadows changing 
 to a shrill whistle as it flew through the fences, and rushed on 
 over the dying grass of the autumn. The eyes of the driver 
 were directed steadily and searchingly ahead, while Ruther 
 ford never withdrew his gaze from the dark hood which 
 was beside him. Perfect silence had been maintained for 
 nearly four miles. The captive, for a time, had seemed be 
 wildered by the fantastic play of the lantern light upon the 
 harness ornaments of the flying steed, and upon the ever- 
 changing styles of the fencing which bordered the highway. 
 Occasionally she had turned a startled look into the serious 
 countenance of Nora, and then whirled suddenly around to 
 study her left-hand guardian. Meeting nothing but an 
 expression of thoughtful and attentive solicitude in those 
 manly eyes, ever directed to her, she had resumed her study 
 of the light and shadow ahead. Her large, brilliant eyes, 
 gleamed like stars from the depths of the long hood which 
 was tied closely under her chin. A tress of her disordered 
 coal-black hair had wandered forward and spread over her 
 pale cheek, but it was unheeded by the dreamer. Her whole
 
 STORHCLIFF. 75 
 
 soul was absorbed in contemplation of the fluctuating light 
 and shadow. -< 
 
 At length, the sound of the horse's hoofs beating over a 
 little bridge appeared to recall her to consciousness of being 
 on a journey. She turned quickly to Rutherford, and said : 
 
 " Where are we going ?" He answered quietly : " To the 
 place you love best on earth." 
 
 "To Willow Bend?" 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " to Willow Bend. You will sleep 
 there to-night. You will never leave it again unless you are 
 perfectly willing to do so." 
 
 This answer seemed to be perfectly satisfactory ; for she 
 resumed her gaze ahead, and whispered twice : " Dear Willow 
 Bend, dear Willow Bend !" 
 
 The driver appeared not to notice this brief conversation, 
 keeping her eyes fixed watchfully upon the darkness ahead. 
 Presently the horse slackened his pace and commenced to 
 walk ; they were ascending a hill. The rise in the road was 
 a long one, and the sweep of the wind across their route was 
 now more distinctly audible, sighing along the grass, and fret 
 ting against the fence bars with a hollow moan. Slowly and 
 painfully the horse toiled upward, for the sound of yielding 
 sand was heard under the wheels. When the summit was at 
 length reached, the driver allowed the horse to rest a mo 
 ment. He well deserved it, having traversed nearly five 
 miles of difficult road at a rapid pace, and with an unusual 
 load. Glancing ahead, Nora discovered that they were about 
 to descend into a valley, for lights from a house glimmered 
 far below them. Looking more closely at the dwelling, she 
 discovered an unusual number of lighted windows for a pri 
 vate residence, and said to Rutherford : 
 
 " I am confident that must be the Rutger tavern ; it will 
 never do to pass it with this light. I will wrap the lantern 
 in my shawl till we have passed it. Too many curious eyes 
 are always on the look-out there." 
 
 A rumbling sound attracted her attention as she ceased,
 
 76 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 and, turning back, she beheld a light advancing on the road 
 they ha* just traversed. Some vehicle was evidently cross 
 ing the bridge behind them. It would never do to allow the 
 stranger to come up with them. They might be recognised, 
 and utter secresy was the object of the night-ride. She gave 
 the horse a sharp cut with the whip, and he started off 
 with a jerk down the hill towards the tavern. She deemed it 
 best to hazard the dangers of the descent, and snatching the 
 lantern from Rutherford's lap, concealed it under her shawl. 
 The vehicle bounded roughly from side to side in the ruts of 
 the unseen road, as the horse dashed rapidly down the hill ; 
 but the instinct of the beast kept him to the centre of the 
 highway, and the lights of the tavern soon appeared distinctly 
 and close at hand. The hurrying steed would have brought 
 them in a few seconds more to the front of the public-house, 
 when just as the level of the valley was reached, Nora put 
 forth all her strength and reined him to a dead stop. She 
 discovered at that instant a vehicle with a light whirl up in 
 front of the tavern from a side road. That light would cer 
 tainly fall directly in the faces of her party, if she at tempted 
 to pass. Here was an obstacle in her very path. ' She could 
 not go on yet, and soon the strange light behind her would 
 come up. What should she do ? At this juncture she heard 
 a voice call out to the tavern : " Rutger ! has anything 
 passed here in an hour going towards Robb's ?" That was 
 a startling question to her. That was her intended route. 
 Could it be possible that any one was looking after her was 
 intending to stop her ? She looked about her in the darkness. 
 She knew two other and unoccupied roads converged very 
 near the spot where she was standing at that moment. Either 
 would conduct her circuitously to her destination. She could 
 find them by the use of her lantern for a few seconds. But 
 she dreaded to expose her light. The thought flashed to her 
 mind what if the captive lady should discover her uncertain 
 ty of purpose, and take it into her head to set up one of her 
 violent yells ? That would determine the direction of her
 
 STOBMCLIPF. 77 
 
 pursuers, if pursuers they really were. She leaned back 
 behind the captive and whispered her difficulties to Ruther 
 ford, who had been surprised by the apparently capricious 
 actions of the driver. He glanced ahead ; there was the light 
 most assuredly, directly in their way. He looked back the 
 way they had come. There was another light just coming 
 'into view, evidently at the top of the hill, down which they 
 had come so fiercely. There were still two unseen roads for 
 escape, but the lantern must come forth from its hiding-place, 
 to find them in that Egyptian darkness. The light would 
 be the signal for pursuit. He was a quick thinker and actor 
 for an emergency. He whispered to Nora : 
 
 " You must jump out instantly and hide yourself we are 
 overloaded. There is not one iota of a chance for us, in the 
 event of a race. Three persons will break down this horse 
 in less than two miles, if it comes to a run. With two per 
 sons, even, the chances would be against us, for I shall have 
 to hold her in and fight with her when you leave her. But 
 by the Lord Harry! my blood is just getting up. Give me 
 the reins and the lantern, and jump out as quick as you can. 
 It's our only chance, and don't let us be thwarted after accom 
 plishing so much. Jump right out, Nora. Trust me to deli 
 ver this charge safe at Willow Bend. Jump!" 
 
 Nora Rudd had her strong points, too. She saw the main 
 chance, and grappled it. She climbed out of the vehicle and 
 flung herself flat in the ditch beside the road. As she did so, 
 she heard the pursuing wheels coming down the hill. At 
 that moment, a long, frightful yell of terror pierced the dark 
 ness. It was the blood-curdling cry of the insane. The poor 
 lady was struggling in the arms of a stranger, for liberty to 
 follow her friend. That cry as suddenly and as startlingly 
 ceased, and Nora heard no other sound in the awful dark 
 ness. She crawled out of the ditch and stood upright. A 
 light, far away in the distance, was cleaving the darkness. 
 Two other lights were at intervals behind it, evidently in 
 pursuit. She stood motionless, and eagerly watching the
 
 78 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 three lights, till they faded away in the distance. Then she 
 grasped her steel-pointed staff, and slowly walked on in the 
 
 direction they had gone. 
 
 ********** 
 
 Not a star glimmered, and the dread monarch, darkness, 
 struggled with the storm. The lonely forest, shrouded in mys 
 tery and gloom, roared and tossed its branches to the howling 
 wind. The freezing blast bound the curving brooks in icy 
 fetters, and the once soft track of the forest road was frozen 
 hard in ruts. The trees bent low before the gale, and flung 
 their dead leaves rattling to the ground. The arms of the 
 maples clashed together, the ivy shivered and clung closer to 
 the oak, and the dead branches of the pines fell with a crash 
 upon the hidden rocks. The fox slunk away to his warm 
 hole in terror, and the wild hawk brooded low upon her 
 storm-rocked nest. Suddenly a light penetrated the gloom 
 of the roaring forest, coming along the frozen road. It flashed 
 upon the clinging mosses of the rocks, it danced in fantastic 
 shapes through the woven branches of the thicket, and occa 
 sionally brought out in strange relief the ragged trunk of an 
 oak. Nearer and nearer came the startling brightness. 
 
 o o 
 
 Hark ! A sound, not of the forest or the storm, is faintly 
 heard. The rays flash brighter, and the sound waxes louder, 
 and the wild pageant draws nearer. The beating of flying 
 hoofs and the rattle of light wheels, are coming over the 
 frozen ruts, and there seems a madness in the sound ; for the 
 road is narrow and tortuous, and a slight deviation from the 
 beaten path would dash the vehicle to atoms on rocks and 
 fallen timber in the darkness. Nearer and nearer rattle the 
 wheels; broader and clearer flash out<the rays of the strange 
 light. The wild racer of the midnight comes like the wind. 
 Foam-flecked and eager, he flings forward his hoofs, and the 
 vehicle sways from side to side in the frozen ruts, and the 
 wild pageant flies on. Ah ! the gleaming ferocity of a mani 
 ac's eyes is there, under the dark hood No wonder the 
 steed whirls the vehicle past destruction each instant, in the
 
 STORMCLIFF. 79 
 
 death-curves of that wild forest darkness. But no, the luna 
 tic is powerless, held down to her seat by an iron grip, while 
 reason and indomitable will hold the reins. His left arm is 
 clasped firmly about her waist, and with the other arm he 
 guides the flying steed through the devious ways of the forest 
 path. His eye flashes with tire and purpose, and he deserves 
 to win ; for his motive is to save that poor, frightened, help 
 less woman from the lash of her keeper. 
 
 A new impetus seemed to be communicated to the gale. 
 The tree r tops bent lower, the leaves fell more thickly, the 
 howls of the storm waxed louder, and great branches were 
 wrenched from the trunks and cast upon the road. One 
 huge limb fell partly upon the horse, and he dashed frantically 
 ahead. Scarcely had he gone a rod further, when a maple- 
 tree was rent asunder at its crotch, and one ragged half 
 crashed down directly across the road. The race was ended. 
 The vehicle was suddenly checked. The barrier was impas 
 sable. The plunging steed was soon quieted, and the driver, 
 securing a firmer hold on his captive, turned around and 
 looked back over his route. Distant rays of light were visi 
 ble. The pursuers were on his track. There was no time to 
 lose, and the vehicle must be abandoned now. He said to his 
 prisoner : 
 
 " Yonder come your enemies and mine ; Nora is my friend, 
 and trusts you to me. If those men overtake us, you will be 
 dragged off again to, the Asylum. I am trying to save you. 
 If I cut away the cord from your wrists and free you, will 
 you hide with me in the bushes till they come up, and then 
 spring out upon them, and help me bind them with the cord 
 I cut away from your hands ? Promise me quick for there 
 is no time to lose." 
 
 She looked steadily at Rutherford's face, as if bewildered 
 by the question. Then she cast an anxious glance backward 
 ,t the approaching lights. That appeared to decide her, for 
 she said impressively : 
 
 " I am a lady, sir my word is unimpeachable I will assist
 
 80 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 you, because you look honest I am an excellent judge of 
 physiognomy. There is the character of truth in your face, 
 and you will save me and take me to Nora will you?" 
 
 " As sure as there is a God, I will," he answered ; " but 
 you must lie down in the bushes and remain silent till I 
 spring upon them ; then you fly at them and help me bind 
 them. I will give the cord to you come now." 
 
 He relinquished his hold upon her waist and drew his 
 knife from his pocket. In a moment she was cut loose. 
 
 He jumped to the ground, followed by the lunatic. He 
 secured his horse to the fallen tree* Then he selected a 
 hiding-place for her in the bushes near the road, and told her 
 to conceal the lantern under her cloak. Finding his directions 
 obeyed with perfect readiness, he crossed to the opposite 
 side of the road and crawled under the dense undergrowth 
 of the forest. All was now dark and gloomy. He tied his 
 handkerchief over his face, leaving barely space to see. He 
 did not desire to be recognised when the pursuing light 
 should come up. The howls and whistling of the wind con 
 tinued above his hiding-place. The freezing blast chilled 
 his blood, but his sympathies and anxieties were for the wild 
 being who lay crouching somewhere out there in the dark 
 ness. He could hear no sound from her place of conceal 
 ment. The dreadful wind drowned every other noise save 
 the occasional crash of the rending branches. Finally, in 
 the midst of a roar of wind, which threatened to level every 
 tree to the earth, a flash of light came to Rutherford under 
 the bushes. The pursuing vehicle and horse were arrested 
 by the sight of his own horse tied to the fallen maple. He 
 heard an exclamation of surprise from the pursuing officer 
 of the law, but remained perfectly motionless in his retreat. 
 To his delight, he saw there was only one foe to grapple 
 with. The pursuer left his vehicle, and held his lantern high 
 in the air as he looked about him. Finding nothing of the 
 fugitives, he proceeded to fasten his horse to the rear of 
 Rutherford's vehicle, then drawing a pistol from his breast
 
 STORHCLIFF. 81 
 
 pocket, he commenced to beat the bushes, holding hig 
 lantern low down to the ground. He approached very close 
 to Rutherford, but did not discover him. Turning away, he 
 heard a twig snap behind him, and the next instant he was 
 flung headlong to the earth, and the matchless power of the 
 outcast's arms and breast held him there. A dark figure 
 with another lantern opened a way for herself through the 
 undergrowth and came to his assistance. While Rutherford 
 held the officer down, she bound his arms together behind 
 him. Then the prisoner was blindfolded and led away to his 
 horse. He was laid in his vehicle, and Rutherford having 
 unfastened his horse and turned him around, sprang to his 
 seat and drove slowly off with him. The lunatic loosed 
 Rutherford's steed from the tree and drove along after them, 
 carrying her lantern with a quiet smile illumining her pale 
 face, and .with a man's cloak wrapped tightly about her. 
 
 After a drive of nearly a mile, they reached a cross-road, 
 where the horse of the captive was secured to a fence, that he 
 might be liberated by some chance traveller on the ensuing 
 morning. Then Rutherford abandoned his prisoner to the 
 solitude and gloom of the night ; and rejoining the lunatic in 
 his own vehicle, took the reins and turned down the cross-road, 
 intending to gain his destination by a still more circuitous 
 route. The lady submitted to his assumption of the reins 
 and relapsed into silence again, after his brief sentence 
 of encouragement whispered in her ear : " "We shall soon be 
 at Willow Bend." 
 
 CHAPTER VTII. 
 
 HE stood alone in the chill night gazing at the stars. 
 The brook was frozen at his feet, and the willows drooped 
 low to its glassy surface. Through their branches he was 
 studying the eternal planets, and their cold, solemn light had
 
 82 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 soothed the passions of his earth-nature. What mattered 
 it that society avoided him and men looked coldly upon him, 
 when the eternal power which lighted those ancient lamps 
 in the sky was his Father and Friend. It would only be a 
 few years at the farthest when the delicate thread of life 
 would be severed, and he would be beyond those stars. That 
 mighty Architect, at whose breath worlds sprang into exist 
 ence, was a firmer friend and more reliable comfort than 
 earth's gifted and imperial ones could ever be. And as he 
 gazed upon the star-gemmed expanse, he was conscious that 
 his soul was enlarging; that the ambitious aims of the chil 
 dren of men were grovelling, and that few approximated to 
 the life for which God intended them the life of aspiration 
 and effort towards celestial purity and usefulness. If, then, 
 this consciousness of an immortal destiny, which throbbed in 
 the heart and quivered in the brain, was sent to guide mor 
 tals heavenward, would not a considerate Father offer every 
 aid to a lonely being buffeting the waves of life ? Would 
 not His airy messengers, the sympathetic angels, float ever 
 between earth and heaven, with words of admonition and 
 cheer to the struggling ? Oh ! would not their noiseless 
 footfalls circle round the tempted, and their misty pinions 
 awe back the spirits of evil ? Would not aspirations, and 
 prayers, and yearnings, call down the fluttering wings of 
 angels anxious to lead and point to God ? Would not the 
 silver rays which from the planets come be ever traversed by 
 celestial footsteps on their missions of peace and love ? 
 
 The poor 'deserted child of misfortune extended his arms 
 towards the matchless beauty of the stars: 
 
 " My Eternal Father, stretch forth Thine arm to me. The 
 proud love of a human father is denied ; the gentle hand of 
 a mother will never press my brow; a sister's tenderness 
 must be for me only a dream. But Thou art my God, and 
 against Thy will I will never murmur. Lonely, deserted, 
 and outcast as I am, I am still Thy child. I feel the throb 
 of Eternity in my pulse, and my brain is the herald that pro-
 
 STOKMCJLIFF. 83 
 
 claims my divine ancestry. Speak to me then, O Father! 
 in my desolation. Strengthen me in my purpose to serve 
 Thee by battling for humanity, and truth, and justice. I am 
 conscious of my power to win eartbly fame ; a temporal 
 crown seems almost within my grasp. Oh ! grant that I 
 may use that croAvn only in obedience to Thy will, and as a 
 
 means to attain the crown of the skies. Inasmuch as I am 
 
 t 
 
 denied the love of kindred, graciously bestow upon me the 
 gift of an angel's love. When I am sorely tempted, let me 
 feel the presence of Thy messenger. The prayer of faith 
 shall remove mountains. Then may this prayer make me 
 conscious of an angel's guardian care, when pride, and suc 
 cess, and ambition shall beleaguer my soul." 
 
 His outstretched arms fell again to his side, and he was on 
 the point of turning away from the frozen stream and the 
 trees of " Willow Bend," when he was startled by the soft, 
 warm pressure of a little hand laid in his own. He looked 
 down, and beheld the eyes of a child gazing steadily into his 
 face. He had seen her in the cottage close at hand, where 
 he had left the lunatic in charge of her daughter the night 
 before. The resemblance to this daughter was so perfect 
 that it was needless to inform him this child was the grand 
 daughter of the insane lady. The raven black curls, the 
 dark, lustrous eyes, veiled often by long silken eyelashes of 
 jet black hue, the alabaster whiteness of the skin, the per 
 fect oval of the face, the thinly-chiselled and straight nose, 
 and the refined delicacy of the thin, spiritual lips, were evi 
 dently the inheritance from the lunatic's daughter. 
 
 Rutherford was conscious, after a few hours' delay in wait 
 ing for N"ora Rudd at Willow Bend, that a mystery attached 
 to the occupants of the cottage. < The beautiful mother of 
 the child, though courteous in the extreme, and evidently 
 thoroughly grateful to her guest for restoring her unfor 
 tunate mother to her keeping, appeared to be oppressed by 
 some hidden grief, which gave to her large, lustrous eyea 
 ever-recurring expressions of sadness. If death had recently
 
 84 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 deprived her of a husband's love and care, surely the habili 
 ments of mourning would be more appropriate than the 
 chaste elegance of the rich silk she wore. It might be that 
 a living husband was estranged or absent. If only absent, 
 some casual remark would surely betray the wanderer's claim 
 to remembrance. But if estranged ah ! that would be suf 
 ficient explanation of the sadness which veiled that mother's 
 beauty, and gave to her eyes that pleading pathos. Though 
 Rutherford had slept at the cottage after delivering his 
 charge, and, indeed, had passed the whole of the ensuing 
 day upon the premises of Willow Bend, not one word had 
 escaped the lips of child, or mother, or grandmother, to 
 indicate the existence of a master of the property. The 
 dwelling was not devoid of family portraits and miniatures, 
 but no likeness of the child's father was among them. The 
 little girl had informed the stranger guest of this fact as she 
 sat upon his knee and explained to him the likenesses upon 
 the parlor walls. In response to his inquiries, the child had 
 seemed bewildered. " I don't know where my father is. I 
 never saw him, and mamma never talks about that." In 
 reply to another interrogatory, she had said : " My mother is 
 Mrs. Granville, and my name is Zoe Granville." 
 
 Nora Rudd had succeeded in eluding the vigilance of her 
 pursuers, and arrived at Willow Bend on the ensuing morn 
 ing, and a few hours after Rutherford. She was so ex 
 hausted by her long walk and by excitement, that she had 
 remained the entire day in her bed at the cottage, intending 
 to accompany the lawyer in her vehicle on his return to his 
 office after nightfall. Her sleep had been prolonged beyond 
 his expectation, and, being unwilling to arouse her, he had 
 wandered off under the willows, lighted by the stars. It 
 was here that little Zoe Granville found him absorbed in 
 reverie, and had stolen noiselessly to his side and put her 
 hand" in his. 
 
 The child's figure was faintly revealed in the starlight, and 
 she appeared muffled carefully against the cold night air.
 
 STORMCLIFF. 85 
 
 She made no remark, but turned her eyes upon the constel 
 lations which had engrossed his attention, holding on to his 
 hand all the while. He was struck by the perfect quiet and 
 apparent appreciation of his young companion. After wait 
 ing in silence a few moments to see if she would not speak 
 first and explain the reason of her coming, and finding that 
 she was completely absorbed in study of the sky, he said : 
 
 " Zoe, what are you thinking about so intently ?" 
 
 The answer fell softly and gently upon the night air like 
 the exquisite and dying cadence of a flute. 
 
 " That is my own dear home." She pointed her finger to 
 the celestial lamps. Then her arm quietly fell, and she 
 remained silent and watchful of the heavens as before. 
 There was a singular impressiveness and majesty in her tone 
 and manner, as if she were a young princess pointing out her 
 future domain. 
 
 He said, in surprise: 
 
 "But Willow Bend is your home. Your mother and all 
 that you love are here." 
 
 Again the flute-note melody of her reply: "My father 
 lives in the stars, and I am going to him." 
 
 " Is your father dead, then ?" he asked. 
 
 " Nx> ! he lives for ever. - He can never die," murmured the 
 child, softly. Then, as if awakening from a reverie, she 
 added : " God is my father. He lives away up there, and He 
 talks to me when I come here sometimes. Zoe has no father 
 like other little girls so God is my father." 
 
 The sweetness and pathos of her tone touched his heart, 
 for he said tenderly : " Your mother told you this ; did she 
 not?" 
 
 The child, without removing her gazfe from the heavens, 
 answered, " No ! The angels told me." 
 
 Still more astonished, he continued : " Zoe, we cannot see 
 or hear the angels talk until we are dead." 
 
 The quiet little dreamer now tui'ned her large, surprised 
 eyes upon Rutherford.
 
 86 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " Some people can see them ; old Nora says so. When 
 the moon shines in my window I can see them, too. Old 
 Nora taught me a little prayer, and this is what it says : 
 ' Oh ! my Heavenly Father, keep my guardian angels close 
 to me in this life, for Thou hast said the angels of little 
 children do always behold the face of my Father which is in 
 Heaven.' There is ever so much more in that prayer, and 
 when I lie awake in my bed and say that prayer, sometimes 
 the angels fly through the moonlight and talk to me, and sit 
 on my bed. I told old Nora, and she put both her arms 
 around me, and said I must try to be very good, because my 
 Father in Heaven was going to take me to the stars before 
 long. I wish he would take mamma, too. Poor mamma 
 cries so much at night, and she never will tell me what's the 
 matter, but" 
 
 She paused suddenly, and looked up anxiously at her com 
 panion's face as if she had trespassed upon forbidden .ground. 
 
 " Why do you stop, little Zoe are you afraid of me ? I 
 am old Nora's friend, and she trusts me why will not 
 you?" 
 
 She appeared to ponder the matter for an instant ; then 
 she said quietly : " Mamma forbade me to talk about her cry 
 ing, and old Nora says I must mind mamma if I want the 
 good angels to come. Oh ! see that star shoot ; I think that 
 is the chariot God sends the angels down in, to see us don't 
 you ? " 
 
 The child's low, musical tones, and her poetic conceit, 
 charmed her listener, and he sought to discover from con 
 tinued discourse with her, who had instilled these fancies of 
 angel presence into her dawning intellect. But all his inge 
 nuity was baffled by her replies. Zoe maintained that celes 
 tial beings, misty and beautiful, had actually visited her 
 chamber and talked with her, smoothed gently and lovingly 
 her curling hair, and told her to be of good cheer, for God, 
 her only Father, loved her. They had been manifested to 
 her, particularly after unusual earnestness in saying her
 
 STORMCLIFF. 87 
 
 prayers ; and at last she had learned to love them so in 
 tensely, and to look for their coming so eagerly, that she 
 had culled the choicest flowers of the garden and placed a 
 little bouquet in her window every moonlight night to lure 
 them into her room. A picture of the Saviour, which old 
 Nora had given her, seemed to please her angelic visitors 
 above everything else in her room. Jesus was represented 
 in the act of blessing little children, and the engraving hung 
 near the foot of her bed. She declared that softly gliding 
 angels had passed through the moonlight and knelt before 
 this picture, kissing the feet of their Lord. 
 
 The assurance of little Zoe's tone, and the matter-of-fact 
 way in which she discoursed of her supernatural visions, con 
 vinced him that the child was gifted with an unusual power of 
 imagination, and that she had actually come to believe she 
 could see what pious friends must have constantly taught her 
 existed about her in the eye of faith only. An indefinable 
 fascination was gradually weaving itself about him as he 
 listened to her flute-like melody of tone. Unconsciously the 
 little girl had led him away by the hand as they talked, until 
 the frozen stream and the drooping willows were left far 
 behind them. At length a dense mass of forest trees loomed 
 up against the starry sky, and recalled Rutherford to con 
 sciousness of terrestrial affairs once more. The long dark 
 outline of the trees, partly stripped of their autumnal foliage, 
 seemed to be a boundary to the meadow of Willow Bend. He 
 looked away to the right and discovered the light streaming 
 out from the window of the cottage where he was still a guest. 
 He noticed, too, that little Zoe was leading him towards he* 
 home by a circuitous path, in which the grass was worn 
 away by continual passing of feet. This curving path led 
 them at one point very close to the boundary forest, and in 
 answer to his inquiries, his guide informed him that the 
 Willow Bend property adjoined the great park of " The 
 Glen," which she said was owned now by a young widow, 
 who lived far away over the seas. At least, her mother had
 
 88 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 told her so. She informed him also that the brook which 
 flowed through her mother's estate, and which sustained the 
 roots of so many willow-trees, came from the woodlands of 
 " The Glen." She had followed up this brook herself, in the 
 summer-time, as far as the high fence which inclosed the 
 young widow's park, and she was sure the water-lilies of 
 " The Glen " were finer than those in her mother's place, for 
 she had peeped through the paling and seen them. " Oh ! 
 how I wish I could get some of those white lilies for my 
 dear angels. I'm sure they would like them in my window 
 so much." She said this with so much enthusiasm, that he 
 caught her up in his arms and said : " You dear, innocent 
 child it must be that you really do see the angels." 
 
 " Of course I do," she replied; "I told you that long ago." 
 In another instant, they reached the porch of the cottage, 
 with its network of leafless vines ; Rutherford still holding 
 the child in his arms. A bright firelight from the hearth 
 illumined every object within, and the red light streamed out 
 through the uncurtained windows. He paused a moment 
 outside, to study the strange tableau within. The inmates 
 were grouped about the great fire, listening to old Nora 
 reading the Scriptures. The red light danced upon her 
 uncovered head of smooth, glistening black hair, and her dark 
 figure threw a long shadow fluttering upon the wall overhead. 
 The high mantelpiece sustained two immense candlesticks 
 of solid silver, grotesquely fashioned, which must have been 
 made in the olden time for some family of decided claim to 
 regard in society. Instead of wax candles, which would 
 have seemed appropriate to their solid richness, they sustained 
 silver lamps fitted into their sockets, which cast a soft, yellow 
 light upon the wall. Between the lamps a portrait graced 
 the wall a young lady, perhaps sixteen years old. It was 
 unquestionably the mother of little Zoe, when care and 
 sorrow had been only names, not facts. The young mother, 
 who sat in her rocking-chair near Nora, with the expres 
 sion of anguish scarcely subdued by the interest with which
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 89 
 
 she was listening to God's word, was a beauty of finer 
 development than that of the portrait. She looked too 
 young to suffer mental anguish. Her large eyes were turned 
 upon the reader eagerly, agonizingly, as Mary Magdalen is 
 sometimes painted clinging to the foot of the cross. She 
 was drinking in every word, as if the first faint breath 
 of a merciful God's pardon was beginning to whisper over 
 the storm of her soul. Her graceful white hands, thin, with 
 tapering fingers, were clasped together in her lap, and she 
 leaned forward in the act of listening. 
 
 Behind Mrs. Granville was something stranger still : the 
 lunatic lady, the beautiful grandmother, chained by the 
 waist to an iron ring secured to the dark wainscot. She 
 was seated comfortably on a cushioned seat, and leaned 
 easily against the wall. She, too, was listening with the 
 apparent appreciation of a cultivated intellect. Every 
 allusion in the Scriptures to the wonderful mercy of God 
 seemed to win her respectful attention, and she turned 
 with looks of unutterable fondness to the figure of t Mrs. 
 Granville, whose countenance was turned partially away 
 from her. But when the word " justice " fell from the 
 lips of the reader, she sprang to her feet with a yell of 
 terrible ferocity, and with blazing eyes tugged violently at 
 the chain which held her to the wall. The quiet, beautiful 
 listener was instantly transformed into a howling fiend. Her 
 daughter tried to pacify her in vain. But at a word from 
 Nora, she sank back into her seat and promised to remain 
 quiet. Presently the reader turned over several leaves, and 
 commenced to read of Christ's agony in the garden. Then 
 the poor creature placed her hands over her eyes and wept 
 bitterly, convulsively, but without disturbing the reader 
 until the end. Then the spectator through the window saw 
 Nora and Mrs. Granville kneel down in prayer. 
 
 " Don't you see them ?" whispered Zoe to her companion. 
 
 " Yes, I see them all they are praying," was the response ; 
 " and Nora seems to be leading in the prayer."
 
 90 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " No ! no !'* said the child impatiently, " I mean the an- 
 gels can't you see them one is standing by N"ora, and one 
 beside mother. Yes ! there is another one close by grand 
 mother's seat. I see them ever so plain. Their wings are 
 white as snow. And oh ! their beautiful faces how pure 
 they look. Don't you see their hands are clasped together 
 and their eyes are looking up to Heaven ? They must be 
 praying, too don't you think so ?" 
 
 " I can see nothing of this, Zoe you must be a little 
 dreamer," said Rutherford. 
 
 The little girl made a gesture of impatience, and then, as if 
 the vision was made more palpable to her, pointed energeti 
 cally with her finger : " There they are one two three 
 just as plain as a white cloud." 
 
 Rutherford felt an indescribable thrill of awe as his eyes 
 followed the movement of her finger, and he sought in vain 
 to discover the cause of her excitement. It appeared to him, 
 as he reflected upon the scene hours afterwards, that he had 
 been conscious of a presence a something in the air which 
 his mortal eye could not discern, and which had nevertheless 
 impressed him with a sense of purity, and holiness, and pro 
 tecting power. This consciousness is difficult to express in 
 words, and yet it will be comprehended by many to whom it 
 has been an actual experience. Whatever it may have been, 
 he gave himself for a few moments absolutely and entirely 
 up to the soothing influence, closing his eyes against material 
 objects, and listening to the earnest voice of Nora calling 
 upon God. An earnest, eager prayer of faith is the summer 
 time of the c-ul. Power, and honor, and wealth lose their 
 illusion, and the child of earth kneels for a moment at the 
 gate of his eternal home, his loving Father's Heaven. Lov 
 ing eyes peer at him from the battlements misty arms of 
 angels reach forth to the wanderer, and a waft of exquisite 
 music comes to his ear that he may compare it with earth's 
 harmonies and beauties, and be dissatisfied. 
 
 " They are gone now," said the child, and he opened his
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 91 
 
 eyes. Nora and the beautiful sufferer were rising from their 
 knees. 
 
 He entered the cottage then, carrying the little girl in his 
 arms. The conversation soon turned upon the subject of 
 Rutherford's return to the village, and at a word from Nora 
 the three retired to an adjacent room, to discuss the question 
 of the lunatic's guardianship, leaving Zoe in the meantime 
 with her grandmother. When they were closeted, a long 
 conversation ensued as to the propriety and expediency of 
 allowing their dangerous charge to remain at Willow Bend. 
 In the end the lunatic would inevitably be tracked to her 
 daughter's home. The lawyer, therefore, advised that she be 
 secreted, if practicable, somewhere in the neighborhood, 
 where Mrs. Granville could have frequent access to her, and 
 provide for her wants. There were no pecuniary obstacles in 
 the way, as the mistress of the cottage declared that her 
 means were ample ; but who could be found willing and dis 
 creet enough to assume this custody of an escaped and vio 
 lent lunatic ? Several plans were submitted and discussed by 
 the trio, but upon careful and rigid analysis, they were aban 
 doned. At length Old Nora, who had been studying pro 
 foundly and in silence for several minutes, announced that 
 she was willing herself to assume the guardianship until 
 Mrs. Grace Baltimore should return from abroad. She would 
 confine the lunatic secretly in a comfortable apartment of 
 " The Glen," and provide for her wants during all the time 
 the improvements and alterations were being made upon that 
 property. Mrs. Granville should have private access to her 
 mother whenever she wished it, but she would be expected 
 to contribute an adequate sum to compensate the young 
 widow, Mrs. Baltimore, for this secret use of an apartment 
 on her premises during her absence. Nora considered that 
 her custody of "The Glen," and a proper regard to the inter 
 ests of the absent widow, would authorize such a temporary 
 lease of a part of the property. 
 
 At this proposition, the lawyer observed a quick dart of
 
 92 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 agony pass over Mrs. Granville's features. She buried her 
 exquisite face in her hands, as if to shut out her senses from 
 a contemplation of some disagreeable, aye ! revolting subject. 
 She exclaimed bitterly, vehemently : " No ! no ! that is too 
 much to ask of me, Nora ; anything but that ; you know I 
 can never consent to allow my mother to occupy any portion 
 of their property. I would rather die." 
 
 " Mrs. Granville," replied the old nurse, " I knew when 
 that proposition suggested itself to my mind that your feel 
 ings would be shocked. You must know that nothing but 
 dire necessity, in this present and difficult emergency, would 
 induce me to submit such a disagreeable plan to your conside 
 ration. Consider what difficulties this gentleman and myself 
 have encountered to serve you and yours, and then be rea 
 sonable, and endure this odious trial of your feelings for our 
 sakes and your unfortunate mother's sake. Some other re 
 source will be extended to you by a kind Providence, after a 
 brief period." 
 
 This, of course, was all a mystery to Rutherford. The in 
 mates of the cottage were entirely new acquaintances to him, 
 and the whole matter of the lunatic's rescue had been under 
 taken entirely out of regard to his friend, the Old Nurse. 
 He could only wait events, and serve Nora blindly, until she 
 chose to enter into explanations of the mystery. Observing 
 that Mrs. Granville remained silent and unwilling to assent to 
 the proposition of the old woman, he considerately withdrew 
 to a window and stood gazing out upon the starry sky. 
 
 Presently Nora drew her chair close to the mistress of the 
 cottage, and entered into a lengthy but whispered conversa 
 tion with her. Her arguments appeared at length to prevail, 
 for she turned to the lawyer and said : 
 
 "It is decided that 'The Glen' shall be our destination 
 for to-night. So if you will summon the old negro servant 
 who is in the kitchen at the end of the hall, and tell him to 
 replenish my lantern, we will be ready in a few moments to 
 proceed. Hero is a devoted and trusty servant, and we can
 
 STORMCLIFF. 93 
 
 fear nothing from his tongue. He has grown up from child- 
 hood in this family. You will have to conduct our charge 
 across the meadows to ' The Glen.' 
 
 " As soon as you have accomplished this for us, you will be 
 entitled to our everlasting gratitude. Then you may return 
 here for my horse, to take you to the village. You can send 
 him out to me by some person to-morrow." 
 
 He turned away to obey her instructions, and passing 
 through the apartment where the lunatic was confined, en 
 tered the hall and made his way into the kitchen. Hero, the 
 white-haired negro, was sleeping on a bunk in the corner. 
 Rutherford aroused him, and the athletic old man sprang to 
 his feet with remarkable agility for his age. He was certain 
 ly as old as Nora, and when his tall figure and broad shoul 
 ders were fully revealed before the lawyer, he appeared 
 worthy to be styled " The Ebony Hercules." His manner 
 was respectful in the extreme, when he recognised the rescuer 
 of Mrs. Granville's mother. He entered with alacrity into 
 the duties assigned to him, and long before the remainder of 
 the lunatic's escort were ready, he stood outside the cottage 
 door, lantern in hand, awaiting their coming. The lawyer 
 failed not to observe the air of ease and elegance which per 
 tained to every inmate of the cottage. Even Hero evidenced 
 in his bow and manner, and the quiet tones of his voice, that 
 he was conscious of being a member of a family where refine 
 ment and gentility were innate. Rutherford noticed, more 
 over, that the cottage was spacious and elegantly furnished ; 
 the barns near at hand tasteful and commodious, and the 
 lands pertaining to the estate extensive and highly cultivated. 
 
 When the party were in readiness, the lunatic was un 
 fastened from the ring in the wall ; but the chain, as a 
 precaution, remained upon her. The lawyer took one end 
 of the chain in his hand and offered his arm to the prisoner. 
 She accepted the offer quietly when she saw that her 
 dfi lighter was to accompany her. Mrs. Granville whispered 
 something in her ear which appeared to be a satisfactory
 
 94 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 answer to her inquiry as to where they were taking her. 
 Then the trio walked forth into the cold, starry night, and 
 the servant moved on ahead, lighting their way with his 
 lantern. Little Zoe had promised to remain alone in the 
 house for a short time when informed that efforts were being 
 made to conceal her unfortunate grandmother from her 
 enemies. 
 
 . The silent party traversed the narrow path leading near 
 to the inclosure of " The Glen." Arriving at the point 
 where the shadow of the trees shut out the view of the 
 stars, they paused until Nora advanced into the darkness 
 which enveloped the high paling of the park, and, aided by 
 the servant's lantern, found a gate which had apparently 
 long been disused. The grass grew long and heavy against 
 it, and when Nora had unlocked the rusty lock with a key 
 which belonged to the "The Glen" property, it required the 
 strong arms of the negro to force it open far enough for the 
 party to pass through. Leaving the gate open for their 
 return, they all moved on into the gloomy depths of the 
 wood. 
 
 It required considerable effort to force their way through 
 the undergrowth which had accumulated from long disuse 
 of that portion of the park. The servant, however, advanced 
 with his brawny figure, bending or breaking the twigs in 
 his way, and holding the infant trees aside until all had 
 passed. He appeared familiar with the intricacies of the 
 wood, and informed the party that they would soon reach 
 the more open portion of the park, at a point near the rear 
 of the Baltimore mansion. His prediction was soon verified, 
 and they emerged into the open park, where the stars could 
 again be distinguished glistening through the branches of 
 the great oaks and maples. They now advanced rapidly 
 under the trees, and soon reached the open lawns and 
 gardens of the estate. Nora produced another key from 
 her pocket, and directly they were admitted to the rear of 
 the mansion, and conducted to the old nurse's room, which
 
 STORMCLIFF. 95 
 
 she was to occupy during the improvements and repairs of 
 the property. Lighting her lamp for the accommodation of 
 her guests, she left them seated in her private apartment, 
 and summoning the negro with his lantern, she led the way 
 through the deserted halls to prepare a secure retreat and 
 prison for the lunatic. As she passed by the massive door 
 which guarded the sideboards and silver-plate of the Balti 
 more family, she said to her attendant : 
 
 "Mrs. Granville's mother nearly frightened me to death 
 one night by stealing into this house while I was examining 
 the silver-plate, and dashing that door in upon me, and 
 putting out my light. We both mistook each other for 
 burglars. She nearly throttled me before I could tell her 
 in the darkness who I was." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE lawyer sat alone in his office busily engaged in writing. 
 The lamplight illumined his calm, thoughtful countenance as 
 he bent over his manuscript, and the occasional glances he 
 gave at the law-book lying open before him, indicated that 
 he had succeeded in finding a client, and was hunting up the 
 legal authorities to sustain him in the approaching trial of 
 his suit. The dancing firelight from his hearth rendered the 
 apartment cheerful in the extreme, as it brought out in 
 strong relief the present of the new law-books, arranged 
 upon a little shelf, or flooded with fluctuating rays the face 
 of the ancient clock which stood solemn guard over the 
 night labors of the ambitious and lonely outcast. 
 
 Presently the venerable sentinel sounded his deep, musical 
 warning of the flight of time. Eight solemn strokes suc 
 ceeded the preparatory whirring in the clock, and then all 
 was still again, except the everlasting tick tick tick, and 
 the rattle of the lawyer's hurrying pen. He glanced up for
 
 96 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 an instant at the face of his friend, and finding the hour still 
 early, resumed his labors. Soon a more unusual interruption 
 attracted his attention. Heavy knocks sounded upon his 
 door, and he heard tramping of feet outside. In response to 
 his loud " come in," the door opened, and two men entered 
 the office. He recognised one as his supporter and newly- 
 found friend, the Rev. Charles Heron. He arose, and 
 extending his hand cordially to him, bade him welcome and 
 handed him a chair. The other visitor, whom he recognised 
 and provided with a seat near the fire, demands especial 
 description, physical and mental. 
 
 Nicholas Traver was a born gentleman. The term in this 
 connection refers to birth from affluent, refined, and educated 
 parents, to elegance of form and manners, and to an in 
 stinctive antipathy to everything vulgar, rude, or harsh in 
 man or woman, in matter or in mind. His tastes were 
 naturally pure and elevated. He was an admirable dramatic, 
 poetical, and musical critic. His pen was powerful, and his 
 oratory forcible and persuasive. He had exhibited no incon 
 siderable talent as a member of the Legislature of his native 
 State. He was an excellent horticulturist, and a successful 
 farmer. He was decided in his political views, but a cour 
 teous adversary, and a constant, fearless friend. He was 
 susceptible to good influences, and continued intercourse 
 with the sincere and the upright would generally result in 
 perceptible benefit to his moral character. On the other 
 hand, he was easily led into evil by pernicious associations ; 
 with a most wonderful power and will suddenly to recover 
 his moral balance, and re-assert his innate integrity and 
 purity of character. He belonged to that numerous class of 
 men of intellect, who generally exhibit in early life alternate 
 spasms or intervals of improper and commendable conduct, 
 but who, upon attaining maturity and experience, become 
 valuable members of society and the state. 
 
 In personal appearance, he was a mature Adonis. Nearly 
 every woman of refinement and heart, who was brought iu
 
 STORMCLIFF. 97 
 
 contact with him long enough to recognise his personal and 
 mental accomplishments, was certain to be fascinated. He 
 combined in his person as well as in his intellect that rare union, 
 power and gentleness. He was tall, and erect, and graceful. 
 His tread was firm and prince-like, and his muscular develop 
 ment in strict keeping with his princely movements and 
 address. His skin was as pure and white as a blonde girl's, 
 and his hands and feet aristocratically small. In conversation, 
 chaste and elegant scholarship was manifest both in state 
 ment of fact and purity of language. In addressing a lady, 
 he usually inclined his head towards her, respectfully and 
 gallantly. His eyes were large, rich, dark blue, like deep 
 wells in repose, but full of fire and versatility under excite 
 ment or appreciation. They beamed on woman's beauty in 
 magnetic power and tenderness ; they looked into the face of 
 man fearlessly, candidly. Pleasure .or dissatisfaction was as 
 apparent in those eyes as daylight. He was brilliant as a 
 sunbeam, or sullen and lowering as the approaching storm- 
 cloud. Forty-odd winters had turned his poetical curling 
 hair of brown into a dark grey. The heavy grey mustache, 
 the only hair allowed to grow on his smooth oval face, 
 scarcely hid from view his small feminine mouth, whose 
 smile was almost angelic. 
 
 His dress was always carefully studied, of quiet colors, 
 and devoid of all jewelry. 
 
 On horseback he looked the Emperor. Firmly seated and 
 erect, he bounded over the country, well mounted and with 
 the conscious hauteur of the Ca3sars. Every steed of his 
 stables bore him along as if proud of the rider's majesty. 
 But for six years he would not ride in the summer months ; 
 and the community, with all their ingenuity and perseverance, 
 had failed to discover why. His reticence and retirement 
 were unaccountable, and the public curiosity had finally 
 settled down into the belief that his singular isolation was 
 due to eccentricity ; when suddenly that trumpet blast of 
 terror, " murder," rang through the highlands and along the 
 
 6
 
 98 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 banks of the Hudson, and awoke the Traver family once 
 more into notoriety. Public sympathy and horror were 
 aroused over the corpse of his murdered crippled boy, and all 
 seemed willing to aid in tracking the murderer. 
 
 At the thoughtful suggestion of the clergyman, who 
 eagerly availed himself of the opportunity to afford Ruther 
 ford a chance to win fame in his profession, Nicholas Traver, 
 the mysterious and elegant gentleman, had come to consult 
 the outcast on the proper means to be employed to track 
 the assassin and secure his conviction by a legal tribunal. 
 
 " I have come to you, Mr. Rutherford," he said, with a 
 slight tremor in his voice, " upon the recommendation of this 
 reverend gentleman. He speaks highly of your abilities as 
 an orator, and pronounces your analytical powers remarkable 
 for a person of your years. This latter gift decides me in 
 my purpose of securing your services to aid in sifting and 
 arranging the evidence bearing upon the murder of my son. 
 The District-Attorney is overwhelmed with business, and 
 desires me to select some competent lawyer to assist him 
 in the conduct of this murder trial. If you, sir, are willing 
 to assume the responsibility of this matter, and devote your 
 energies to secure the ends of justice, I will compensate you 
 handsomely for your services. I have prepared an abstract 
 of the evidence which has either fallen in my way or been 
 volunteered, together with the names and places of residence 
 of material witnesses with whom it will be .necessary for you 
 to consult. Here it is. You can examine it at your leisure, 
 and inform me by note whether or not you are willing to 
 undertake the conduct of the matter. I should imagine that, 
 as you are just entering upon the practice of your profession, 
 you would find the notoriety of this trial eminently bene 
 ficial to your future career." 
 
 " I feel highly honored, Mr. Traver," replied the lawyer, 
 " by your selection of me for this responsible trust, as well 
 as complimented by this reverend friend's estimate of my 
 abilities. I deem it prudent at the opening of my career to
 
 STORMCLIFF. 99 
 
 announce that I will never espouse any legal cause which 
 does not bear upon its face marked evidence of right and jus 
 tice. 
 
 " I will examine these papers, if you see fit to leave them, 
 provided the understanding is between us that I shall be at 
 perfect liberty, after their perusal, either to be employed 
 against the party accused in this abstract, or, if I elect other 
 wise, to become the counsel of the accused party. Shall 
 this be the understanding ?" 
 
 The gentleman addressed, whose serious handsome face 
 had been carefully studying the physiognomy of the young 
 lawyer during the delivery of this answer, replied courteously 
 to this guarded acceptance of his abstract. 
 
 " It argues well for the uprightness of your legal career 
 in the future, my dear sir, that you are thus careful in com 
 mitting your talents to the defence or prosecution of any 
 cause. The evident honesty of your reserve might be imi 
 tated by many of your able profession with benefit to them 
 selves and the world. Your manner strengthens my confi 
 dence, and confirms Mr. Heron's report of your character. 
 I will leave the papers with you, subject to your conditions, 
 fully assured that so far as you are concerned, justice will 
 receive its proper respect. I shall await your answer with 
 all the anxiety of an outraged father's heart. Will you per 
 mit me, before leaving, to return you grateful acknowledg 
 ments of the kindness you extended to me in aiding this 
 reverend gentleman at my house on that dreadful occasion, 
 in preparing my child for his grave ?" 
 
 It would be impossible to express the gentleness and 
 warmth and dignity with which these words were pronounced, 
 as Mr. Traver fixed his eyes on the lawyer's countenance. 
 The listener was charmed, and accepted cordially the hand 
 which was outstretched to him, preparatory to Mr. Traver 
 leaving the office. The music of that voice lingered when 
 the visitors had left ; and when Rutherford turned again to 
 his table to resume his study, he said aloud, " That is a
 
 100 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 charming, estimable gentleman; I would enjoy being his 
 friend, surely." 
 
 Resuming the consideration of the legal suit upon which he 
 had been engaged when interrupted, he devoted himself to 
 it for hours. It was past midnight when he had completed 
 his task and laid the papers carefully away. He sat silently 
 then, looking into his fire, which had become only a mass of 
 glowing coals. He was studying in his mind what strange 
 reports had formerly been circulated regarding the Traver 
 family. No doubt much of the terror which was associated 
 with that name arose from vulgar exaggeration. But of one 
 fact he was personally cognizant. He had himself witnessed 
 more terrible caprices of the gale on that secluded estate 
 than elsewhere during his life. At night the wind had cer 
 tainly appeared to be gifted with human voices as he chanced 
 to pass by that property. Hark ! was not the wind at that 
 moment howling around the corner of his office, filled with 
 warning voices ? The gale certainly seemed to pronounce 
 the words " Beware beware." He smiled as he shook off 
 the momentary superstition, and arising from his chair, 
 flung a stick of wood on to his blazing coals. The packet 
 left by Mr. Traver chanced at that moment to catch his eye. 
 Thinking he would only break the seal and hastily glance 
 at the nature of the papers or abstracts, reserving a critical 
 examination of them for the morrow, he drew his chair again 
 to the table and took up the packet. The seal pressed 
 into the red wax was no doubt that of the Traver family. 
 The memorandum in pencil upon the outside of the packet 
 was very likely in the handwriting of Nicholas Traver him 
 self. He broke the seal and spread open the papers before 
 him. The name of the accused startled him. " Impossible," 
 broke from his lips. He ran his eye eagerly over the manu 
 script ; his curiosity was fully aroused. He. drew his lamp 
 closer to him and read carefully the document. Finally he 
 raised his eyes thoughtfully and said aloud : "How many 
 sons has that man ?" With pertinent and solemn distinct-
 
 STOBilCLIFP. 101 
 
 ness the attentive clock struck one. The old timepiece 
 startled him. " You are correct, old friend, he has only one ; 
 but that one never murdered Walter Traver. I'd most be 
 willing to swear it." ' 
 
 He commenced the study of the fearful charges once 
 more, sometimes glancing back over parts he had read, and 
 comparing carefully. At length a bright gleam came to his 
 eyes, and he exclaimed : " Here is a flaw, surely. He could 
 not be in two places at once. Let me see how many hours' 
 discrepancy are there in his favor ?" 
 
 The accurate and solemn response was counted by the 
 clock : " Two." 
 
 " Eight, again," said the lawyer with a smile and a glance 
 up at the centenarian monitor. " That man is innocent, I'll 
 wager my old clock." 
 
 After a further and more careful scrutiny of the papers, 
 he flung them aside with an exclamation of delight : " I 
 glory in discovering innocence. To ascertain guilt affords 
 no satisfaction to me. I wish from the bottom of my soul 
 that everybody was innocent. I have lost a wealthy and 
 powerful client, to be sure ; but never mind, I'll have a 
 chance yet. Let me see. Some of the bar will take charge 
 of that case for Mr. Traver, as sure as fate. Well, just let 
 them try it. I'll take up for Nevil Waters and bring him 
 out of court as innocent and white as a snow-drift. Hurrah 
 for innocence, any way !" 
 
 He studied silently in his mind for a time, gazing again 
 into vacancy. Then he said slowly : " How many mem 
 bers of the bar in this town would be hireling enough to 
 attempt the conviction of that man ? I'll count them on my 
 fingers." 
 
 The clock anticipated the enumeration. " Three," it 
 struck with distinct, heavy bell-notes. 
 
 " Upon my soul !" exclaimed the amused attorney, " you 
 are growing accurate in your old age. I was on the point 
 of saying three myself. Well done for you, old fellow ;
 
 102 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 you've counted for me and given me a broad hint to clear 
 off to bed. Good-night to you." 
 
 He lockedhis door, and extinguishing his lamp, flung himself 
 upon his bed, too thoroughly drowsy and exhausted to undress. 
 
 When he awoke from his profound slumber, the sunlight 
 was flooding the bare floor of his office. Upon looking at 
 the clock, he was surprised to see that it was near the hour 
 of eleven. Springing suddenly to the floor, he hastened to 
 kindle a fire upon his hearth, for the day was bitterly cold, 
 and the frost-king had been whitening the glass of his win 
 dows. Then he plunged his face into the chill water of his 
 basin, and being revived by the glow which the rough towel 
 brought to his skin, he sat down at his table and penned 
 these lines : 
 
 " MR. NICHOLAS TRAVEE : 
 
 "DEAR SIR, I have exammea the documents you en 
 trusted to me last night. After a careful and critical peru 
 sal of them, I have arrived at the conclusion that the party 
 accused therein could not have been connected in any man 
 ner with the sad occurrence ; and I am persuaded that you 
 would yourself, upon further examination, arrive at the same 
 conclusion. It is unnecessary for me to remind you that the 
 young man was loved and trusted by your son above every 
 other acquaintance, that his character stands high in the 
 estimation of the public generally, and that it will be difficult 
 to discover a MOTIVE for so dreadful a crime in his case. I 
 regret that I cannot serve you professionally. Your advan 
 ces to a tyro in the law like me, have been flattering, and 
 I sincerely thank you. If any occasion should arise when I 
 can assist you, without a violation of the law of my con 
 science, I should be extremely happy to do so. But in this 
 instance I cannot, because I firmly believe this young man 
 to be innocent. 
 
 " I am, sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 " CLARENCE RUTHERFORD."
 
 STORMCLIKF. 103 
 
 Carefully folding this note, and addressing it to Mr. Tra- 
 ver in a distinct hand, he inclosed it in the abstract of the 
 evidence ; and, taking his hat, went out into the street to 
 find a messenger to carry back the packet to the owner. 
 He hailed a boy of his acquaintance who was passing near, 
 and entrusted the papers to him for delivery. Then he 
 turned back in the direction of his office with a view to the 
 preparation of his morning meal. Before reaching the door, 
 he heard the rattle of wheels coming rapidly down the street, 
 and, turning, beheld Nora Rudd driving towards him. Aa 
 soon as she recognised him, she motioned for him to stop. 
 As she reined in her horse before him, she said, in an excited 
 manner : 
 
 " I want you to get in and go with me. N"evil Waters 
 has been arrested for the murder of Walter Traver. He 
 is innocent, and I know it. You must defend him : it will 
 surely result in his favor ; and your name will appear favor 
 ably before the public. I can put you in possession of facts 
 which will clear him, without fail. The matter is somewhat 
 involved, but he is surely innocent." 
 
 As Rutherford stepped into the vehicle beside her, she 
 added: "They were not after the lunatic that night, as we 
 imagined, but were in pursuit of Nevil Waters. He carried 
 one of the lanterns which appeared to be chasing you. His 
 pursuer was following you by mistake. The man who 
 crossed the bridge behind us was Nevil Waters himself. 
 The officer who drove up in front of Rutger's tavern wag 
 after him, and followed you by mistake. Your capture and 
 blindfolding of the officer puzzles every one completely. He 
 is very powerful, and maintains that the stranger in disguise 
 who overpowered him, could not have been IsTevil Waters, 
 who is very slight and weak. The conclusion is, that Waters 
 had an accomplice. The poor young man has been arrested 
 f the murder. He was out that night, driving furiously 
 jn his own business. He did pass the spot on which the 
 murder was committed; but it was long before the deed
 
 304 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 was done. I will testify to that fact myself, for I saw 
 him." 
 
 " Yes," replied her companion, " I am aware of that ; 
 others will testify also to the fact of his being at another 
 place at the time when the murder must have been commit 
 ted. There is little question that the crime must have 
 occurred just before sunset. At that hour Waters was far 
 away, as some will testify." 
 
 "How did you ascertain all this?" asked Nora, in sur 
 prise. 
 
 "From an examination of the very papers which were 
 brought to me by the man who desired to employ me against 
 Nevil Waters." 
 
 " And that man was " 
 
 " Nicholas Traver," replied the lawyer. " I have just sent 
 him a refusal to be employed against that young man. But 
 where are you taking me ?" 
 
 " To the house of the elder Waters," she replied, giving 
 her horse a sharp cut with the whip. "I am determined that 
 he shall employ you to defend his son. He is my clergyman ; 
 and when I offer him my evidence in his child's favor, I am 
 determined that he shall give you an opportunity to win 
 renown." 
 
 Rutherford's delicacy caused him to shrink from any act 
 which would look like thrusting himself upon Mr. Waters' 
 attention in a professional capacity. He resolutely refused 
 to enter the house upon such an errand. 
 
 " Very well," said Nora, with evident disappointment in 
 her tones. " You will not refuse to wait outside, and hold 
 my horse, until I give the old gentleman a word of cheer, 
 by informing him that I will testify in his son's favor, will 
 you?" 
 
 " No, indeed," said Rutherford ; " drive on as fast as you 
 like for I have been up all night, and have had no breakfast." 
 
 In a few minutes more the horse paused before the gate 
 of a white frame dwelling, surrounded by leafless cherry-trees.
 
 STORMCLIFF. 105 
 
 On the doorstep a servant-maid was standing with, her 
 hands to her face, weeping over the misfortune which had 
 befallen her young master. He had been thrown into prison. 
 
 Nora left her horse in charge of the lawyer, and walked 
 slowly up to the house, leaning upon her steel-pointed staff. 
 A few words addressed to the servant appeared to quiet her, 
 and she conducted the old nurse into the house. Ten minutes 
 could scarcely have elapsed, when the front door opened 
 again, and a venerable old gentleman, with long white hair 
 brushed behind his ears and streaming down his back, made 
 his appearance and beckoned to Rutherford to come in. The 
 silent summons was obeyed, and when the aged clergyman 
 had taken the lawyer cordially by the hand, and conducted 
 him to a seat beside Nora in the parlor, he looked earnestly 
 into his face, and said : 
 
 " And so the Lord, my Master, put courage into your heart, 
 young man, to withstand the allurements of power and 
 wealth, and strengthened you to take a firm stand in behalf 
 of my poor boy. It was a noble, honest heart you had, when 
 you were so poor, and so dependent, and yet could refuse an 
 opportunity to win so much of that man's gold. The Lord 
 will reward you, young man ; the Lord will reward you." 
 
 He repeated these words with a voice husky with emotion. 
 Then clearing his throat, he continued in a firmer tone : 
 
 " Clarence, I remember you when you were a tottering 
 child ; I said then that your forehead bore a special mark of 
 intellect from God. I have often thought of you since the 
 Lord, in His inscrutable wisdom, has seen fit to visit you with 
 clouds and storms of trouble. Keep a stout heart, young 
 man. You are not utterly forsaken. Earnest souls in this 
 community think much concerning your welfare. I shall 
 never forget that thrilling hour when you saved little Mag 
 gie from a watery grave. It was nobly done. But this kind 
 ness to my boy is nobler still for now you need money ; 
 then you did not. Now, Clarence, I have only a small salary 
 
 allowed me to support my family, but I am willing to give you 
 
 5*
 
 106 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 one-fourth part of it if you will try to clear my poor boy's 
 reputation and save his life. He is innocent, God knows, 
 but I am afraid of these courts in these modern, godless 
 days. There is so much corruption so much chicanery so 
 much buying and selling of human life and liberty ! What 
 say you, Clarence? Will you be my lawyer; my honest 
 Christian lawyer, and bring me out of this furnace of afflic 
 tion ? There are great legal names in this county, but I 
 want an honest man who is trained to the law ; and I want to 
 lend you a helping hand, too." 
 
 The old veteran soldier of the Lord, with his silver locks 
 straying over his shoulders, leaned forward in his earnest 
 trembling way as he spoke ; and then, as his aged voice ceased, 
 gave Rutherford the keen searching look peculiar to old age 
 and experience. 
 
 The lawyer responded to his inquiry by assuring him that 
 every nerve should be strained to defend the accused. He 
 spoke lightly, however, of the danger attending the suit, and 
 pronounced a decided opinion that no court would ever con 
 demn a man upon such an evident case of alibi. 
 
 The anxious old father seemed relieved by his assuring 
 tones, and when Nora and the lawyer rose to leave, he said : 
 " May the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob bless you, 
 young man, and speedily bring you out of all reproach from 
 cruel tongues, by showing to the world that you are well 
 born of pious and respectable parents. God bless you good 
 bye." 
 
 The solemn blessing of an old man rings along the aisles 
 of memory like a golden belL 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AH ! was that really a tear stealing unnoticed down that 
 self-reliant face? Would she at last acknowledge herself
 
 STORMCLIFF. 107 
 
 touched at the heart's fountain Ivy that man? Was preju 
 dice, was society off its guard ? Was the citadel of custom 
 shaken to its very foundation as the storm of glorious, omni 
 potent, triumphant eloquence swept over the hushed crowd 
 of beating hearts, hurling pride and rank and selfishness to 
 the level of our common humanity ? Marie Heron brushed 
 away the mist of her own tears to look at her. Yes ; even 
 she, Louise Stanford, was crying. The presiding magistrate 
 himself dashed his hand nervously across his eyes and tried to 
 resume his look of dignified attention. But it was in vain ; 
 his lips trembled and his eyes filled again, as he leaned un 
 consciously forward to catch the cadences of the soul-music. 
 And away down the court-room there, just at the end of the 
 line of jurymen, a silver-haired old man is leaning on the 
 arm of his daughter, and gazing at the speaker with such 
 rapt, eager tenderness, that one might fancy he saw God's 
 angel there pleading for the life of his boy. But notice par 
 ticularly the proud, thrilled, beaming countenance of the old 
 witness with the raven hair and the steel-pointed staff, whose 
 evidence had apparently affected the jury so powerfully a 
 short time before. The cross-examination had utterly failed 
 to shake the clearness and the pertinency of her testimony con 
 cerning the matter of the alibi. She knew clearly, as to time 
 and place what she did know ; and the District- Attorney, aided 
 by his crafty assistant, had retired foiled from their assault 
 upon her with a view to impeach her evidence. Now she- 
 sat leaning upon her staff, triumphantly awaiting the result. 
 
 But the central figure, the man with the simple dress of 
 iron grey, upon whose utterances that congregated throng 
 of intellect and beauty breathless hung Oh ! how majesti 
 cally he asserts his manhood his innate, wonderful gift of 
 leading souls in the bright path of truth and justice ! With 
 quick and searching analysis he had explored the evidence 
 clustering about the tragedy winnowed the chaff away, and 
 held forth the golden grain apparent to the eyes of all. The 
 barriers of the opposing counsel melted away at his genius-
 
 108 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 touch, and their accurate witnesses were exhibited as sincere 
 and truthful, but of no account in the face of the palpable 
 alibi. Then he passed from the evidence to the contempla 
 tion of the probable, and demolished the feebly sustained 
 argument of a motive for the murder. Then, from the eyrie 
 height of his impassioned eloquence, he swooped down into 
 the depths of all hearts, and spoke to the jurymen as men. 
 He grasped the delicate and tender fibres of the heart, and 
 each one felt that his own beautiful boy was on trial for his 
 life. Here was he regal master, and his sceptre opened the 
 flood-gates of the soul. Feeble and fluctuating doubts and 
 suspicions vanished. Truth glanced into every soul, and his 
 client was already cleared. 
 
 The peerless and the fatherless dropped quietly into his 
 seat, and eyes glistened with tears on every side, and mur 
 murs of applause ran round. The jury, without leaving 
 their seats, pronounced the prisoner innocent of the charge. 
 The people gathered about the young counsel in hearty 
 congratulation, and the old clergyman wept upon his shoul 
 der, and the daughter kissed his hand. Many who had 
 avoided him after his fall, now came forward and shook him 
 by the hand. But the mass of refined society held back, and 
 the Christians of the churches left the Christians of God alone 
 to whisper consolation to his lonely, refined heart. 
 
 The power of opinion in society and the churches is omni 
 potent, and yet when closely investigated by the eye of can 
 dor, it is found to originate in the prejudices or the earnest 
 convictions of the strong intellects or wills of the few, who, 
 by the mere force of assertion, drag others into the whirlpool 
 of truth or error. The gift of originality and strong will is 
 a limited gift. Hence the few influential leaders in society 
 or religion incur fearful responsibility to God if they guide 
 others into the violation of the sublime charity and bro 
 therhood inculcated by the Divine Teacher of Galilee. Hia 
 teachings were not congenial to the proverbs and wise 
 thrifty maxims which accumulate wealth and secure power.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 109 
 
 He hurled orthodoxy from its throne, because orthodoxy 
 arrogated to itself the sole right to wear the genuine livery 
 of heaven, while devoid of the lowliness of heart and univer 
 sal love of men, without which, that heaven would be only 
 an assembly of proud, aristocratic formalists. Churches 
 gradually assume the form and character of citadels from 
 which crusades are organized against other churches, to steal 
 proselytes ; or from which periodical forays of a limited and 
 sectarian character are made upon the really poor and suffer 
 ing with the like purpose of proselytism. This was never 
 the i-eligion of Christ. The Good Shepherd's attentions 
 were principally directed to the irregular, wandering sheep 
 who contrived to keep out of the regular fold. The Shep 
 herd turned his back upon the regulars and went after the 
 heretic, and appeared strongly to love him best. The fas 
 ter was surrounded by the abandoned and the suffering, who 
 had always been separate from the orthodox ; and the asser 
 tions of all the priestcraft in Christendom can never make 
 the fact obscure, or dim its celestial brightness. The good 
 God loves all ! 
 
 How much, then, was Clarence Rutherford entitled to the 
 society and assistance of his peers, since his own personal 
 acts were devoid of shame. He was a sinless sufferer, and 
 yet Christians turned their backs on him. They .made him 
 suffer reproach for others' sins. Thank God, the Church is 
 not infallible which turns away from innocence, and makes 
 it drag its weary life alone to a grave of despair. The 
 Eternal may visit the sins of the fathers upon the children, 
 but Christ never directed His followers to do it. 
 
 Such were the convictions of the Rev. Charles Heron, as 
 he stood at the door of the court-house waiting for the out 
 cast, that he might conduct him from the scene of his legal 
 triumph to a seat beside his own daughter, in the sleigh 
 which was to bear him to a sumptuous repast at the rectory. 
 
 Curious eyes followed the trio, as the sleigh glided down 
 the street, and earnest hearts secretly blessed the clergyman
 
 110 6TORMCLIFF. 
 
 who so fearlessly espoused the cause of the unfortunate. 
 But there was another class of spectators who looked coldly 
 or sneeringly on this determined and independent act of 
 Christian charity ; and while their eyes were hardly dry of the 
 tears which earnest, burning oratory had elicited, they rein 
 stated their old prejudice against the fatherless upon its 
 pedestal. Slaves of public opinion, they were- incapable 
 of appreciating the pure charity and fearlessness of the 
 man of God, and preferred to range themselves under the 
 pleasant banner of the popular. Such men and such wo 
 men and they are numbered by thousands in every com 
 munity appear to forget that Christ came to pfcice His fol 
 lowers in antagonism towards the world, and its maxims and 
 prejudices. The probabilities are, that a popular and fiery per 
 secution of all who bear the Christian name would find such 
 persons hastening to deny their faith for the sake of being 
 on the safe and comfortable side of power. 
 
 But, unmindful of the malignant and the worldly, the 
 sleigh, with its congenial occupants, dashed down the princi 
 pal thoroughfare of the town towards a place of shelter from 
 the rapidly increasing snow-storm. The snow-flakes, which 
 had trembled slowly and at long intervals downward from 
 the sky, now were replaced by thickly falling flakes like feath 
 ers, which soon covered the sleighing party with mantles of 
 white. Over the fences and the trees they whirled and 
 tossed, weaving fantastic shapes among the network of the 
 branches, and clinging reluctantly to the outlines of the gate 
 posts, or forming on their tops caps, and capitals, and enta 
 blatures of white. Every dark and misshapen object which 
 met the eye was soon concealed and crowned in white, and 
 the snow-king proclaimed his power in concord with the com 
 ing night. The shroud of the snow-king and the pall of night 
 fell together over the departed day. 
 
 Rutherford was studying the rosy beauty of Marie, enve 
 loped in her furs, when the darkness fell. She appeared un 
 usually animated and beautiful, and every accent that, fell
 
 STORMCLIFP. Ill 
 
 from her lips seemed joyous and spirited. She had emerged 
 from the crowded court-room with increased confidence in 
 the powers and truthfulness of the young orator, and with a 
 firmer determination to stand by her father in his effort to 
 give the young lawyer position in society. She had already 
 won over a female friend to their side by her persuasive elo 
 quence, and that friend had been strengthened in his favor 
 by an accidental interview with him at the clergyman's 
 house. He had then appeared in one of his happiest moods, 
 brilliant and full of spirited repartee. Marie's interest in him 
 had been on the increase ever since the memorable ride. She 
 had resolved to befriend him, not from the exalted motive of 
 her father, but on account of the satisfaction his society af 
 forded her sentimental and intellectual nature. No young 
 man of her neighborhood, or indeed of her acquaintance, 
 could compare with him intellectually. No one appeared so 
 perfectly appreciative of her poetic and delicate tastes. No 
 one understood so well as he the art of developing the beau 
 tiful ideas which sprang from her brain, by comparing and con 
 trasting them with the recorded thoughts of the eminent 
 writers of all ages. If other and more tender sympathies 
 than those of taste and intellect found lodgment in her heart, 
 she was as yet unconscious of them. She flew to his society 
 as the bird flies to the fountain. At the clear spring of his 
 genius she quaffed delicious freshness and purity of thought ; 
 then, like that bird, she raised her lips and heart to Heaven 
 and trilled forth louder and clearer notes of song. 
 
 The party reached the rectory just at the moment the ser 
 vant was lighting the lamps for the evening. The dinner was 
 in readiness for their arrival, and they found Marie's lady friend 
 already arrived and comfortably seated before the coal fire in 
 the parlor. To Rutherford, the needy occupant of the small and 
 uncarpeted office, the genteel luxury of the rectory appeared 
 like a paradise. The large sofas, the padded' easy-chairs, the 
 elegant engravings and bronzes, the embroidery screens, and 
 the rich patterns of the carpet, all illumined by the mellow
 
 112 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 light of the astral lamps, suggested ideas of comfort which he 
 had feared were passed away for ever' for him. Then the easy 
 and informal hospitality of the clergyman, as he presided over 
 the sumptuous entertainment which had been arranged ex 
 pressly for the lawyer's benefit, brought back vividly the re 
 collection of the elegance and abundance of the table to 
 which he had been accustomed from infancy. He did not re 
 pine, however, at his fallen condition. The impression had 
 become strongly rooted in his mind that Heaven had inter 
 posed kindly in his behalf, and that a splendid destiny await 
 ed him. Oh ! who shall fathom the depth and the power of 
 an encouraging word spoken at the right time ? Who shall 
 trace its influence upon the lives of those who, through evil 
 reproach and mountain obstacles, have forced their weary 
 way and marked their names in letters of gold upon the arch 
 of history and humanity! 
 
 At length the dinner was over, and all returned again to 
 the cheerful glow of the parlor fire. The clergyman took up 
 the daily paper, and was soon engrossed in the affairs of the 
 outer world. The lawyer seated himself beside Miss War 
 ner, the other guest, on the sofa, while Marie retired for 
 a few moments to look after the affairs of the house, of which 
 she was sole mistress. She was detained longer than she 
 had anticipated, and when she returned at length to the room 
 where her guests were seated, she witnessed a scene which 
 checked the exuberant flow of her feelings, made her con 
 scious of emotions which had nestled secretly and unknown 
 in her heart, and developed the poetic, lovely girl in an in- 
 B'ant, into the real woman. 
 
 The clergyman had gone out and left his guests alone. 
 Marie entered the parlor with her habitual noiseless tread, 
 and her approach was unnoticed by the two. Rutherford's 
 back was towards the door, and Miss Warner was facing 
 him, and eagerly listening to his remarks. Her eyes were 
 studying his features with the rapt, fascinated gaze of 
 beauty, held captive by intellect. Her cheek was flushed by
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 1 1 3 
 
 excitement, and, occasionally, her eyelashes drooped in the 
 intensity of the lawyer's look. A sensation of pain or appre 
 hension, a novel feeling of chagrin or disappointment, flashed 
 across Marie's heart. What if he should. love that girl? 
 What if her charms had already ensnared him ? The strange 
 emotion or consciousness grew in intensity the longer she 
 contemplated the absorption of the two in each other's 
 society. What interest could she have in his heart entangle 
 ments ? Her surprised maiden nature withdrew timidly into 
 itself. Her heart fluttered at the thought that she could 
 feel otherwise than kindly towards Miss Warner. But most 
 assuredly, 'at that moment, her feelings in regard to her 
 experienced a revulsion. How dared that girl to be so 
 absorbed in him, holding him in her gaze as if he was 
 unconscious of any other existence ! She had read of that 
 singular passion which allows no community of interest in 
 regard to its idol that absorbing emotion which veils reason 
 and generosity but she had never dreamed that a person 
 under its influence could become bitter, as she felt that 
 instant towards the young lady who sat there so unconscious 
 of her presence. The illusion, which had fallen as a mist 
 over her young existence, that she regarded Rutherford as 
 an intellectual and cultivated friend only, vanished at the 
 sudden touch of jealousy. The new consciousness came like 
 the lightning, and was instantly followed by that strange 
 instinct of concealment which sends the wounded bird flut 
 tering into the thicket. 
 
 She advanced rapidly into the presence of the two occu 
 pants of the sofa, and said, gaily : 
 
 "Pardon me for my absence. It was unavoidable. Do 
 you enjoy music, Mr. Rutherford? If so, my friend Miss 
 Warner has a pleasure in reserve for you, of which you 
 little dream." , 
 
 Miss Warner, of course, protested that she was only mode 
 rately gifted in the musical line. But the lawyer pronounced 
 his decided partiality for the muse, and would hear of no
 
 114 STORMCLIFF 
 
 refusal from her. After the customary preliminaries of per 
 suasion, and protestation, and reluctant consent, Marie Heron 
 brought out her harp, and her friend proceeded, with culti 
 vated touch and rare skill, to delight her listeners by elicit 
 ing its Sweetest melodies. She was familiar with nearly 
 everything he called for, and song after song was warbled 
 forth by her powerful voice. He expressed his appreciation 
 of her musical treat, and, in response to her request, joined 
 her in several familiar airs. ' Turning, at length, to the quiet 
 mistress of the dwelling, who was reclining in dreamy reve 
 rie against the back of a large rocking-chair, studying the 
 fire grottoes of the grate, and, occasionally, beating time 
 with her foot upon the carpet, he requested an exhibition of 
 her musical powers. 
 
 With an abstracted, listless air, she drew the harp towards 
 her, and asked what was his favorite song. He answered, 
 by soliciting the performance of her own favorite instead, 
 remarking, with a smile, that it would of course be a love- 
 song. 
 
 " No, it will not ; " she replied, with a return of her usual 
 gaiety. " There are higher and nobler qualities than love, as 
 you will presently admit. I wish my voice could follow my 
 soul in this song." 
 
 With a slight toss of her head, she threw back her curls, 
 and swept her hand lightly across the chords. The touch 
 appeared to satisfy her keen sense of harmony, for she 
 paused a moment, and said: "This song is called 'The 
 Polish Poet's Prayer.' " 
 
 With a low, faint whisper of melody, the scene opened in 
 a starlight evening in Poland's valleys. A youth was kneel 
 ing upon his sword on the greensward, and a few armed war 
 riors knelt behind him with uncovered heads. The harp 
 trembled forth the humility and pathos of the opening 
 prayer, that God would bless them in the coming battle, but 
 not with victory no, that was hopeless ; the iron hand of 
 the tyrant was fast grinding them down. Their homes and
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 115 
 
 native valleys were doomed to slavery, and they were going 
 forth to die on the sacred soil of their ruined country. The 
 agonized tones of Gethsemane broke forth from the harp, in 
 union with the voice of the young girl, whose eyes looked 
 heavenward. " O God ! may our blood enrich the soil ! 
 Aye! may the memory of the life so freely to be offered 
 spring from the grass, when our young boys and maidens 
 pass, and nei've them to wear ever in their hearts the longing 
 and the undying hope of freedom ! May Poland be to the 
 nations the Christ of Liberty, bearing His bloody cross 
 through fields of agony, rising and falling, and rising and 
 falling again only to teach the nations the sublimity of suf 
 fering and agony endured for every holy cause." 
 
 The listeners bent forward in tearful interest, as the lips 
 of the singer quivered in that upward glance of prayer, and 
 the harp murmured in unison. 
 
 " But truth and liberty shall never die." The words broke 
 forth from her sweet lips like an angel's clarion notes, and 
 the harp-strings twanged out thrilling strains of triumphant 
 harmony. "When we are dead, Poland shall live; the sacri 
 fice shall be complete, and the bright crown fall upon her 
 head whom we have loved so well." 
 
 The notes of victory pierced to the sky, and then Marie 
 stood motionless and radiant as an angel of prophecy. 
 Turning, with a smile, to Rutherford, she asked if love was 
 the loftiest passion of humanity ? 
 
 "I have always fancied that it was," he said, "until now. 
 But you have shaken my belief. I am confident that, with 
 your face and voice, you could move a nation to arms." 
 
 "You are disposed to be complimentary, to-night, Mr. 
 Rutherford," she said, with a tone that indicated perfect 
 indifference to his flattery, and, relinquishing her harp, she 
 turned away to her portfolio, to show her guests some 
 sketches of the highlands which she had made in the past 
 summer. 
 
 "I recognise this cliff," said Miss Warner, turning over
 
 116 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 the loose papers of the portfolio. " I have sailed near it often, 
 But you have something on the top of it that looks like 
 human life, and that surely cannot be accurate, for the cliff 
 is inaccessible. Perhaps that is only a matter of your fancy 
 to heighten the effect." 
 
 "No," said Marie, "it is correct. One evening when I 
 was quietly sketching, and the atmosphere was unusually 
 clear, I saw a human figure moving on the very sum 
 mit. I thought, at first, I must be mistaken ; but, upon 
 moving my position, and bringing the object directly be 
 tween me and the sky, I was confident that it moved. 
 Observing the strange apparition for a long time, I became 
 satisfied that it was a human being, and sketched it in my 
 drawing just as it appeared to me. You see it is a human 
 being, but whether man or woman, I could not tell. What 
 do you think of the matter, Mr. Rutherford? Could any 
 body possibly attain the summit of that rock unless in a bal 
 loon. Why, what is the matter with you? You color up 
 like a girl." 
 
 The lawyer was disconcerted by the abruptness of her ap. 
 peal to his judgment. For a moment he stammered and was 
 at a loss what to answer. The cliff was the identical one 
 where he had tempted God by straining so terribly upon his 
 thread of existence, and moreover in regard to its accessi 
 bility he had promised Nora Rudd to remain for ever silent. 
 Finally he managed to stammer forth something to the effect 
 that it was always spoken of as inaccessible, and that any 
 man would be a lunatic who attempted to scale it. He pass 
 ed immediately to other sketches in the portfolio, and com 
 menced to descant earnestly upon their merits. Buth is em 
 barrassment had been too palpable to the quick eyes of both 
 ladies ; and when, after a few minutes, he had taken his de 
 parture, they failed not to exchange opinions in regard to his 
 singular deportment under so simple an interrogatory. It 
 was the first instance where his language and manner had 
 been other than open, and candid, and self-possessed.
 
 STORMCLIFF. 117 
 
 After the young ladies had retired to their room for the 
 night, Marie lay awake a long time thinking of the occur 
 rences of that day. She had learned the secret of her own 
 heart she had witnessed Rutherford's legal ability, and for 
 the first time had seen him mysterious. What in her sketch 
 and simple question could have caused his strange embarrass 
 ment ? The more she pondered the matter, the keener grew 
 her curiosity, and the firmer her determination to probe the 
 mystery. If in her character there was one stronger love 
 than the love of mystery, it was a passion for persistent and 
 skilful effort to unravel the web of reticence and obscurity 
 in which some people are prone to envelop themselves. 
 Here was her hero, a man of mysterious parentage, by a 
 single blush suddenly associated with the contents of her 
 own portfolio. Was it not worth an effort to unravel the 
 matter ? Her love should remain ever a secret. But in re 
 gard to that noble, suffering, persecuted genius, she must 
 and would know everything. It was due to her own self 
 respect and sense of propriety in giving away her heart's trea 
 sure. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "Tnis is such a dreary Christmas, grandpa. Santa Claus 
 won't come this time do you think he will ?" The little in 
 quirer turned his pitiful emaciated face from the window-pane 
 where he had long been contemplating' the driving snow 
 storm, to the old man who sat in an arm-chair near the fire, 
 which was slowly and with flickering blaze consuming his 
 last stick of wood. TJie grandfather looked sadly up from 
 his painful meditations, and his dejected, care-worn air indi 
 cated that hope had long since spread her departing wings. 
 
 " No, my child. I fear old Santa Claus has deserted us 
 this time." 
 
 He glanced at the little ragged stocking which the child
 
 118 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 had hung on the chimney the night before. This touching 
 evidence of the little fellow's faith in the coming of the good 
 saint, brought tears to his eyes, and he tried to brush them 
 covertly away. But the boy detected them, and his bare feet 
 came patting along the floor to the arm-chair. 
 
 " Don't cry, grandpa. I don't care much about this Christ 
 mas. I can wait till next time." 
 
 He climbed up on the old man's knee and put his arms 
 caressingly about his neck. 
 
 " Don't cry, grandpa. Indeed you mustn't." 
 
 The action and tenderness of the boy caused the tears to 
 flow faster. Old memories were crowding upon his mind, 
 and, contrasting the happy and comfortable days, when the 
 grandmother had lived and gladdened the boy's heart with 
 well crammed Christmas stockings and hearty dinners, with 
 the desolation and starvation of this bleak, pitiless day, he 
 found his old heart almost ready to break. No meal had 
 graced their table, and the day was nearly gone. The night 
 shadows were gathering, and the cold was increasing with the 
 violence of the storm. When that small flickering fire was gone 
 out, they could creep supperless to bed, to awaken to a fire- 
 less and lonely day of hunger. Rheumatism had held the old 
 man for several days a prisoner in his house. 
 
 For the sake of the hungry and disappointed child, he made 
 an effort and spoke calmly again. 
 
 " It looks mighty gloomy for ns this time don't it, Bobby ? 
 But we must keep a stout heart to fight our way through this 
 rough old world. When I was a boy like you, my father's 
 house burnt up one winter night, and we all had to run half- 
 naked through the snow. You see how good God has been 
 to leave us this comfortable roof over pur heads. We might 
 be worse off than this, my boy. Just think; our gracious 
 Lord and Master had no place to lay His sacred head." 
 
 " Didn't he have nothing to eat ?" inquired the child, anx. 
 iously. 
 
 " No ; nothing," replied the old man. " He hadn't even a
 
 STORMCLIFF. 119 
 
 drink of water. "When he asked for water, they gave him 
 something bitter and disagreeable to drink." 
 
 The boy looked thoughtfully into the fire for a moment. 
 Then he shivered and said : 
 
 " Fire's most gone. Then how cold it will be." Suddenly 
 he looked up into his grandfather's face. A bright thought 
 had struck him : 
 
 " Grandma used to say when you're in trouble read in the 
 old Bible ; let's do it, grandpa shall we ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the old man, hopelessly again. " That's all 
 that's left us now." 
 
 The boy climbed down to the floor again, and ran patter 
 ing across the room for the book. It was lying in the win 
 dow, where he had been gazing out into the storm. He 
 brought it to his grandfather, and then seating himself on a 
 stool, said : 
 
 " Where shall I read ?" 
 
 " Open it without looking," was the reply, " and read just 
 there." 
 
 The boy shut his eyes and opened the volume. Then look 
 ing down, he read slowly and with difficulty these startling 
 lines : " Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of 
 mine enemies : thou anointest my head with oil : my cup run 
 neth over." 
 
 " That must be mere accident," said the old man, nervous 
 ly ; " open at another place, Bobby." 
 
 The boy closed his eyes again, and opened the book. 
 
 " The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge 
 in times of trouble. And they that know thy name will put 
 their trust in thee : for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them 
 that seek thee." 
 
 The trembling old man put his hand on the head of the 
 boy, and said solemnly : 
 
 " That will do, Bobby ; I believe that, from the bottom of 
 my soul. Kneel down, my child, beside your old grand 
 father while he prays to God, and join your little voice in the
 
 120 STORMCLIFF. , 
 
 prayer. God is going to send us everything we need, if we 
 can only pray earnestly and humbly to Him. Kneel down, 
 Bobby." 
 
 The little anxious sufferer obeyed this direction, and laid 
 his face on the old man's knee, as the voice of supplication 
 arose to the merciful Father of all. The last stick of wood 
 had turned into a long glowing coal, and now suddenly fell 
 apart. It was unnoticed in the intensity of prayer with which 
 these lonely beings besieged the throne of God. The suppli 
 cation went on, and the glow of the coals waxed fainter and 
 fainter, and slowly the thin veil of ashes gathered over their 
 brightness. The voices of the driving storm sounded louder, 
 and the sleet commenced to dash against the windows. The 
 darkness enveloped the little house without, and the dying 
 embers glared feebly on the walls within. But the more ap 
 palling the night appeared, and the more helpless the isola 
 tion of the sufferers seemed, the brighter and holier gleamed 
 the star of faith and prayer. 
 
 " There comes God," exclaimed the startled child, raising 
 his head as a knock sounded upon the door. His grand 
 father, unheeding the sound, prayed on louder and more 
 earnestly. The wind whistled violently by ; then wailing 
 and moaning, it reversed its course, and dashed the sleet 
 with a loud rattle against the glass. The child clung closer 
 to the supplicant and listened. Again that mysterious rap 
 upon the door. The old man finished his prayer, and raising 
 his head, exclaimed : " In the name of God, come in !" 
 
 The door opened, and the snow whirled into the dark 
 apartment. A muffled figure, tall and indistinctly revealed, 
 strode quickly in and closed the door against the storm. 
 The darkness seemed to bewilder the intruder. " Welcome, 
 stranger," said the proprietor of the house; "I have no 
 light ; but you are welcome." 
 
 " Don't you recognise me, Nathan Weaver ?" said a female 
 voice. " I never thought you could forget me" 
 
 "Merciful God! it is my friend, the lady Nora. A thou-
 
 STORMCLIFF. 121 
 
 sand blessings on your head. Run, Bobby, and get the old 
 lady a chair quick, lad, quick." 
 
 Nora Rudd advanced to the faintly-lighted hearth, and 
 took the offered seat. She drew it to the old man's side 
 and took his hand. 
 
 " Did you think I could ever forget you, old man ? No, 
 indeed. I have brought you a fine Christmas dinner. It is 
 under your shed with my horse. And oh ! I have news that 
 will brighten your old heart. I have charge of ' The Glen ' 
 in behalf of the young widow, Mrs. Baltimoi'e, and listen 
 now ; you, and you only, are to be the gardener again. I 
 have the selection of all the servants, and you are to go back 
 to your old place. All the flowers and greenhouses pass 
 once more into your keeping, and all your old improvements 
 are to be listened to, and will probably be adopted. Cheer 
 up cheer up. What's the matter with you, old man ; can't 
 you speak ?" 
 
 He was choking, gasping for breath. His hands grasped 
 wildly about in the air. Then he grew calmer, but he could 
 not speak. At last he whispered : 
 
 "It will pass it will pass. It is too much joy for the old 
 man. Don't be frightened, Bobby ; it will soon pass." 
 
 Finally he recovered his voice, and said reverently: "Bless 
 the God and Father of the friendless, for He has done this. 
 Oh ! give that little boy a mouthful of bread the bread 
 which has come down from heaven." 
 
 Little Bobby crept to the side of the tall woman an<7 
 clutched her dress. " Did you come down from heaven, too * 
 Grandpa knew the bread was coming. He said everythintf 
 we needed was comin', and oh, I'm so glad. I'm so hungry." 
 
 " Hungry ! " exclaimed Nora in astonishment, grasping 
 the child in her arms and trying to make out his features in 
 the faint light of the dying coals. 
 
 " You do not mean to say, Nathan Weaver, that you have 
 absolutely been destitute of bread." 
 
 "Aye," replied the old man, " I can say all of that truth- 
 
 6
 
 122 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 fully enough. There was no work that a feeble old man like 
 me could do. These people about here who have small 
 places don't appreciate the kind of gardening I've been used 
 to, and then they're very close about spending money for 
 fancy gardening. The Baltimores, and the Fentons, and the 
 Marshalls, and the like of them, was very different people to 
 deal with. When 'The Glen' was shut up, and the old 
 gentleman discharged me, I found all the big folks had 
 gardeners, as many as they wanted ; and I had to pick up a 
 little work here, and a little work there. But in the winters 
 I suffered a good deal. And now this winter my roomatiz 
 has broke me up completely. Little Bobby and me was just 
 on the pint of starvin'. But we have been praying to a 
 God hearing, and a God answering prayer ; and while the 
 prayer was on our very lips, in comes my lady Nora and 
 answers it." 
 
 " Hush !" said she, putting her finger on his lips ; " don't 
 call me by that title again ; have you forgotten your pro 
 mise ?" 
 
 " It was forgetful of me to do it," he replied, abashed ; 
 " but it seems mighty hard sometimes to bridle my tongue. 
 But tell me ; what sort of lady is this new mistress of ' The 
 Glen ?' Her father always seemed to me a fine gentleman, 
 and he bore a good name among his servants so I heard 
 from Margaret, my daughter, who was this little boy's 
 mother." 
 
 " I'll tell you all about that as soon as I can bring in your 
 dinner and make you comfortable. Have you any candle or 
 any fuel ?" 
 
 " Neither one nor the other," replied Weaver. " We have 
 come to a pretty hard pass, I can tell you." 
 
 "To-morrow you shall have a cord of wood sawed and 
 split," said Nora. " In the meantime I will take the old axe 
 that lies under your shed and knock off some of the fence 
 boards to make you a fire. I will have all made right 
 to-morrow, so that your landlord won't complain. I'm going
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 123 
 
 to hire ycm right away and put you in one of the workshops 
 of 'The Glen,' where you can make yourself useful at once. 
 Now for your dinner. Little boy, bring out your table and 
 put it near the fire ; I will make it groan before many 
 minutes." 
 
 Saying this, Nora went out again into the storm. In a 
 few minutes she returned with two large covered baskets, 
 and giving little Bobby a leg of a cold chicken to stay his 
 appetite, went out again after the fuel. In the pauses of the 
 storm her axe could be heard dashing against the doomed 
 fence, and before Bobby had succeeded in cleaning his large 
 chicken-bone, she returned with an armful of dry wood and 
 flung it upon the floor. She soon recalled the dying embers 
 to life, and her kindling-wood commenced to burn. Higher 
 and higher blazed the cheering flame as she gradually piled 
 on the combustible fragments of the fence. Higher and 
 higher rose the spirits of the old man and child in the genial 
 radiance. Little Bobby stole quietly to his grandfather's 
 knee, still grasping his precious bone, and whispered : 
 
 " She must have come from heaven don't you think so ?" 
 
 " God sent her, my child, in answer to our prayer, no 
 doubt," replied Weaver, beginning to experience relief in his 
 rheumatic limbs as the warmth of the pine materials rapidly 
 spread over the room. 
 
 Nora, intent upon her charitable mission, paid no heed to 
 their conversation, but went on in the preparation of the 
 dinner. She ransacked the cupboard for dishes and cooking 
 utensils. Frying-pans and saucepans were dragged out from 
 their long concealment and washed, and then placed upon 
 the fire with various cold fowls and vegetables to be warmed 
 over. And a huge turkey, already cooked to a handsome 
 brown, was taken from a basket and suspended before the 
 fire by a string, to be made piping hot for the dinner. 
 
 While the meats were warming, the old nurse produced 
 pies and apples and nuts, from one of the wonderful baskets, 
 and laid them aside for their dessert. At the sight of every
 
 124 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 new delicacy, as it emerged from the baskets, little Bobby 
 would clap his hands in glee and hurry across the apartment 
 to inform his grandfather. Christmas had come, sure 
 enough, for his poor, tired, hungry little body ; and his ema 
 ciated countenance was lighted with the sweetest expression 
 of expectation and happiness, as he danced about Nora. 
 
 At last everything was in readiness, and the steaming 
 viands were placed upon the table. A fresh supply of fuel 
 was flung upon the fire to serve as a substitute for candles, 
 and the arm-chair of old Weaver was drawn to the head 
 of the table. Nora sat opposite to him, and the face of 
 Bobby just reached above the board at one side, as he sat in 
 a low seat, which was the best that could be arranged for 
 him. At a glance from Nora, the old m;m leaned forward 
 solemnly to say grace. His voice was husky, and clearing it, 
 he made a second attempt. The words were tremulous and 
 could not be heard. He made a third attempt, and , burst 
 into tears. His emotion was overpowering, and he bade 
 Nora say grace for him. She bent her face downward and 
 obeyed his request. At the conclusion, he pronounced a 
 tremulous " Amea." 
 
 Then the repast was quickly made way with, for it was the 
 first meal of that day. Christmas closed upon that lonely 
 family in contentment and cheer ; and when Bobby had 
 finished his hearty meal, and sat down upon the little stool 
 beside the roaring, crackling fire, and listened to the storm 
 without, he said : " Grandpa, if Santa Glaus had only come 
 it would be all right, wouldn't it ? " 
 
 "How do you know he hasn't come?" replied Weaver. 
 " That stocking looks mighty fat to me." Bobby glanced 
 upward at the forgotten token of his faith. His eyes opened 
 to wondrous dimensions as the stocking met his gaze. 
 Somebody had surely been tampering with it. It had 
 swelled to aldevmanic proportions. He walked timidly up 
 to it, and then, as the first symptoms of his surprise passed 
 away, the sweetest of smiles wreathed his little mouth, and
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 125 
 
 he exclaimed : " Darlin' old Santa Glaus, he never did forgit 
 little Bobby." 
 
 While the child explored the mysteries of the stocking, 
 Nora cleared away the table, and then drew her chair to the 
 side of the old gardener, to satisfy his inquiries in regard to 
 the character and expectations of the new mistress of ''The 
 Glen." He had grown up almost from childhood in the 
 employ of the Baltimore family, and he considered himself 
 personally concerned in the chagrin and disappointment 
 which possessed the relatives of that family upon learning 
 of the total alienation of " The Glen" estate from their 
 blood. Nora proceeded to give him her opinion of the 
 young widow. 
 
 " I want you to like the new mistress," she said. " Grace 
 Traver endeared herself to me from infancy; I had the sole 
 charge of her until that strange marriage. And I will say 
 that a truer-hearted girl never existed. She had her faults, 
 but they arose from her impetuous nature. No one was ever 
 more prompt and sincere in confessing that they had done 
 wrong. No one was ever more willing to make reparation. 
 She appeared to be unusually fond of the heroic and the 
 fearless. Sometimes when she was occupied with her lessons, 
 and one of her father's wild horses chanced to pass by her 
 window in grazing, she has, to my utter amazement, dashed 
 aside her book, sprung through the window, and with a leap 
 gained the horse's back, and clinging to his mane, rushed 
 through the meadows like an insane person. In a few 
 minutes she would come walking in with a heightened color, 
 and exclaim : ' Forgive me, Nora, for being so rude and 
 neglecting my lesson ; but that horse looked exactly as if he 
 thought he had thrown off all authority, and I just wanted 
 to teach him that he did have a mistress. Now I will be 
 ever so good.' 
 
 "Then she would glance so mischievously up at me out 
 of those dark eyes, that I hadn't the heart to rebuke her. 
 Indeed, I generally was forced to laugh . in spite of myself.
 
 126 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 She had an independent way, too, of expressing her opinions 
 concerning the characters she met with in her history les 
 sons. She generally criticized pretty sharply those personages 
 whom everybody likes in history. She would glean facts 
 from the book she was reading, and then place these persons 
 in so ludicrous a light that all reverence for them was lost. 
 She never appeared to fancy men whose great deeds were 
 strongly tinctured with self-interest. But exhibit to her men 
 and women who had been palpably self-sacrificing, and she 
 would instantly write down their names, and say, ' I must 
 study them further.' I fear it was under the impression 
 that she was herself doing some such noble act, that she 
 consented to marry Mr. Baltimore. 
 
 " There is another element in her disposition that I wish 
 you, Weaver, particularly to remember. Never, under any 
 circumstances, attempt to flatter her personally. You can 
 always obtain any concession from her that is reasonable 
 by respectful request. But if you pay compliments to her, 
 you will see her become reserved, and the chances are that 
 she will suspect you of base motives. She is a little myste 
 rious, too, at times ; and when she sets out to conceal her 
 feelings or her plans, I defy the sharpest intellect to fathom 
 her. Mind, I am speaking to you of her when she was only 
 fifteen. Time and experience may have modified some of 
 her peculiarities. Are you listening to me ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, lady Nora. I beg your pardon ; Nora, I mean. 
 I hear all you say, and trust me, I shall make no mistakes. 
 But this troubles me, from your talk. If she is such a wild, 
 hasty creature as you say, how is she going to keep up the 
 dignity of the old family on that place ? That's what 
 bothers me. I should think you wouldn't like to witness 
 any letting down in the old manners of the place." 
 
 Old Weaver looked keenly at her in the firelight, but no 
 change of countenance was visible in that self-possessed 
 being as she replied : 
 
 "No fear of her lacking dignity, Weaver; you'll see enough
 
 STORMCLIFF. 127 
 
 of that "before you have known her long. She is inclined to 
 reserve in the presence of those who are not familiar with 
 her. But you must not allow my words to prejudice you 
 against the new mistress. I am sure you will love her upon 
 acquaintance. But " 
 
 Nora paused a moment in doubt, and then continued : 
 
 "I must trust you, Weaver, with a certain matter that you 
 can understand better than any one else. Can I rely upon 
 your doing a secret service for me at ' The Glen ?' " 
 
 " How can you doubt it ?" was the instantaneous and frank 
 reply of the gardener. " You have been so kind to me, so 
 considerate to an old man's feelings, I will serve you sooner 
 than any person alive, be he man or woman." 
 
 " I was confident of it, Weaver. Now, all your skill and 
 discretion will be called into exercise. You recollect the 
 unfortunate .mother of Mrs. Granville, don't you?" 
 
 "Indeed I do," replied the gardener, with increasing in 
 terest of manner. " Who should remember her if I didn't ? 
 The sweetest lady that ever walked she was." 
 
 " Well," continued Nora, " she is at ' The Glen.' 
 
 " How is that ?" asked the astounded listener. " At ' The 
 Glen ?' Is she herself again ? Why don't she go to her 
 daughter ? What call has she to The Glen ?' " 
 
 Nora looked earnestly at the gardener, and said, hi a low 
 tone, that the boy might not hear : " She is not recovered ; 
 she is worse. But she has escaped, and we have concealed 
 her at the old house. There she is to remain, and I want 
 you to keep her hid there till we can make some other dis 
 position of her. She has been cruelly treated, and we are 
 resolved that they shall not have her again." 
 
 This reply was greeted by a low whistle of surprise from 
 Weaver. He glanced at Bobby. The little fellow, who had 
 been playing with his Christmas toys on the hearth, was just 
 at that moment stretching himself on the floor, at full length, 
 for a sleep. When his grandfather saw that his eyes were 
 shut in unconsciousness, he answered Nora :
 
 " i 3 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " This is a strange affair. This whole business puzzles me. 
 But who knows about it, and what am I to do ?" 
 
 She related the whole affair of the rescue to him, and 
 added : " I expect you to occupy the rooms in the workshop 
 which I am having fitted up for you. In one of those rooms 
 I want you to keep the lunatic secretly confined, and see to 
 it that no one has access to her but her daughter at night." 
 
 " I will do your pleasure," he answered, slowly, " and do 
 the best I can : but it is going to be a hard task. Never 
 mind, I'll do it for you." 
 
 " Then," said Nora, rising to go, " I will send my sleigh 
 for you and your little boy to-morrow, and will give you fur 
 ther instructions when you arrive at ' The Glen.' " 
 
 In a few seconds more the tall figure vanished through 
 the door, and the gardener was left alone with his sleeping 
 grandchild. He sat a long time meditating upon the matter, 
 and then hobbled about the room preparatory to retiring to 
 his bed. Occasionally he muttered to himself: 
 
 " She has taken a difficult task on herself she can't stand 
 it no 1 no ! It will break her down after awhile, sure." 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 
 THE summer of will long be remembered as a season 
 
 of suffering and horror. The death-angel held almost undis 
 puted sway. He visited the hut and the mansion with im 
 partial and rapid tread ; and where he entered, faces grew" 
 thin and pale, and bright eyes glazed and closed for ever. 
 Where the spectre was least expected, he noiselessly came. 
 The ruddy cheek and the robust frame were no better pro 
 tection than the sickly face and the emaciated figure. He 
 waved his sceptre over the ball-room, and the fair girl sud 
 denly grew livid ; her smile died on her lips ; she bade adieu 
 to her admirers, and followed the dreadful messenger out
 
 STORMCLIFF. 129 
 
 to her grave. The quiet student, at midnight, looked fear 
 fully up from his book when he heard the slight tap at his 
 door. Too well he understood the dread summons, and 
 turned in vain to the little red vial upon his mantelpiece, 
 hoping to thrust it successfully in the face of the grim moni 
 tor. Alas ! drugs seemed to have lost their virtue in the 
 passing anger of heaven ; and he, too, followed sadly at 
 last. Away down the streets of the busy and hurrying mart 
 the death-angel passed ; and as he looked behind the desk 
 of the counting-room the banker shivered, and whispered to 
 God to grant him one more year to repent and employ his 
 stewardship in the sole service of heaven. " Too late, too 
 late !" moaned the sere conscience ; and the golden sceptre, 
 which was worshipped on the street, passed away from him 
 for ever. The faithful Christian was surprised in the midst 
 of his usefulness, and his lamp of charity quickly extinguish 
 ed and snatched away from his hand, to be replaced by a 
 golden harp in the mansion of his Father. Oh ! it was a sad 
 sight to witness the god of this world hurled from his pedes 
 tal in so many hearts, and a God of fear only substituted in 
 his place. But, unmindful of the saint's hope and the sin 
 ner's fear, the awful pestilence held on its ghastly way. The 
 faithful physicians met and grappled it at every turn, then 
 fell themselves corpses at its touch. Another class of heal 
 ers, the physicians of the soul, the ministers and priests of 
 the altar, who flee not when the wolf cometh, were at their 
 posts too. They poured the balm of Gilead into the sick and 
 weary souls of men, and when death came it found many of 
 their patients ready. 
 
 Foremost and zealous among the clergy who nursed the 
 convalescents and blessed the dying, moved the Rev. 
 Charles Heron. No toil, no sacrifice, no weary watching, 
 no nursing was able to break his indomitable will, or shiver 
 his priestly lamp of faithfulness and devotion. Enveloped 
 in the armor of his martyred master's zeal, he faced the 
 dread cholera, and his blazing faith was the sword that 
 
 6*
 
 130 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 warded off from himself the blows of the white death 
 In the early morning he bowed before God, and wrestled in 
 prayer for the grant of human lives, and immortal souls; and 
 then rising, he walked forth in the majesty of his priestly 
 mission, to aid the perishing with care and comfort an^ 
 religion. Oh ! how sublime a thing it is to minister to suf 
 fering humanity in the name of Jesus. The poor, the lowly, 
 the rich, the intellectual, the emaciated of every grade, in 
 their pale agony listened anxiously for his coming footsteps, 
 and his angelic countenance of cheer. A light gleamed in 
 his devoted eyes which moved the agonized children of men 
 to yearn to kiss his outstretched hand. 
 
 One sultry summer evening, while the cholera was at its 
 height, and men were falling before its advance like grass 
 at the scythe of the mower, the clergyman stood at his 
 front door in the glare of the sunset, in the act of bidding 
 his darling daughter farewell for the night. He was just 
 going out on his mission of love to the sick. Marie, in her 
 pure white dress, with its narrow belt of blue, was standing 
 before him, looking up into his face with her pleading eyes. 
 She had been entreating him to spare himself for only one 
 night. He looked so pale and worn out. 
 
 " No, daughter, I must visit that helpless family this even 
 ing. They are all sick, and no one cares for them. Do not 
 be alarmed if I stay away several hours. I do not believe 
 I am intended for the cholera's grasp. I have escaped so 
 often, that I trust God designs me for a nurse until the end. 
 Good-bye, my darling; remember me in your prayers to 
 night, together with all this suffering community." 
 
 He strained her to his heart, and then pressing a kiss on 
 her pure forehead, he was gone. She watched his retiring 
 figure until he was lost in the distance. Then she closed the 
 door, and walked slowly and softly up-stairs to her room. 
 She appeared to be more delicate than usual, but the spiri- 
 ' tual type was really an improvement to her beauty. But 
 there was an increased dreaminess, an effect of far-off
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 131 
 
 musing in her eyes, which suggested the idea of melancholy. 
 Some severe disappointment might have swept its dark 
 wings across her young life. Or it might be that she was 
 over-anxious and alarmed about the spread of the pestilence, 
 a% it concerned her father, or perhaps herself. Whatever 
 the cause of the faint shadow in her eyes might be, it is 
 certain the unhappy expression lingered long. When she 
 reached her room, and sat gazing out of the open window at 
 the sunset, the shadowy expression deepened with the fall 
 of night. Not more motionless were the hushed leaves of 
 the trees beneath her than was Marie in her day-dream. " 
 But abstracted as she seemed, and so oblivious of the pre 
 sent, it nevertheless was beyond the range of possibility for 
 one of her temperament to be present long at such a grand 
 parade of the clouds, without awaking to a sense of the 
 snowy grandeur of the scene. She did appreciate at length, 
 and leaned forward over the window-sill. The vast volume 
 of white, foamy clouds, which so long had hovered over the 
 western horizon, with a fringe of silver light extending 
 along their summits, now slowly rolled upwards towards the 
 north, forming in their course a perfect stairway of snow- 
 steps, with the silver fringe lingering along the western 
 edge of each successive step as it was unfolded. At length 
 the stairway was complete against a background of blue sky 
 and golden sunlight. Up such a flight of vapory steps 
 angels might fitly tread. Lower and lower dropped the god 
 of day, and the blue sky dissolved into a vast ocean of 
 molten gold, and the snow-steps slowly moving asunder, 
 formed into purple likenesses of vessels floating upon that 
 sea of radiance. Fainter and fainter grew the sunlight, and 
 darker seemed the purple ships passing away into the 
 western ocean. Deeper and lower fell the shadow over the 
 young girl's soul as she strained her eyes towards the fading 
 pageant; and she prayed silently, prayed eagerly, that God 
 would deem it wise to bear away her soul, now and for ever, 
 upon a purple barque, gliding away upon that mystic ocean.
 
 132 STORM CLIFF. 
 
 A change had come over the spirit of her young dream. 
 To live seemed not so tempting as before. She, whose soul 
 \vas ever full of brilliant images, whose life seemed wreathed 
 with every enticing motive to hope and enjoy, was a chang 
 ed being. She was conscious of the fact. She realized that 
 every gift of intellect, and every means of sensual enjoyment, 
 might be present to her, and yet the heart be alone and 
 poverty-stricken still. Secretly, timidly she loved, and no 
 sun of hope had yet arisen upon that love. Would it not be 
 better to die now than to live with this hopeless affection 
 clinging to her, and slowly eating away her life ? Would it 
 be proper to request of heaven peace and rest now ? Or was 
 God offended that she dared to hope even for death, when 
 so many opportunities of serving Him still remained to her ? 
 These questions rapidly were asked of her conscience by her 
 heart. And under the influence of such thoughts she had 
 whispered her petition that she might die now, if it was con 
 sistent with the will of God. She believed that this novel, 
 engrossing emotion,' love, would be the only love, the only 
 outgushing tide, of tenderness she would ever experience. 
 She was as yet unaware that this is the delusion which 
 enfolds all lovers, this belief in the eternity of the present 
 love. But, whatever the philosophy of human affection may 
 be, it was certain that she was a poor, desolate, loving girl, 
 full of heart-tenderness, full of loveliness of person and 
 understanding, and worthy to be any man's devoted wife. 
 Hopeless and desolate she leaned out of her window in the 
 shadows of the approaching night. 
 
 Suddenly she heard a ringing at the street door bell, loud 
 and urgent, apparently. She looked down upon the door 
 steps, and saw her family physician standing there. A shock 
 went to her heart. 'What if her father had been taken down 
 with the cholera ? She hastened down to open the door 
 herself. 
 
 " Is your father in, Marie ?" was the first sentence that 
 greeted her.
 
 STOEMCLIFP. 133 
 
 When informed of the clergyman's absence, the doctor 
 expressed himself greatly disappointed. He had just left 
 young Rutherford, very low with the cholera, and utterly 
 alone. The attendance of nurses was difficult to procure. 
 Everybody was so alarmed about his own health. The 
 physician had counted confidently upon the clergyman's 
 assistance in the lawyer's case. He was reputed to be his 
 only friend. 
 
 " I thought it but a mere act of humanity, any way, to 
 call and endeavor to get some one interested in the poor 
 fellow. He will likely die anyhow. But I am driven now 
 with my calls, and must leave. Good-bye, Marie. Don't you 
 get sick through apprehension and excitement. That is very 
 apt to bring the disease on. Keep cool, my sweet girl, and 
 there is no danger for you. Perhaps your father may return 
 in time to help the poor fellow." 
 
 The kind doctor jerked out these words in his peculiar 
 nervous manner, as he hurried down the steps and was gone, 
 
 Marie retreated to the parlor sofa, and buried her face in 
 her hands. " Poor, dear fellow, dying alone ; HI all his 
 matchless eloquence and power, dying alone O my God ! 
 shall I die alone with no kind hand no kind word ?" 
 
 The tears choked her utterance. She sobbed convulsively. 
 In a few seconds the real woman asserted her independence. 
 
 " Fear ? What shall I fear ? Have they not maligned me 
 already for nothing no cause no shadow of a cause ; poor 
 fellow,- 1 will go to him, though ten worlds should scoff me. 
 Where is a woman's place in such a pestilence as this ? I 
 have no family to watch and care for, unless father is taken 
 down. I will go I will go. O my Heavenly Father ! 
 protect me from evil tongues, and strengthen and guide me." 
 
 Her purpose was no sooner taken her noble, heroic pur 
 pose than she hastened to put it in execution. Ascending 
 to her chamber, she disguised herself. She filled her pocket 
 with little vials of medicine from her father's medicine-chest. 
 Then she hurried down to her pantry, and filled a basket
 
 134 STOKMCLIFP. 
 
 with such cold remnants of the last dinner as she could find. 
 Bread and butter, knife and fork, spoon and tumbler, also 
 found their place in the basket. Allowing herself no time 
 for the sober second thought, she drew her veil over her face, 
 and hastening to the front door, rang the bell violently. The 
 maid hurried up-stairs at the peremptory sound of the bell. 
 
 " Tell father, if he comes back soon; that I shall be gone 
 two or three hours on a sick call." The door closed on the 
 astounded maid, and Marie was off on her errand of mercy. 
 
 Good angels speed her, and guard her, for the tread of the 
 pestilence is firm and rapid, and hope hangs on a thread ! 
 Away down the dusky street she rapidly sped, fearless and 
 eager, winged by love, guided by instinct, protected by 
 Heaven. The air of the streets was foul, from the neglect 
 occasioned by dread. The only passers on the walks who 
 appeared careless of the pestilence, were the intoxicated. 
 Several funerals passed by on the dimly-lighted streets fune 
 rals with few mourners in the train. How quickly the dead, 
 in times of cholera, are forgotten ! The hearses must hasten 
 back from the cemetery for other loads of departed humanity. 
 Unmindful of the dead as they passed, Marie hurried on, 
 heated by the sultry summer air, flushed with exertion, and 
 weary of her heavy basket. Her apparent unconsciousness 
 of insult, and her rapid pace, suggested the idea of low life, 
 and no one molested her. She rapidly turned corners, she 
 availed herself of alleys, and soon reached the open space 
 near the river. It was now quite dark. Looking cautiously 
 back, she saw that no one had followed her. Then she turned 
 to the river, in doubt of her way. A little light glimmered 
 ahead of her. " She felt that it came from HIS house. She 
 walked timidly now, and slower. She reached the door and 
 faintly rapped. No answer came. A louder knock elicited 
 no answer. She opened the door cautiously, and looked in. 
 There he lay unconscious, apparently ; perhaps he was dead. 
 She stole nearer to the bed with his lamp. He was breathing 
 sleeping.
 
 STORMCLIFF. 135 
 
 "With her veil pressed back from her face with one hand, 
 and the lamp grasped in the other, she knelt by his low 
 couch and studied his features. How changed he was ! So 
 emaciated, so pale, so spiritual. The glorious forehead was 
 there in all its developed power of intellect ; but the eyes, 
 those brilliant stars that were ever reflected in her pure soul, 
 how strangely they appeared, closed and sunken ! Those 
 lips, from which the clarion words of eloquence had burst 
 upon the souls of men, how painfully compressed they were, 
 and white ! Eagerly bending over him, she feasted her eyes 
 on the countenance Avhich had enslaved her heart. No one 
 was near to startle her maiden modesty, no sound met her 
 ear from the street ; she was alone with the dying. Suddenly 
 she started up in terror. Hark ! to that approaching sound. 
 No ; it was only the voice of Rutherford's relative marking 
 the flight of time. How solemnly they vibrated, those heavy 
 bell notes, on the hushed air. She stood erect, with her veil 
 thrown back and the lamp in her hand, listening to them. 
 It was the music of the olden time. It seemed to speak to 
 the very soul. Long, long before Marie was born the melody 
 of the old clock had touched the heart and warned the soul 
 of death's approach. The young had listened to the voice of 
 time, and dreamed it was not meant for them. The aged 
 had bent their white locks, and counted the strokes, and 
 sighed : " How fast time flies ! " and yet few of them had 
 deemed it a warning to prepare for the near spirit-land. 
 Regardless of men's indifference, the old monitor had gone 
 on in its repeated challenge to the passing soul from year to 
 year, and its calm face had seen generations of the challenged 
 pass away and die. The bride in her loveliness, with the 
 veil and the orange-wreath, had paused to look in that face, 
 and then passed forgetful on. The mother had lifted the 
 infant that it might feast its wondering baby-eyes on the 
 old marvel, and both mother and child were long since 
 sleeping beneath the sods of the valley. The soldier had 
 studied its face to learn the sad hour of parting from home
 
 136 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 and loved ones for the field of death. Lovers had looked up 
 surprised from their low sweet vows and murmurs of bliss, 
 and then parted at the warning-stroke of the musical bell, 
 often for ever. The old clock had looked down on smiles and 
 tears, feuds and re-unions, bridals and deaths, and these were 
 all long since forgotten ; and still its mission was not ended, 
 and its sentinel chime went on and on. The mighty and the 
 fearless had succumbed, the aged and the venerable had 
 crumbled into dust, and still the old clock was erect in life 
 and strength, and its solemn music went on. Who knows 
 but the guardian angels in their eagerness had hovered low 
 and whispered to the clock: "Strike louder, clearer, till 
 your notes arouse the slumbering conscience, and prayerful 
 eyes are raised to God. See yonder sleepless one tossing 
 upon his bed, while the distractions of the day are gone. 
 Chime louder and clearer in the night-watches your alarm of 
 the coming of eternity" 
 
 These were the dreamy musings of the young watcher 
 as she stood listening to the dying vibrations of the clock, 
 with the lamplight full in her serious face. The disguising 
 cloak had fallen unheeded from her shoulders to the floor, 
 and she stood revealed in her white dress with its blue 
 girdle, with an unveiled bonnet only to shade her blonde 
 face. What was her surprise to behold, upon looking down 
 again, two brilliant grey eyes contemplating her loveliness. 
 The noise of the clock had awakened the sleeper, and he 
 opened his eyes upon a picture which seemed to realize his 
 belief in the presence of guardian angels. He attempted to 
 speak, but his voice, from weakness, faded away into a 
 whisper. She knelt beside him again, and heard these feeble 
 words: "I'm so glad you've come. I recognise you now. 
 You are an angel. So lonely so helpless I have been, that I 
 distrusted God. You can help me, and I may yet live." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Rutherford, if you will tell me what to do, 
 gladly will I help you. I came because father was not at 
 home. The doctor said you were utterly alone, and my
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 137 
 
 % 
 
 conscience bade me come to you, if only for a moment. I 
 have, medicines with me there may be something among 
 them that you need. I will read the labels on them, and 
 you can perhaps tell what you need." 
 
 The invalid whispered assent, and producing the vials from 
 her pocket, she proceeded to read the labels. At the con 
 clusion he indicated that nothing she had would avail him. 
 " Oh, what shall I what can I do ?" she exclaimed hope 
 lessly, laying the vials on the floor beside her and then turn 
 ing to him again. He said faintly and almost exhausted : 
 " Old Nora Rudd told me once that in some seasons of 
 cholera brandy has been used successfully, and at other times 
 with very bad effect. The doctor has positively forbidden it. 
 He may be right ; but oh, I want to live, and something tells 
 me brandy freely taken will save me." 
 
 When he had managed to deliver himself of this opinion, 
 his flickering, strength gave way and he closed his eyes. 
 He could not answer her further inquiries. She feared to 
 experiment with the brandy. The impression had gone 
 abroad that it was deleterious. But finding him too ex 
 hausted to speak further, she knelt silently beside him, pon 
 dering the matter. Had she not heard that sometimes the 
 instinct of a patient is his salvation, in despite of the phy 
 sician's advice ? The poor sufferer was so nearly gone it 
 could hardly make any difference. She had better make the 
 experiment ; she had better go in quest of the brandy ; she 
 would go. She spoke to Rutherford again. He slowly 
 unclosed his eyes upon her. That effort was his last. It 
 seemed to occasion him pain. Then he appeared to be 
 sleeping. She could hear him breathing. She arose, re 
 sumed her cloak, drew her veil over her face, and went 
 softly out into the night. The stars had come out and were 
 shining clearly enough for her to find her way. It was a 
 long distance to any apothecary's shop, but she feared to 
 procure the desired stimulant at any public-house where she 
 might meet with rudeness. So she resolutely held on her
 
 138 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 way, sustained by the reflection that she might be the means 
 of saving that dear life. " Grant it, kind Heaven," she 
 said to herself; " and then let me die." But the delicate 
 girl had already taxed her strength too far in the oppressive 
 heat, and by the time she reached the shop she was ready to 
 fall with fatigue. When she had seated herself breathless at 
 the apothecary's, she found it necessary to wait a long time. 
 The place was full of persons providing themselves with 
 drugs, to be in readiness for the dreaded symptoms of the 
 pestilence. Finally her turn to be waited on arrived, and 
 impatiently she called for a bottle of brandy. The clerk, 
 who recognised her, said : " I suppose you want it for a 
 cholera patient, Miss Heron ?" She nodded assent. 
 
 "The practice of treating the cholera without brandy 
 seems to have changed suddenly. The doctor was just in 
 here, and he said several patients who had used it freely, 
 were much better, and he was determined to recommend 
 it as an experiment. Anything else, Miss ?" 
 
 " No, I thank you," said she, eagerly grasping the bottle 
 and hurrying out of the shop. A thrill of joy flashed through 
 her at his intelligence. Rutherford's instinct was correct, 
 then. He might be saved if she should reach him in time. 
 Strengthened by this gleam of hope, she darted down the 
 street, regardless of all passers. It never occurred to her 
 that this excitement and fatigue she was passing through, 
 might predispose her own system to an attack of the cho 
 lera. His safety his one precious life was all she cared 
 for as she flew on. This is almost exclusively the preroga 
 tive of woman ; this utter abandonment of self to save the 
 loved tene. The almost inevitable censure of society which 
 would ensue, when it was known that she had sought him 
 alone ; the danger to herself, of being unattended at night ; 
 the grim monster cholera stalking up and down the doomed 
 village in search of fresh victims were utterly forgotten in 
 the zeal and devotion of her love and charity. Such impul 
 sive natures as Marie commit many errors of judgment, but
 
 STORMCLIFF. 139 
 
 oh ! will not the kind Father above look on the heart ! 
 Thrilled, hopeful, anxious, she passed on her star-lighted 
 way. The houses were rapidly growing more and more 
 scattered, the fields came at length gloomily into view, and 
 away off towards the river, she saw that light gleaming again 
 the beacon-lamp of her love her young, hopeless, eager 
 love. Soon she reached the little cottage, and, panting and 
 trembling, opened the door. The same silence as before, in 
 terrupted only by the distinct tick, tick, tick of the old 
 clock. She walked anxiously to the bedside and took up 
 the lamp again. He was breathing still. She spoke to him. 
 No answer. She placed her little hand on his shoulder and 
 gave him a gentle shake. It did not arouse him. Alarmed, 
 she shook him violently. He opened his eyes and closed 
 them quickly again. The lids seemed to be glued firmly 
 down ; she could not open them again, with all her efforts at 
 shaking him. She touched his lips ; their cold chilled her 
 fingers. She opened her basket at once and drew out the 
 silver spoon ; she filled it with brandy, and forcing open his 
 teeth, poured it gradually into his throat. She continued to 
 administer the stimulant to him in this way until one-quarter, 
 at least, of the bottle was exhausted. She knelt silently 
 then beside him, watching his faint breathing and whisper 
 ing earnest prayers to God for his recovery. Finally, to her 
 inexpressible delight, he opened his eyes and smiled. Slowly, 
 but surely, the stimulant effected her purpose ; Rutherford 
 whispered to her his thanks. At his suggestion, she gradu 
 ally gave him more brandy ; it revived him. He exhibited 
 palpable 'signs of improvement. He talked aloud ; he blessed 
 her for saving his life. Then she gave him bread, soaked in 
 tho brandy. In an hour he was so much improved that her 
 heart was hopeful and light. She spoke to him in her low 
 sweet tones, and soothed him ; and under the lulling influ 
 ence of her music-voice, he at length fell into a profound 
 slumber. She sat, then, on a chair and watched a long, 
 weary watch of alternate hope and fear. By-and-by, a
 
 140 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 hard siibstance rattled against the door. Tremblingly she 
 arose and answered the knock. To her amazement, it was 
 N"ora, the reputed prophetess, come to look after the young 
 lawyer. The intelligence of his illness had reached " The 
 Glen." The old nurse appeared to be omnipresent where 
 suffering and trouble and sickness were. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 THE clock chimed midnight. The two watchers silently 
 counted the strokes as they gazed upon the face of the 
 sleeper. As that musical vibration died away upon the 
 hushed air, Nora observed the lamplight flicker. A slight 
 puff of air had entered the open window. There was to be 
 a change from the dead oppressiveness of the sultry night. 
 As she called the attention of the yQung girl to the agree 
 able fact, a stronger current of air from without caused the 
 flame to bend still lower from the lamp. Happy would it be 
 if a storm was approaching, to clear the air and check the 
 destructive power of the pestilence. So many days had wit 
 nessed that same dead glare of the sun that same suffo 
 cating stillness of the atmosphere. The old nurse bent over 
 the sleeper, and tenderly studied' every lineament of his pale 
 face. The examination appeared to be satisfactory to her, 
 for she came again to the table, and sat down beside Marie, 
 and said, in a low tone : 
 
 "He has changed for the better. I think now he will 
 recover. If he does, depend upon it, you, and you alone, 
 have saved him. God sent you here, no doubt. But 'I am 
 going to take you home before day dawns. You have com 
 promised your character in the eye of the world ; it is a 
 hard, unfeeling world. But we must take things as we find 
 them, and try to reconcile our conduct with many prejudices 
 of that world. I hope to see you safe at home before day-
 
 STORMCLIFF. 141 
 
 light, and then, if you can teach your maid discretion, no 
 one will be any the wiser for this disinterested act of yours. 
 I, for one, shall ever be grateful to you for saving this poor 
 young man. You cannot conceive how much I am interested 
 in him. I do not believe there is another in this town who 
 could have called me away from 'The Glen' at this time. 
 Mrs. Baltimore is expected every day, now. The place is in 
 perfect readiness for her coming, and I am very busy in 
 training the servants to give her a suitable reception. But I 
 had nearly forgotten this," she exclaimed, thrusting her 
 hand into her pocket. " It was handed me on my way here 
 to-night, and my anxiety about Rutherford made me forget 
 it altogether." 
 
 She produced a letter postmarked at New York, and 
 addressed to herself in an unknown hand. She tore it open, 
 and was soon engrossed with its contents. Marie, excited as 
 she was by the skilful nurse's endorsement of her instrumen 
 tality in the probable salvation of Rutherford's life,- took 
 little notice of old Nora while she was reading, but passed 
 around to the opposite side of the couch, and, kneeling down, 
 returned God thanks for sending her to that place. Then 
 she arose and stood in contemplation of that pale countenance 
 she loved so well until Nora exclaimed : 
 
 " Come here, Miss Heron ; I want you to hear this letter. 
 They have all arrived in New York, and Mrs. Baltimore is 
 sick. A companion of the young widow, named Miss 
 Angier, has written the letter for her." 
 
 As Marie came around to the table again, a sudden gust 
 of wind nearly extinguished the lamp. 
 
 " Shut the window, if you please, Miss Heron. I trust 
 God is going to send us a storm." 
 
 The window was closed, and the white-robed girl sat 
 down beside the raven-haired woman of sixty. Nora, with 
 low but distinct articulation, read as follows : 
 
 " Well, here we are. Mrs. Grace Baltimore, Sir Francis
 
 142 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 Cleveland, and his daughter; Miss Angler that's my humble 
 self and Mirage, that's the white horse his very proud self, 
 and the Newfoundland dog, named Bounce, for the satis 
 factory reason that he never does bounce, but stalks along 
 like a saintly Elder. We're all soaked and bruised, and 
 pounded by Neptune, and are the most forlorn party of 
 adventurers that ever went down in ships to do business 
 upon the great waters. Is that Scripture, or is it not? for 
 it occurs to me that my wits and my memory are at present 
 thumped by the sea into that condition commonly styled 
 1 unsatisfactory.' We've walked the waters like a thing of 
 life, and, as a necessary consequence, we several times went 
 under, and wet our soles, which probably never occurred to 
 the poet. But, seriously, we've been shipwrecked. That is, 
 if that wildly romantic term can be applied to being tossed 
 about for weeks in a leaky vessel, without masts or sails or 
 rudder ; provisions almost exhausted, and no dessert ; sailors 
 so worn out that the party of pleasure f on board had to 
 work at the pumps, besides the captain and -mate being 
 washed overboard and other trifling casualties too numerous 
 to mention. 
 
 "Your friend, Mrs. Grace Baltimore, is the most magni 
 ficent woman I ever laid eyes on. Had she not taken the 
 captain's place, and ordered the second mate to be put in 
 irons, you would never have enjoyed the perplexity of 
 deciphering this scrawl. Everybody was disheartened and 
 exhausted. But she appeared to revel in surmounting all 
 the difficulties of our terrible condition. When the second 
 mate attempted to lower the only remaining boat and escape 
 with the ablest seaman on board, she drove him below 
 with an old pistol, and by her resolute will and her blazing 
 eye, she forced the sailors to put irons on him. Then 
 she assumed command of the sinking ship, and by almost 
 superhuman exertions the leak was stopped. She would not 
 leave the deck for three nights, but remained there, pistol in 
 hand, keeping the men to their work. Oh, the horrors
 
 STORM CLIFF. 143 
 
 of those three hopeless nights of howling winds and surging 
 sea ! The man at the helm declared that nothing held 
 him to his wheel in his weakness and despair through 
 those awful nights but the terrors and the brilliancy of those 
 black eyes, gazing at the foaming waves, ahead, and that 
 sweet clear voice urging him on to hope and home. Mrs. 
 Baltimore saved the vessel; every sailor on board assented to 
 the fact. At last we fell in with a ship, which gave us spars 
 and all we needed, and here we are in New York sick, 
 utterly worn out, and with a feeling towards the noble ocean 
 equal in intensity only to a step-mother's love. 
 
 "Mrs. Baltimore directs me to say that our sojourn in the 
 city may extend to four weeks yet. I send you herewith, her 
 directions what to do with the articles of taste and luxury 
 which will be shipped to ' The Glen' in a few days. 
 
 " Upon reading a portion of this letter to her, Mrs. Balti 
 more remarks that I must have forgotten that I am address 
 ing a lady of sixty in this rattle-brain way. I beg pardon, 
 Mrs. Rudd, if I have exceeded the bounds of propriety in 
 writing to a stranger in this style. But really it is my way. 
 I trust upon acquaintance you will not find me utterly 
 devoid of sense. 
 
 "Yours very truly, 
 
 "KATE ANGIBK." 
 
 Marie had been quietly studying the old woman's face 
 during the perusal of the letter. Perhaps she sought to 
 find in those features some confirmation of the superstitions 
 so prevalent regarding her. But perfect lady-like repose 
 reigned in that aged countenance. Even the glittering eyes 
 were subdued in expression, as they read tidings of her 
 darling's safety. Once only, when she read of Mrs. Balti 
 more's fortitude and fearlessness, she raised her piercing 
 eyes to Marie, and said : " That is just like her. She was 
 ever brilliant on great occasions. But usually she is reti 
 cent, gentle, and lovely." It would be impossible to express
 
 144 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 the fascination of that one intense excited glance of the 
 reader's eyes. It thrilled Marie. It expressed another 
 truth clear as the sunlight. " 7", too, am equal to great 
 occasions." 
 
 This, then, was the character of the new-comer, concern- 
 ng whom every one had been talking for months. This 
 was the rich widow, whose influence upon society was 
 expected to produce a sensation. The magnificent nature 
 of the improvements which had been made at " The Glen" 
 had attracted instant attention. The tidings had travelled 
 like wildfire, and on the heels of the real facts pressed 
 closely exaggeration and distortion. According to the last 
 rumors, her wealth was illimitable, her pride imperial. She 
 had certainly written home offering immense rewards for 
 the apprehension of her brother's murderer. This last 
 impression, which Marie held in common with the public, 
 as it now passed again through her mind, naturally sug 
 gested the female inquiry : 
 
 " Mrs. Baltimore is wearing mourning for her husband 
 and her brother Walter, of course, is she not ? " 
 
 The question startled Nora, who was thinking of far 
 different topics just at that moment. When the name of 
 Nicholas Traver's son met her ear, she looked quickly at 
 her companion with a painful, anxious glance. The keen 
 eyes of Marie detected terror in that look. At least she 
 imagined that expression denoted a mind ill at ease. Why 
 should that Christian nurse exhibit tokens of fear or 
 anxiety ; or whatever the emotion was ; she certainly was 
 disconcerted by the abrupt question. It spoke directly to 
 some powerful hidden emotion in her breast. The interro 
 gatory was simple and natural enough. The young widow 
 was coming home with gay company. Society had heard 
 that she was making immediate preparations for enter 
 taining elegantly and sumptuously. Had she put off 
 mourning for her husband? Or would she continue to 
 wear it still for her murdered brother ? Nora could have
 
 STORMCLJFF. 145 
 
 answered truthfully and instantly that she really did not 
 know what the intention of Mrs. Baltimore was regarding 
 that matter, having received no letter concerning her wear 
 ing apparel. Why did she not answer instantly? Why 
 look so startled, annoyed, as if a black wing had brushed 
 across their pleasant discourse ? It must have suggested 
 itself to her that the young girl would think it strange, this 
 unaccountable embarrassment of her manner, for she answered 
 hurriedly at length, and avoiding the more searching look 
 which was now turned upon her. 
 
 " Of course she will mourn deeply for her only brother. 
 Regarding Mr. Baltimore, I cannot form an opinion. He was 
 a very old man, totally unfitted for such a child as she was, and 
 the marriage was always spoken of as a mere arrangement on 
 the part of her father to secure her a large fortune. I can 
 not believe that Grace would wear mourning for him for a 
 longer period than a few weeks, a merely formal matter. It 
 would be totally unlike her, as she was when I saw her last, 
 to appear to mourn when she was really glad." 
 
 As she concluded, her self-possession seemed to return to 
 her, for when she looked steadfastly at her listener again, 
 every trace of annoyance had disappeared. She proceeded 
 then to speak cheerfully of the expected visitors at " The 
 Glen," and invited Marie to come and inspect the property 
 in its improved condition, before their arrival, and while she 
 remained its sole custodian. 
 
 But the curiosity of the clergyman's daughter was not to 
 be baffled in this way. Something in her question had excit 
 ed the old nurse uncomfortably. Was it connected with the 
 name of Mr. Baltimore, or that of the murdered young man ? 
 Quickly the old rumor of Nora's acquaintance with the de 
 tails of the mysterious marriage, returned to her recollection. 
 It might bear some relation to that strange affair, her ques 
 tion about the mourning. But then, too, there was the mur 
 der and Nora's evidence. She recollected that a lawyer had 
 said to her father, that upon a careful revision and study of 
 
 7
 
 146 STORMCLrFF. 
 
 the evidence, he had formed a private opinion of his own, 
 that Nora must have been the first person who arrived at the 
 scene of the murder after it was consummated, and that if 
 she had not actually seen the assassin, she must have missed 
 him by a hair's breadth only. Could it be possible that the 
 old woman had a secret consciousness, a mysterious connec 
 tion with the terrible affair, that startled her, embarrassed 
 her, when the subject was even indirectly alluded to ? This 
 question became uppermost in Marie's mind. It returned to 
 her repeatedly during that night watch, as she sat and listen 
 ed to Nora's conversation ; and afterwards she never crossed 
 the old nurse's path without that question arising and excit 
 ing her suspicion. She was impressed with the belief that 
 she knew or suspected something which she had not revealed 
 upon the trial of young Waters. As she could not fail to 
 realize the aged woman's exemplary Christianity and charity, 
 and as her intellect appreciated the intelligence and superi 
 ority of her character, the longer she conversed with her, the 
 more distressed did she feel that this secret and painful emo 
 tion should lurk in Nora's breast, to be aroused by the faint 
 est touch of any passing hand. It occurred to her, also, as 
 she alternately listened to her companion's voice and the ris 
 ing sounds of the approaching midnight storm, that the 
 helpless sleeper on the bed was possessed of a painful secret, 
 too the mystery of the figure on the cliff in her own sketch. 
 "Would that she might fathom both, and be permitted to ren 
 der aid and comfort to the being she loved, and to his aged 
 friend. 
 
 The windows of the little office shook now in the violent 
 rush of the wind. The stars were shrouded, and impenetra 
 ble darkness hovered over the silent village. Slowly and 
 solemnly the storm-clouds had moved to their places at the 
 signal of God. His command had gone forth, and in the 
 scowl of the heavens the death-angel spread his wings and 
 hastened away. The pestilence should scourge the children 
 of men no longer. Hush I the welcome rain is pattering
 
 STORMCLIFF. 147 
 
 upon the roof; its tiny, tinkling feet fall on the leaves, and 
 the parched earth drinks eagerly in the darkness. The mer 
 ciful shower increases in strength, the sounds of its musical 
 dashing reach the ears of the poor sufferers on their beds, 
 and their faithful watchers walk eagerly to the windows to 
 look out. No external object meets their eyes pressed closely 
 to the glass. Darkness reigns, and the torrents of heaven 
 pour wildly, without stint, upon the eager, thirsty ground. 
 Crash ! A blinding flash illumined every watchful face, and 
 aroused the sleepers. The lightning had fallen somewhere in 
 the village. Something was shattered and ruined. Marie 
 was standing close to the window, and was blinded for an 
 instant by the intense brilliancy of the falling bolt. 
 
 " Where did it strike ?" she tremblingly asked. " I thought 
 it had fallen upon ws, for an instant." 
 
 The old woman, who was seated by Rutherford at the mo 
 ment he was awakened by the crash, replied : " It seemed 
 to be at the far end of the town. It must have been on the 
 property of Nicholas Traver. He is visited oftener in that 
 way than any one I know of. It is a bad sign, too, they say, 
 when the warning is unheeded." The last sentence was mut 
 tered, but the invalid heard it. 
 
 " What is the warning ?" he inquired feebly. Marie, hear 
 ing that voice again, came close to the bed to listen also. 
 
 The nurse, in a distinct and reverential tone, said slowly ; 
 
 " I have heard, as long ago as when I was a girl, and my 
 mother told me that saying herself. She was reputed to be 
 an uncommonly pious woman, and she possessed the gift of 
 telling many things that would happen in the future. Some 
 people said it was mere chance that her impressions of the 
 future came true. Whether that was true or not, can make 
 no difference. She acted always from conviction, and she 
 prayed constantly, earnestly, to her Saviour to guide her into 
 the way of all truth. My mother has said, and I have heard 
 her, that all people who pray a brief ejaculatory prayer to 
 God when they hear a clock strike, have as many additional
 
 148 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 guardian angels sent to help them as the number of times 
 the clock strikes. I have heard her say, and she believed it, 
 too, that any one who scoffed at the immortality of the soul 
 when a funeral passed by, at that instant was deserted by one 
 guardian angel. And she told me this, too, and I shall never 
 forget it. It rings in my ears like a voice of the present : 
 ' Whosoever dares refuse to make the restitution which con 
 science orders when the lightning falls and terrifies, shall not 
 leave one atom of their body on earth to be buried.'" 
 
 The listeners were startled by a noiseless sheet of light 
 ning which gave to the solemn face of the prophetess a ghastly 
 hue. The far-off report of thunder came at length in a 
 low rumbling sound, which jarred the little tenement upon 
 its foundations. A sensation of awe thrilled Marie, and she 
 pressed instinctively to Nora's side for protection. Her 
 slight movement was detected, and the prophetess, placing 
 her hand kindly on the fair girl's arm, said humbly : 
 
 " I am no protection, sweet girl. We are all in the hollow 
 of a kind Father's hand. Love Him, trust Him alone for 
 safety. One loving word of prayer and faith is a stronger 
 shield from every storm of life than all earth's congregated 
 humanity can ever be. Aye ! stronger than all human skill 
 and devices, all sciences, and all arts of men. I have seen 
 life-long schemers, men and women, who understood well 
 every passion of the human heart upon which they played. 
 I have seen them foiled at last, when success seemed just 
 within their grasp, by one simple, fervent prayer of an honest 
 heart. Turn to God in every danger and every trouble, and 
 let the sneers and the satire of men pass unheeded by." 
 
 " Nora, will I live ? " murmured the faint voice of Ruther 
 ford as he looked up at his two watchers. 
 
 "As far as God has given me insight into the symptoms 
 of this pestilence, I believe you will. If you continue as you 
 are now, no worse even for two hours more, you will 
 certainly recover. You should have sent for me at once. 
 Nothing that lives would have kept me away from you.
 
 STORMOLIFF. 149 
 
 And now you must thank this dear girl for saving your life. 
 Without the stimulant she gave you, you never could have 
 revived. " 
 
 " Oh ! I am grateful so grateful ! Miss Heron, and her 
 father, and you have been assigned to cheer me hi my lonely 
 life. It is enough it is enough. With such friends I can 
 face life. I can wring from shame, from society, the con 
 fession that I at least am honorable, am honest, am a true 
 man. " 
 
 The effort exhausted him, and he ceased. The plaintive 
 tones of the sufferer touched Nora's heart. She bent over 
 him, smoothed tenderly his forehead with her hand, and 
 brushed back his hair. The magnetism of her touch seemed 
 to bring him relief, for soon he fell asleep again. The 
 powerful stimulant was acting favorably upon his exhausted 
 system. " Poor, poor fellow," she murmured. " A stout, 
 honest heart, but such a weary, heavy load of shame to bear. 
 Oh ! Miss Heron, it is so hard to possess a proud, sensitive 
 nature, and yet have to endure the scorn and aversion of 
 society ; to be personally innocent, pure in purpose and 
 character, and yet to be spurned as if a pestilence came from 
 your very touch. But I tell you," she added, raising her 
 voice, excited by her subject, "he will live to be recognised, 
 to be honored by those who turn their backs upon him now. 
 Look at that forehead ; power slumbers there, and will. He 
 will force a path of honor for himself, and that is worth a 
 thousand inherited titles and honors. You and your father, 
 and my own clergyman, who have so generously befriended 
 him, will dwell first and uppermost in his regard, when his 
 regard becomes an honor, as it will be ; mark my words. 
 That pool 1 , helpless sleeper will cleave his way through 
 obstacles like a young giant. The finger of shame will 
 almost break his heart ; but you, society, the world, will 
 never see its lonely hidden agony. He will come forth from 
 his trials and his midnight sorrows into the light of day with 
 a calm,. resolute face, aud the world will never know how
 
 150 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 desperately he has wrestled alone with despair. And he 
 will triumph at last mark my words. They are the predic 
 tion of one who has studied men and character for more 
 than twice your lifetime." 
 
 She spoke earnestly, tremulously, as if her whole soul was 
 bound up in that sleeper. Every impressive word went to 
 the young girl's heart. Alas ! that heart had believed and 
 predicted all this in its own secret communings. But she 
 loved him now with all the intensity of her nature, for what 
 he was, noble and suffering, not for what he would be. It 
 was while he was trampled down and his heart was bleeding 
 that she yearned to soothe him, to comfort him, to tell him 
 of a heart that cherished him every waking hour, and 
 followed his image through the golden gate of dreams. 
 Therefore she answered the old nurse guardedly, lest her 
 secret should be revealed, and endeavored to ascribe her 
 maiden visit, her impulsive act of love, to purely charitable 
 motives. Did she delude herself with the thought that those 
 experienced eyes could not read the language of her open 
 face? Then did she grievously err, for Nora was one of 
 those strange minds that are suddenly and correctly im 
 pressed by those who cross their path. She knew that the 
 clergyman's daughter loved, and therefore did she hasten, as 
 soon as the patient's condition appeared to authorize it, to 
 induce her to resume her disguise and return to her home. 
 She wished to save her from the keen slander of the world. 
 She admired her self-sacrifice in coming to save Rutherford. 
 Now it was necessary to save her. 
 
 When the rain finally ceased and the dawn was near, the 
 two stole quietly out into the dark street and left the sleeper 
 alone.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE moon rose slowly and clear upon the hushed town. 
 The motionless leaves of the trees at length were bathed in 
 the silver radiance as the serene watcher of the night sailed 
 upward to its post. The increasing light poured into the 
 faces of those who lingered at the parlor windows, or were 
 clustered in groups upon the balconies. The shops were 
 closed. The hum of business had died away, and the weary 
 were sleeping. The promise, however, of a brilliant night 
 detained many lovers of the beautiful away from their beds. 
 The balmy summer air, the fragrance of flowers breathing 
 forth upon the night, and the gentle beauty of the full moon, 
 were more alluring than the silence and retirement of the 
 softest couch. Hence they lingered, enjoying the scene, and 
 listening to the occasional sounds of melody which distantly 
 and faintly trembled upon the air. The distant thrumming 
 of a guitar was heard at intervals, and then the sweeter and 
 prolonged sound of a flute fluttered gently under the 
 drooping branches. Then a sound of the busy world boomed 
 away over the waters. A heavy steamboat-bell was ringing 
 the tidings of its night approach. The belated river-boat 
 was nearing the dock to land passengers. That sound died 
 away, and all was hushed again save the trembling notes of 
 the flute. Hark ! the first heavy stroke of the town-clock in 
 the church-tower begins to count the hour of night. No ! it 
 is too fast, too violent, that sound of the church-bell. Hush ! 
 beating hearts! What means that far-off cry of distress, 
 struggling up against the air? Another and louder cry 
 burst clear and distinct upon the night, " Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! " 
 Oh, merciful God ! The town is parched with the long 
 drought, and the streams which supply the hydrants are dry. 
 The river is too far off for help. Fly, brave hearts and 
 willing arms, to the dreadful .spot, for the fierce grapple with 
 sweeping fire ! The whole town is in imminent peril. 
 
 Away over the houses and the streets comes the din of
 
 152 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 shouting voices, the rattle of the fire-engines, and the blended 
 booming of the alarm-bells. None but the sick lingor in bed 
 for the dreadful cry reaches all hearts. The drought lias 
 made every house a tinder-box for destruction in the jaws of 
 fire. Away! away! struggle and battle with the raging 
 element before it is too late. 
 
 "At the first notes of the discordant din," Rutherford 
 sprang to his feet. Weeks ago he had recovered from the 
 cholera. He had just now retired to bed, weary and over 
 worked by his devotion to his literary manuscripts. The 
 alarm-bells waked him, and hurrying on his clothes, he dnshed 
 out into the street, with the eagerness of a generous soul, to 
 aid the suffering. The glare 1 upon the sky was his beacon, 
 and he ran on. The fire had evidently broken out in the 
 most densely populated portion of the town, and at the 
 street most remote from water. Few had yet hurried out 
 upon the streets, and he passed an engine-house where a 
 hnndful of firemen were struggling hard to drag their 
 machine out upon the pavement. When they called to him 
 he turned back, and placing his powerful shoulder to the 
 wheel, aided them to roll the engine out. Two other passers 
 came to their assistance, and, grasping the ropes, they all 
 started off for the fire with shouts and yells. On their way 
 they were joined by others of the fire company, and 
 presently they turned into the main street, and the terrible 
 conflagration burst upon their view. They were the first 
 company upon the ground, and their task was formidable 
 indeed. The flames had travelled rapidly upon the frame 
 buildings, dry and blistered by the drought, and already 
 four hundred feet of houses were one mass of fierce relent 
 less fire, leaping, tossing onward, and spreading over the 
 street a furnace-heat that was intolerable by human life for 
 one minute. Resolutely they planted the engine beyond the 
 fire, where they could play upon the houses as yet untouched 
 by the destroyer, and drench them sufficiently to stay its 
 march. They labored faithfully for a few minutes at the
 
 STOKAICLIFF. 153 
 
 brakes, but the cistern which supplied the water speedily 
 was exhausted, and the mad flames passed over the spot of 
 their useless labor. Alas! the blazing cinders were lifted by 
 the wind and scattered thousands of feet on every side, and 
 fresh fires burst out in every direction. The town seemed 
 doomed to utter destruction. Wildly arose the yells of other 
 brave and hurrying companies, and as they dashed in upon 
 the scene they wheeled their engines into favorable spots to 
 fight the fire, and madly fell upon their brakes to hurl the 
 insufficient supplies of water upon the flames. The crackling 
 and roaring of the fire, the crash of falling timbers, the yells 
 of the despairing as they clung to the upper windows of 
 dwellings which were wreathed below in smoke and blaze 
 bursting outward, the screams of mothers and children 
 parted in terror all, all served only to .nerve the noble 
 firemen to renewed exertions. They planted ladders, and, 
 ascending through smoke and fire, returned with burdens of 
 human life infants, the sick, the helpless and called to eacL 
 other encouragingly, and yelled their joy at every new lescue. 
 But the flames rushed on, blazing, crackling, roaring, spread 
 ing wildly, mounting upward, sweeping over the doomed 
 town, pouring destruction in torrents of quivering heat and 
 blinding smoke upon new victims, and blanching the 
 thousands of faces which fell backward at the approaching 
 demon of fire. 
 
 At last, finding that water could not be had to check the 
 conflagration, the almost exhausted firemen, and the citizens 
 who dashed recklessly in to their assistance, fell upon the 
 untouched buildings near with axe and sledge, and wrenching 
 the boards and windows and doors away, secured grappling- 
 places for the iron hooks, attached to poles and ropes, with 
 which the united strength of hundreds of arms hurled the 
 ponderous frames and timbers of the houses to the ground. 
 Vain, useless struggles of human skill and will and endur 
 ance to avert the rushing flames ! The blazing monster 
 leaped these openings and fiercely roared on his relentless way. 
 
 7*
 
 154 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 Near the centre of the great circle which the conflagration 
 described among the houses and trees of the ill-fated town, 
 Marie Heron broke through the volumes of smoke and flame 
 which enveloped her father's dwelling, and emerged safely 
 into the street. She was nearly suffocated by the smoke 
 which had awakened her, and she stood for a moment dizzy 
 and bewildered on the pavement in her night dress. Then, 
 as recollection returned, she screamed piteously : " My father, 
 my poor sick father, is lost; for God's sake, save him ! " Her 
 cry was unheeded. Everybody near was intent upon his 
 own salvation or that of his family, or busy in the less 
 commendable effort of saving his personal property. The 
 dwelling of the clergyman was nearly concealed in the 
 volumes of smoke. No one was likely to hazard personal 
 safety in that doomed mansion. She raised her hands to 
 God : " Save my father my dear father." The tread of 
 four hideous figures was close behind her. Begrimed with 
 smoke and cinders beyond all possibility of recognition, with 
 hair burnt off in tufts, and wrapped in blankets belted around 
 their waists to protect them from the fire, four men were 
 passing and heard her cry. They looked like monsters ; but 
 they wore under those half-burnt blankets the souls of heroes. 
 Like brothers those four men had stood by each other 
 through the horrors of that street. The few who had 
 followed their leading cry at first had gradually fallen away 
 from their support, intimidated and half-suffocated by the 
 smoke. They had shouted then, when they discovered that 
 they were forsaken by all through fear : " We four will stand 
 by each other till the last gasp." They dashed through 
 flame and smoke mounted tottering staircases burst ope^i 
 doors already on fire, and seizing the helpless and the sleeping, 
 bore them out to places of safety. Burning stairs had fallen 
 under their weight, timbers had careened and fallen near 
 them, hurling showers of sparks arid ashes over them but 
 they had escaped serious injury thus far. Mothers had 
 received their children from their brawny arms, and blessed
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 155 
 
 them with tears and cries of joy ; invalids were borne safely 
 from flame-wreathed buildings and placed carefully on the 
 grass in safety ; and then the four had hastened on to new- 
 scenes of danger and triumph. A crowd of men and women 
 were following them at a safe distance, and cheering them 
 with exultant yells of joy and approbation at every new feat 
 of daring. They defied the horrors of a fire-death, and they 
 were saved. They disappeared sometimes so long in the 
 blazing and dusky shroud, that they were believed certainly 
 to have fallen victims. But no ! they emerged at last, and 
 generally with a struggling or half-suffocated burden of 
 human life. 
 
 These hideous and unknown heroes had arrived in time to 
 hear the piteous cry of the clergyman's daughter. One of 
 them asked, in a voice that made her start : " Which is the 
 room tell us quick?" She indicated the apartment where 
 her sick father lay. With a yell, the four dusky figures 
 darted up the steps in rivalry and entered the house. They 
 were instantly hidden in blinding volumes of smoke. 
 
 Marie fled away from the spot, as, with a heavy crash, one 
 of the floors fell, and millions of sparks burst out upon the 
 street. Beyond the reach of the intolerable heat, she paused 
 and gazed with agony upon the half-hidden house. Alas! 
 that funeral pile held all she valued upon earth, her father 
 and her heart's idol, Rutherford. Yes ! that voice had been 
 recognised. He was one of the heroic four. Poor, lonely 
 girl! Thy young life is darkened. Thine idols are there 
 shrivelling to death in agony. Why did God create thee 
 with capabilities of intense affection, only to blast them in 
 fire ! She fell fainting to the earth, with the crowd gathering 
 about her. A kind woman flung a shawl over her night 
 dress, and then knelt beside her, calling for water to restore 
 her. When the grateful fluid at last arrived and was poured 
 upon her head, she revived, and asked: 
 
 " What is that shout ? " 
 
 Again and again the wild music of joy pealed forth in
 
 156 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 cheers of that delighted crowd. And a voice explained to 
 her that her father had been rescued, dragged out of a back 
 window of his house, and was now being carried to her side. 
 But alas! one of the four heroes had been crushed by falling 
 timber, and left in the fire to perish. The suddenly lighted 
 Limp of hope was dashed to the earth, and with a quick 
 flutter at the heart, she fell back again insensible in the 
 woman's arms. 
 
 But the mad element, mocking at sorrow and ruin, swept 
 fearfully on. The whole street where the clergyman and 
 his daughter were lying was illuminated by a glare as of 
 daylight. Every face of the thronging multitude was 
 revealed, and thousands of anxious faces were watching as 
 one m:\ntherecklessheroismof the three remaining rescuers, 
 who still entered the falling tenements and courted death. 
 The fire in its onward fury had now reached a point near the 
 court-house and the jail. Fortunately these buildings stood 
 detached from the houses of the street. A pool of foul water 
 was close at hand, and by strenuous exertions it might be 
 conducted into one of the engines, and the fire be stayed at 
 this open space. But the leathern hose had been burnt off, 
 and no means remained of supplying the engine save by the 
 use of buckets and pails passed from hand to hand. A few 
 of the more energetic citizens realized the vital importance 
 of checking the progress of the flames at this point, and 
 rallied at once to the assistance of the exhausted firemen ; 
 some of whom had worked so long at the brakes, as the 
 engines moved from station to station, that they had fallen 
 at full length upon the ground, utterly unable to move an 
 arm. A short line of bucket-passers was formed, but wholly 
 inadequate to reach to the pool of water. Two or three 
 men ran along the front of the crowded spectators who lined 
 one side of the street, and by urgent appeals sought to obtain 
 volunteers to take the places of the worn-out firemen. Some 
 generous men and boys of different grades in society broke 
 from the crowd and responded to the call. But they were a
 
 STOKXI CLIFF. 157 
 
 handful. In vain did the summoners plead for more volun 
 teers. The bulk of the spectators, deeming that they 
 possessed no particular personal interest in the matter of 
 suppressing the fire, so far away from their own dwellings, 
 doggedly maintained their attitude and looked on. In vain 
 were they assured that the town could be saved only at this 
 critical point. They held their idle hands in their pockets, 
 and made no move. But the indomitable summoners held 
 persistently on, occasionally shaming a. volunteer to their 
 assistance. It appeared at length that the force of volun 
 teers requisite could not be secured, and the town must be 
 burned utterly. 
 
 At this juncture an interruption occurred which turned 
 many eyes from the fire spectacle. Away down the burning 
 street a commotion was perceptible. The confusion seemed 
 to increase, and the distant murmurs of an excited crowd 
 were audible. Presently the object of interest came into 
 view, flying like the wind along the brilliant line of burning 
 buildings. A snow-white steed, with flowing mane and tail, 
 was tearing along, frightened by the glare of the flames and 
 the crackling of the burning wood. Madly he dashed along 
 up the street, shying at fallen timbers, and then plunging 
 ahead at a pace which threatened to unseat the lady who 
 rode him. Erect, and apparently as firm as a rock, was 
 seated the rider, with steady hand and roving eye guiding 
 the flight she could not control. A long black feather waved 
 back from her riding-cap, and her dark habit contrasted 
 strangely with the snow-white color of her steed in the full 
 blaze of the fire wall. Just as she reached the court-house 
 she succeeded in gaining command again of her horse. With 
 a sudden jerk she wheeled him around, facing the blazing 
 buildings. He flung his forefeet once high in air ; then, at 
 the smart application of her whip, he dropped his hoofs to 
 earth, and stood panting and trembling and gazing with 
 dilated eye upon the flames. Having conquered him she 
 turned a backward look for her attendants. They were
 
 158 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 slowly and cautiously coming along the wall of fire, a caval 
 cade of four, well mounted two young ladies and two men 
 one evidently a groom from his dress. When the groom 
 had gradually accustomed his horse to the stj-ange sounds 
 and glare of the fire, he pushed rapidly ahead after his 
 mistress, leaving the elderly gentleman to look after the 
 young ladies. 
 
 By the time the servant had overtaken his mistress, she 
 appeared to have fully taken in a realization of the exigencies 
 of the position. She had listened to the appeals for volun 
 teers, and, glancing along the line of the crowd, saw how few 
 responses were given. Her beautiful lip curled with contempt. 
 She wheeled her horse towards her approaching companions 
 and urged him down the street. Arriving at a point where 
 the spectators were principally men, she reined in her steed 
 and proceeded to appeal to them herself. Clear and 
 emphatic as a silver trumpet rang her voice in the confusion. 
 
 "I have just returned to my native town, after an absence 
 of six years in Europe. I have been in the habit of boasting 
 to them there Avhat a brave and generous people my country 
 men were. Yonder comes an English gentleman, my guest, 
 who will return to England and tell everything just as he 
 sees it to-night. He will say that Americans as a class are 
 the greatest cowards that ever walked ; that he saw a town 
 burning up, women and children running half-naked into the 
 streets, and that the fire could be stopped ; but that the men 
 great, brawny, healthy men were such selfish, low-spirited, 
 cowardly dogs, that they would not lend a helping hand for 
 one half-hour to save property and families, and one of 
 the most beautiful towns on the continent. Shame, burning 
 shame upon you ! If there is one manly, brave American 
 soul among you, step out here, and I will lead you where 
 you can show to that Englishman that you have a soul above 
 the brutes, who cower only when the fire comes. Come on, 
 there, .you broad-shouldered man with the red face; clear 
 the way for him, for he looks honest and brave. Here, you
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 159 
 
 young man, fling off that broadcloth coat, and take hold. It 
 will giv^e you ten pounds more of good sound flesh and health. 
 That's right, come on, all of you ; don't let a woman tell you 
 what is manly. We'll save this town yet. Ten brave men, 
 with generous hearts, out of this hundred that's doing pretty 
 well. We'll find more just above here. Hurry up. There 
 comes the Englishman !" 
 
 Many stepped out of the crowd and followed her. Her 
 voice was magical the influence was contagious. Her fol 
 lowers commenced to shout, running beside her horse, cheer 
 ing her and calling their acquaintances out from the crowd. 
 Hundreds at length gathered to her train, moving down upon 
 the imperilled court-house, where the flames were already 
 thrusting out their forked tongues, and the cinders were 
 whirling in fiery clouds. The English gentleman, discovering 
 the state of affairs, conducted the young ladies to a place of 
 safety; and after hiring men to hold their horses, he dis 
 mounted in sight of the people, and, throwing aside his grey 
 riding coat, took a bucket himself and stood in the line. 
 This act elicited fresh cheers ; and volunteers, overpowered 
 with shame, rushed to the brakes and the bucket-line with 
 avidity. There was no time to lose ; the atmosphere above 
 the court-house was blazing with flying fragments of shingles, 
 and the bucket-line and the engine were soon enveloped in 
 a whirling cloud of sparks and smoke. Conspicuous above 
 all towered the white horse and his black-plumed rider. He 
 started violently when the sparks fell upon his back or whirled 
 across his eyes ; but he was held by an experienced hand, and 
 a voice that he loved soothed him to obey. It was enough 
 to watch her, to stir up the emulous passions of the soul. 
 She wheeled her horse up and down the line of buckets, 
 encouraging, laughing, and pointing out places for new vol 
 unteers. At one time it seemed that no human endurance 
 could continue the line. The heat glowed like a furnace; 
 and the rider, as she pranced up and down, was obliged to 
 tie her handkerchief over her face, tearing out with her teeth
 
 160 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 places for her eyes. No one would leave while she remained ; 
 and finally, the building which threatened the court-house 
 fell with a thunder-crash, and all were forced to flee from 
 the awful heat. Gradually, however, the. flames subsided 
 amid the ruins, and the intense heat died away. Slowly the 
 crowd approached the spot, and it was soon evident that, 
 unless a sudden wind should arise, a large part of the town 
 would be saved. The court-house stood unscathed, and be 
 hind it stood the white horse and rider, listening to the 
 shouts which proclaimed Mrs. Baltimore the savior of her 
 native town. " God bless your sweet eyes," exclaimed a 
 poor woman near her, holding up her baby to see the beau 
 tiful lady. " You've saved the court-house, and that saved 
 me and me five children, arid me little house, and all the fine 
 houses beyond. The town should put up a monument to ye, 
 and put on it a likeness of your sweet face, and call ye the 
 angel of the suffering, and the honor of your native town. 
 Bad-luck to the fine ladies that have no karackter, ony way, 
 when trouble comes upon the people. The Lord will reward 
 ye, shure." 
 
 These words called forth thunders of applause from the 
 listeners. 
 
 " Three cheers for John Bull," called out a voice, as the 
 Englishman, blackened with cinders, resumed his coat, and 
 asked for his horse. They were given with a will. 
 
 Another voice inquired what had become of the three 
 rescuers. No one appeared to know. They were last seen 
 entering a burning building far down the street, just before 
 t'ie desperate and successful effort to save the court-house. 
 
 " I know," exclaimed a boy near ; " I heard 'era say they 
 wns tired and was going to bed ; and I saw 'em go away, too. 
 There was four on the start, but one was burnt up. The 
 other three is all right and safe." 
 
 "Thank God for that," said another voice, fervently; 
 "they say those four men saved over thirty livesmen, 
 women, and children. That'll do for one night, sartain."
 
 STORMCLIFF. 161 
 
 " Who were they ?" inquired Mrs. Baltimore, leaning for 
 ward, and endeavoring to locate the voice of the lust speaker. 
 
 " Nobody knows, ma'am," was the response. " They was 
 disguised by soot and cinders, and sich like. But they 
 looked like young, active men. They didn't seem to know 
 much what fear was. They kinder rollicked in the fire." 
 
 " Three cheers for 'em, any way," shouted a fireman, com 
 pletely drenched with water. " They was good men and 
 true ; they dragged me out, when a stick knocked me end 
 ways. Three cheers. Hooray!" 
 
 Cheer after cheer rolled away over the throng for the 
 three heroes who had hazarded life so often in that terrible 
 conflagration, and then quietly had stolen away to their beds, 
 unheralded and unknown. At this moment the Englishman 
 made his appearance with the remainder of the cavalcade 
 who had remained apart, awed and silent spectators of the 
 rescue of the court-house. As they rode up, Mrs. Baltimore 
 said to one of them, laughingly, as she turned her horse to 
 meet them : 
 
 "Pardon me, Kate, for leaving you all so unceremoniously 
 at the end of the street ; 'Mirage' was on the rampage. He 
 was disposed to review the fire, solitary and alone, and I 
 couldn't hold him. He stopped, like a sensible beast, just 
 where he was needed. I have had all the experience of the 
 torrid zone that is necessary ; just look at my face. Come," 
 she added, quickly, " we have a long ride before us, and Nora 
 will be anxious about us. It is some fifteen miles to ' The 
 Glen.' Away we go." 
 
 The cavalcade dashed off up the river, and was soon be 
 yond the glare of the fire. Shouts followed that black plume 
 and white steed as long as they were in sight. But the 
 party were soon beyond the village limits, and bounding 
 along under the trees which lined the highway leading past 
 Nicholas Traver's estate. The moon, in full brilliancy, lighted 
 their way, and they rapidly neared the home of Grace Traver's 
 infancy and childhood dreams.
 
 162 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A TALL figure moved suddenly out of the shrubbery of the 
 garden of " The Glen," and stood in the open moonlight. 
 She said, emphatically, " Stop, Nicholas Traver." The per 
 son addressed was startled by the abrupt summons. He 
 paused. She was directly in his path. He made a gesture 
 of impatience, and attempted to pass by, saying : 
 
 " I am hurried at present, Mrs. Rudd ; any other time, I 
 will listen to you with pleasure ; but now " 
 
 The sentence was broken by her quick movement to detain 
 him. She moved instantly in front of him and said, in a 
 determined tone : 
 
 " Now or never, you shall listen to me. Whose handker 
 chief have you in your hand ?" 
 
 " How can that concern you ?" was the pert reply, given 
 with a scowl of indignation. Then he added : " What do you 
 mean by addressing me in that tone, on my daughter's 
 premises ? 
 
 " I mean to do my duty," was the calm reply. " Yes, my 
 duty" The dark eyes regarded him as if they read the 
 secret purposes of his heart. 
 
 " And pray tell me," he said sneeringly, " does your duty 
 authorize you to impede the walks of ' The Glen ' at night ?" 
 
 "It does," she said, firmly, "when those walks are used 
 for purposes which would offend the owner of this property." 
 
 "What do you mean, madam? Do you realize that you 
 are addressing the father of Mrs. Baltimore ?" 
 
 " I do," said the imperturbable voice. 
 
 " I will not be dogged by you, Mrs. Rudd, in this style. 
 Who made you a censor over my movements ? This is the 
 third time you have presumed to face me in this garden." 
 
 " Aye, Nicholas Traver, and it will not be the last. Your 
 conscience alone makes me censor ; and your conscience will 
 make every upright woman a censor over your actions.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 163 
 
 Your sense of propriety is correct enough. What are you 
 doing with that lady's handkerchief?" 
 
 " Returning it to the owner. She dropped it, and requested 
 me to hunt it for her." The answer came out with an effort 
 at coolness. 
 
 " Nicholas Traver, the hour is late. You have just con 
 ducted that lady to her apartment at an hour when the 
 mistress of this mansion and her guests are sleeping. Your 
 interview has been clandestine. You induced that young 
 lady to meet you here, unknown to Mrs. Baltimore. You 
 dare not permit the inmates of this house to know of such a 
 secret meeting, for you appreciate the responsibility such a 
 knowledge would entail upon you." 
 
 Old Nora's eyes glowed upon his sense of sight like stars. 
 They both stood in the full light of the moon, and the moon 
 was directly in her face. He made no reply for a moment, 
 but stood twirling the white handkerchief in silence. She 
 had stated the plain fact, and there was no evading it. 
 His handsome face wore a sullen, lowering look. Then he 
 ejaculated at last : " Well ! what of it ? What do you pro 
 pose to do in the premises ?" 
 
 "Warn the young lady of your real character, if you do 
 not desist," was the firm response. 
 
 "And do you imagine, old woman, that she would listen to 
 you? Do you flatter yourself that my position and my 
 daughter's support would not be more than a match for any 
 of your assertions ? You are dealing with family names and 
 family pride that allow no stain to rest on one of us, while 
 power and influence and wealth retain their potency. A 
 truce to this nonsense. Let me pass. Your proper place is 
 in bed at this hour. Old age has no sympathies with moon 
 light. Let me pass." 
 
 He made an effort again to go on towards the house. A 
 single sentence, resolutely pronounced, checked his foot 
 steps. 
 
 " Nicholas Traver, if you leave I will inform your daughter
 
 164 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 to-morrow why she was married to an old man. I will tell 
 her, too, in a way that will convince her." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" he asked, aghast. 
 
 " I have access to the agreement. She shall read it from 
 beginning to end." 
 
 "That is impossible! You are holding over me an empty 
 threat. Let me pass !" He turned out of the gravelled walk, 
 and made his way across a flower bed. She pronounced 
 words which caused him to turn instantly back again. 
 
 "I have the agreement. It is signed by you, and two 
 green ribbons are pressed into the wax. Ah ! I knew you 
 were fettered by two ribbons." 
 
 He returned to her side with evident signs of apprehension 
 in that Adonis face. " Are you a sorceress ?" As he spoke 
 he glanced about the garden. He had lost his bold front 
 and loud tone of voice. Then he looked searchingly into her 
 face. 
 
 " The guilty and the conscience-stricken call me sorceress. 
 Those who honor the adorable name of God, as you do not, 
 call me Christian a follower of Jesus, who struggles hard to 
 fulfil duty." 
 
 " Well, well," he answered impatiently, " I have no wish 
 to discuss your creeds ; nor did I speak literally. I meant, 
 are you gifted with unusually clear perceptions, to probe my 
 secret affairs ? How could you gain possession of such a 
 document ?" 
 
 "Never mind," she replied, composedly ; " I have it; and 
 I shall employ it against you, most assuredly, unless you 
 desist from your secret attentions to that young lady. The 
 dignity and decorum of this household demand that your 
 conduct, while a guest here, shall be open and straightfor 
 ward. You have a gentleman's delicate sense of propriety. 
 Let that rule your actions." 
 
 She spoke calmly and with the dignity of an empress. Her 
 uncovered hair glistened in the moonlight, and her eyes 
 looked directly in his. That gaze he felt. He knew no
 
 STORMCLIFF. 165 
 
 evasion, no subterfuge could save him from that exposure of 
 his secret life, the key of which was held by that strange 
 being. There was but one course of action open to him ; 
 that was, to seem to acquiesce until opportunity should have 
 freed him from this provoking surveillance. The thought 
 flashed to his mind that his influence with his daughter might 
 secure old Nora's removal from her position at "The Glen.' 
 His quick judgment as rapidly discarded such a plan. Thnt 
 would only precipitate the old woman's production of the 
 document. How, in the name of ill-luck, had she obtained 
 possession of that paper ? A person in her dependent posi 
 tion, who had been known for years to live upon the pittance 
 given for nursing the sick and infants, must have some vul 
 nerable point of self-interest. He would probe for it. He 
 looked at her a moment in silence. Then he spoke. 
 
 " Mrs. Rudd, I believe you are right. I have acted im 
 prudently. My judgment assents to your rebuke. If you 
 consent to forget and conceal this imprudence, I shall avoid 
 it altogether. Indeed I will." 
 
 "That is spoken frankly and like a man," she replied; 
 somewhat mollified by his manner. "As a pledge that you 
 are sincere, give me that handkerchief. I will return it to 
 the owner at a proper time." She extended her hand for it. 
 
 " But what shall I say to the owner, who is waiting for it 
 in the hall yonder ?" 
 
 " Go that way to your own room at once. I will account 
 satisfactorily to the owner why you do not return with it. 
 Go." She pointed towards his private apartments. 
 
 " Very well !" he half muttered, " perhaps that is best." 
 He felt humiliated to be ordered about in this style, but his 
 purpose would be secured better by not resisting her 
 now. He turned away with a respectful " Good-night, 
 madam." 
 
 " Good-night, sir," said she, with coldness. 
 
 He turned back after a few paces, as if the idea had sud 
 den 1 y struck him, and called after her. She had not moved
 
 366 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 from the place of their conversation, but remained there like 
 a statue of suspicion looking after him. 
 
 " Mrs. Rudd, that paper you mentioned is of importance 
 to me vast importance. It can be of no positive value to 
 you. I will give you for the possession of it any amount of 
 compensation you will name, exorbitant though it be." He 
 approached her while speaking. 
 
 Her reply startled him by its energy and bitterness. " You 
 are addressing a lady, sir, above bribery and corruption. 
 That paper shows upon its face that it does not belong to 
 you. You signed it and gave it to another. Do not you 
 dare to approach me again with offers of pay." 
 
 Stung to the quick, he exclaimed : 
 
 "Do what you please with your ill-gotten document. I 
 despise you for your insolence. You are nothing but a ser 
 vant, any way. I defy your threats, and I promise you full 
 vengeance for whatever injury you do my reputation. Mark 
 that." 
 
 He strode furiously down the garden without waiting for 
 her reply. But she noticed, nevertheless, that he went in 
 the direction of his own private apartments. When the 
 sound of his footsteps died away in the distance, she raised 
 the handkerchief which he had relinquished to her, and exa 
 mined it in the moonlight. The lady's name was marked 
 in the corner. She folded it carefully, and, carrying it in her 
 hand, walked slowly towards the hall or covered way, which 
 connected the old mansion with the new buildings which 
 had been erected in the rear, under her supervision. In these 
 new structures apartments had been assigned to Sir Francis 
 Cleveland and his daughter. Here also was the suite of 
 rooms devoted exclusively to the use of Mrs. Baltimore's 
 father, whenever he chose to honor " The Glen " for a day or 
 two with his presence. These recent structures were calcu" 
 lated for the accommodation of many guests. Each guest 
 had a private parlor, a bed-room elegantly furnished, and a 
 luxurious bathing-closet. The windows looked out upon
 
 STORMCLIFF. 167 
 
 the gardens, and on this night several of them were open for 
 the benefit of fresh air, and also that the guests might be 
 lulled to sleep by the fountains musically playing in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 Nora opened the door which furnished egress into the 
 grounds from this covered connecting-hall, and directly she 
 heard the rustling of a dress approaching from the old man 
 sion. The moonlight flooded into the covered way at the 
 window openings, and presently a white-robed girl came into 
 view. She wore a dress with low neck and short sleeves. 
 Her fair round arms showed distinctly in the moonlight as 
 she paused near a window to listen. Even the glistening of 
 her finger-rings was revealed. She had evidently heard the 
 door open, and came cautiously along from the old house to 
 receive her lost handkerchief. What was her amazement to 
 hear the voice of Nora call to her from the shadow of the hall : 
 
 " Miss Angier, here is a handkerchief with your name on 
 it. You dropped it in the garden some time when you have 
 been walking. The night is perfectly beautiful. I have been 
 enjoying a walk through the grounds. It appears from your 
 dress that you, too, have been sitting up late to enjoy the 
 moon. Is there a fine view from your windows ?" 
 
 She advanced calmly to the startled young lady and ex 
 tended the lost article to her, as if nothing unusual had 
 occurred. The poor girl was evidently in a flutter of dismay. 
 What if Nora had chanced to see the clandestine interview ! 
 What a narrow escape she must have made ! She thanked 
 the old woman as she received the handkerchief, and looked 
 closely into her face to detect any indication of consciousness 
 of the night interview. Nothing was revealed in that self- 
 possessed countenance, and Miss Angier was satisfied that 
 she had escaped detection. She made some trivial explana 
 tion of her being in the hall at that late hour, but the old 
 woman interrupted her. 
 
 " You need never have any apprehension about moving 
 around this house at night. I am always up late. Indeed,
 
 168 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 Bounce and I have constituted ourselves a kind of night- 
 watch. We perambulate this place from one end to the 
 other, and we are almost certain to detect any stranger or 
 strange occurrence on the property. Good-night. I must 
 fasten this dtfor now." 
 
 With this comforting assurance of her vigilance, she turned 
 away, and Miss Angier walked thoughtfully into the old 
 house. Could it be possible that her secret promenade had 
 escaped those dark eyes for two or three nights past? It 
 must be discontinued, that was certain. In the present un 
 satisfactory condition of affairs between herself and Mr. 
 Traver, it was eminently injudicious to allow any otie to see 
 her out with him late at night. It was improper to be out 
 at that late hour with him, even if he had proposed and been 
 formally a'ccepted. Her own good sense informed her of this 
 fact as soon as she bad received this fright from Nora. But 
 she had been so fascinated by his elegance and address, that 
 discretion had for a time spread its wings and vanished. It 
 now returned solemnly, and stood sentry over her reflections 
 as she disrobed and prepared for bed. Before she fell 
 asleep she said to herself: 
 
 " No doubt he is a superb gentleman, and I couldn't do 
 better. But he may escape me after all, and then it will 
 never do for me to be talked about as indiscreet. He must 
 have seen Mrs. Rudd and retired out of her way. If not, he 
 surely would have returned to tell me he could not find the 
 handkerchief." 
 
 The old nurse, after locking the door which had given her 
 admittance from the garden, remained in the hall motionless. 
 She listened to the young lady's retiring footsteps as she 
 passed on into the front house. After a while, feeling satis 
 fied that she had retired for the night, she unlocked the 
 door and looked out into the garden. Every object appeared 
 distinct as in daylight. Not a sound was heard but the 
 tinkling of the falling drops in the fountains. Doubt held 
 her motionless for a few moments longer. Then, as no noise
 
 STORMCLIFF. 169 
 
 of human life was apparent, she gained confidence and passed 
 out into the garden, locking the door behind her and putting 
 the key in her pocket. She walked slowly along the path 
 which led her past the windows of Nicholas Traver. They 
 were open, and she walked upon the grass close to the 
 building, that he might not hear her footfall, should he 
 chance to be still awake. She sat down upon the steps of 
 the Gothic porch which covered the door which had given 
 him access to his room, and listened. All was quiet within 
 except the industrious ticking of a little clock. She returned 
 then along the path, and passing around the front house, 
 found the dog Bounce lying upon the steps of the old ivy- 
 wreathed stone porch, which had been built by the founder 
 of the Baltimore family. The dog recognised > her, and, 
 rising, walked with dignity towards her. She patted him 
 on the head, and bade him, in a subdued tone, to follow her. 
 He obeyed, and she conducted him to his kennel, under the 
 long piazza, which had looked for so many years towards 
 the pine-bordei'ed glen which concealed the brook of the 
 park. He was then chained to his kennel. 
 
 Nora passed on as softly as she could through the garden 
 shrubbery until she reached its boundary fence. She pushed 
 open a gate noiselessly, and entered the park. The moon 
 beams quivered at intervals through the summer foliage of 
 the oaks and maples, and lighted her way. After a while 
 she reached the undergrowth which adjoined the premises 
 of Willow Bend. Here she paused and listened for foot 
 steps. She was disappointed, and walked back and forth 
 along the belt of undergrowth to give the expected comer 
 time to fulfil the engagement to meet her. Her watch was 
 at length rewarded by hearing the shrubbery parted, and in 
 a moment more a female made her appearance in the open 
 park. She advanced to meet her. It was Mrs. Granville. 
 
 The lady threw back the hood which she had assumed for 
 purposes of concealment, and the moonlight fell upon her 
 alabaster face. She looked anxious, awed, as if her mission 
 
 8
 
 170 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 to the park was attended with hazard. She glanced nervous 
 ly about under the trees, as if she feared interruption. Nora's 
 composed tones of voice reassured her. 
 
 " Do not be at all concerned. I have taken all necessary 
 precautions to secure you a secret visit. Everybody is sleep- 
 ing." 
 
 " Perhaps I am over anxious to-night," was the response. 
 " But Zoe has been talking so strangely in her sleep that it 
 has made me nervous. That dear child sees so many ethereal 
 beings in her dreams, and is for ever talking about them. 
 Sometimes she springs suddenly up from her sleep, and put 
 ting her arms around my neck, tells me what the angels have 
 been saying to her. Frequently, as to-night, she warns me 
 of danger near, and says : ' Mamma, you must pray again to 
 night, for they say it is a shield from trouble.' I have just 
 left her asleep, with a white lily clasped in her hands ; for 
 she insisted that her guardians from Heaven come closer to 
 her when she sleeps with white flowers near her. Oh ! I am 
 so fearful that she is going to leave me alone some day. She 
 is growing so delicate and spiritual. Alas ! if she goes, I 
 know not what will become of me. She is the last link that 
 binds me to hope and mercy." The speaker was interrupted 
 by the furious barking of a dog. Some one was surely stir 
 ring in the neighborhood of the kennel. 
 
 Nora pointed her companion to a cluster of young trees 
 in the park, which would serve as a place of concealment 
 until she could return to the house and discover the cause of 
 the intrusion on the premises. Mrs. Granville drew her hood 
 over her face, and hastened away to the designated spot to 
 await Nora's return. 
 
 The old nurse rapidly passed across the park, and, reaching 
 the stone porch of the mansion, groped under it for her 
 steel-pointed staff, that she might be in readiness to defend 
 herself, if necessary. Securing the weapon, she proceeded 
 to the kennel of Bounce. The dog was very uneasy, running 
 back and forth at the length of his chain, and howling occa-
 
 STORMCLIFF. 171 
 
 sionally at some unseen person. She silenced him and listened. 
 No sound met her ear. The keen instinct of the dog could 
 not be at fault, and she listened again. Ah! that was the 
 difficulty. The hollow sound of a horse's hoofs leaving the 
 floor of the stables was audible for an instant, and then all 
 was still again. She directed the dog to lie down and keep 
 still. Cautiously stealing down the sloping garden to the 
 pine-bordered glen, she gained a view of the stables, and saw 
 a mounted man just turning out of the moonlight into the 
 shadow of the barns. She could see him moving indistinctly 
 through the shadows, and then he was lost in the intervening 
 shrubbery. Presently she heard the hoofs beat slowly across 
 a bridge over the creek. The rider was finding his way 
 around to the great drive of the park by a path seldom used. 
 That surely indicated unwillingness to be seen from the win 
 dows of the mansion. She hastened along under the shrub 
 bery to the stables to alarm the servant who had charge of 
 the horses, and who must have been soundly sleeping. Ar 
 riving at the barns, she found the hostler awake. He in 
 formed her that Mr. Traver had come quietly for his horse, 
 and telling him to remain in bed, had saddled the beast him 
 self, and rode off on some night business which he evidently 
 desired to keep concealed. There could be, of course, no de 
 murrer to this arrangement, and Nora returned to the front 
 of the mansion on her way to the cluster of trees, where Mrs. 
 Granville was awaiting her return. 
 
 That lady had reached the designated place of conceal 
 ment, and stood listening to the distant howling of the dog. 
 Presently all sound had died away, and leaning her hand 
 upon a tree, she remained silent and attentive. The moon 
 light shimmered through the leaves of the great oaks and 
 maples, and brought out in daylight distinctness large patches 
 of greensward where it fell. Peering out from her hiding- 
 place, Mrs. Granville saw near at hand the main avenue or 
 drive of the park. There were few trees at that point to 
 shade the avenue, and the road was revealed for several
 
 ] 72 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 hundred feet in the full glare of the moon. She pressed back 
 her hood again, and her exquisite beauty was presented in 
 all its mature loveliness. Her large, lustrous eyes were bent 
 upon the avenue, and the moonbeams fell upon a face which 
 was as motionless and purely white as marble. A sound of 
 something approaching met her ear. She drew back again 
 into the shadow of the thicket. Presently she recognised 
 the beat of hoofs coming along the avenue. The rider was 
 evidently too hurried to linger under the trees for enjoyment 
 of the fairy-like scene. The flying steed came nigher to her 
 place of retreat. She leaned forward and parted the branches 
 in curiosity. He rode boldly, and with the ease of a cavalier. 
 He bounded past the thicket, and held on down the avenue 
 towards the porter's lodge, utterly unconscious of the beau 
 tiful face which regarded him. He was gone, but not for 
 gotten. That princely form and bearing was one in a thou 
 sand. It recalled agonies of memory; aye, bitter, burning 
 tears of shame and remorse, vows broken, affection blighted 
 and trampled into dust, and pride hurled from its throne of 
 power. It recalled a woman's fathomless, undying love; 
 that love which erects an idol, and sacrifices to it everything 
 which is most cherished, most sacred in life. 
 
 Poor deserted, exquisite child of beauty and grace, how 
 like a blighted flower she fell to the earth, and moaned, 
 covering her face with her hands, and murmuring through 
 her burning tears prayers to God to forgive her for loving 
 him still; for yearning after him with a soul's devotion ; for 
 craving the poor but exquisite privilege of kissing his hand, 
 and moistening it with her tears ! It was so long since she 
 had looked upon that glorious shape of manhood so many 
 weary years since he had smiled on her, and pressed her head 
 lovingly to his breast ! Oh, that she might rest her aching 
 head on that dear pillow once again, and hear him whisper his 
 low, sweet tones of love. Lower and lower she crouched in 
 agony, and moaned : " Oh, God ! give him back to me, or 
 let me in mercy die."
 
 STORMCLIFF. 173 
 
 Fainter and fainter grew the sound of the flying hoofs. 
 Each beat upon the hollow-sounding earth seemed to crush 
 an outstretching tendril of a bleeding heart. He was gone, 
 unconscious of the trembling life crouching in the thicket 
 the poor forsaken being who clung so faithfully to his memory, 
 and whose abandoment to him had nearly obliterated the 
 name of God. What wonder, that in the inexperience and 
 ardor of sixteen summers, she had loved passionately the 
 most elegant gentleman of his county. His praises were on 
 every lip; his accomplishments were the delight of every 
 social gathering. His tones of tenderness awoke responses 
 in her young soul which could never die. She looked up to 
 him for counsel and sympathy. He was the guardian of her 
 property, appointed by her father's will. This gave him 
 access to her. She trusted him, as a being of superior intel 
 lect, a paragon of manly beauty and excellence. And when 
 he ventured, in his mature age and his unequalled power of 
 fascination, to whisper to her of love, everything seemed to 
 swim dizzily around her. Wtio would not be happy to receive 
 the addresses of such a widower ? She abandoned herself to 
 his love and honor. Alas! her guardian-angel looked up 
 mournfully to God, and moaned: "She is betrayed so 
 young, so helpless. Oh! forgive her!" 
 
 The last sound of the hoofs had passe/I away, and she arose 
 again, calm and marble-white in the moonlight. All traces 
 of tears had vanished. No doubt some celestial comforter 
 had fluttered downwards to her side, for she had been praying. 
 
 The world turns sneeringly away from the fallen; but 
 then a face of exquisite sweetness draws near, and a loving 
 voice whispers: "Come unto me, all ye that are weary and 
 heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 
 
 As she stood there, silent and thoughtful, Nora came to 
 her and said : " Now we can go on ; Mr. Traver has taken it into 
 his head to ride out in the moonlight. Did you hear him pass ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," was the sad reply ; " and I thought I should die. 
 Oh ! Nora, no language can express how I love that man yet."
 
 1 74 STORMCLFFF. 
 
 "It's no fault of yours that you do," was the earnest 
 response. " He won your girlish heart by a promise of mar 
 riage. Divine Justice will smite hjm and pardon you." 
 
 " No, no ; don't say that, Nora*. I pray that he may be 
 forgiven. I would rather suffer in this life, if it can avert 
 God's anger from him and from Zoe." 
 
 The old nurse was on the point of expressing herself bit 
 terly, but checking her anger, she remained silent, and 
 commenced to walk away. Without another word they 
 traversed the park and arrived at the low pines which 
 bordered the stream. Descending the shelving rock, they 
 reached the bed of the brook, which was now nearly dry. 
 Walking carefully along this hidden way, by stepping on the 
 dry stones which were scattered through the glen, they 
 reached a point at the foot of the garden which extended 
 along the south side of the mansion. Here, by means of 
 natural steps in the rock, they ascended to the wall of an 
 addition which Nora had built to the workshops of the 
 property. They found the old gardener on the watch for 
 them. He was seated on the steps ; and instantly rising, he 
 spoke a few words in a low tone to Mrs. Granville. Then he 
 conducted her into his own room in the workshop, which 
 communicated secretly with the prison of her lunatic mother. 
 
 The old nurse remained outside, seated on the rock steps 
 with her staff. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 NICHOLAS TEAVER aroused the porter at the lodge, and in a 
 few minutes the iron gate swung open and he rode out upon 
 the highway. Purposeless and undecided, seeking only to 
 drown the painful reflections aroused By the old nurse's 
 threat, and which prevented his sleeping, he bounded along. 
 He fancied that the excitement and novelty of a late ride
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 175 
 
 would drive away, partially at least, the apprehensions she 
 had occasioned by acknowledging the custody of the myste 
 rious agreement. Keenly appreciative of the romantic and the 
 beautiful, he gazed upon the blended h'ghts and shadows flung 
 across the road, the curving silver bows of the little streams 
 which occasionally rippled athwart his way, or contemplated 
 the serene majesty of the moon, now gradually dropping 
 towards the western horizon. But all was vain. He felt 
 that he was in another's power, and that other was a woman. 
 Aye ! a woman who had once occupied the position of a 
 menial in his own household. Who was she, this old nurse 
 of sixt/, so long familiar to the highland families? Why 
 was this servant, so faithful, so invaluable, sometimes so star 
 tling when she assumed the manners of superiority, of lady 
 ship, of rank ? Why had she enveloped herself in mystery, 
 if really she was entitled to position in society ? Ah ! if he 
 could only find the clue to her secret, how quickly would he 
 destroy her power of threatening him. Then their secrets 
 should balance each other. But now she held the sword of 
 exposure over him. He feared to provoke its fall. It would 
 cleave his pride asunder, and open to the hateful gaze of 
 society Ms inner life, his real self. His offer of a bribe had 
 been flung back at him with a vehemence, with a flash of 
 indepenlence which gained his respect and rage. As he 
 bounded along, these reflections would start up before his 
 mind, and divert his thoughts from the beautiful and the 
 grand which met him at every turn. The moonlight grew 
 hateful to him. He checked his horse suddenly, and wheeled 
 him back towards "The Glen." He suffered the beast to 
 follow his own will, and after a time the horse relaxed his 
 efforts and commenced to walk. Unmindful of the slackened 
 pace the rider continued buried in his reverie. Finally, the 
 steed came to a dead halt. Mr. Traver looked up and found 
 he was standing before the iron gate at the porter's lodge. 
 He was not disposed to enter the park yet, so he turned his 
 horse back into the highway and allowed him to walk on
 
 176 STORMCLIFP. 
 
 past the gate towards the north. He was now approaching 
 the premises of Willow Bend. 
 
 His attention was soon attracted from his meditations by 
 the hollow sound occasioned by his horse's hoofs crossing a 
 bridge of larger dimensions than he had come across that 
 night ! Looking about him, he saw the gate of a large estate 
 just beyond the bridge. The white balls of the gate posts 
 were distinctly revealed in the moonlight, through an opening 
 in the willows which bordered the stream. He had avoided 
 that gate for years. He had determined never to enter those 
 premises again. Then why did he ride directly up to the 
 gate and rein his horse to a dead stop ? It was an impulse, 
 surely one of those unaccountable dictates of the will which 
 nearly every individual experiences some time in life. There 
 he stood, thoughtfully, silently, that superb horseman, that 
 peerless gentleman, gazing over the gate upon the deeping 
 estate. He could trace for a great distance the course of 
 the brook through the property by the rows of drooping 
 willows which lined the banks. Their graceful foliage seem 
 ed to be dreaming in the moonbeams. At other po>nts the 
 branches of ancient elms cast shadows upon the ireadow, 
 and they, too, were dreaming, motionless. So peaceful and 
 quiet seemed the place, that one might fancy care and suffer 
 ing had never gained access to the inmates of the cottage 
 which appeared faintly in the distance. 
 
 Curiosity at length took possession of the thoughtful horse 
 man, for he leaned forwards, and, opening the gate with the 
 butt of his riding-whip, he walked his horse into the estate. 
 He purposed at first only to take a brief survey of the con 
 dition of the property, and then retire quietly back into the 
 highway. B,ut as the easy pace of his steed brought him 
 further and further along under the alluring trees and through 
 the meadow glistening with dew-drops, he concluded to pass 
 in the rear of the barns, and make a complete circuit of the 
 estate, avoiding the cottage. Slowly the horse paced on his 
 way, as if involved in the same enchantment as his master.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 177 
 
 With arching neck and stately tread, his long white tail 
 sweeping the dew-gemmed grass, he moved quietly along, 
 with the moonlight and shadow fluttering upon his glistening 
 iron-grey coat. The rider gained the rear of the barns, and 
 passing through their shadows, emerged into the open space 
 beyond. Perfect silence reigned as he paused to look at the 
 cottage, once so familiar to him. No doubt the inmates 
 were long since buried in slumber. Could it be possible that 
 light was shining through the windows of the sitting-room ? 
 He examined the house more closely, recalling the formation 
 of the rooms upon the ground-floor as he had known them. 
 He could not be mistaken. That was the room where so 
 often he had met his beautiful ward in the years gone by. 
 Could it be possible that she was sitting up there with a 
 lamp so long after midnight ? Curiosity prompted him to 
 take a look at her, after so many years of separation. He 
 would steal up to the window and noiselessly contemplate 
 that loveliness from which he had detached happiness for 
 ever. She would never know it. No one would ever know 
 it. He turned his horse back into the shadow of the barns, 
 and dismounting, secured the bridle to a post. Then he 
 carefully approached the cottage, covering his advance by 
 every favorable shadow of tree or shrub. He reached the 
 window, and cautiously peered in. A lamp was burning on 
 the high mantelpiece, but the room was untenanted. A 
 door was open into an adjoining apartment, which he recol 
 lected was once used for a sleeping-room. He was disap 
 pointed. The fair tenant had no doubt retired, and neglected 
 to extinguish her lamp. He stood and reflected for several 
 minutes silently. 
 
 '. Nicholas Traver was possessed of a strong will. Seldom 
 was he thwarted in any purpose which he undertook. After 
 studying for a time his next step, he concluded to examine 
 the exterior of the house further before deciding upon forcing 
 an entry. He stole along the side of the cottage and turned 
 the corner. The frame of a window was apparent, but the
 
 178 STOKMCLIFP. 
 
 moonlight illumined that entire side of the dwelling. If any 
 one was awake, his figure would be distinctly visible. He 
 crawled close to the ground till he was directly under the 
 window. Then slowly he raised his head, from which he had 
 removed his hat, to the level of the window-sill. Instantly 
 he dropped to the earth again. To his surprise, the window 
 was open. After waiting a moment, and hearing no sound 
 within, he ventured to raise himself and look again. The 
 moonbeams betrayed to his gaze every object in the apart 
 ment. No one was there except a little girl sleeping upon 
 a bed close to the window. Her sweet face was turned 
 towards him, so close that he could detect her gentle breath 
 ing. She was bathed in moonlight, and in her delicate 
 hands, which were outside the coverlet, was clasped an ex 
 quisite white lily. It was little Zoe dreaming of her dear 
 angels. Bewildered by this unexpected apparition of love 
 liness, he bent over her and scanned her features. A low, 
 sweet note of tenderness was faintly sounded in the depths 
 of his heart. It was his own child, and for the first time he 
 was looking upon her face. Her infant hours of mirth and 
 sorrow had passed away, never to return, and of her baby 
 history he was as ignorant as if he had lived beyond the 
 seas. Months and years had stolen by ; the little hands had 
 learned to clench and firmly hold the beautiful flowers of 
 God's creation ; the hair had lengthened and learned to 
 wander in curls, the little mouth had assumed character, and 
 the shoulders and arms had been developed in grace and 
 beauty. And now the father contemplated, not his infant, 
 but his exquisite little girl. She was as beautiful a casket as 
 ever guards an immortal soul. His own perfect taste pro 
 nounced her faultless, and a keen sting of remorse darted to 
 his heart that she was born to shame. Aye ! there slept an 
 everlasting witness to his broken promise and his lost honor. 
 That dear, lovely child, with an angel's face, and a tender, 
 sensitive nature, he had doomed to a lonely and wretched 
 life. The world would spit in that innocent little face, the
 
 STORMCLIFF. 179 
 
 world would trample down those little bands, if they dared 
 to reach forth for the honorable and honored crown of 
 womanhood, marriage marriage with refinement and rank. 
 And he alone had done it. He alone had betrayed the con 
 fidence and trusting love of a woman who would willingly 
 have opened the veins of her body and suffered her blood to 
 flow to save him from suffering or death. Here was the 
 innocent witness, clasping the pure lily, and dreaming of the 
 only father her little yearning heart had ever known her 
 Father in Heaven. The unhappy author of her shame raised 
 his hand and pressed it firmly against his temples, as if the 
 agony of his remorse was burning deeper and deeper into his 
 brain. His favorite child Walter was murdered ; his brilliant 
 daughter, Grace, would learn in time to look upon her father' 
 with loathing for sacrificing her young life to decrepitude and 
 misery ; and who would love him then ? Could that lovely 
 sleeper ever learn to regard with affection one who had rob 
 bed her mother of honor and herself of hope ? Hush ! she 
 murmurs in her sleep. 
 
 "Dear angel, will Zoe have a father up there way up 
 there above the stars, like the father other little girls have ? 
 Will he love Zoe and srnoothe her hair, and call her his darling 
 little girl. Yes ! take the lily tell me, tell me ; I will give 
 you all my flowers." 
 
 The little hands eagerly extended upwards in her sleep, as 
 if she saw the angel coming for the lily. Some one had been 
 teaching the child the superstitions of the day God and 
 Heaven and angels. What if there was a God ? What if 
 there really were places of reward and punishment ? What 
 if the pure and the upright were wafted in the arms of angels 
 to a home of peace and holiness and joy ? Where was the 
 spirit of his murdered boy his noble, pure-minded, praying, 
 God-fearing Walter ? Where was the pure spirit of his long- 
 lost wife ? Where would Nicholas Traver spend eternity, if 
 death should meet him that night ? Would the^ eyes of 
 loved ones be parted from him for ever in that far-off world
 
 ] 80 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 of the future life ? Would sweetness and innocence and joy 
 be reserved for them, and shame and horror and desolation 
 and agony be his portion ? Was this innocent, sleeping pic 
 ture of loveliness, the type of heaven, and his own secret 
 crimes the type of hell ? He studied her more closely in the 
 moonlight, and her infantile beauty and loveliness melted his 
 heart as no sermon and no power of eloquence could ever do. 
 That little innocence was yearning for a father's love. To a 
 father's heart how eagerly would she hasten. How sweetly 
 would she cling to him, and twine her arms around his neck, 
 and press her moist, sweet lips to his, with a child's tender 
 ness and trust. She might be reared to honor and happiness, 
 and the dangers the imminent hazard of ruin might be 
 averted from her young life. There might be kind, loving 
 hands to close his eyes in death. His grave might not be 
 lonely. Loving ones might kneel beside the mound and 
 raise hopeful, tender eyes to the blue sky where his soul had 
 winged its way. The fountain of tears was touched by the 
 hand of innocence. The strong, proud man was subdued by 
 the lily sceptre of his child. His lip quivered, and the peni 
 tent tears gathered to his eyes as he bent over her. A drop, 
 which glistened diamond-like in the moonbeams, fell upon 
 her face. She still slept on. Another and another tear fell 
 upon her, and she awoke. It startled her the strange, hand 
 some face so close to her. She seemed bewildered for an 
 instant as she rose in her bed to look at him. But his 
 coming was too closely linked with her dream, and she asked, 
 hopefully, "Are you my father? Did my dear angel send you ?" 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! my little one ; I am your father," he mur 
 mured. 
 
 Without another word of doubt or hesitation she extended 
 her arms and put up her face to his kiss. That gentle pres 
 sure of her lips was sweet and refreshing to his awakened 
 soul as a bribe from Heaven to induce him to a pure life. 
 And over the twain the guardian angels joined their wings 
 as they knelt above them in prayer.
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 181 
 
 "Oh! do not leave little Zoe. I want to be loved like 
 other little girls. Will you stay with me and love me?" 
 
 " I will not be gone long from you again, my child," he 
 answered, charmed by the flute-like melody of her voice. 
 "I will come back again. I must go away soon; but I 
 will return. You must watch, for me. You will see me 
 some day coming through that gate yonder. You can see 
 the gate from this window. Look out often towards that 
 gate, and you will see me some day. I will never leave 
 you then. What is your name, my child what do they call 
 you ?" 
 
 She had raised herself to her knees, and put her arms 
 around his neck. She was gazing wonderingly into his face. 
 She answered him, eagerly turning to look over his shoulder 
 at his promised route of approach in the future, "The 
 angels told me you would come through that gate did you?" 
 
 "Yes, I rode in through that gate to-night." 
 
 " Was it a grey horse ?" she asked. 
 
 " Surely it was ; how could you know that did you see 
 my horse ?" he exclaimed, in surprise, 
 
 " No ! I didn't see any horse, but, the angels told me." 
 
 " Were you dreaming, my little one, that they told 
 you ?" 
 
 " Yes ! I dreamed ever so much. I dreamed you passed 
 by mamma, and you didn't see her ; but she saw you, and 
 then she fell down on the ground and cried. She was hid 
 under the trees, way over there in Mrs. Baltimore's park ; and 
 then she went away, and she left something under the trees 
 she dropped it. Then the angels told me you was comin' 
 to see me through the gate, on a beautiful grey horse. . 
 Where is the beautiful horse?" 
 
 " This was a singular dream, my child for it was true 
 the horse is behind the barn now. But you didn't tell me 
 your name." 
 
 "They call me Zoe Zoe Granville is my name." 
 
 Nicholas Traver started back from the child's embrace, as
 
 182 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 if a serpent had suddenly struck him. " Zoe Granville !" he 
 exclaimed. " Zoe Granville ! Who has dared to name you 
 that?" 
 
 " Oh ! don't be angry with little Zoe," she said, piteously ; 
 "mamma named me that she said it was chosen for me 
 long before I was born." 
 
 He did not reply, for some fearful emotion was aroused by 
 the name which swept away the present like a whirlwind. 
 The awful surging waves of the past came rolling over his 
 soul. A chasm opened at his feet, and memory plunged 
 headlong into the abyss. Down, far down the shadowy aisles 
 of buried years, conscience dragged him to a lonely grave. 
 The long-deserted mound showed distinctly now. Once that 
 grave had been watered by his tears tears from a wounded 
 heart honest, truthful tears. Once had he flung himself in 
 the abandonment of grief upon that precious mound, and 
 pressing his cheek to the damp grass, vowed before God and 
 angels to live worthy of the sleeping dust which had been 
 the star of his life ; vowed to live purely, holily, that he might 
 join her in the glorious hour of resurrection and eternal re 
 ward. How had he kept that vow ? The answer was before 
 him in the startled child that bore her sacred name. That 
 sweet, holy name was perpetuated in his bastard child; 
 that name which had melted in exquisite sweetness upon the 
 pure air ; that precious name, synonymous with purity and 
 honor, was stamped upon the child of sin and shame. Oh! 
 the humiliation, the agony, the remorse of that thought to a 
 mind keenly sensitive to family pride and family love. Whom 
 could he blame ? upon whom could he wreak vengeance for 
 this desecration of that dear name ? Himself himself alone. 
 When he wound the coils of his fascination about that lovely, 
 trusting girl's heart, when he offered to her acceptance the 
 name of wife, he had demanded that if a daughter was born 
 to their nuptials she should bear the maiden name of his 
 own mother his sainted mother in heaven. How could 
 the poor creature, ever relying with idolatry upon the sacred-
 
 STORMCLIFF. 183 
 
 ness of his promise and his honor,, do otherwise than fulfil 
 her own promise. Believing that some time he would return 
 to marry her, as he had sworn, she named her child with 
 mingled hopes and tears. 
 
 He returned to the child's embrace again, as some gene 
 rous impulse was awakened in his heart by this touching evi 
 dence of her mother's trust and constancy to him. There is 
 always a time for repentance, a time for reparation, a time to 
 start once more on the path of rectitude no matter how far 
 one has gone astray. The impulses of reform and justice are 
 the opportunities God sends. There is always a something 
 which is best, and just, and proper to be done. For Nicholas 
 Traver, in that revival hour of conscience, there was a clear 
 path to pursue. Marry the woman who had sacrificed all 
 to love of him. She was his equal in position and education 
 and refinement. He could satisfy the claims of justice by 
 secretly marrying her and avowing before the world that she 
 was his wife and permit that world to infer that they had 
 always legally been joined together. Then Zoe would have 
 a claim to respect, and the bleeding heart of her unfortunate 
 mother would be soothed. No doubt the demand of justice 
 was hard. The penalty of sin is always hard. But the 
 anger of God is harder still. Better far was it to conciliate 
 the Ruler of Heaven now. The impulse to repent and do 
 right waxed in power, and Nicholas Traver resolved to 
 accept the opportunity. 
 
 He knew not how long he tarried with his child at the 
 window. Her winning voice, her increasing confidence in 
 her newly found parent, her avowal of her strange visions 
 of the spiritual world, all held him captive beside her. The 
 tendrils of affection strengthened and lengthened every 
 moment as they talked, and he forgot the anxieties and ap 
 prehensions which had sent him forth from "The Glen" 
 on his lonely night ride. But at length he was aroused to 
 consciousness of the late hour by the moon falling below the 
 horizon. It was nearly morning. It excited his wonder
 
 184 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 when Zoe informed him that her mother had gone out late 
 to walk, as was her custom. The little girl was confident 
 that she must be walking in the park of " The Glen," for so 
 her dear angels had informed her that night. Hoping to 
 meet his former ward on the highway, as he deemed it im 
 possible for her to gain access to the* park except through 
 the gate at the porter's lodge, he bade his child farewell, 
 and turned away from the window. When he reached the 
 barns he looked back and saw the little figure in her night 
 dress, standing before the window, as if to secure a last 
 glimpse of his receding form. " Poor little darling fairy," he 
 muttered, " she must be reared a lady, and never know of 
 shame and reproach." In another moment he had regained 
 his saddle, and with difficulty found his road to the gate in 
 the darkness. 
 
 When he had reached the highway he walked his horse 
 slowly along towards " The Glen," narrowly examining 
 every object on his way. He paused often to listen, but no 
 sound rewarded his vigilance. No one was walking on the 
 road. Could it be possible that the child's dream was cor 
 rect, and that her mother was really in the park ? He would 
 question the porter. No one could enter that gate unno 
 ticed. Continuing his vigilance and inspection of the road, 
 he finally arrived at the lodge. After considerable delay 
 in arousing the custodian of the gate, he was admitted to the 
 park. In reply to his inquiry, the porter informed him that 
 no one but himself had passed the gate after sunset. He 
 rode on then under the oaks and maples, and the porter 
 went off to bed grumbling at the unreasonableness of peo 
 ple in being out at such strange hours of the night. The 
 horseman continued his slow and vigilant pace through the 
 park. When he was near the front of the mansion, he halted 
 and listened attentively for several minutes. No sound met 
 his ear. It was the silent hour which precedes the dawn. 
 He made the circuit of the mansion and arrived at the stables, 
 apparently unnoticed. He conducted his horse to the stall
 
 STOKMCLIFF. ] 85 
 
 from which he had taken him, and finding that he had 
 aroused the hostler, he went to him, and enjoining upon him 
 silence as to the night expedition, slipped into his hand a 
 silver dollar. Then he cautiously approached his apart 
 ments. Congratulating himself upon the secresy which had 
 attended his movements, he was on the point of opening the 
 door under his porch, when a broad glare of light was flung 
 upon him from a lantern suddenly thrust from one of the 
 upper windows of the front house. Before he could turn to 
 identify the holder of the lantern, the light was withdrawn. 
 He could see its departing rays dancing on the ceiling of the 
 upper room as the unknown watcher passed on into the 
 house. He believed it could be no other than the old nurse 
 who had dogged his footsteps in the garden. 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 
 THE blended songs of the early birds greeted the rising sun. 
 From their leafy coverts they warbled the glad tidings of a 
 new-born day, or, wheeling their musical flights over the 
 garden, alighted at intervals upon the shrubbery ; where, 
 poised on fairy feet, they balanced and swung in the welcome 
 rays streaming aslant from the orient. The flowers looked 
 up and smiled, the shadows fled, the dew gave forth its 
 glistening tears of joy, then vanished in the increasing 
 warmth. Higher and higher ascended the sun over the 
 silent garden, and found no visitor upon the carefully swept 
 and curving paths between the flowers, save the aged gar 
 dener, who vigorously plied his hoe among the beds, or rested 
 at intervals to scan the glorious beauty of his silent com 
 panions. Born and bred to the society of flowers, the old 
 man had learned to talk to them as to pet children. He
 
 186 6TOEMCLUT. 
 
 clothed them with human attributes ; he delicately soothed 
 their sensitive natures, and nursed their young life with ten 
 derness and pride, or mourned in accents of sadness over 
 their drooping death. When they faded and died on their 
 stems, he was wont to look heavenward, as if he hoped their 
 gentle spirits bloomed again beside the golden streets of 
 Paradise, in more exquisite beauty. 
 
 He had chosen a warm and sheltered spot on the south 
 side of the largest greenhouse for his darling exotics. Proud 
 and happy to occupy again his old place of custodian of the 
 flowers, he was determined, by constancy and excessive care, 
 to raise in the open air a brilliant circle of roses native to a 
 more southern clime. He had succeeded beyond his most 
 sanguine expectations, and while the great gardens under his 
 care bloomed with clusters and trellises of native roses on 
 every hand, this favored spot was glowing with the rich 
 colors and graceful figures of the southern strangers. The 
 dew had scarcely dried on their crimson and scarlet leaves 
 as he stood over them, studying their loveliness and matur 
 ing his plans to preserve them until the new mistress of 
 "The Glen" should look upon their rare beauty. As he 
 leaned upon his hoe, and wondered whether the new pro 
 prietor possessed taste enough to appreciate the delicate task 
 of his hands, and would sympathize with his old heart in his 
 adoration of nature, he was startled by a footstep close beside 
 him. Turning, he beheld a lady robed in a dark dress, who 
 was contemplating him with eyes large, brilliant, and beauti 
 ful. In the backward sweep of her glistening black hair 
 clung a white rose. She wore the garb of a mourner, and 
 the language of the contrasting flower is " sadness." 
 
 A lady of refined taste satisfies her curiosity by a rapid 
 penetrating glance. The eyelashes of the stranger slightly 
 drooped again as she quietly asked : 
 
 " Are you Weaver, the former gardener of the Baltimore 
 family?" 
 
 " Yes yes ! my lady," replied the old man, nervously
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 18*7 
 
 raising his hand to his straw hat, " that's my name Nathan 
 Weaver's my name, and I've worked these gardens, I've no 
 doubt, many a year afore your eyes saw the light. I've 
 grown up on this property like one of those trees you see 
 yunder I sort of belong to the place. 'Twas allers my 
 home. I seldom lived a day off this place, madam sel 
 dom a day till the last Mister Baltimore went abroad." 
 
 He stole several glances at the interrogator as he spoke, 
 and the impressions her personal appearance created were 
 favorable, for he removed his hat entirely from his head, and 
 bowing low at the conclusion of his reply, he said : 
 
 " I am addressing, I believe, my new mistress, Mrs. Balti 
 more ?" 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " I am Mrs. Baltimore. I could not 
 sleep, and I thought a walk in the fresh early air of the 
 morning might revive me. But what exquisite roses have 
 you there ? They don't look like the flowers I have been 
 accustomed to look upon in this latitude." 
 
 " They're southern roses, madam," he replied, replacing 
 his hat on his head, and stooping to brush off a worm which, 
 made its appearance upon the edge of a rose-bud. "They 
 allers raises 'em in green-houses as far north as this. But 
 you see I thought it would be a compliment like, to treat the 
 new mistress to a bed of rare flowers raised in the open air. 
 I've worked my reglar time in the open garden, and then 
 after hours, I turned my attention and care to these. I've 
 watched close, my lady, these delicate creeters, so as to have 
 'em live. Some ladies has more taste nor others about flowers, 
 and old Weaver feels proud for your noticing 'em. Indeed 
 I do indeed I do. You spoke true when you said they was 
 excrisite they is the most excrisite flowers as ever was seen 
 on this property. Let me pluck one for you ; they can't last 
 long now, and you must examine 'em close. This 'ere is the 
 ' Giant of Battles ;' just look at that shade of crimson 
 bright crimson velvet I'd call it ; now what a color for a 
 dress -jest you look at it and smoothe your fingers over the
 
 188 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 leaves ; isn't it a beauty. You keep it I'll find some more 
 to put with it; 'ere is the darlin' rose 'ere is the very lady 
 herself, Marie Leonidas." 
 
 He moved a few paces along the path, and with his garden 
 shears severed from a bush a waxy-white rose with small, dark, 
 and shining leaves, also waxy in appearance. Presenting the 
 flower to Mrs. Baltimore, he said, enthusiastically, "There, 
 now, you have the red giant and his fair lady. Please notice 
 that cluster of the Giant of Battles. See how the flowers 
 bloom high on the stem, holding their heads high among the 
 other roses. That's the reason they calls 'em Giants. I sup 
 pose the rest of the name comes from their crimson color 
 Battle red, ma'am. That's the color Christians marks on each 
 other when they goes to war dreadful business these Chris 
 tian wars, ma'am, dreadful indeed ; but jest see this rose ; 
 this they calls the Solfaterre rose the creamy white Solfa- 
 terre that's the exact name. You see, ma'am, the flower is 
 large and so unusually soft ; now look at those leaves. You 
 see next to the stalk they 're soft green, but not shiny green. 
 As they extend towards the end of the branch, they change 
 gradually from green to a transparent brown. You see at 
 this end of the branch they 're very small leaves, and quite 
 brown. And here's a fresh bud for you ; this is the pink 
 daily rose every day a fresh bud. They is truly beautiful 
 in the bud, but not much when full blown ; like some girls, 
 ma'am, they promise well, but the storms of life shakes their 
 color and beauty out of 'em right early. Was you askin' 
 the name of this large pink rose? That's 'La Heine* 
 deep pink petals, very double and tight together it don't 
 lose its shape and grow flat and flabby at the bottom, like 
 other roses. It holds itself firm and erect to the last in most 
 a bowl form, as if, ma'am, it never forgets its dignity ; that's 
 how she gets her name. I don't wonder at your taste, ma'am ; 
 you shall have one of that ar' kind. That I'd call a velvety 
 crimson ; they call it let me see ef I can speak it now 
 ' Jacqueminot.' Is that right, ma'am ? I most believe it's
 
 STORM CLIFF. 189 
 
 called for a French general ; of course you know, my lady. 
 Yes, well ! I 'sposed I was right. You're right, ma'am. I'll 
 pick one of those for you ; they calls that the ' Souvenir de 
 mon ami ' rose. Now, how sweet that is as you hold it up 
 to the light rich pink centre, shading into a salmon color, 
 and ye see that salmon shades outward agin into a light 
 cream color. Do ye notice, ma'am, the green leaves are 
 shaded like the leaves of that Solfaterre rose that creamy 
 white Solfaterre ? And here's a Luxembourg, and here's a 
 Hermosa rose ; you must have these to make the bouquet 
 kimplete. And here's another a small white satin rose 
 that's the ' Lady Walworth.' Now your bouquet looks splen 
 did, and Old Weaver's proud to see ye carryin' it. Now ef 
 ye will please step this 'ere way, I'll show ye the waterfall 
 that's what I calls it." 
 
 Moving along after the old man, with his shears and hoe, 
 Mrs. Baltimore came to a lofty trellis built at the end of the 
 green-house. There was a striking resemblance to a rosy 
 waterfall in the mass of transparent white roses which clung to 
 the trellis. " They're Baltimore belles that's the name and 
 each one is as fair and delicate as a bride. I had a heap of 
 trouble in raisin' those roses, for they belongs further south 
 nor this.'' 
 
 The lady had followed the old man around the circle, 
 amused at his enthusiasm, and suffering him to talk on, with 
 little interruption, as he plucked the rare flowers and placed 
 them in her hand. But when her eyes took in the wonder 
 ful shower of roses which fell from the trellis, she exclaimed, 
 "Weaver, you are a gem a real gem. I wouldn't lose 
 your good taste in growing flowers for the world. This is a 
 treat for me, and I thank you. Oh ! how much I thank you 
 for your trouble." 
 
 The old man fairly trembled with excitement. His trouble 
 and his faithful watching had not been thrown away then. 
 She appreciated the labor of his aged hands. He answered 
 her with a smile of joy and pride.
 
 1 90 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 " I kin tell when I see a lady, and I knew ye would love 
 the flowers when I looked into your eyes. But I niver was 
 called a gem afore. Old Weaver ain't much like a gem the 
 settin' amost wore out, and the soul as is in me is dim with 
 age ; but there's a true heart in here, ma'am, and it will serve 
 ye till the sods is heaped up on my body. It's very kind of 
 ye to speak so to the old man that strives to do his duty, 
 and I pray the Lord to spare yer life and make ye happy, 
 and 
 
 He tried right valiantly to carry out his sentence, but she 
 had touched his tender old heart, and his lips murmured to 
 wards the close. Then, making an effort to control his feel 
 ings, he looked up and said : 
 
 " And so it appears ye love natiir like some other folks do, 
 and the flowers and the grass and the trees is a comfort to 
 ye sometimes." 
 
 Love nature ? The question awoke some powerful emo 
 tion in those dark eyes. Does the mother, from whom death 
 has snatched every idol but one, love the graceful child who 
 comes in the stillness of the evening to stand by her side, 
 and putting its little hand in hers, says, by its silence and 
 attitude, " I love you ? " Does the thirsty pilgrim of the 
 desert, fainting and deserted by his companions, love the 
 shady dell which unexpectedly rises upon his vision and tells 
 of the crystal water which nourishes its verdure ? Does the 
 wanderer in a strange land love the familiar notes of a home- 
 song, which greet him in his loneliness, and fill his eyes with 
 tears ? Then did the heart of the young widow love and 
 exult in the simple word pronounced by the aged gardener 
 as he leaned upon his hoe, and waited for her reply. To 
 whom could she turn for sympathy and love ? She, the 
 child torn from home in her tender-- years, and while her 
 young soul was yearning to believe only in the existence of 
 honor and truth, sacrificed to old age and meanness ! The 
 nobler feelings of her nature had been appealed to, and she 
 had proved herself, child as she was, equal to any demand. To
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 191 
 
 save her beloved father's life, the young girl had gone forth 
 to the martyrdom of all the hope and pride and aifection of 
 maidenhood. The pure wreath of coming love and tender 
 ness which every girl of fifteen sees pendent from the palace 
 of the 'future, she had laid upon the altar of filial aifection. 
 Such was her unbounded faith in her father's nobility of 
 character, that she had accepted the mysterious crown of 
 thorns, and for six weary years worn it in unquestioning 
 silence. She had never known her mother's love. ^The bud 
 had appeared but an instant on the bush, when the full 
 blown rose fell to its grave. The brother to whom she had 
 looked across the seas for future solace and sympathy, had 
 mysteriously fallen murdered to the earth. Then she turned 
 to her sole surviving relative for whom she had sacrificed so 
 much, and expected, now that her husband had passed away, 
 the reward of full confidence and entire explanation. Alas ! 
 her father was as mysterious and reticent as ever. Then the 
 developed powers of intellect and reason asserted their sway. 
 "Why had she been sacrificed ? Why was she still a victim 
 of the mysterious darkness ? Why was she not, now in her 
 young womanhood, entitled to confidence and trust ? She 
 had lived a slave to rescue her parent. She had been 
 trampled upon for his sake. Her pride and self-respect had 
 been mutilated to save him ; and now was the time to speak. 
 His evasions and postponements were unjust now. She had 
 returned triumphant and superior from the ordeal of her 
 repulsive marriage, and she could claim entire confidence 
 r and love from the only relative she possessed on this side the 
 grave. But the confidence was denied her ; and her sensi 
 tive soul shrank back into itself, and suspicion wreathed 
 itself about the portals of her heart. The consciousness of 
 evil erected a barrier between the parent and his child ; and 
 she, who had been willing to deny herself all, would not be 
 denied all in return. With a cry of mortal agony, she 
 parted from him and the interview, and fell down moan 
 ing upon the desert of her lonely life. Oh ! she could be so
 
 192 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 happy with him if he would only sympathize and confide ; 
 but, alas ! he would not ; he dare not speak. Then the 
 wealth which had promised so much, lost its illusions. The 
 poor creature craved sympathy and love. For these she 
 would willingly deed to him all her lands, her possessions, 
 and her treasures. As the hope of securing these gradually 
 faded away, and she felt that she was indeed alone in the 
 world, the voices of nature broke from the thickets. The 
 warble of God's little birds called to her. His graceful 
 flowers nodded welcome to her; the trees whispered to her, 
 and the brooks sang. Mounted on her snow-white steed, 
 and attended only by the dog Bounce, she penetrated the 
 wild places, and scaled the cliffs. Here was congenial nou 
 rishment for her great soul. She looked downwards to the 
 river and the haunts of men, or her eye followed the flight 
 of the eagle as he disappeared in the blue vault of heaven. 
 These sublime views enlarged her soul, aroused her generous 
 impulses, spoke to her of God and eternity. They partially 
 supplied the void in her heart, and she learned self-reliance 
 and self-control. Nature bounteously rewards those who 
 commune closely with her and study her mysteries, and 
 sometimes startles her worshippers by the blinding vision of 
 God revealed in his works. 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore learned from her communings with the sub 
 lime and the beautiful the lesson of humanity. A God capa 
 ble of such wonderful creations so vast, and yet so minute 
 so diverse, and yet so tenderly defended and nourished 
 in the detail, must claim equal care for His creations from 
 the hands of mortals. Respect and care for His creations 
 must increase with the value and importance of the object 
 created. Human beings delicately framed and endowed 
 with the attributes of angels, and fashioned for immortality, 
 must be cared for as the heirs of the kingdom. Whenever 
 she returned from her wild rides among the cliffs, or from 
 the elevated plateau where she could look more closely into 
 the blue vault of heaven, it was noticed that her purse
 
 STORMCLIFF. 193 
 
 opened wider, her voice was more sweetly modulated, and 
 her eyes burned with a more sympathetic lambent light. 
 She had been a little nearer to Heaven, and her heart had 
 caught a spark which fell from the altars of its charity. 
 
 Old Weaver knew nothing of this, however. She had been 
 a tenant at " The Glen " only a few weeks, and had not be 
 fore made her appearance upon his precincts. He was both 
 astonished and delighted then by her reply to his remark. 
 
 " Yes ! nature is my delight, and my constant source of 
 pleasure and consolation. I love art; I love music, too, which 
 is the highest manifestation of art. But that which germi 
 nates and grows, and droops in graceful figures, without the 
 fashioning of human hands that is my joy and careful study; 
 for it is more especially the work of God. I wonder if the 
 angels don't descend and nurse these rare flowers ! It would 
 seem that only an angel's delicate hands could curve this 
 rose-leaf so accurately and so beautifully." 
 
 She placed her finger upon a flower in her bouquet as she 
 spoke, and gently stroked the velvet of its crimson leaf. 
 Observing, after a silence of a few minutes, that her com 
 panion made no reply, she raised her eyes from the flower. 
 The old man was steadily regarding her. She fancied his 
 eyes wore an inquiring expression, for she said quickly : 
 
 "You look as if you wanted to ask me something. Do 
 not hesitate to express your wishes or your curiosity." 
 
 " You are very quick, my lady," said the amazed gardener. 
 "You read people's thoughts so quick. I only wanted to 
 ask a little favor, that perhaps ye would be willing to grant 
 an old servant." 
 
 " Speak it out," was the prompt response. 
 
 Thus encouraged, he began: "In the parlor of the old 
 house, if it please ye to remember, there hangs a portrait of 
 a lady." 
 
 " The portraits of several ladies hang there," was the quick 
 rejoinder. " Which one do you mean ?" 
 
 "I'll tell ye, my lady. It is a picture as one can't well
 
 1 94 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 forgit that's ever looked on it. The dress and all is mighty 
 curious ; I never looked on its like. The frame is amost 
 worn out. The lady has curling hair and the queerest three- 
 cornered cap on top of her head that I ever laid eyes on 
 it's velvet, I should say, and there's tossels hangin' from the 
 corners of it." 
 
 " You are certainly mistaken, Weaver," was her answer. 
 " There is no such picture in the house. Perhaps you have 
 mistaken the locality." 
 
 The old man shook his head, while a smile illumined his 
 aged and wrinkled features. 
 
 " No, no, my lady ! I'm old, it's true, and some old peo 
 ple forgits. But Nathan Weaver is reputed the best man to 
 remember in this neighborhood. And it's not many years 
 since I looked upon the picture. If me mem'ry serves me 
 right, I seen the lady's face hangin' in yunder parlor jest 
 afore the last Mister Baltimore packed up his things to cross 
 the seas. 'Twas close upon that time, anyway. The picture, 
 by rights, should be hangin' there now. It wud be mighty 
 strange ef your ladyship has crossed the floor of that room 
 and never took notice of the queer dress and the three-cor 
 nered cap. It's there, ma'am, trust me word for it. Me eyes 
 hasn't seen it these six years ; but no person wud think of 
 removin' the lady's face from the house, except it was to put 
 a new frame onto it. Now ef old Weaver can presume upon 
 yer kindness, I'd like to look upon that face agin. She was 
 kind to me father when he worked this same gardin afore 
 me. I often heard him say she were the splendidest lady 
 of her time. She kept up the dignity of this place like a 
 princess. She were mighty proud, they say, consarning her 
 family. She were the grandest Baltimore that ever walked 
 through this ere gardin. But me father he told me most 
 everybody loved her. She were not so grand but that she 
 had a good heart. She were kind to the poor folks; and 
 the old people like me father wud tell of the grand things she 
 did. Perhaps, me lady, my discourse is not pleasing to ye ? "
 
 STORMCLIFF. 195 
 
 He had detected a serious expression cross her features, 
 nnd feared he had presumed too much upon her listening to 
 his gossip. But she bade him go on and describe the eyes 
 of the portrait. 
 
 "Dark eyes, my lady, dark, and sort of lookin' right into 
 you. But it is strange ef yer eyes has overlooked the pic 
 ture. The cap is so queer, and the like of it few of the old 
 people in these parts kin remember." 
 
 " Weaver, you are certainly mistaken. I always study, 
 with a great deal of interest, old family portraits. I have 
 examined carefully every one in this house, and there is 
 nothing like the one you speak of." 
 
 " It don't become me to dispute with your ladyship ; but 
 I will say ef the picture of Mrs. Gertrude Baltimore has bin 
 removed from the gallery of paintings of her proud family, 
 it's enough to wake the dead. Will ye please to look once 
 more at the pictures, jest to gratify an old man? It will 
 reward ye for the trouble jest to look upon the queer thing." 
 
 His confidence in the truth of his assertions amused Mrs. 
 Baltimore ; and she said, pleasantly : 
 
 " Well, lay aside your hoe and shears and come with me, 
 and see if you are able to point out the picture to me : there 
 must be something strange about the matter." 
 
 She walked on leisurely towards the house, bearing her 
 choice bouquet and enjoying the fresh' odors of the early 
 morning. The old man, having laid aside his garden tools, 
 and divested himself of his overalls, went to a fountain to 
 wash the dirt from his hands. In a few moments be had 
 overtaken bis mistress at the old stone porch of the Balti- 
 mores. He gave his shoes one more thorough wiping upon 
 the grass-plat, and then reverently removing his hat entered 
 the ancient dwelling after her. She had flung open the shut 
 ters of the parlor and the morning sun poured into the long 
 apartment. She now stood quietly in the centre of the room 
 watching the old man's movements. He advanced confi 
 dently to a portrait of her late husband and glanced at the
 
 196 STORJfCLIFF. 
 
 wall on either side of it. He raised his aged weather-beaten 
 hand to shield his eyes and looked slowly and carefully 
 through the entire apartment. He desisted from his search, 
 and said, completely baffled, as he pointed to a place on the 
 wall : " It's gone, sure enough ; but I'll take me Bible-oath 
 there's the place I saw it last. It passes all the power of 
 me old brains to think what kin have become of it. It's 
 sacrilege, my lady ! It's wicked for man or woman to take 
 away the like of that, and Nathan "Weaver's the man that 
 says it. Ef I was in yer place I'd ask; but never mind, 
 I'm a ridiculous old man, and I feel as ef I'd made a fool of 
 myself that I do. Well, well ! but it's queer enough !" 
 
 He had been on the point of putting his mistress on the 
 proper track of inquiry, but a quick consciousness saved 
 him, and he concluded to let matters take their own course. 
 It was evident that he had introduced trouble into the old 
 house, and a pang of regret darted through his heart at the 
 reflection that he might have been the cause of securing cen 
 sure for his friend, old Nora. If any one was held responsi 
 ble for the loss of the picture, it would surely be she, or the 
 tenant who protected the property before her. But this 
 reticence came too late. The mistress of the house was 
 aroused, and she always acted promptly. Requesting the 
 dismayed old gardener to wait, she advanced to the servants' 
 bell and rang it with decided vehemence. Mrs. Grace Balti 
 more was possessed of unquestionable promptness in arranging 
 her domestic affairs. Some one had transgressed the law of 
 order in removing the portrait. The sooner the law was vin 
 dicated, the better for the security of the future. A man 
 servant answered the bell. He looked surprised to see his 
 mistress so early in the morning, He bowed in the doorway, 
 and said : " Tour pleasure, madam ?" 
 
 " Go directly and inform all the servants that I am waiting 
 for them in the parlor ; I mean all, except the servants of my 
 guests." 
 
 " They're not all up yet ; it's early, ma'am."
 
 8TOEMCLIFF. 197 
 
 " Make them get up, then ; it's time they were all at their 
 work. Do they rise at this hour every morning ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "Very well. I want their attendance here directly. I 
 will wait for them." 
 
 The servant disappeared. During his absence old Weaver 
 looked the picture of despair. It was dawning upon his 
 brain that the portrait of Gertrude Baltimore might have 
 been removed by Nora Rudd, who loved her memory 
 dearly. Mrs. Baltimore paced up and down the apartment, 
 pondering the matter, evidently, for she turned once to 
 the gardener and asked : " You are quite sure the portrait 
 hung beside the picture of my husband ?" 
 
 " Just there, my lady ; I've seen it often, and it allers 
 was in the same place," replied the old man, dreadfully per 
 plexed as to the probable result of his ill-timed curiosity. 
 He could not but observe, however, how gracefully the young 
 widow moved back and forth amid the new and elegant fur 
 niture of the room, and he wondered what the ancient por 
 traits of the proud family could think of the new mistress, 
 who appeared so perfectly at home as she swept her dark 
 train along their ancient heritage. She was a living picture, 
 fresh and exhilarated by the pure air of the morning. A 
 peach-flush lingered upon her cheeks, and the sunbeams 
 glistened upon her silken hair where the white rose clung. 
 She retained possession of her rare bouquet, and occasion 
 ally raised it to enjoy its fragrance. 
 
 They had not to wait long. Indications of an aroused 
 household were accumulating in the distant parts of the 
 mansion. Opening and shutting of doors were followed 
 soon after by the appearance of several servants of both 
 sexes. When they were all assembled, Mrs. Baltimore 
 requested Weaver to describe the missing portrait as accu 
 rately as he was able. He complied with the request, and 
 then the mistress of the house demanded of the assembled 
 servants any information they might possess in regard to it.
 
 1 98 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 One of the maids declared that she had been present at "The 
 Glen" from the first ; that she was employed by Mrs. Rudd 
 to clean the family pictures, and that no such portrait of a 
 lady had been at any time in the house since her arrival. 
 This appeared to settle the matter as far as the servants were 
 concerned ; and they were dismissed, and directed to send 
 Mrs. Rudd to the parlor. Upon further examination, it was 
 ascertained that old Nora had gone at a very early hour to 
 the stables and ordered the horse and vehicle. She was 
 accustomed to drive about the country. Where she had 
 gone no one knew. The proceeding was not an uncommon 
 one for her, and Weaver was dismissed to the garden until 
 another and more favorable occasion. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 PEACEFULLY, calmly, glided the hours at "The Glen." 
 The easy and graceful hospitality of its mistress charmed all, 
 and even the prejudiced Englishman, Sir Francis Cleveland, 
 was forced to admit the possibility of an American house 
 being properly appointed and conducted. Every convenience 
 to which he had been accustomed at home was promptly 
 furnished to him by the servants without a murmur, and 
 without any of that appearance of extraordinary effort which 
 so often nullifies a favor. The domestics understood perfectly 
 that they were employed to make existence agreeable, and 
 that no failure in the performance of their duties would go 
 unpunished, and no unusual effort remain unrewarded by 
 their mistress. She exacted the utmost deference and atten 
 tion from them. She generously compensated labor that 
 encroached upon their accustomed leisure. But promptness 
 and cheerfulness, respect and courtesy, were expected ; and 
 servants devoid of these qualities, soon found the front door.
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 199 
 
 Sickness among them received attention and sympathy in the 
 person of their mistress. They learned to respect her, and 
 in respect germinates the pleasure of domestic life. This per 
 fect household arrangement gratified the English guests. It 
 was unexpected in an American mansion. Sir Francis Cleve 
 land was reported to be a suitor for the hand of the young 
 widow. Whatever the facts in the case might be, it is cer 
 tain no action of Mrs. Baltimore confirmed the rumor. She 
 enjoyed his cultivated society, and appreciated his learning 
 and accomplishments. But those who saw them often 
 together were conscious of a delicate veil of reserve inter 
 posed between the two in their most familiar moments of 
 intercourse. He was more frequently her escort in the daily 
 rides on horseback than others. But at " The Glen," in the 
 drawing-rooms, or in the gardens, or seated before the piano, 
 where she was omnipotent in her power and melody of voice, 
 a young gentleman of the neighborhood, accomplished, 
 wealthy, and twenty-five, was oftener her companion. He 
 rejoiced ia the name of Charles Delavau, and was a thorough 
 gentleman, with a fine tenor voice, a grey eye, brown curling 
 hair, and heavy moustache. He was a gallant, high-toned 
 fellow, and a universal favorite through the country. He 
 had arrived at the house with his sister Mary, to spend seve 
 ral weeks, at the invitation of Mrs. Baltimore, whose father 
 was an intimate friend of the elder Delavan. The remaining 
 guests were the artist Rogers, who had planned the decora 
 tions of "The Glen," and his sister Lucretia, and Mrs. Balti 
 more's two uncles, Hugh and Reynolds Winchester, both 
 under thirty, and witty and brilliant in conversation. The 
 two last were looking for wives, and wealth was an indispen 
 sable requisite. It would be difficult to congregate in one 
 private residence a more elegant and congenial circle of friends. 
 No parties or balls were expected, as the mistress of the 
 property was in mourning. Nevertheless they were never 
 at a loss for amusement, and while the spirit of Terpsichore 
 slumbered, Cupid held court in the ample rooms and abun-
 
 200 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 dant alcoves, or sauntered through the arbors and shady 
 nooks of the estate. The stables were supplied with a superb 
 collection of horses, and the guests rode out, when they were 
 so inclined, in pairs, or more frequently in cavalcades, em 
 bracing all the party, and destined for some picnic excursion 
 or romantic road leading through the highlands. Just in the 
 rear of the estate flowed a stream of pure, crystal water, 
 which, a mile above, effected a junction with the brook of 
 " The Glen." It wandered silently under rocky banks, or 
 broke in ripples where its pebbly bed was shaded by the 
 forest shrubbery; and through its more hidden pools and 
 recesses darted speckled trout. Some of the gentlemen 
 wandered in warm days to this secluded wood, and angled 
 for the cautious denizens of the water. It was a dreamy, 
 romantic spot, where the fancies of Nature's poets could be 
 read with renewed interest, and the whispering trees seemed 
 to chime in with the melody of the rhythm. There were 
 sequestered nooks, however, at a shorter distance. The pine- 
 bordered glen afforded opportunities for bowers, where the 
 sun never penetrated, and where the rustic seats were near 
 enough to the brook for their occupants to catch the low, 
 plashing melody of the water, as it murmured its musical 
 plaints to the pines, or dropped suddenly into a fissure of its 
 rocky bed with a hollow, gurgling monotone. Curving 
 paths wandered along the banks, and at one point a rustic 
 bridge of unhewn oaks gave access to the south side, where 
 the hand of art was stayed in deference to the wilder charms 
 of Nature. On this neglected bank the rocks were lofty 
 and moss-covered, forming at one unexpected turn of the 
 wild path a small cavern, where two persons could stand with 
 ease and slake their thirst from a basin hewn in the rock to 
 catch the trickling water from the spring concealed in the 
 cliff above. An antique drinking-cup of iron, brought by Mrs 
 Baltimore from the ruins of Pompeii, stood upon this basin 
 and bore the classical inscription, " JExopto." 
 
 The apartment in the mansion most frequented by the
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 201 
 
 guests during the sultry days of summer was styled " The 
 Saloon." It 1) ad been constructed in the new building or 
 addition, according to the instructions transmitted to Mrs. 
 Rudd from Europe. It was at least sixty feet in length and 
 thirty in width. The ceiling was lofty, and the floor was 
 composed of alternate polished slabs of blue and white mar 
 ble. Directly in the centre of this spacious hall was a foun 
 tain of snow-white marble, fashioned in the shape of a huge 
 sea-shell, around whose edge clung mermaids bathing their 
 tresses in the waters, qr flinging jets of water at each other 
 from their palms, in streams which crossed each other and 
 then fell in graceful curves to the shell basin. In the centre 
 of the shell stood a solitary mermaid erect, with her finger 
 pointing upwards, and the jet of water from it rising nearly 
 to the ceiling of the saloon, and then falling in showers of 
 crystals upon her shoulders. This queen of the nautical tribe 
 appeared to receive a large share of the fluid favors directed 
 by her attendants at each other. The walls of the apartment 
 were of glistening white, relieved at intervals by fres 
 coes of blue lily-wreaths, with a bluebird for a centre. The 
 divans scattered through this cool retreat were of white 
 marble, delicately carved in semblances of birds and flowers, 
 and their tops were covered by long cushions of blue silk, 
 of the same shade as the wreaths of lilies on the walls. The 
 short arm-cushions, to relieve the reclining posture, were of 
 the same silk, elaborately embroidered in white silk flowers 
 and fruits. The Gothic windows were screened by Vene 
 tian blinds, painted a light cream color, and somewhere 
 hidden behind them was an jEolian harp, ever and anon 
 wailing in sweetness at the whisper of the freshening breeze. 
 A few lounging chairs of bamboo were" scattered through 
 the saloon. The ceiling overhead was a sky-blue, with silver 
 stars. The apartment was designed simply for a place of 
 retreat in oppressively hot weather, when the rich warm 
 colors of the drawing-rooms, and the circular dining-room 
 and library, were repugnant to a sense of cool comfort. The 
 
 9*
 
 202 6TOKMCLIFF. 
 
 summer breezes were courted in constructing it, and it be 
 came a favoraite retreat for the guests. Near the divan, at 
 one extremity of the saloon, stood the marble statue " Mo 
 desty," on a pedestal. At the other end, and near a divan, 
 the statue " Vigilance" looked from a pedestal across the 
 room at the bashful maid of 'marble, as if intent upon aiding 
 her to sustain her retiring character. The marbles had at 
 tracted the attention of Mrs. Baltimore in Italy. The ar 
 rangement of the statues was the idea of Old Nora, whose 
 taste was confirmed by the artist, Rogers. There was no 
 door, properly speaking; but access was obtained to the 
 saloon from the hall by an arch, with blue silk curtains 
 and tassels. The curtains, at the apex of the arch, were held 
 in the beak of a white marble dove, the emblem of peace 
 and repose. The plashing of the fountain, the murmurs of 
 the hidden harp of the winds, and the coolness of the place, 
 made it a favorite resort for lovers. Private conversation 
 might easily be maintained at the extremities of the apart 
 ment, and the divans protected -by "Vigilance" and 
 " Modesty," were frequently tenanted when the other parts 
 of the saloon were enlivened by the jest and the song. 
 
 One oppressively hot morning, the guests and their hostess 
 had sought refuge in the saloon, and were grouped as follows: 
 Nicholas Traver was seated on the divan by the statue of 
 " Vigilance," conversing in a low earnest tone with Miss 
 Angier, whose eyes were cast downwards at the closed book 
 in her lap. She was listening attentively to his musical, 
 polished utterances, occasionally interposing a brief sentence, 
 and then glancing cautiously around the room, as if to detect 
 the thoughts of the other loungers upon her retired tete-d,- 
 tete. Miss Cleveland occupied the seat beside the statue of 
 " Modesty," in company with Hugh Winchester, whose con 
 versation evidently verged upon the ridiculous, as her merry 
 peals of laughter at intervals testified. His brother, Rey 
 nolds, was entertaining the artist's sister at a game of chess 
 near the fountain. Mary Dclavan was sitting for her por-
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 203 
 
 trait to Rogers, whose narrative of adventure was calculated 
 to arouse her languid blue eyes to the openness and brilliancy 
 which he was anxious to secure for the eyes on his canvas, 
 and which rendered her, at times of excitement or marked 
 interest, so transcend ently beautiful. She was resting her 
 bare arm upon a small table, and the tip of a dainty foot stole 
 from under the hem of her white muslin dress. Her style 
 was languishing, dreaming ; a blonde, whose complexion 
 would have entitled her to the appellation " angelic," had 
 not her figure partaken so decidedly of the fulness of Hebe. 
 The artist interrupted the flow of his own narrative at length 
 by the remark : " I shall insist upon your wearing another 
 shade of dress at your next sitting. I find my eyes dazzled 
 by painting nothing but snow, snow, with no colors to re 
 lieve my vision." 
 
 A smile stole languidly to the features of the fair girl, as 
 she evaded the compliment by the quiet remark : " I should 
 think snow would be the most grateful object for the sense 
 of sight such weather as this ; but be kind enough to go on 
 with your interesting description. It will be time enough to 
 don my velvet when you have finished my hair. No doubt 
 the weather will moderate by that time. But I trust you 
 will never complete the hair, if you are as entertaining every 
 day as you are this. Please paint on for ever, for I am living in 
 dreams at your story ; and that is a compliment, coming from 
 me, though capable of another construction." 
 
 " You are a dream, yourself," murmured the artist, in a 
 tone that no one could hear but his companion. A slight 
 blush was aroused by his manner as he looked at her in pro 
 nouncing these words. She made no response. A change 
 in her attitude was the only evidence that the delicate arrow 
 of Cupid had stirred the depths of her languid life. While 
 Rogers transferred Mary Delavan's face to his canvas, and 
 probably also to his heart, Mrs. Baltimore entertained the 
 two gentlemen, Sir Francis Cleveland and Charles Delavan. 
 The two last were seated near the arch, engrossed by the
 
 204 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 energy and vividness with which she portrayed the character 
 of modern Italians, and vindicated their claims to self-govern 
 ment, independent of foreign interference. Her eyes blazed 
 with the generous emotions aroused by her subject. The 
 long, dark eyelashes were lifted as she glanced first at one 
 and then at the other of her auditors, and a witchery clung 
 to her very accent ; and the powerful imagery she employed, 
 fascinated by its novelty and appropriateness. In the height 
 of her argument she was interrupted by the appearance of 
 old Nora under the arch. She motioned to her to be seated 
 on the divan beside her, and then went on with her discourse. 
 Finally, in a lull of the conversation, she turned to Mrs. Rudd, 
 and said : " Something for me, is it ?" 
 
 The old nurse handed a book to her ; Mrs. Baltimore 
 glanced at the title, and said : 
 
 " A new novel ! That will be a delightful sensation during 
 these days of summer imprisonment. Where did you find it ? 
 and who is the author ? Why ! it is an American book. 
 Now, Sir Francis, I trust it is worthy your perusal. I shall 
 satisfy myself on that point first. If it is not trash, I shall 
 insist upon hearing your detailed criticism of it." She 
 glanced over the title-page, and then said, in a puzzled tone, 
 ' Oloffe, the Dreamer ; by Recluse.' Who is Recluse ? I 
 never heard that nom deplume before? Can you enlighten 
 us, Nora ?" 
 
 Mrs. Rudd, thus appealed to, replied : " You overwhelm 
 me with questions, but I will endeavor to answer in the order 
 of your propounding. I purchased the book in town, at Hol- 
 linbrook's. There is a great demand for it, the bookseller 
 informed me. I first learned of the book from a friend. 
 While I was looking over the array of new books, several 
 persons came in and asked for it. The author, it appears, 
 prefers to veil himself in obscurity at present. The name 
 ' Recluse' is an entirely new one. An impression prevails, 
 I know not why, that the author is an inhabitant of this 
 county. Perhaps the accurate description of scenery about
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 205 
 
 here authorizes that supposition. I have read the book, and 
 if I understand your sympathies and fancies correctly, you 
 will be as unwilling to lay it aside as I was. I sat up neai'ly 
 all night to finish it. It would be an excellent book to read 
 aloud. Perhaps Sir Francis would be pleased to read a few 
 chapters for the company. I think none of us will ever for 
 get his admirable reading of Shakspeare last Monday." 
 
 " An excellent idea !" exclaimed Mrs. Baltimore ; " add the 
 weight of your vote, Mr. Delavan, to ours, and we shall surely 
 be gratified." 
 
 " No ! no !" exclaimed Sir Francis, " you all deem me pre 
 judiced regarding your authors; and how do you conceive, 
 then, that I should exert my best powers to render this mys 
 terious unknown intelligible to you. I would not emphasize 
 properly. I fear I would not suit your respective tastes. I 
 would suggest, therefore, Mrs. Baltimore as the reader. 
 What is your judgment, Mr. Delavan?" 
 
 " I agree with you, Sir Francis," replied the gentleman 
 addressed. "I should enjoy immensely to hear you again in 
 Shakspeare. But Mrs. Baltimore now what say you, 
 ladies, gentlemen, all? shall Mrs. Baltimore guide us through 
 this new realm of fiction ? A new novel ! a new novel 1" 
 
 All the guests, save only the two who were seated under 
 the statue of "Vigilance," came forward and requested the 
 mistress of the house to favor them with her reading. The 
 dilatory two, however, united their voices in favor of her 
 from the distance. Thus urgently solicited, she opened the 
 book and read aloud, accompanied by the musical tinkling 
 of the fountain : 
 
 " ' DEEAM8 OF THE PAST.' 
 
 " ' I have been seated here so long gazing into the limpid 
 depths of this miniature lake, dreaming, dreaming, that I can 
 no longer discern the distinctions of fancy and reality. Silent 
 and dream-bound, nature has adopted me. The timid hare
 
 206 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 has learned to circle round me in his careless play, nibbling 
 the grass beside the lake. The golden-winged butterfly has 
 made his capricious visits to my knee and hand. A graceful 
 fawn from the wild-wood on my right passed me with his 
 velvet tread, and paused upon the shore to wonder at his 
 own image in the mirror of the lake. T could see them both, 
 the gazelle-eyed watcher and his likeness in the water. The 
 trees are drooping over the transparent flood, and in the 
 depths another forest gently undulates, or silent dreams. 
 Sweet mother Nature, thou hast adopted me into thy dream 
 ing family and pressed me softly to thy tender heart. I 
 have been alone, and thou hast taken me ; the sceptre of thy 
 silence rules my material shape, and my spirit, unfettered, 
 fathoms the depths of the lake, and wanders through its 
 immaterial forests. No dry and withered branch snaps 
 startlingly beneath my tread, no impeding shrub brushes my 
 side ; but all is silent dreaming there. Those mirrored trees 
 will sometimes wave and bend, but no whispering sound 
 greets the material ear. I pass in silence beneath their spirit 
 arches, and forget the Present and the Future. The Past 
 lives, the Past whispers and thrills ; and the bell-notes of 
 memory lead me on, and still on. I have traversed the 
 forest ; its shadows are past ; the blue sky of my childhood 
 is arching my life ; dear childhood, dear innocent heaven of 
 mirth ! The burden has fallen, the anguish is past ; ambition 
 has withered, I'm with you at last. From the green slope 
 of the mountain the old school-bell is chiming, and the fleet 
 brook is hurrying on to the sea. The graves have all van 
 ished ; those sad mounds have gone ; and Willie and Charlie 
 whistle shrill from the lawn the lawn where we wrestled 
 and ran the wild race. It was only fancy, those short narrow 
 mounds enclosing the dead. They are all gone now. The 
 smooth grassy meadow is unbroken by graves, and my boy- 
 dsh friends live again. The school is over ; and Charlie, with 
 his ruddy face, so animated under the torn hat, is leading us 
 off towards the chestnut grove on the side of the mountain.
 
 STORMCLIFF. 207 
 
 There the grey squirrels leap from branch to branch, and the 
 ravine is so shady where we pause and drop the hook and 
 line into the purling water. And now I see the beautiful 
 face of Harry Winters, with his blue eyes and his curling hair. 
 How charmingly he extemporizes fairy tales, and gestures to 
 us boys gathered around him ! It was a fable, that death 
 seized him, and gave him that marble whiteness and that 
 stern, rigid look. And here is Belle Somers, the little fairy. 
 Plow earnestly we voted that she should be " Queen of the 
 May," and how we succeeded, and crowned her with flowers. 
 She is so pretty with her curls of gold, and her snow-white 
 neck ! How could I fancy she was passed away to Heaven ? 
 "No I no ! They all live, and their merry laughter echoes on 
 every side. Oh! such reckless boys; I would not, "if" I 
 was them, venture so far out on the branch. The tree is very 
 rotten, aud the bird is not so red as the one that builds in the 
 willow by the pond. But Willie, he is not afraid of anything. 
 He never was. I knew mother would come out if she heard 
 how high Willie had climbed in that tree. How earnest her 
 blue eyes are how anxious she looks ! Willie will have to 
 come down without the nest, that's sure. Mother is very 
 timid about us all climbing. She wants us all to go with her 
 to select a bouquet in the garden. Alice Pinkney is going to 
 be married, and these flowers are for the wedding supper. 
 Frank Willis says it's girl's work, and he'd rather not do it 
 He wants to go out gunning to-day. Hark ! the school-bell 
 is ringing " Who'll be there first?" The music of the old 
 bell is dying away. Fainter and fainter it trembles on the 
 air. Now the strokes of the bell are heard no longer. Only 
 the air trembles after the last stroke. Fainter and fainter 
 still comes the vibration. And now it is entirely gone. 
 Alas ! the school-house, and the maples, and the boys are all 
 gone, and I am a man struggling and alone with my gasping 
 heart, that craves companionship and the love of my kind. 
 
 " ' See ! the sunbeams are flooding through the forest. They 
 tip the leaves of the beeches with gold, and fall through the
 
 208 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 dense foliage of the pines in threads of light ; and now they 
 reach my forest in the lake. They penetrate its shadowy 
 arches, and quiver along its dim aisles. Something is wav 
 ing to me far, far down in the depths of the lake. Can it be 
 a hand? Yes! a fair beautiful hand gracefully beckoning 
 to me. And now she raises it and brushes back her veil, and 
 reveals those eyes which have ever loved and trusted me. 
 The same old look of confidence, the same smile she wore 
 on her engagement-day, when she turned to her betrothed, 
 and pointing to me, said : " I love him almost as much for a 
 friend as I do you for a lover." With her keen bright look 
 she summons me to her side, to whisper some of her sparkling 
 un. She shall sing for me again when the guests are all 
 gone, and our little party of old friends are left to ourselves. 
 What a delusion that she left me alone to die when cruel 
 fate smote me with his iron hand, and the bright and beauti 
 ful of my life went out in a gasp of mortal agony ! What a 
 delusion, that she passed me on the street with the cold look 
 of a stranger she who could never change ! How blind, 
 how wilful I have been to fancy this, when there she stands 
 imperial in her fun and wit and beckoning so familiarly 
 to me, her old friend, to come to her ! Oh ! the beautiful 
 Past is the Present once more, and constancy reigns on the 
 earth. Draw out the harp from its curtained retreat, and 
 sing me our favorite song. I revel in those sounds of 
 melody ; those cadences linger when you are away, and now 
 I am happy once more. How strange that your eyes are 
 growing so dim, and your voice is fading away in the dis 
 tance ! Will you leave me abruptly ? Ah ! the harp is wail 
 ing so sadly under my forest trees in the lake. You have 
 left me alone to murmur and die. I could have died for your 
 sake, Mary, my friend ; and you wrong the impulses of jus 
 tice, when you forsake me, too. Farewell ! alas, farewell ! 
 I bless you as you flee, hurried off by the world, by pride, 
 from one who trusted your sincerity and truth as he trusted 
 the rising of the sun after the darkest night. Wail on, O
 
 STORMCLIFF. 209 
 
 harp, for ever though your notes dim my eyes with tears, 
 and I can see no more the white hand waving to me from 
 my forest in the lake ! The sweetest dream I have ever 
 known the dream of a woman's friendship and trust has 
 vanished like the morning mist ; and I sit lonely and de 
 serted by the lake where the song of friendship was once 
 sung, and kindred souls communed of the true and the beau 
 tiful ! ' 
 
 The reader -was interrupted by a sob near her. She 
 glanced up from her book. Mary Delavan had buried her 
 face in her handkerchief and was weeping. The next instant, 
 as if ashamed of this public manifestation of feeling, she 
 arose abruptly and left the room. Mrs. Rudd followed her. 
 Good taste assumed that the tears arose from excess of sym 
 pathy at the reading. If not, old Nora would be a sufficient 
 escort, if it proved to be illness. Mrs. Baltimore went on 
 with the reading, in which every one had become interested, 
 save the two who were too remote on the divan by the statue 
 of " Vigilance." Nicholas Traver and his companion were too 
 much engrossed in each other's society to join the attentive 
 and silent group about the mistress of the house. They 
 were partially hidden from the rest of the guests by the 
 intervening fountain. But Nora had them in full view from 
 her seat, and they felt relieved when she followed Mary De 
 lavan out. Miss Angler's color was evidently heightened by 
 the subject of conversation ; and Nora, who saw everything, 
 had not failed to observe it. When he discovered that he 
 was no longer under the surveillance of those piercing eyes, 
 the father of Mrs. Baltimore renewed the conversation with 
 greater earnestness, and gave potency to his remarks by 
 more frequent glances into his companion's face of his irre 
 sistible eyes of blue. .Gifted with the insight and discretion 
 of an angel, was the woman who could gaze long into those 
 eyes and remain unmoved, unfascinated. Miss Angier, with 
 all her sense, was evidently not proof against their influence.
 
 210 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 That superb elegant talker and thinker, bore in his beautiful 
 features the evidences which most men deem satisfactory 
 of an earnest, truthful nature. It was far from strange, then, 
 that the girl, in the presence of the mature and accomplished 
 scholar, the brilliant wit, the object of universal admiration, 
 should open the secret portals of her heart's treasures at the 
 touch of his wizard hand. The narrative of his lonely history 
 for many years gradually and naturally melted away into a 
 tale of love ; and while the reading engrossed the attention of 
 the guests, and the vigilant Nora was absent, that tale was 
 surely and fatally threatening the brightness and purity of a 
 star, and there was no one to sound for the poor bewildered 
 girl a note of alarm. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE emotion of Miss Delavan, which had occasioned in 
 some minds conjectures regarding the possibility of the un 
 known author being an acquaintance of hers, gave increased 
 zest to the subsequent pages by " Recluse." 
 
 Rogers, who had been so abruptly deprived of his sitter, 
 laid aside his palette and brushes, and listened attentively to 
 
 "'DREAMS OF THE PRESENT.' 
 
 " ' From my exalted seat on this spur of the mountain, my 
 eye ranges over a wilderness of foliage bisected by an ancient 
 blade of glistening steel, the river. This trenchant weapon 
 in the grasp of Omnipotence, has cloven the rocks and the 
 mountains, and enabled civilization to glide in and lay its 
 beneficent hand upon the solemn and gloomy heart of the 
 proud recluse, the wilderness. Like every conqueror, the 
 noble river has its satellites of rank and beauty. The stately 
 mountains, in their robes of emerald, stand sentinel about its 
 path, or in autumnal days of solemn state don scarlet and
 
 STOEMCLHT. 211 
 
 golden mantles to honor the passing monarch. The musi 
 cians, the tributary cascades, in snowy garments sing to their 
 lord, and the countless orchestras of birds warble in unison 
 along his path. The Storm King sends forth his heralds, 
 the echoes, to repeat his thunder-tones of praise, and the sky 
 marshals her maids and matrons of snowy white, and purple 
 and gold, to look upon the conqueror as he passes towards 
 the sea, or in the evening spreads above him her canopy of 
 flaming meteors and silver stars. Far below me, on the 
 river banks, where men hurry and pant, labor and die for 
 gold, Oloffe the dreamer is a stranger and an exile from 
 human sympathy. The pearls of his heart are driven from 
 the market-place, the tendrils of his affections are refused a 
 climbing-place upon the trellis of society, and then he scales 
 the dizzy crag to pour his pearls and flowers into the lap of 
 Nature, that she may blend them with the wreaths she daily 
 flings in tribute to the glory of the Hudson, the river of his 
 young dreams and his mature love. Through its entire 
 length, the noble stream is the recipient of homage. The 
 monarchs of the forest bend reverently towards it ; flowers 
 droop to its flow ; and even the adamantine rocks, cleft asun 
 der in its march, are known to incline in grim reverence to 
 wards their master. The noiseless mist, the spirit-daughter 
 of the river, rises from its bosom, glides with fairy tread up 
 an.d around the summits of the highlands, and then floats 
 upwards, amorously, to a marriage with the Sun, the god of 
 day. Glorious old monarch ! in my loneliness and my de 
 spair I turn to thee ! I am one of thy children. My first 
 breath was drawn upon thy banks ; the first notes of music 
 that sweetly startled my young soul, came stealing to me over 
 thy waters, and the first moon that cast its silver arrows at the 
 target of my heart, lovingly placed its miniature in thy 
 bosom. Trample upon me, O world ! crush to the darkness 
 of oblivion the sympathies, the aspirations, the yearnings of 
 my nature ; and I will only shake off the fetters of race, and 
 go forth to communion with the grand and the beautiful.
 
 212 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 The river calls to me by its resistless, its onward motion, 
 " Press bravely on to the Eternal Sea." In the serene blue 
 eye of heaven above me only love and pity beam. I dream, 
 gazing long upon my companion, the river, and in its mirror 
 discerning mountain peaks inverted, and sailing vessels keel 
 to keel. I dream, gazing upwards to that eye of blue, or trace 
 above the line of emerald tree-tops the snowy peaks, castles, 
 and minarets, which ever change their shapes upon the bor 
 der line of cloud-land. It is my realm, and in the conscious 
 pride of undisputed empire I dream on. But see ! the in 
 truder comes. A pure white carrier-dove hovers between me 
 and the sky, a fitting messenger of love from my snowy cas 
 tles in the clouds a peaceful invader to whom my heart offers 
 welcome, and then dreams on. Did ever perfect silence reign 
 upon the throne of the human heart ? Did ever lovely dreams 
 have full fruition ? Lo ! upon my dream a wild hawk of the 
 mountain glens arose. Spreading his war-wings for destruc 
 tion, he swept darkly between me and the sun. Cloud-land 
 and dream-land were indeed invaded, and the hush of peace 
 was gone. Surely, fatally, he swept in huge circles above 
 his prey ; and when at last he fell like the lightning upon the 
 white messenger sent to my dreaming realm from the clouds, 
 I closed my eyes in pain, and my dream vanished. I looked 
 again ! The war-bird was flying off with the murdered dove, 
 and drops of blood were falling to the serene bosom of the 
 river. And is this thy lesson, O Nature ? The powerful 
 and the evil alone must conquer. The innocent and the true 
 must go under. The strong must fall upon the \\ eak, and 
 fidelity and constancy shall be no shield from destruction. 
 While yet the sneer lingered upon my face, the silence of the 
 day was startled. The sharp crack of a rifle rang from the 
 mountain side, and the triumphant hawk fell dead into the 
 thicket. The scene brightened. Retribution will come to 
 the lawless, the useless, the scourges of the earth. Take 
 heart then. Man was created to guard and protect the in 
 nocent, and avenge their fall. If true to his noble mission,
 
 STORMCLIFF. 213 
 
 he may win a crown of honor on the earth, and secure the 
 approbation of heaven. The beautiful, the pure, the innocent, 
 the noble, will crowd to his feet to do him reverence. Tears 
 of gratitude shall glisten about him; kind hands grasp him 
 loving smiles greet him, angels guard him. Arise ! Oloffe, 
 the dreamer. Thy visions of the Present are futile. Fate, 
 cruel fate, walls up thy soul from the fruition and the charms 
 of the Present. Wrap the mantle of integrity about thine 
 unknown form, and walk fearlessly out to 
 
 " ' DEEAMS OF THE FUTURE.' 
 
 " ' In the coming time, brave hearts and iron wills shall be 
 the citadels around which the angels of God shall gather 
 for battle. To defend these fortresses, the word of the King 
 of kings is pledged. Be thou one the foremost the cita 
 del from which the Christian banner of Truth waves proudly. 
 Hurl back the hosts of Evil, of Error, of Self. Corruption 
 advances with rapid stride. Guard the citadel ; sally forth ; 
 strike it before its shadowy followers have formed the impene 
 trable phalanx. Strike it in the court-room, though the 
 bench of judges tremble. Wrestle with it on the rostrum. 
 Fling off its mantle, and expose its hideous features to the 
 people. Among the plain, the simple, the unostentatious, 
 integrity dwells in covert mines of gold and precious pearls. 
 Be thou the wizard-hand to develop it, fashion it, give it im 
 petus, and hurl it against the foe. All men are not corrupt. 
 No ! no ! That is only the whisper of the fiend of the hour 
 to discourage the champions of Right. Delve deep among 
 the masses for integrity. The diamond will come to thy 
 hand ; its companions, small and great, will appear. The 
 cluster will increase upon thy labors and thy manly strug 
 gles. It will expand into a wreath, glistening and beautiful. 
 Wipe off every stain, and bind it upon thy temples, and its 
 brilliancy shall win the souls of the timid, and dazzle to 
 blindness the evil who reign. Grapple with Luxury, grap-
 
 214 STORMCLIFP. 
 
 pie with Power. Fight for the poor, the friendless, the 
 oppressed. Deem not, because the intellectual and beautiful 
 are ranged under the banner of corruption, that their hearts 
 are not assailable. In many a soul, hidden under the influence 
 of pomp and power, a memory lingers. There was a time 
 when that memory was fresh and beautiful. It was the 
 memory of a child. It recalled a day of anguish, when the 
 eyes of a precious mother closed in death. The wandering 
 little feet of the child went up and down lost, lost. The 
 star of love which had lighted every evening, was gone out. 
 Instinctively, or from teaching, the child sought for it among 
 the stars of heaven. It was a strange transition, that long 
 gaze at the distant stars, when the child had only looked 
 before as high as a mother's beaming eyes of love. The 
 innocent heart was seeking for the purity and love which had 
 gladdened its little life, and which was lost. And lo ! the 
 anxious gaze was turned at last to the home, the source of 
 all purity and love. Speak to -that memory of that youthful 
 time. Speak to that purity and innocence of thought and 
 purpose, when the bare suggestion of evil was as awful as the 
 gathering thunder-clouds, and you shall see the strong man 
 melt in tears, and the woman's lip tremble in agony. Arise, 
 Olofie ! girt with the freshness and the power of the morn 
 ing, and walk forth side by side with the sun, to cheer, and 
 invigorate, and bless ! The mission of the intellect is to win 
 power power to sustain the weak and stimulate the strong, 
 to wipe away the tears of life, and cause a lull in the storm 
 of passions, that men may hear the music of heaven. See 
 yon eagle perched upon the topmost fringe of the dark pine, 
 surveying his empire, the river-valley, and the sea of foliage. 
 He is not satisfied to share the kingdom with the grovelling 
 sons of men. With a scream of exultation, he launches forth 
 upon the blue ether, and mounts upwards towards the sun. 
 Follow his flight till the eye is dazzled, and his career is 
 lost. That eagle daring, and that upward flight, is the symbol 
 of the soul. To that unexplored realm, each angel, poised
 
 STORMCLIFF. 215 
 
 upon the pinnacles of human pride and human ambition, points 
 and whispers : " Rise to the higher destiny of man." The foot- 
 stand of these angels satisfies the most of men ; but in the 
 unfathomed purposes of God, a soul will sometimes spurn the 
 pinnacles of earth, and follow the eagle into the sun. Arise ! 
 Oloffe! The benefactor and the protector of those for 
 whom Christ died ; who, in the name of humanity, is will 
 ing to bear and suffer all is the eagle aiming his flight 
 towards heaven. Arise ! Shake off the dreams of the Past 
 and the Present, and in the dreams of the Future envelop 
 thyself, secure of power and homage, and Heaven, if only 
 thou recognise the sovereignty of Right and Humanity in 
 the battles of Time.'" 
 
 The reader paused and looked up from the book. " How 
 do you all like it ? Shall I go on ; or are you tired ?" 
 
 The auditors expressed themselves in favor of further 
 examination of the author's opening pages. Even Sir Fran 
 cis Cleveland indicated his curiosity to ascertain what kind 
 of a plot wa's to be founded upon the reveries of Oloffe. 
 Upon his remarks arose a controversy as to the proper 
 method of introducing characters into a novel, and the sub 
 sequent development of the plot. In the midst of the dis 
 cussion old Nora entered the saloon, and after announcing 
 that the sister of Mr. Delavan was not ill, and had, upon 
 retiring to her room, requested to be left entirely alone, she 
 produced a note addressed to the mistress of " The Glen," 
 and stated that the bearer was awaiting an answer outside. 
 Mrs. Baltimore broke the seal and glanced over the contents. It 
 was a puzzling missive, and after a minute's reflection she said : 
 
 " Here is something you all must hear. It is mysterious, 
 and therefore I claim the assistance of every one who is good 
 at making correct surmises. See what mystification such an 
 excellent gentleman as the Reverend Charles Heron can be 
 guilty of." 
 
 The note read as follows :
 
 216 6TORMCLIFF. 
 
 "Mr DEAR MRS. BALTIMORE: A surprise awaits you, and 
 the duty of giving you notification has devolved upon me. 
 I trust my acquaintance with your family for many years 
 will be a sufficient guarantee that no breach of refinement 
 or good taste will be effected in regard to any surprise to 
 which I may direct your notice. At a point on the highway, 
 just half the distance from your estate to the town, you will 
 recollect there is a maple grove covering the rising ground, 
 which has for many years been familiarly known as ' Wizard's 
 Hill.' At that point I earnestly desire to meet you at four 
 o'clock this evening. The desired interview will not detain 
 you beyond a half-hour. I am aware of the fact that you 
 often ride in the evening in that neighborhood, hence I sug 
 gest it as a convenient place to meet you. Will you honor 
 me by your presence (attended or alone, as you may deem 
 advisable) at that hour ? 
 
 " Your sincere friend, 
 
 "CHARLES HERON." 
 
 The reading of this amazing proposition was followed by 
 a storm of comments and jests from the assembled guests. 
 
 " Meet him 1" exclaimed Sir Francis. " By the virtue of my 
 knighthood, I demand of you, Mrs. Baltimore, to entrust the 
 delivery of your answer to him to me. What can the man 
 be dreaming of ? The proper place to approach a lady is at 
 her own door." 
 
 " He is a clergyman, Sir Francis," was the quiet reply ; 
 " and a gentleman in every sense of the word. What do 
 you think of this, father ?" she added, extending the note to 
 Nicholas Traver, who had come forward with his companion 
 to discover the cause of the general excitement. He glanced 
 over the note, and then folded it carefully, and placing it in 
 his daughter's hand, said : 
 
 " Meet him by all means, if you are able to do so. He is 
 too considerate and kind a man to make unreasonable 
 requests. No doubt the occasion is extraordinary, and
 
 STORMCLIFF. 217 
 
 demands an extraordinary manner of approaching you. If 
 you are indisposed, for any good reason, I will ride out to 
 meet him myself. If the matter is susceptible of being con 
 ducted through an agency, I will be happy to be the agent. 
 Provided you cannot go, I or any of your friends will meet 
 him." 
 
 There was a quiet dignity of tone in this reply which 
 appeared reasonable enough, and yet it seemed to annoy the 
 Englishman. Conciliation was rarely consonant with his 
 impetuous method of acting and forming conclusions. He 
 bluntly expressed himself opposed to the propriety of any 
 lady leaving her own home to meet a gentleman on the 
 highway when he could come to her house so readily. 
 
 " But," replied Mr. Traver, with the same gentle courtesy 
 of manner, " the reverend gentleman states that a surprise 
 is intended. No doubt it is a pleasurable surprise. He 
 scarcely could request a meeting at such a place for a mero 
 matter of business; and my judgment is, that if any disa 
 greeable communication is intended, he would have expressed 
 himself more clearly." 
 
 " That is my opinion, too," said Hugh Winchester. " If 
 I were in your place, Grace, I would go. The Church is seek 
 ing for grace. Pray don't let it remain longer without it." 
 
 " Hush ! irreverence !" replied his niece, placing her hand 
 kindly on his arm. He was her favorite kinsman. " If you 
 will behave yourself, uncle Hugh, you may be my escort. I 
 think I will go. Why will not all of you ride out this even 
 ing? There appears to be no limit in the invitation extend 
 ed to me. I must confess to the weakness of curiosity in 
 regard to this matter. I will invite all of you to follow us. 
 Uncle Hugh rides with me in the phaeton. He shall drive 
 the fast bays to-day. Whoever has curiosity to follow us in 
 this mysterious expedition, let him speak, or remain for ever 
 silent. Who rides to Wizard's Hill this evening with us ? 
 Uncle Hugh and I drive ahead to the hill. If there is no 
 objection to the whole party coming up, I will wave my 
 
 10
 
 218 STORHCLIFF. 
 
 handkerchief over the back of the carriage to you. Who'll 
 go?" 
 
 The guests all expressed themselves favorable to her pro 
 position. Mystery sweeps along in her train ah 1 ages and 
 sexes. What could the clergyman's note mean ? Was it a 
 picnic surprise ? 
 
 " I wish Mr. Heron would bring his daughter with him," 
 said Reynolds Winchester to the artist's sister, with a mark 
 ed tone of interest, which he knew would provoke inquiry 
 among the female auditors. 
 
 " Why ?" asked his niece, turning her large, brilliant eyes 
 upon him. , 
 
 " She is the beauty of the county," was the response. 
 
 "Ah! I remember her," said Mrs. Baltimore. "She was 
 not beautiful at the age of eleven or twelve. But she wrote 
 poetiy which attracted attention. She was a blonde." 
 
 " She is beautiful now, however," replied her uncle. "You 
 will all acknowledge it when you see her an exquisite crea 
 ture lovely in every way. If all the divine sex were as 
 devoid of art and selfishness as Marie Heron, there would be 
 no need of a hereafter; the world would be a heaven." 
 . " Now, I know you are at mischief," said his niece, with a 
 emile. " Had your language been more moderate, we should, 
 have been deceived. But now you are foiled. We are not 
 even curious; we are all jealousy-proof!" 
 
 " Wait and see," was the confident response. 
 
 " That answer of yours postpones a decision to some very 
 indefinite period," said Mrs. Baltimore. 
 
 " Then, I dare you to invite Marie Heron here. Ask her 
 to join our circle for a week or two. I will introduce her 
 to you any day. If she doesn't create a hubbub in this house, 
 then execute me as a false prophet !" 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore turned laughingly to her father. 
 
 " Shall I invite Miss Heron here to dazzle Uncle Reynolds 
 into silence and good behavior? He does nothing but try to 
 make game of us ladies the whole day long."
 
 STORMCLIFF. 219 
 
 " By all means invite her, Grace. We are indebted to her 
 for kindness to our dead. I told you all about that. She is 
 very lovely in person and mind. There is a very favorable 
 opportunity at this present time. Since the destruction of 
 the Rector's house by the fire, they are boarding until their 
 new house is built. Their locality now is unpleasant for 
 warm weather. Mr. Heron will probably not object to his 
 daughter being pleasantly domiciled while he is in town 
 superintending the construction of his new house." 
 
 Why did she remain silent as the smile slowly vanished 
 from her face, and seriousness reassumed his sceptre ? Is 
 it mere chance that we are sometimes impressed with the 
 conviction that persons who are to meet us in the garb of 
 strangers are destined to be mingled in our unpleasant ex 
 periences, and to stand in antagonism to our current of joy ? 
 Is it chance that a voice whispers suddenly, " Your coming 
 acquaintance will not add to your cup of earthly bliss, but 
 will inadvertently upset the chalice, and spill some of the 
 ruby drops ?" Hushed were the lips of the heiress of millions, 
 and attentive her heart, as the muffled bell of apprehension 
 boomed sullenly off in the future. Why should she fear? 
 The emblems of power were gathered in her hands ; such 
 emblems as men toil and struggle long lives for, and seldom, 
 attain ? Society, wealth, and the attractions of great beauty 
 were subservient to her uses, her ambition, her hopes. Her 
 intellect glistened with acquirements, and, in the respect of 
 cultivated men and women, she stood high. She was young, 
 and beautiful, and true. Any one could love her. As she 
 stood there, peerless among the beautiful and the refined, 
 there was not one guest of her house whose heart did not 
 feel kindly, warmly towards her. Why, then, the whisper 
 of apprehension ? She did not know ; and, like a woman of 
 sense, she shook off the passing spell, and answered cheer 
 fully and gaily, in the manner of her own generous heart : 
 
 " Well, then, ladies and gentlemen, I shall put it to vote. 
 Whoever favors the introduction into our circle of a new
 
 220 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 beauty, a great beauty, and a beauty who can 'make earth a 
 heaven for Uncle Reynlds, will please hold up his right hand. 
 One dissenting vote shall exclude his divinity." 
 
 The pride of every woman present had been appealed to 
 by Mr. Winchester's suggestions of jealousy. The thing was 
 impossible, absurd, and could have its origin only in a man's 
 low standard of womanhood. Of course every lady raised 
 her right hand, and every gentleman followed the example. 
 That matter was decided ; and Mrs. Baltimore sent word to 
 the Rev. Charles Heron's messenger that the proposed inter 
 view would be accepted at the appointed hour. Lunch was 
 soon after announced, and its discussion superseded every 
 other. 
 
 The servants appeared with a number of small tables, the 
 legs of which were formed of white coral branches and the 
 tops of white marble. Placing one of these delicate tables 
 beside each guest, they retired for the lunch. In a few 
 minutes they reappeared with the ancient solid silver salvers 
 of the Baltimore family, laden with ices of every form and 
 color ; delicate breads ; meats, tempting by their thinness, 
 and the coolness of the crystal plates upon which they were 
 arranged; cakes, delicate and puffy; preserves, glistening 
 through their glass receptacles, like rubies and garnets; 
 silver-frosted crystal pitchers of tiny size, full of rich cream ; 
 silver baskets of grapes gathered in every clime, and fruits 
 from the tropics and the cooler latitudes clustered in de 
 fiance of the laws of climate; decanters of wines, and glasses 
 of delicate colors and patterns, fashioned in semblances of 
 lilies and shells, stood near the fountains ready in coolers. 
 Everything that could tempt the palate in the sultry days 
 of summer was provided with lavish expenditure; and the 
 guests idled away, in luxury and mirth, the hours which 
 intervened before the expected ride to Wizard's Hill.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE spirited bays ceased their rapid pace at the foot of 
 Wizard's Hill and commenced to walk slowly up. Tho 
 grateful shade of the maple-trees was already flung across 
 their glistening coats, and they were allowed to choose their 
 own pace in the ascent. The hill was destitute of under 
 growth, and the eye could range for a great distance over 
 the grass which carpeted the place. The road was straight 
 before the horses' heads, leading with an easy ascent to the 
 apex of the hill, where it appeared to launch forth into the 
 blue sky. At the summit, however, the road in fact fell 
 suddenly the other way to the plain. Hugh Winchester 
 examined his watch, and then turning to the lady who occu 
 pied the phaeton with him, said : 
 
 " We are punctual, almost to the minute. It is only three 
 minutes to four o'clock. Now let's see what is to be the 
 upshot of this strange affair. Do you see anything in the 
 shape of humanity on this hill ? It's a lovely natural grove, 
 but it looks deserted. Ah! do you see that? just at the 
 summit, where the road seems to meet the sky, that's a man, 
 sure, and something in his hand glistens in the sunlight, 
 Hark ! " 
 
 The clear silvery notes of a bugle burst upon the silence 
 of the place. The startling call waxed louder and louder, 
 ringing away over the tree-tops, and the echoes from the 
 cliffs of the river came back in wonderful distinctness. The 
 music ceased, and the man disappeared from the i % oad at the 
 summit. Silence reigned once more. The occupants of .the 
 phaeton looked at each other in astonishment. The sunlight 
 blended with the shadows of the maples on the road before 
 them. The horses toiled slowly up the ascent, but no other 
 sound broke the stillness. The sole evidence of human life 
 in their way had vanished. 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore, rising from her seat, looked back over
 
 222 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 the way they had come. No glimpse of her followers 
 rewarded .her gaze. Her fast bays had outstripped her 
 friends. She resumed her seat, saying : 
 
 " Mystery of mysteries. Invited to meet a clergyman, and 
 finding only a signal of war. Uncle Hugh, where are your 
 wits ? you look as if the old wizard of the place had you 
 spell-bound." 
 
 " By Jove ! " exclaimed her companion, " there is some 
 thing queer about all this ; it sounds like a robber chief's sig. 
 nal to make ready for us. Suppose Mr. Heron didn't write the 
 note, and it's all a plan to inveigle us here and rob us ?" 
 
 " Would you show fight, Uncle Hugh ?" she asked, glanc' 
 ing at him, as if the idea of a rencounter was the acme of 
 delight. 
 
 " See here, my sweet niece ; I suggested that idea to alarm 
 you not to gratify you ; your eyes look perfectly compla 
 cent, just as if you relished the idea of meeting some villa- 
 nous scamps in this lonely place. You have forgotten that a 
 man was recently murdered not far from this hill. " 
 
 "Nonsense, Uncle Hugh." 
 
 " I'm in earnest, Grace." 
 
 "You are? Well, you just jump out and run back and 
 tell the rest of the party. As for myself, I intend to fulfil 
 the engagement I started out for. Give me the reins. By 
 the way, when you meet Sir Francis Cleveland, tell him to 
 hurry up. He has been giving me glorious descriptions of 
 an affair he had with brigands in Spain. I know he will 
 relish this, particularly when you tell him there is a lady in 
 the case. Hurry, now, for I shall probably have all the 
 romance to myself. " 
 
 She tried to take the reins from him. He colored up to 
 think she should make such a proposition. The truth wns, 
 he had really known of a serious robbery in the neighbor 
 hood. During the whole time of the ride he had been cogi 
 tating the mattei', and an apprehension of evil could not be 
 shaken off. The mystery of the bugle-call made matters
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 223 
 
 worse. It would be far from unreasonable to suppose that 
 his niece's well known wealth was a tempting inducement 
 for lawless men to seek to obtain possession of her person 
 But when his apprehensions had taken the form of words, he 
 was amazed to discover how quickly her innate fire flashed 
 out to her usually serene exterior. He had heard of her effi 
 ciency on board the sinking vessel, but had always regarded 
 it as exaggerated. Something in her eye and tone now 
 informed him that it must have been literally true. 
 
 " Come, Uncle Hugh, don't stop to consider. Fight now, 
 or go back for reinforcements while I drive on. Trust me 
 with thieves my darling bays will break through every 
 thing. Why don't you speak ? What are you sitting there 
 for, holding private council of war while our foes are com 
 bining against us ?" 
 
 "Because you are so foolhardy. You know that I will 
 fight where there's any sense in it. But I have no weapons. 
 And that isn't the whole matter, either. I'm concerned 
 about you. I came here to escort you, and take care of you, 
 and I'm going to do it. The idea of your telling me to go 
 back and leave you ! You must be crazy." 
 
 " Well, come on, then," she said, with a bright laugh, at 
 the same time giving the steeds a sharp cut with the whip. 
 The horses dashed up the hill in sudden flight. Hugh Win 
 chester soon tightened the reins upon them, and reduced 
 them to order. He turned very red in the face with passion, 
 but it passed away as quickly, and he said gaily before they 
 reached the summit : 
 
 "Well! Grace, I'd be willing to take any chances with 
 such a woman as you. I know now from which branch of 
 your family you get your blood. Hurrah ! now, for any 
 thing ahead. Listen to that do you hear it ? What in the 
 deuce can that be doing out here! It must be a picnic 
 party." 
 
 They were almost at the apex of the hill, but not a 
 human being was in sight. Over the hill the enlivening
 
 224 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 sounds of martial music were rising, approaching, flooding 
 the forest, echoing back and forth from the near cliffs of 
 the Hudson, and filling every listening heart with thrills of 
 excitement and joy. 
 
 The phaeton reached the summit of the hill and paused. 
 The grandeur of the scene upon the other slope burst upon 
 the eyes of the riders. The onward tramp of thousands was 
 heard upon the hillside, in the highway, and on the plain 
 below. The whole community was aroused, eager, excited, 
 pouring up through the grove, tramping forward to the 
 sounds of thrilling music, and earnestly looking forwards and 
 upwards. Soldiers in glittering trappings, with measured 
 tread horsemen flying back and forth under the maple- 
 trees vehicles of every pattern, from the elegant barouche 
 to the clumsy country wagon, loaded down with men, wo 
 men, and children all, all pressing eagerly forwards and. 
 upwards to the music of the bands. And then the immense 
 concourse of the people on foot, moving on with one soul 
 and one heart to the presence of the beautiful being who had 
 saved their town from destruction. They caught a glimpse 
 of her on the summit of the hill, with her dancing steeds 
 almost uncontrollable in the bursts of martial music ; and 
 with cries which deadened the beat of drums, they shouted 
 to her, and cheer after cheer rolled away over the vast as 
 semblage as they pressed on. Oh ! the spontaneous, thrill 
 ing, outgushing gratitude of an exultant people to the brave 
 woman who had saved them. She looked bewildered ; a 
 hazy mass of faces swam before her eyes, and timidly she 
 shrank back in her seat, while her dark eyelashes drooped 
 over those orbs, always modest and retiring, save in the face 
 of imminent peril. Her uncle, with a tight hold upon his 
 wild steeds, arose and waved his hat to the advancing crowds. 
 They acknowledged the courtesy by shouts ; and eagerly 
 pressed forward, closing around the phaeton and seizing his 
 horses by the bit, enabled him to soothe them to the sound of 
 the rattling drums. As the people swept in hundreds around
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 225 
 
 the phaeton, eager for a glance into the countenance of Mrs. 
 Baltimore, a poor woman pressed her way through the mass, 
 and succeeded in reaching the front wheel of the vehicle. 
 Lifting her child high in the air, she exclaimed : " Now take 
 a good look at the sweet, brave lady. Ye may live a thou 
 sand years, and never look upon the like again. God bless 
 ye, ma'am don't be frightened, ma'am. We've only come 
 to thank ye, for bein' such a splendid lady." 
 
 " Has any one seen the Reverend Charles Heron, here ?" 
 inquired Hugh Winchester, anxious to relieve his niece of 
 the pressure from the crowd, which was packing more densely 
 each instant about the phaeton. 
 
 " Yes, your honor, here he comes he is close behind us. 
 We all broke his order of march, when we ketched a sight 
 of the lady." 
 
 " Make way, there," interrupted another voice of author 
 ity, as four snow-white steeds, with flowing manes and tails, 
 made their appearance, prancing and bowing their heads to 
 the sound of the music. They were attached to a triumphal 
 car under whose white and silver canopy some object of 
 great interest was evidently deposited. The crowd made 
 way for it ; and the white steeds pranced up to the side of 
 the phaeton and there paused. The Reverend Charles 
 Heron forced his horse slowly in through the crowd, and 
 waving his hand to the foremost band of music, it ceased 
 playing. The music in the distance also ceased ; and the 
 clergyman, dismounting, took his stand beside the triumphal 
 car. The crowd was gradually hushed into silence. Re 
 moving his hat, and bowing to Mrs. Baltimore, he said : 
 
 " I come, in the name of these assembled thousands, to 
 offer you a tribute of the heart. You did not forget the 
 people in their hour of suffering and despair ; and they are 
 not going to forget you. You have established in their 
 hearts a monument of gratitude, of which this outward 
 token that I shall present to you is a feeble symbol. In that 
 fearful night, when horror and destruction and death closed 
 
 10*
 
 226 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 in upon us, and there was no hand to succor, you interposed a 
 slight form but a brave heart to the raging flames. The strong 
 had fallen exhausted to the earth, the sense of the alert and 
 skilful was confounded, and over your native town ruin brood 
 ed. Then, upon the scene, with a tender heart and angelic 
 purpose, you burst like a whirlwind of God. Fearless, unyield 
 ing, patient, in the sharp sting of the fire, and cheering all on 
 with accents which will never be forgotten while hearts beat 
 and gratitude lingers upon earth, you battled with the wild 
 element, and saved us. Your stand-point was our last hope ; 
 and without your interposition we should all be wanderers 
 upon the earth homeless, destitute, suffering. The poor, the 
 friendless, the industrious, the honest, the widow, the orphan, 
 the trembling child, all turn to you now with the benediction 
 of the heart, and with the prayer that among the benefactors 
 of humanity, God will remember you with special favor. They 
 will remember you in the prayer of the evening, that no evil, 
 no pain, no sorrow may fall upon your young life ; that storms 
 may be tempered in kindness to you ; that the judgments of 
 Heaven may pass you by ; and that in the eternal home of 
 the true and the good you may live for ever. 
 
 " I am deputed to present to you, in behalf of the people of 
 your native town, this symbol and monument of the fire. 
 Keep it as the pledge of hearts. Transmit it to your heirs 
 as an encouragement to virtue, and self-sacrifice, and intre 
 pidity. To its construction nearly every hand in the town 
 has contributed. The widow's mite and the rich man's offer 
 ing have commingled to buy it. I have seen the arm of the 
 trembling invalid reach from the couch to drop an offering 
 into the box, while lips murmured blessings upon your head. 
 I have seen the innocent child reach on tip-toe to deposit her 
 little memorial. There is but one voice, one sentiment, 
 from the aged to the young ; and that is, 'May our preserver 
 ever enjoy the richest blessings of God.' " 
 
 He ceased, and turning to the triumphal car drew aside 
 the silken curtains, exposing the flashing memorial of the
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 227 
 
 people. It was a miniature town of solid silver, at least six 
 feet square. Every street and lane was accurately defined, 
 and along them drooped the elms and maples, with silver 
 foliage exquisitely traced. The public buildings and the 
 church-spires were in their appropriate localities and propor 
 tions. Over one side of the town swept the silvery flames 
 buildings tottering to their fall, and people rushing away to 
 places of safety. Four unknown heroes were entering houses 
 in their hideous disguise, and beneath their heroic likenesses 
 were engraved the words " To be unveiled in Heaven." 
 The white steed of Mrs. Baltimore was in the fore 
 ground, rearing his forefeet in terror at the flames. His 
 rider was waving her handkerchief towards the court-house, 
 and cheering the men on. Even the Englishman, Sir Francis 
 Cleveland, was represented bravely toiling amid the firemen. 
 The whole dreadful scene was renewed accurately in silver. 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore, too bewildered and excited to respond, 
 whispered to her Uncle Hugh to answer for her. Mr. Win- 
 Chester arose in the phaeton and gracefully returned thanks 
 for the honor done her in the presentation of the elegant 
 memorial. Thunders of applause followed his speech ; and then, 
 at the signal from the clergyman, the military bands struck 
 tip a triumphant march, moving off towards the town. The 
 people slowly and reluctantly formed their returning line of 
 march, cheering as they passed away down the slope of the 
 hill, till the river-cliffs rang again and again with the wild 
 echoes of their shouts and the measured responses of the 
 bands. In a few moments they had passed away home 
 ward, and the occupants of the phaeton were left alone with 
 the white steeds of the memorial-car, and the two grooms' 
 with silver scarfs who were to lead them to " The Glen." So 
 absorbed had the young widow been by the surprise and 
 excitement of the great meeting, that she had forgotten 
 to wave back the expected signal to the remainder of her 
 party, who had been directed to await it at the foot of the 
 hill behind her. Hearing the bursts of martial music, but
 
 228 STOEMCLIFP. 
 
 too refined to violate her programme, her guests were con 
 gregated at the foot of Wizard's Hill in vehicles or mounted, 
 awaiting her pleasure. Only Sir Francis, catching a glimpse 
 of the crowd gathered about the phaeton, had presumed to 
 ascend the hill after her. He arrived in time to see the 
 multitude descending the slope, and beheld with amazement 
 the canopy and its dancing steeds. Wheeling his horse to 
 the side of the phaeton, he exclaimed : 
 
 " I have come unheralded and uninvited. By George ! I 
 fancied you were reviewing an army, by the sounds I 
 heard. What does all this mean ? A triumphal car which 
 looks as if it might have come from the train of some chaste 
 goddess ! And here is a silver mine streets, houses, churches, 
 people, flames all done in silver. What a country ! What 
 a people ! Pardon my intrusion, but the thing had a public 
 look, so I ventured without your handkerchief-call. Am I 
 excusable ?" 
 
 The lady addressed was fairly trembling with emotion. 
 She controlled herself, however, and said, pointing to the 
 memorial : 
 
 " That is a token of gratitude for the salvation of the town. 
 Ypu will find everybody delineated there; you are there, 
 too, Sir Francis. Go up and examine it, and see if you 
 can detect your own likeness. It's a way .we have in this 
 country of preserving old family silver-plate. Don't look so 
 astounded, but go and examine it. You know I told you 
 yesterday not to be surprised at anything ; novelty is our 
 national characteristic. Here, assist me to alight, and I will 
 examine it with you." 
 
 The Englishman dismounted, and giving his bridle to one 
 of the grooms of the car, returned to Mrs. Baltimore's assist 
 ance, after hailing the party at the foot of the hill and invit 
 ing them to ascend. He was amazed at the exceeding beauty 
 and delicacy of the workmanship, when he came to examine 
 the memorial closely. But when he recognised his own 
 figure among the heroes of the fire, he could not conceal his
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 229 
 
 satisfaction. He was really there, and the realization of the per 
 sonal compliment seemed to aid him materially in pronounc 
 ing upon the good taste and workmanship of the memorial. 
 
 " A really excellent specimen of mechanical skill. It bears 
 unmistakable evidence of being done by an English work 
 man ; but, no doubt, some one domiciled in this country. A 
 man, Mrs. Baltimore, must serve a thorough apprenticeship 
 to work well in metals, or indeed in any art. You will find 
 English manufacture always superior in the long run. There 
 is no department of art in which you will not find the supe 
 rior benefits of English regularity and apprenticeship. Every 
 man in England is confined strictly to his own art, and in 
 that results always superiority." 
 
 " How about the art of war, Sir Francis ?" inquired Mrs. 
 Baltimore, with a twinkle in her eyes, as she turned towards 
 her uncle. "We had a seven years' struggle with your 
 regulars who had served their time. Of what account were 
 your apprentices of war ?" 
 
 " Nonsense, Mrs. Baltimore ; don't always be alluding to 
 that. Everybody knows that war was an anomaly." 
 
 " Well, Sir Francis, that word anomaly will always be the 
 American palladium of success. With us it signifies genius. 
 The nations of the earth may monopolize regularity to their 
 hearts' content. Anomaly in our hands will deal surprise- 
 blows that will secure us a fair share of victories, either in 
 trade or science or war. It's a peculiarity of our people, and 
 we prosper under it. But there come the rest of the party ; 
 how stupid of me to forget the signal !" 
 
 Exclamations of delight arose from the new-comers. Con 
 gratulation and praise was the order of the day. After some 
 discussion as to the proper locality at " The Glen " for the 
 reception of the memorial, it was finally decided to place it 
 as a permanent ornament in the centre of the round dining, 
 table, which the taste of the original Baltimore had esta 
 blished under the dome of the mansion. The party then 
 turned their horses' heads homewards, the triumphal car with
 
 230 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 its snowy steeds taking the lead, and Sir Francis Cleveland 
 and Nicholas Traver acting as its mounted escort. By the 
 time the pageant had reached the porter's lodge of "The 
 Glen," the sun had gathered his scarlet and golden ministers 
 of state to his retiring couch, to hear his mandates ere he fell 
 asleep. As the gay procession slowly approached the mansion 
 under the ancient trees, the liveried servants and the maids 
 congregated upon the great circle before the porch, in wonder 
 at the mysterious car of state. They had heard the vague, ru 
 mor of a surprise at the hour of lunch, and here it was, surely 
 coming. When the excitement attending its arrival had 
 subsided, and the silver town had been deposited under the 
 dome, Mrs. Rudd, who had remained at home during the 
 surprise-ride, appeared at a door of the dining-hall, and indi 
 cated that an arrival of interest had occurred during the 
 young widow's absence. Leaving her guests lounging and 
 chatting about the memorial, Mrs. Baltimore followed Nora 
 to the front drawing-room, unobservant of the glances ex 
 changed between the old nurse and the artist Rogers. It 
 occurred to the mistress of the house that Nora's expression 
 was triumphant or self-satisfied, as she summoned her away 
 from her guests ; but the significance of that look was destined 
 to remain for a long time uninterpreted. Entering the draw 
 ing-room first, Nora drew aside the window curtains and 
 allowed the fading light of day to fall upon a portrait on the 
 wall. It was the lost picture of Gertrude Baltimore. It had 
 been newly and elegantly framed, and a fresh look was the 
 result of a recent coat of varnish delicately spread over the 
 canvas. The singular velvet cap and tassels described by 
 Weaver, the gardener, instantly attracted attention. There 
 was no head-dress in the recollection of the young widow in 
 any of her wanderings, so grotesque, and yet so effective 
 and beautiful. There was a commanding look in the face of 
 this Baltimore, unlike any of the other portraits in the room. 
 There was a general resemblance to the other members of 
 the family ; but the eyes were different in shape and color
 
 STORMCLIFF. 231 
 
 The Baltimore eye, common to all the portraits, was a pierc 
 ing black. Gertrude Baltimore's eye was almond-shaped and 
 grey. The lady who had been the cause of alienating the an 
 cient estate from that family blood, stood silent and thoughtful 
 a long time, gazing at the portrait. She possessed a constitu 
 tional reverence for anything old and venerable. Once, that 
 face had ruled supreme in the household where now her own 
 rule was established. That form had swept in authority 
 through the halls of her ancestors ; and tradition had coupled 
 gentleness and power, pomp and charity, with the memory 
 of that woman's soul. Would she be able to sustain the 
 dignity of the estate which had fallen to her hands as firmly 
 as the face which looked at her from the wall ? Would her 
 memory be precious in the thoughts of her present compa 
 nions and guests ? These reflections were dreaming in her 
 brain as she stood silently contemplating the picture, or 
 passed back and forth to new positions, to study effects of 
 light and shade. Finally, she appeared to weary of this 
 strange relic of the past, and turned to her companion for 
 information. The portrait had been produced upon her inti 
 mating to Nora that she was aware of its existence, and 
 wanted it. The old nurse had promptly answered all inqui 
 ries about its existence by saying that she recollected it, and 
 would restore it to the parlor wall when it had been properly 
 cleaned and its crumbling frame replaced. There was the 
 picture, as she had promised, in its new frame. That picture 
 which had cost her that hour of agony, that mental struggle, 
 that secret theft. And yet she was as calm, as unmoved 
 by its presence on the wall, as if her struggle had been only 
 a dream. Had a change come over her pride, over her con 
 science, over her sensitiveness, that she stood thus impertur- 
 bably studying the young mistress as she gazed upon the 
 picture. The inquiry from Mrs. Baltimore came startlingly : 
 
 " Did you know her, Nora ? " 
 
 After a pause of a few seconds, in which she appeared to 
 study mentally, she answered :
 
 232 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 " Yes ! I knew her well." 
 
 The tone was hoarse, hollow-sounding. It caused the 
 inquirer to start and look at the old nurse. She was con 
 templating the picture with a look in which the young 
 widow fancied was blended an expression she had never seen 
 in Nora's face awe, apprehension. 
 
 " Was she reputed stern, cold ?" 
 
 The question seemed to surprise the tall woman, who look 
 ed so dark and shadowy in the fading twilight. The glitter 
 of her strange eyes appeared to soften at the question. She 
 turned to a seat at the window, and motioned to her com 
 panion to sit beside her. Mrs. Baltimore joined her on the 
 sofa, taking her aged hand, as was her wont, when they were 
 alone together. She loved her old nurse with a more ardent 
 affection than she did any relative on earth. She removed 
 her riding-hat, and dropped it beside the sofa. Nora appear 
 ed to be dreaming of the past. She was silent for awhile, 
 holding the little hand which had been placed so lovingly in 
 her own. At last the old woman said, in a tone husky at 
 first, but clear and musical as she warmed with interest in 
 her subject: 
 
 " I will tell you about Gertrude Baltimore ; and I assure 
 you, Grace, it is a long time since I have spoken of her to any 
 one. My lamp of life flickers feebly. The old woman can 
 not be spared much longer from eternity; and as my life 
 totters to its grave, my old heart warms towards you. My 
 child, I want to confide in and love you better than anything 
 that lives. You have sweetened my bitter cup of life. You 
 have been to me the angel of peace which sometimes pre 
 cedes the angel of death. As I look upon you and your life 
 day by day, and see how bravely and sweetly you try to do 
 right amid the temptations and vanities of wealth and adula. 
 tion which have fallen so lavishly upon you, I am praying 
 all the time for God to assist you. I watch every motion 
 you make, and hear almost every word you utter, when I am 
 near. It is the yearning of my heart to guide you and warn
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 233 
 
 you of snares. It did seem at one time as if all the powers 
 of darkness had conspired against your young life. But, thank 
 God, that is past. And yet, even now, you are not quite 
 happy. I can see, Grace, that you do not find that conge 
 niality and sympathy in your father that you anticipated. 
 He withdraws into himself when you are with him. He 
 seems ill at ease in your companionship. This is not an un 
 common experience to those who have had as many opportu 
 nities of studying families as I have ; but let that remain in 
 the hands of God. He purposes well for you in it ; and no 
 doubt you will find a love which shall fill your great heart 
 and comfort you yet. Be brave in the desolation of the heart, 
 and so will God reward you as you bear patiently. But I 
 was going to tell you of Gertrude Baltimore. I trust her 
 spirit hears and loves us at this minute in the court of 
 heaven. You asked me if she was called a stern, cold woman. 
 If ever a woman possessed a loving, tender heart, it was she. 
 But she had strong feelings of family pride. She believed 
 people's standard of acting and thinking was elevated by pre 
 serving family traditions and family consequence. She was 
 intensely opposed to any of her blood marrying " beneath 
 them," as the phrase of society goes. She was a woman of 
 rare talent. Everything that related to the great and the 
 influential in history at once enlisted her sympathy and 
 attention. She idolized great characters and distinguished 
 houses; and she was partial to such works as treated of 
 women of royal blood who maintained the dignity of their 
 positions under severe ordeals. She was the patroness of 
 genius in every department, and her portfolio was rich in 
 letters from men of worth. Of course I speak now with the 
 understanding of a girl. I give the impressions of a young 
 female mind at an age when allowances must be made for 
 enthusiasm, and the estimate of character is not tinctured by 
 prejudices, religious or conventional. An act of deceit, an 
 approach even to dishonor in one of her blood, caused such 
 revulsion of feeling that she would isolate herself for days,
 
 234 STOBMOLIFF. 
 
 and even weeks, from the offender. She felt it as a personal 
 disgrace, and only time could eradicate her resentment. But 
 pride for her kin was blended ever with affection. She would 
 make personal sacrifices for them with as little apparent re 
 luctance as she received favors from them. It was the con 
 sciousness of her exalted character that made hostility from 
 her so painful to her friends. Her ripe judgment almost 
 invariably vindicated itself in the long run, and her predic 
 tions of character were always verified. She was the occa 
 sion, it is said, of saving large wealth to her family by her 
 management in an important lawsuit. In the height of 
 family prejudice and legal excitement, she insisted upon a 
 compromise being effected. She saved half of her immense 
 claim. Persistency in the suit would have lost all. Her 
 toilet was almost severe in its simplicity; but she would 
 wear none but the most expensive velvets and laces. She 
 used to say that hospitality was the mark of a great soul. 
 She despised accumulation of wealth for its own sake, and 
 always employed it for the happiness of others. In times of 
 financial panic, when even the liberal draw tightly on their 
 purse-strings, she was wont to say, ' The great day for God's 
 poor has come ; who giveth freely in the hour of general 
 calamity and panic, giveth with difficulty, and that is charity.' 
 I could tell you of many independent acts she did in the 
 Church, but I would only tire you. She was a strong charac 
 ter, and once her name was in every mouth ; but I find as 
 we grow old, the idols of our young days are forgotten." 
 
 " Did you live near this property, in those days ?" inquir 
 ed Mrs. Baltimore. 
 
 The darkness had gathered too densely in the apartment 
 for Nora's countenance to be seen, else the inquirer would 
 have detected uneasiness in those aged features as she studied 
 her reply. At length she answered : 
 
 " I have passed weeks and even months under this roof with 
 Gertrude Baltimore. I have been speaking from my know 
 ledge derived during intimate acquaintance with the family."
 
 STORMCLIFF. 235 
 
 "Then you must have known my husband in his early 
 life." 
 
 " Oh ! yes," was the calm response ; " I knew him well. 
 It was my knowledge of his character that induced me on 
 that fatal night to seek to prevent the marriage. But it was 
 too late." 
 
 " Was he in early life so intensely selfish ?" 
 
 " The same hard, inexorable self-seeker ; the same vindic 
 tive nature. Triumph or revenge was ever his motto," was 
 Nora's reply. 
 
 The young widow remained thoughtful and silent, holding 
 the aged hand. When she spoke, her companion was startled 
 at the echo of her own secret thoughts. 
 
 " Nora, I don't like my father's attentions to Kate. Their 
 natures are discordant, and she is too young for him. Yet 
 it is the first approach to a real attachment on her part I 
 have ever seen." 
 
 "Would you like to have those attentions end?" was the 
 earnest inquiry from the old nurse. 
 
 '.' Why, Nora ? Why do you ask in that tone ?' 
 
 " I can part them wider than the sea." 
 
 " I know you are almost a miracle-worker, my dear nurse, 
 but such aifairs defy bars and bolts." 
 
 " I have a sceptre, omnipotent for this purpose. Give me 
 authority to use it in your house, and the matter shall end 
 where it is." 
 
 " Is it a secret, Nora ?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 " My dear old nurse, I trust you ; trust your judgment ; 
 trust you in everything. If you will break off this intimacy, 
 no tongue can tell you my gratitude." 
 
 " Leave everything to me, then ; and in a few days your 
 wish and my wish shall be accomplished." 
 
 " I shall study you and your management. I don't believe, 
 Nora, in your reputed supernatural power. Good-by, my 
 darling old witch ; there is the summons to our late dinner."
 
 236 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 She rushed away up-stairs with her bonnet in hand, and 
 left Nora pacing the floor in the darkness, and muttering to 
 herself: 
 
 " By the power Heaven has given me, it shall end if pride 
 is left in woman's heart ! But pride aye ! pride sometimes 
 is trampled out by love." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE moon in full splendor lighted the shrubbery of the gar 
 den as two females passed slowly along the walk in earnest 
 converse. They spoke in subdued tones, as the night was 
 lovely, and other guests might be seated under the arbors 
 enjoying the cool air after the feverish day. As they pene 
 trated further into the shadowy wood which bordered the 
 glen, and left the flower-beds of the garden behind them, 
 they raised their voices and spoke without restraint. Allured 
 by the beauty of the scene, they held on their way until they 
 had passed the rustic bridge, and entered the wilds beyond 
 the brook. Continuing on, they reached the basin in the 
 side of the cliff, where the antique drinking-cup stood. The 
 unveiled power of the moon silvered the water in the basin, 
 and as the two paused to watch the play of the fluid, as it 
 leaped from the cliff in diamond sparks, and then circled 
 around its stone receptacle, their figures were clearly revealed 
 in the moonlight. They could be seen by any one approach 
 ing from either direction on the path, and abundance of time 
 would be given them to change the current of their dis 
 course, in the event of any intruder appearing. The younger 
 of the two raised the iron cup and studied its strange work 
 manship, but her thoughts were dwelling on other subjects. 
 She was evidently embarrassed, for she bit her lip several
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 237 
 
 times, and then looked long and earnestly into the basin. 
 She knew that dark eyes were eagerly regarding her, and 
 she could not look up at them. They were keen eyes, read 
 ers of thought often. And she knew that fact from ex 
 perience. At last, after an inward struggle of several minutes, 
 during which both remained silent, Miss Angier said, in ac 
 cents of extreme sadness : 
 
 " It seems as if all that is earnest and truthful in my life 
 all that is good is destined to be trampled under foot. 
 Nothing in me meets with encouragement and assistance 
 but the evil. Frivolity, fashion, all the impulses of a butter 
 fly nature, are readily gratified ; their requirements fly to 
 my hand, while the demands of a true womanhood go beg 
 ging. I must have some position in life assigned me by God. 
 I must have been intended to fulfil some mission. What is 
 it ? I feel that I can make somebody a good wife. I am 
 conscious of ability to assume duties in life, and fulfil them 
 completely. And here, after a wandering, purposeless life, 
 I find a being congenial, sympathetic with my tastes. One 
 who meets, or appears to meet, all the requirements of my 
 nature. He offers me marriage. There is everything in his 
 possession to make me happy, and just in the midst of it all, 
 you start up before me like a statue of warning, and bid me 
 shun him. It is only respect for your character that suffers 
 me to listen to you. You have shown me repeated kindness. 
 I cannot question your sincerity. Mrs. Baltimore's commen 
 dation of you confirms my own judgment. And yet your 
 advice dashes to the earth all the precious contents of my 
 little cup of hope and joy. You have sent through my 
 dreams of happiness a shudder. You bid me distrust him, 
 and your marvellous possession of our secrets secrets whis 
 pered to each other when no human ear was near gives 
 you the occasion to converse with me of my heart-treasures. 
 Oh ! I have the right to demand all your sources of informa 
 tion, of slander against him. He appears so pure, so noble, 
 so generous. You must bring to me proofs, not bare asser-
 
 238 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 tions against his character. I demand this as the right of a 
 woman's heart. I do believe that I act from principle. My 
 ideas of a future life, of religion, may nut coincide with yours, 
 but I am nevertheless earnest in my convictions of morality. 
 If you will prove, absolutely prove to me his treachery 
 towards women, I will give up this ride to his estate. I will 
 withdraw myself from his influence. Tell me, did he betray 
 to you that his miniature was hidden in my bosom ?" 
 
 " No, never," was the frank response. " I believe he 
 would not betray a secret between himself and a woman. 
 He is too crafty and far-seeing for that." 
 
 " Then you give him no credit for honor. He does not, 
 in your opinion, act from honorable principle, but only from 
 craft." 
 
 " That is precisely my estimate," was the cool reply. 
 
 " And you think he will not marry me, after his solemn 
 promise ? " 
 
 "What is a promise from a man who regards not the 
 sovereignty of God ? " was the solemn response. 
 
 " And you will not tell me how you knew of the miniature 
 and our engagement ? " 
 
 " Only on the conditions I have stated," was the firm reply 
 of the reputed prophetess. 
 
 Miss Angier looked long and seriously into the rock basin. 
 Her faith in the man she loved began to waver. She did not 
 believe in the supernatural, and without its assistance it was 
 impossible to account for Nora's knowledge of the miniature, 
 unless upon the supposition that Nicholas Traver had in 
 some way violated his promise of secresy. Nora had even 
 detailed to her the conversation in which he had declared 
 his love to her, and given her his likeness. After a time, she 
 looked up earnestly at her tall, silent companion. If she was 
 gifted with supernatural power and insight, as many con 
 tended, then there was sufficient explanation of that remark 
 able brilliancy of the eyes which were regarding her, search 
 ing her mind, piercing into her very soul those terrible
 
 STORMCLIFF. 239 
 
 eyes. Miss Angler instantly averted her gaze. It seemed 
 like lifting up the mirror of her heart for Nora to study. 
 What should the bewildered girl do? It would never 
 answer the requirements of sense to go on blindly now, and 
 continue her intimacy with that man after such a fearful 
 warning. Her all was staked upon this game of life of 
 marriage of hope. Should .she seek explanation from his 
 insinuating lips ? Nora had warned her of the serpent 
 tongue, and its persuasive powers. She studied long she 
 studied well. Raising her eyes to the prophetess, she said : 
 
 " Tell me how you learned of the miniature being in my 
 possession. Convince me that he whispers in another wo* 
 man's ear the love which he declares to be mine alone, and I 
 will carry out your conditions, and fling his attentions to the 
 winds with contempt." 
 
 " I knew you had character ; I knew you were a true 
 woman, else I should not have ventured to approach you," 
 exclaimed Nora, her eyes beaming with triumph. " You 
 are saved, Miss Angier ; and some day you will bless my 
 poor old memory. But you must fulfil my conditions first. 
 In observing them, the facts will come to you. The know 
 ledge you demand, and my conditions, are probably directly 
 in your way ; this very night I intend to intrust a secret to 
 you within the hour. Will you keep it inviolate ? Will you 
 go with me ; and when you have learned the secret of my 
 power over you to-night, will you keep it sacredly, and act as 
 conscience and reason demand hereafter in regard to it ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Rudd, I will." 
 
 " Then await my return here. I am going to the house. 
 If I am detained unexpectedly, still be patient and wait for 
 me. I am going to reconnoitre. I will either return for you 
 myself or send a messenger to you. Be patient and trust 
 me, for I am your friend, and the friend of all the innocent." 
 
 The old nurse took the hand of the white-robed girl, 
 pressed it warmly to her lips, and then turned away to 
 wards the distant mansion. She passed away in the moon-
 
 240 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 light, and after a few seconds, her dark figure vanished 
 behind the trees which intervened between the rock basin 
 and the bridge of unhewn oaks. All was silent now, and 
 the expectant watcher looked up seriously to the chaste god 
 dess of the night. Hushed were the dense tops of the pines 
 where the silvery flood lingered. The moss on the rocks 
 revealed each green fibre in the broad glare. Only the sound 
 of the trickling water was heard, as it dashed into the basin 
 in silver threads, or sparkled downwards in diamond drops. 
 The maiden pondered the inscription on the cup in her hand. 
 " EXOPTO " " I ardently desire" Yes ; in the buried city 
 of past ages, parched lips and anxious hearts had gathered 
 to the fountains to slake their thirst. The good God had 
 given His creatures drink. Was He not able to give to her, 
 the maiden, a cup of love pure, crystal water from the 
 fountain of a sincere heart ; from a manly heart, capable of 
 appreciating the delicate and refined devotion of a woman ? 
 But would He, the kind Creator, send her love, or was He 
 about to dash aside the love she craved, and on its frightful 
 ruin establish only solitude and despair ? Laying the iron 
 cup on the basin, she drew from her bosom the miniature. 
 Who dared pronounce that exquisite semblance of manly 
 beauty false a libertine ? She gazed long upon the Adonis 
 face, and its outlines recalled the love which Nora had de 
 clared should pass away like the whirlwind. How little could 
 the old woman realize the intensity of confidence which love 
 entails in a girl's heart. " No ! no ! " she murmured, as she 
 looked upon the likeness, holding it up to the moon. " He 
 bears upon his exterior the marks of inward purity and 
 truth. I will obey Mrs. Rudd, because I have promised. I 
 will follow her to-night, only to find confirmation of his inno 
 cence and love for me. Truth reigns yet on the earth, and 
 he is its symbol." She hastily replaced the likeness in her 
 bosom, for she fancied some one was crossing the bridge of 
 oaks. It was a false alarm. No footsteps were near. Then she 
 paced slowly back and forth along the path, her shadow her
 
 STORHCLIFF. 241 
 
 only companion in the evening silence. She imagined she 
 must have walked back and forth for nearly a half-hour. 
 The place where she was waiting had slowly passed into 
 shadow as the moon moved on. Still Nora did not appear. 
 She grew impatient, uneasy. She did not fancy the idea of 
 remaining so far from the house, and alone. Finally, weary 
 of the long delay, she walked slowly on towards the bridge. 
 She passed into the dark shadows of the interlacing pines. 
 She paused and listened for a few moments. No one was 
 coming, evidently. She moved on further towards the bridge, 
 and found the darkness more gloomy still. She passed on 
 again, till she reached the bank of the stream. The view 
 here was more cheerful. The moonbeams lighted the eddy 
 ing water, and she walked upon the bridge to look at it. 
 She leaned her white figure over the oaken rail, and stood 
 for a long time watching the water as it moved in a dark 
 sullen stream out from the shadows of the overhanging 
 pines, and then suddenly was transformed to a sheet of sil 
 ver. Just under the bridge it passed over a pebbly bed in 
 ripples of silver. She could see it through the openings be 
 tween the rude oak timbers which made the floor. Thus, she 
 thought, flowed the stream of life dark, then smooth and 
 beautiful in the light of joy ! then broken and shattered, and . 
 passing from view. She was aroused by the breaking of a 
 twig. She looked up ; a dark figure was moving between 
 the trees on the bank. It must be the old nurse. The figure 
 advanced rapidly too rapidly for comfort on the warm even 
 ing. Her conjecture was correct. It was Nora, walking 
 rapidly for one of her years. 'She uttered an exclamation of 
 caution as she discovered the watcher so far advanced on her 
 way homeward. 
 
 " Be careful ; pass into the shade on this side. Some one 
 is coming behind me, and I don't want to be seen by any 
 one just now." 
 
 Miss Angier obeyed the direction, and drew herself into 
 the thicket beside Nora. They were effectually concealed. 
 
 11
 
 242 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 In a few seconds, a gentleman and lady passed along the 
 path, and crossed the bridge with a slow step. The hidden 
 couple recognised them as Charles Delavan and Mrs. Balti 
 more. When they had gone on towards the rock-basin, ear 
 nestly conversing on some foreign topic, the hidden compa 
 nions emerged from the thicket, and, taking a circuitous 
 route to avoid other strollers, reached the gardens at a point 
 quite near the rear of the new additions to the house. Here 
 Miss Angier remained concealed under an arbor of grape 
 vines until Nora could reconnoitre again. The object was 
 to glide into the hall which connected the old and new build 
 ings without being seen by other inmates of the house, or 
 by any of the guests who might be wandering about in the 
 moonlight. Nora returned to the arbor, and reported the coast 
 to be clear. The two then passed along in the full glare of 
 the moon, and, entering the connecting-hall, closed the door 
 quietly behind them. The moonbeams flooded the hall 
 through the side-windows. No one appeared to be stirring 
 in the immediate neighborhood ; and, after a brief pause, the 
 old nurse whispered : 
 
 "Move quickly in before me. We are going to pass 
 through a secret door. Here your promise of secresy com 
 mences ; come fearlessly on. I know every inch of the 
 way." 
 
 Placing her hands against a panel of the wainscot which 
 lined the wall, a door swung inwards, and a gloomy aperture 
 was visible in the moonlight. Taking Miss Angier by the 
 arm, she gently urged her forward into the darkness, and 
 entering after her, closed the secret door behind them. 
 Then she directed the young lady to place her right hand 
 upon the wall of the concealed tunnel and walk on as fast 
 as she conveniently could, assuring her that there were no 
 obstacles in her .way. Miss Angier, in amazement, put out 
 her hand, and discovered that the wall was covered with 
 some soft material like baize. The floor of the tunnel was 
 carpeted with the same material. Nora encouraged her in
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 243 
 
 the darkness, and thus stimulated and curious, she passed on, 
 feeling her way by the wall. When her feet at length came 
 in contact with a woollen obstruction on the floor, of which 
 her companion had warned her, Miss Angier paused, and 
 waited for further instructions how to proceed in this un 
 known way. She was then informed of a rise in the floor 
 a gentle, easy rise which she must ascend carefully and 
 slowly, avoiding conversation. At the termination of this 
 rise she was to meet a cord secured to the side-wall. By 
 the aid of this hempen bannister she would ascend two steps, 
 and then must remain silent and attentive in the darkness. 
 Nora promised to follow her closely, and take her hand when 
 she had reached the topmost of the two stops. She was 
 assured that she would learn a secret during that attentive 
 silence which would serve her a good purpose in life. Awe 
 struck, the young lady moved on in the impenetrable gloom, 
 with no conception of her whereabouts, and no idea of the 
 result of this apparently subterranean journey. She felt only 
 that she was in the power of a strange being, reputed to be 
 gifted with supernatural vision, and urging her forward to 
 some terrible revelation in life. She had given her promise 
 of secresy, and nothing remained but to push on to the 
 dreadful reality ahead in the gloom. 
 
 Miss Angier was not devoid of fortitude and spirit, and 
 resolutely she groped her way on. Ascending the rise ahead 
 of her, she reached the foot of the steps and put out her hand 
 for the bannister. It met her groping hand, and by jits assist 
 ance she arose almost perpendicularly upwards on the two 
 steps. Pausing with beating heart, she heard voices, and 
 felt a current of cool air circulating about her head. All, 
 however, was dark as the ancient blackness of Egypt. Hush ! 
 the music of a voice which had often thrilled her heart was 
 distinctly audible. The tones were the loving accents which 
 she had dreamed were never assumed but for her ear alone. 
 Aye ! more ; they were tones which denied the power of her 
 own fascinations, and vowed by the bright and holy stars of
 
 244 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 heaven, that the love of Nicholas Traver had been be 
 stowed, and for ever, upon the sister of the artist Rogers. 
 The listening girl heard distinctly Lucretia Rogers avow her 
 joy at the confession and promise to be the wife of Nicholas 
 Traver. She turned as cold as the marble statue of Vigil 
 ance in whose covered pedestal she stood concealed. Nora 
 felt her hand turn cold in her grasp, as she extended her arm 
 upwards to sustain her. She feared the poor girl would faint 
 and fall. She miscalculated the endurance of that betrayed 
 woman's heart. Miss Angier remained silent and listening, 
 till enough was learned to satisfy incredulity of the man's 
 utter falsity. She heard him declare that he had passed so 
 much of his time in her society in order to divert attention 
 from his real love for the artist's sister. She heard him de 
 nounce herself as trivial, worldly, and unworthy of a serious 
 affection. Her bright dream had a fearful awakening, and 
 when she descended at length noiselessly to Nora's side, she 
 pressed both arms around the old woman's neck, and laid 
 her head in confidence and gratitude upon her bosom. It 
 was more effective than a dangerous whisper under the sta 
 tue of Vigilance, and expressed to the old nurse's heart the 
 acknowledgment : " You have saved me from a fate worse 
 than death." 
 
 Softly, silently they stole away in the darkness from the 
 statue which looked sternly upon deceit and treachery, and 
 when they reached the secret door, and emerged unobserved 
 into the hall, Miss Angier whispered freely to the old nurse 
 her gratitude that the great snare of her life had been severed 
 by her hand, and she was enabled to emerge once more into 
 the open air of an innocent existence. 
 
 The mystery of the miniature was explained to her. When 
 Mary Delavan retired from the saloon so abruptly during the 
 reading of the novel by " Recluse," Nora had followed her 
 in solicitude to her room. Ascertaining that she was not ill, 
 she had left the young lady alone in retirement, and had im 
 mediately entered the secret passage to ascertain if her
 
 STORMCLIFF. 245 
 
 suspicions regarding Mr. Traver's attentions to Miss Angler 
 were well founded. She arrived under the statue in time to 
 hear the engagement confirmed, and heard the lady ac 
 knowledge the receipt of the miniature. Aware of the 
 treacherous character of the man with whom she had to 
 deal, she had watched his every movement during his inter 
 course with Kate Angler. His attentions during the read 
 ing of the novel had appeared more marked and devoid of 
 caution than usual. The time had evidently arrived when 
 she felt bound to interpose for the trusting girl's salvation. 
 She reached the hollow pedestal in the midst of his confes 
 sion of attachment and heard him insist that the engage 
 ment should remain secret. The experience of the past 
 warned her of his evil intent. She knew his vaulting ambi 
 tion would never permit him to marry a poor girl of Miss 
 Angler's position. She resolved to warn her, to save her. 
 Mrs. Baltimore's request that the intimacy should be broken 
 had only strengthened her in her holy purpose. She Ifad 
 sought an interview with the young lady ; and, having 
 secured her assent to the conditions, hastened away to the 
 mansion to watch the movements of Nicholas Traver and 
 the artist's sister, who were evidently paired for the evening. 
 For a long time they wandered about the gardens, and she 
 had cautiously followed, her dark dress enabling her to 
 remain concealed in the shadows of the shrubbery. In pass 
 ing her once she had heard Nicholas Traver propose to 
 visit the saloon and view the fountain of mermaids by moon 
 light. His suggestion was acquiesced in by his companion ; 
 and Nora hastened away to secure Miss Angler's presence at 
 the interview. She earnestly desired that they should con 
 verse near the statue of Vigilance. She had observed that 
 the divan under it was a favorite resort of Nicholas Traver. 
 Success had attended her in her calculations and the evil 
 purpose of the man was foiled. She now advised Miss 
 Angler to play her cards with a view to commit the 
 deceiver to paper in his avowals of love, that she might be
 
 246 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 the means of saving Miss Rogers also. The secret of the 
 hidden way was to be revealed to no one. The artist's sister 
 was to be put on her guard by Miss Angler's management 
 alone. With this understanding they parted in the garden ; 
 and Nora was soon after summoned by a maid to the pre 
 sence of Mrs. Baltimore. The purpose for which she was 
 called by the mistress of "The Glen" was to secure her 
 advice in regard to what lawyer she should consult in mak 
 ing her will. 
 
 * CHAPTER XXH. 
 
 THE door of the private library where Mrs. Baltimore was 
 seated was opened by a servant, and Mr. Rutherford was 
 announced. She was awaiting his arrival. Seated in a large 
 arfn-chair covered with green leather, she had been examin 
 ing a bundle of legal papers. The parchment-wrapper and 
 tape had been laid aside, and the papers were scattered over 
 her table. It was her private room for the transaction of 
 business small, elegantly furnished in colors of green and 
 oak where she was accustomed to hold consultations with 
 Nora, who acted in the capacity of her steward. The ser 
 vices of the lawyer had been secured on the recommendation 
 of his friend the old nurse. She had only mentioned that 
 he was young and struggling in his profession, but was 
 worthy of trust, and clear-headed in the transaction of legal 
 business. The servant closed the door upon retiring, and 
 the young widow saw that she was confronted by a man in 
 iron-grey dress. A quick, searching look informed her that 
 he was clad in coarse, cheap garments ; had a black necktie 
 and a rolling collar ; possessed a mouth of wonderful propor 
 tions for the destruction of bread and butter, and an eye 
 which looked empire. She arose courteously, and extended 
 her hand to him.
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 247 
 
 " I am glad to know you, Mr. Rutherford. Mrs. Rudd, 
 my friend and steward, is your eulogist. She informs me 
 that you are eminently capable in your profession, and, at her 
 request, I have sent for you. Be seated, if you please." 
 
 The man in iron-grey bowed low, and, without a word, 
 drew a chair near to the table. His first glance at her upon 
 entering the apartment gave him the impression of beauty, 
 grace, modesty. His tastes were in the line of blonde ladies, 
 and he did not care to study her further. He noticed that 
 her eyelashes drooped, and that she did not look long and 
 steadily at him. Finding that reticence was her style, he 
 cared not to intrude upon it ; and after glancing about the 
 apartment and dwelling with peculiar interest upon the ele 
 gant cases of books, he turned to the papers on the table, 
 and said, pleasantly : 
 
 " Your pursuits are anomalous for a lady, if I may judge 
 from the titles upon the back of some of these papers. You 
 have been making yourself familiar, it appears, with tfce 
 intricacies of equity and law." 
 
 "My position, sir, is anomalous," was the reply, coupled 
 with a smile and a glance at him. 
 
 "In what respect, madam?" he asked, touched by the 
 gentle tones of the lady's voice. Woman's real power is con 
 densed in that low, sweet accentuation, if she could but learn 
 to employ it alone. 
 
 "At an age when most girls enter upon the duties of mar 
 ried life, and think experience cheaply bought in four or five 
 years' trial, I find myself a widow, with the responsibilities 
 of managing an immense estate in lands and stocks and mort 
 gages. There is property enough represented in these papers 
 on my table to satisfy the wants of ten large families of rank 
 and consequence in society. The judicious management of 
 it all requires no trifling amount of industry and atten 
 tion." 
 
 . The broad smile which illumined his exaggerated feature, 
 as he looked playfully at her, made one forget how dread-
 
 248 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 fully nature had violated proportion in moulding his mouth. 
 Every line of it was teeming with fun, as he answered : 
 
 " There are no doubt a few self-sacrificing children of men 
 who would be willing to take a share of this property, and 
 thus relieve you of the burden partially." 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore laughed at his raillery ; and, relieved of 
 the impression of solemnity and sternness which his features 
 had indicated upon his entrance, shot bolder glances at him 
 from under her eyelashes. Her idea of power in his eyes 
 was confirmed. He loves books, she thought, recalling his 
 long gaze at her book-shelves. Now, if those grey eyes 
 could be experimented with hi the realm of science or art, 
 what strange light might be evolved from them ! His forehead 
 confirms my suspicion of mental power. I cannot conceive 
 what Nora means by his struggling. His garments are plain 
 enough, but his ease of manner and his self-possession indi 
 cate claims to notice which society can hardly refuse. No 
 doubt he is a lion in literary circles. That iron-grey suit is 
 the very eccentricity and armor of genius. I rather like it. 
 It is just the thing to grapple and wrestle intellectually in. 
 I pronounce mentally in favor of iron-grey. He is all power 
 and humor ; no gentleness, I predict. This train of thought 
 was running upon time in her brain. She had to check it 
 for her answer : 
 
 "You are right: we often find fault with people and things 
 that we would not part with under any circumstances. No 
 doubt I am just as reluctant to pai't with my estates as the 
 poorest man in this neighborhood. I would like to have two 
 sets of brains one to take care of my property, and the 
 other to enjoy it." 
 
 " Ladies accomplish that result by marrying, sometimes," 
 was the instant response, the genial smile again sweeping 
 away her reserve. 
 
 "They stake their all upon a lottery then," she said, laugh 
 ing, without knowing why she laughed. His humor was 
 irresistible. She laughed because he lausrhed. Then he
 
 STORMCLIFF. 249 
 
 checked himself, as if he fancied he was trespassing upon her 
 time, and said : 
 
 " You sent for me, Mrs. Baltimore, to write your will for 
 you. If you will indicate your wishes, if you have them 
 accurately arranged in your mind, I will put them on paper 
 for you in legal phrase. If you are doubtful of what the law 
 permits you to do, I will gladly aid you by my advice. If 
 your plans of disposing of your property are intricate, it may 
 be necessary for me to consult men of more legal experience 
 than myself. It would be absurd for me to pretend to be 
 a great legal light, and to know everything accurately about 
 wills and testaments. I know enough, however, for ordinary 
 purposes of disposition of estates by will. With this preface, 
 I am at your disposal." 
 
 This was said so naturally, modestly, without the least 
 vestige of conceit, that the widow was charmed. She gained 
 confidence, and looked more steadily at the young lawyer 
 as she spoke. 
 
 "I have no question of your ability to advise me, Mr. 
 Rutherford, as Nora declares in your favor with great earnest 
 ness ; and she is a genius in many respects. The lawyer who 
 has been my counsel in other matters I have discarded from 
 my confidence, though he was sent to me by my father. He 
 was too obscure in his legal phraseology in several matters 
 of business, and I cannot endure what I cannot be made to 
 understand. In my management of my own affairs, I must 
 and will know what I am doing. But my principal motive 
 in dispensing with his services is the assurance which came 
 to me that he acted on one occasion with marked meanness 
 and want of gratitude. The lawyer I allude to is the Hon. 
 George Robinson, member of Congress for this district. Do 
 you know him ?" 
 
 " Very well," was the response. " I do not think, however, 
 I ever heard anything discreditable of him." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Mrs. Baltimore. " His offense would 
 not be considered of great consequence by men generally,
 
 250 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 but it shocked me greatly. It appears that a young orator, 
 who possesses great powers of eloquence and persuasion, by 
 his efforts during the canvass elected this gentleman to office. 
 It was generally conceded that he had done so by his elo 
 quence. Hon. George Robinson, though solicited afterwards 
 to contribute a few law-books to aid this young man in his 
 legal career, absolutely refused. The candidate who was de 
 feated, like a generous being as he was, was so shocked by 
 the man's hardness of heart and his want of common grati 
 tude, when he learned of this refusal through a secret source of 
 information (for the request was not a public one), that he 
 quietly purchased a set of law-books and deposited them upon 
 the young orator's door-step at night. I think the ingratitude 
 of the one and the magnanimity of the other are unparalleled. 
 I made bold to tell Mr. Robinson this on his last professional 
 visit to me. He did not attempt to dispute the fact of his 
 refusal, but insisted that there was no legal or moral reason 
 why he should give away law-books. The man did not even 
 look ashamed, and I parted with him professionally for ever. 
 Nora told me of the whole affair, and that is the reason why 
 I am left without a legal adviser." 
 
 " I shall be happy to supply any deficiency that I can, Mrs. 
 Baltimore," was the reply, delivered with an effort, at least, 
 at calmness. She fancied the young lawyer turned a trifle 
 paler, and that the movement he made towards the table arose 
 from uneasiness. Not dreaming whom she was addressing, 
 she ascribed his manner to a dignified unwillingness to speak 
 disrespectfully of a fellow-member of the bar. Respecting 
 this delicacy of his profession, she changed the subject quick 
 ly, and proceeded to state, in detail, the plans she contem 
 plated in the disposition of her immense estate, in the event 
 of her dying unmarried. An enumeration of her possessions 
 became necessary to a full comprehension of her wishes in 
 framing the will. As a guide to his memory, the lawyer 
 noted down with pencil and paper the various items of her 
 wealth, as she gave them to him. After a long column had
 
 STOEMCLIPF. 251 
 
 been written in pencil of lands, leases, bank stocks, mort 
 gages, personal effects, et cetera, and she had directed names 
 of legatees to be noted down opposite the different amounts, 
 the lawyer laid down his pencil and said : 
 
 " That is a wonderful column of what the clergy call the 
 filthy lucre. This is all, then, complete. As I glance my eye 
 over the figures it appears to foot up millions. Now for the 
 duration of the estates you propose to create. Are these de 
 vises to be absolute, or do you propose to create life estates 
 in some of them, with remainder to others ; or are any of them 
 to be trust estates for the benefit of those who are infants or 
 incompetent to manage property ? " 
 
 , " Wait a minute," said Mrs. Baltimore. " You have only 
 the list of my property in America. Make a heading for 
 another column call it what you please it will be my funds 
 and securities in Europe." 
 
 " What ! more ?" exclaimed the astonished lawyer. " Have 
 you committed a great crime, that Heaven has imposed this 
 enormous burden upon you ? Please tell me, do you sleep 
 nights, Mrs. Baltimore ? " 
 
 " Money never keeps me awake, that's sure," was her reply. 
 
 " Well, I know I shouldn't sleep a wink with such respon 
 sibilities. I'd be for ever hiring guards to protect me, and 
 then sitting up all night to keep a sharp lookout on the 
 guards myself." 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore looked archly at him as she answered : 
 
 " That shows the goodness and forbearance of Providence. 
 I have noticed that persons of brains, whose exact and care 
 ful business habits of acting and thinking would be over 
 whelmed by the cares of great wealth, seldom have it thrust 
 upon them. They rarely possess more than a competency. 
 On the other hand, those who would be the last ones selected 
 by a vote of the intelligence of the community to be the 
 proper recipients of wealth, somehow succeed in gaining 
 possession of it. They hold it, manage it, and appear to 
 stagger very little under their burdens. They succeed very
 
 252 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 well. Look at the holders of great wealth among your im 
 mediate acquaintances. What proportion of them rank among 
 what you would style 'the ablest minds of the land ?' There's 
 a fatality about it, or rather God prefers not as a rule to 
 combine accumulative power with mental power. I do not 
 deny the exceptions, but what is the rule ? " 
 
 Rutherford looked at her earnestly. She was a woman of 
 ideas, then. She thought and reasoned independently. It 
 might be well to look at her dark eyes more closely. Intel 
 lect sometimes catches its inspirations from the sympathetic 
 eyes of strangers. The lambent brilliancy of his genius- 
 orbs was manifest as he said to the young widow, who had 
 moved her chair nearer to the table, and now sat with her 
 cheek resting upon her closed hand, and the symmetry of her 
 wrist revealing itself beneath her mourning sleeve : 
 
 " Those who have looked long and earnestly upon nature 
 animate or inanimate are prepared for anything. The 
 bird that I reclaim from the wilderness and teach to regard 
 my hand as a petting friend, charms me by the rich, aye, 
 gorgeous plumage of his species. Why did not God endow 
 him with the gift of song ? I weary of him at last, and turn 
 to the plain homely thrush, who pours the little rivers of his 
 melody down the wild rock-turnings of my heart, till cascades 
 of pleasure foam there and sparkle in the sun, o'erarched by 
 the rainbow of enjoyment. He speaks to my soul. God has 
 given him power internal power and he perches and sings 
 beside the scarlet robe and the tuft of black-crown feathers 
 till the gay bird looks stupid and tame. Why his plain robe 
 is never exchanged for the other's scarlet mantle, I cannot 
 tell. I gathered some wild flowers once, so beautiful and 
 bright, that I detected them afar off, and climbed a danger 
 ous place to own them. I walked home with them nodding 
 their beautiful heads at me, and attracting the eyes of every 
 one who passed by. But when I sought for fragrance, there 
 was none. The simple cluster of tiny white flowers, that 
 gently waved on the bush beside my window, filled the air
 
 STORMCLIFF. 253 
 
 with sweetness and balmy life, and I turned to them in pre 
 ference. I sat beside a girl so richly endowed with beauty 
 and languishing grace that I fancied for a time my ideal was 
 realized ; but when a plain simple companion of hers entered, 
 and the conversation commenced, the sceptre passed from 
 the exterior to the interior beauty. Had that beautiful girl 
 the gift of sense and appreciation also, she would rule all 
 things with an iron hand. Too much of power would attend 
 the combination. So it is of wealth and intellect. They are 
 dangerous in one man, but exercise a salutary balance upon 
 society in two." 
 
 She was regarding him earnestly. Once or twice their 
 eyes met, and the consciousness flashed to each that they 
 were created to quench their intellectual thirst on the same 
 bank of the stream of life. The voices on the other and 
 lower bank seemed far off" and husky with the sensual cries 
 of existence. For them poesy seemed to lower her flowery 
 ladder and invite them to the ethereal. Nature, like an 
 angel, stood flinging wide the portals of her realm, and point 
 ing through it all to heaven beyond. Kindred fires were 
 lighted from the watch-towers of their eyes, and in pleasant 
 communion the moments sped away. The struggling lawyer 
 and the heiress of millions forgot the business of the hour, 
 and over the paper representatives of opulence exchanged or 
 clashed the crystal goblets of thought, and remembered not 
 the scythe-bearer who calls for the account of stewardship 
 at every turning of his glass. 
 
 At length Rutherford recollected himself, and paused in 
 the midst of one of his descriptions. 
 
 " But this delightful interchange of thought is the viola 
 tion of all the laws of business and order. I have been 
 tempted away from duty. This will requires much labor. 
 Please indicate the' items of this second column, and I will 
 soon be able to commence in earnest." 
 
 His companion reluctantly relinquished the conversation, 
 saying :
 
 254 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 / 
 
 " Making a will is preparing for death. It is one prepa 
 ration, at least. I trust every other effort to be ready will be 
 as diligently followed up as this. Now we will go on with 
 the inventory of goods and chattels. First, my English 
 stocks, two hundred thousand dollars. Put that down as a 
 legacy to my uncle, Hugh Winchester." 
 
 She looked at the broad white forehead and grey eye as 
 he wrote. Legacy after legacy was indicated by her, and at 
 length the column was complete. Then he prepared the pa 
 per for the will carefully, and laying the pile of half-sheets 
 beside him, commenced to write the opening acknowledg 
 ment of the supremacy of the Deity. He read it to her as 
 his pen flew along the paper, and as the style had not been 
 adopted in the will of her deceased husband, it was strange 
 and novel to her, causing an emotion of awe. She inter 
 rupted : 
 
 " Mr. Rutherford, do you commence every will with that 
 recognition of God ? Suppose one does not believe in the 
 existence of a Supreme Being ?" 
 
 " Then it is not entered at the opening of the instrument. 
 It has nothing to do with the validity of the will. A man 
 who denies God, of course, will not in the last act of his 
 life acknowledge him on paper. I will change it, if you so 
 prefer." 
 
 He looked up earnestly at her from his writing. She 
 smiled and said : 
 
 " Go on. I don't wish to deny Him. He is the dearest 
 friend and companion of my existence. Can you imagine a 
 child, nursed and watched for years by old Nora, to be igno 
 rant of God ? Go on. I did not know the custom. It is 
 appropriate and beautiful." 
 
 The lawyer rapidly proceeded in drawing the will. At 
 every new clause he paused ahd explained what he was 
 about to write, and, securing her assent, went on with his 
 writing. He indicated to her at every step what legal 
 terms meant, and her quick comprehension found no ditti-
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 255 
 
 culty in expressing itself. He was delighted with her sense ; 
 and, before the document was finished, both had formed 
 pleasant impressions of each other's character. It was seve 
 ral hours before the will was finished, and during his labors 
 Mrs. Baltimore ordered lunch to be brought to her private 
 library for two. The entrance of the servant with the 
 elegant salver gave opportunity for another animated, dis 
 cussion between the mistress of " The Glen" and her lawyer. 
 After the lunch was over, Rutherford paced up and down the 
 apartment for a few minutes during the discussion of the ex 
 pediency of inserting a particular condition in the will. His 
 hands were crossed behind his back, and he stepped firmly 
 and evenly back and forth as he talked. Sl\e observed, then, 
 with a woman's quick eye, how powerfully and beautifully 
 nature had moulded him, as if to atone for giving him such 
 a mouth. There was not a guest on her estate who could 
 compare with him in symmetry and splendor of figure. Sir 
 Francis Cleveland was the nearest approach to him in man 
 liness of person. The point of difference being settled at 
 length, the lawyer resumed his seat and proceeded with the 
 will. Finally his labors were over, and the young widow 
 attached her signature and seal to the document. He direct 
 ed her how to proceed in obtaining witnesses to the will ; and 
 then, at her request, drew a receipt for the amount due him 
 for his services. She gave him her check on the bank for 
 the amount ; and, after a few formal remarks, he bowed him 
 self out of the room. 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore remained in her seat for a few seconds in 
 profound study. She was trying to conjecture where she had 
 seen the lawyer's likeness before, or some person resembling 
 him. She felt confident that the peculiar mouth, and fore 
 head, and eyes resembled some one she had known. Her 
 memory proved treacherous 'to her at this time, and, rising 
 from her seat, she proceeded to lock up the unattested will 
 in her escritoire. Then, leaving the apartment, and passing 1 
 out through the hall of the front building, she seated herself
 
 256 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 in the shade of the stone porch and looked out upon the 
 park. The figure of the lawyer was just passing away under 
 the oaks, mounted upon a black steed. A vehicle had passed 
 him approaching the house, and in it she recognised the 
 figures of the artist and his sister, Lucretia. They were re 
 turning from a drive. The horses dashed up to the door, 
 and the two alighted, a servant being in waiting for their 
 arrival. The first remark of Rogers, on saluting the mistress 
 of the house, was : 
 
 " I see you have had a visit from Golden-Lip." 
 " What do you mean ? You speak in riddles." 
 "Not at all. There he goes; we have just passed him. 
 Why do you look so amazed ? I intended to be intelligible, 
 whether I have succeeded or not. That was Golden-Lip, the 
 man in iron-grey, who just left this door on horseback." 
 
 " I am as much in the dark as before. Who is Golden-Lip ? 
 I never heard of such a person. That gentleman who has 
 just left the park is a young lawyer named Rutherford. He 
 has been here on business. Please explain yourself, Mr. 
 Rogers." 
 
 " Never heard of Golden-Lip, the glorious orator of the 
 highlands ; the rising sun of oratory, the master of the pas 
 sions ! I beg your pardon, I had forgotten how recently 
 you have returned to your native land. There goes a per 
 secuted, struggling child of genius, who is thrusting his great 
 soul into the face of prejudice, and he is going to sweep 
 everything before him. He is just at the critical period now. 
 Oh ! you have never heard him. He is a young giant. He 
 melted me to tears when I listened to him. I was opposed 
 to him politically; but he vanquished me, as he has many 
 hundreds. I will follow him to the death in the principles 
 he has espoused. Oh, you must hear him. It is like having 
 all the past and beautiful dreams of your life recalled and 
 made real. He removes the veil from facts and men, and 
 makes truth so beautiful and alluring that one yearns to do 
 rightly, and honestly, and nobly. He has a mission on earth,
 
 STORMCLTFF. 257 
 
 and he feels it. Golden-Lip ! His name is in every mouth. 
 He is master of the soul." 
 
 The artist's eye fairly flashed with enthusiasm as he spoke. 
 Mrs. Baltimore looked at him in amazement. 
 
 " That young man an orator ! I can readily believe him a 
 poet of power and humor ; but there appears to be little of 
 the energy and indomitable will about him which can storm 
 the citadel of prejudice. There is too much of repose and 
 acquiescence in his manner. He is too sweet and beautiful 
 in his thoughts to grapple with real life." 
 
 "Don't you believe that, Mrs. Baltimore. Build up now 
 the strongest prejudice in your mind that you are capable 
 of. He has no father, no mother. He is reputed to be an 
 illegitimate son of the deceased Judge Holden. He had few 
 friends a few months ago. Ladies will not recognise him. 
 Society welcomes him not. There is no personal stain of 
 immorality about him. But he has no position, except what 
 his mental power is building for him. Now go and hear him. 
 He is out upon the stump again for the fall election. I tell 
 you he will rend your soul." 
 
 " I heard of a young orator who elected Mr. Robinson to 
 Congress," she replied, musingly. 
 
 " The very man the very Golden-Lip himself," exclaimed 
 the artist. " That was his first effort. Many applauded that 
 attempt, but many more sneered. Since that time he has 
 been more successful. I heard a prominent member of the 
 opposition party declare, that notwithstanding his life-long 
 attachment to party and party prejudices, that young man 
 went through him like a whirlwind. It is rumored that this 
 gentleman to whom I allude was so impressed by his earnest 
 eloquence, that he secretly caused a handsome present of law- 
 books to be left at his door. He has been wretchedly poorj 
 but his prospects are brightening, thank God." 
 
 And she had unfortunately alluded to his poverty and des 
 titution in his very presence ; harassed that noble, strug 
 gling heart, by referring to the base ingratitude of a man
 
 258 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 wealthy and influential. She felt that she would rather have 
 lost her right hand than be guilty of such an act. It was too 
 late ; and he was gone. The comforting reflection was, that 
 she had expressed her sentiments pretty clearly and empha 
 tically in his presence regarding the splendor of the Hon. 
 George Robinson's character. She was certain Rutherford 
 must know that she had been unconscious whom she was 
 addressing at the time of their interview. Annoyed at the 
 pain she had occasioned through inadvertence she promised 
 Rogers that she would not fail, on some favorable opportu 
 nity, to hear this young giant of the hills, and then entered 
 the house again with her guests. 
 
 CHAPTER XXHI. 
 
 LIFT her softly, that she may look for the last time upon the 
 setting sun. Gently, tenderly raise the delicate, weary, 
 drooping little frame, that her last glimpse of the beautiful 
 world may be comfortable and easy. Alas ! she is dying. 
 Exhausted nature has yielded at last to the disease. The 
 child of shame, with the lily-white heart, is passing away to 
 the arms of God who calls her. Her dreams of the angels 
 will become reality. Already the Good Shepherd is reach 
 ing forth his arms to the little stray, and beside him gather 
 the angels appointed to bear her from shame to glory. The 
 pattering feet which wandered up and down the meadows all 
 day, looking for flowers to honor the messengers of God, 
 never once rested upon her bed at night till she had prayed 
 to her Father in heaven to bless her and love her. She is 
 ready; for, under the pious teaching of her Magdalen 
 mother and old Nora, she lived much in heaven. She 
 yearned towards it, looked towards it, prayed towards it. 
 And now the little life has finished its mission ; and in the 
 arms of Nora, the faithful she is raised, to look for the last
 
 STORMCLIFF. 259 
 
 time upon the Avest. When that sun shall rise again, little 
 Zoe will be beyond the stars. Come closer, trembling 
 mother, and take the last look of your darling, your beauti 
 ful all. When Zoe has gone the cross which you have taken 
 will bear more painfully upon your lonely shoulders. You 
 will rise in the morning ; but the little bed will be empty. 
 There will be no sound of pattering feet by day, no song of 
 the angels at twilight. You have prayed that the cross of 
 our blessed Lord may be your portion, that sin may be van 
 quished, and you may win eternal peace. That prayer will 
 be answered ; but how can you bear it alone, without the 
 bird-voice of your child to sing to you by the way ? A little 
 advocate will sing beside the great white throne for you ; but 
 you will see her no more. Bear the anguish bravely, and 
 whisper the name of Jesus, and He will come to you. Draw 
 closer now and listen, for the eyes of the child, with a per 
 sistency and a trust which only a child can exhibit, are look 
 ing out towards that gate where last he went out the beau 
 tiful man, her father, who promised to return. Night after 
 night has Zoe climbed to that window, to watch that same 
 gate, and wonder why he did not appear. In that one 
 glimpse of him, during his stolen interview, the child gave 
 to him all that her little heart could give. She trusted, and 
 loved, and longed for his promised return. She still asks to 
 be raised and adjusted upon the pillows, that she may see 
 him return. Fainter and fainter grew the dim rays of the 
 vanished sun, darker and darker gathered the shadows, and 
 still did the dying child look out for his coming. She mur 
 mured at last : 
 
 "Tell him, dear mother, that I died looking out towards 
 the gate, and put back the hands of the angels for him. They 
 reached forth for me twice, but I put back the hands of my 
 dear angels for him. Tell him I saved the lilies under the 
 willow for him. He will find them ; they're all growing by 
 the water. I wouldn't touch one of them till he came. Kiss 
 me, mother ; you will be lonely without little Zoe. But I'll
 
 260 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 be an angel; and then I can come to see you and Nora, 
 Will you put lilies in the window for me ? Oh! I do wish 
 he would come my father would come." 
 
 The darkness had fallen densely, and the watchers could 
 no longer behold the features of Zoe. They laid her gently 
 back upon the pillows and listened in silence to her short 
 breathing. Then all was still, as they prayed in their hearts. 
 A star twinkled forth from the sky as a token that darkness 
 was past. Aye ! the darkness and sorrows of shame and of 
 life had vanished away in the glories of Heaven. The young 
 lily was blooming in the garden of God. Rise, mother, and 
 pray, and struggle, and die ! Broken-hearted and lonely, 
 repentant and mild, the Saviour will guide thee at last to thy 
 child. 
 
 All night long she watched beside her dead. Nora had 
 left her, called away by her duties at "The Glen." The 
 angels had departed with their spirit-burden : only the mar 
 ble-white casket was left to her. But as she prayed and 
 trusted in God the promise was fulfilled. A hush of peace 
 and divine consolation filled the room ; the spirit of God 
 passed over her heart, and all was still. Patiently, purely, 
 to live and suffer, to love His poor, and to die in His grace, 
 was the path of her life. She bowed to the mandate ; and 
 when the morning sun fell upon the face of the lovely sleeper 
 beside her, she arose and walked out to summon her servants 
 to pray. The influence of Nora had been exerted upon that 
 household for years ; and now the promised fruit rewarded 
 the laborer. From the night her child passed away until the 
 day of her own death the sorrowful mother, morning and 
 evening, gathered her servants to read and pray. 
 
 * ***** 
 
 A princely band swept by, with dancing steeds and long 
 plumes fluttering in the air. A snow-white steed, of Arabian 
 blood, led the gay pageant, and his fiery temper demanded 
 the rider's constant skill and attention to keep him in control, 
 and check him to the slower pace of her company. Tho
 
 STORMCLIFF. 261 
 
 lady's escort was an English gentleman, who rode a power 
 ful gelding of a chestnut color spirited and uneasy, but 
 minding easily his guiding-rein, and apparently unambitious 
 for a race. Ladies and gentlemen, well mounted, followed 
 them, laughing in glee, and flinging back and forth to each 
 other, as they moved along the highway, jests and sparkles 
 of fun. The rear of the cavalcade was brought up by a lady 
 and gentleman, who appeared better pleased to converse 
 in earnest tones with each other than to join the revel of 
 repartee and wit ahead of them. The dilatory two were 
 Nicholas Traver and Miss Rogers. On horseback Mrs. Bal 
 timore's father was in his glory self-possessed and conscious 
 of his equestrian superiority. His iron-grey stallion feared 
 his rider, and him alone. The horse paced on, to accommo 
 date the ambling .step of the lady's black gelding; but he 
 did so only under fear. His ordinary wild flights were taken 
 with his master alone, and he much preferred them to his 
 present tame method of procedure. Lucretia Rogers pos 
 sessed an Italian style of face, and her dark curls glistened in 
 the sun, as they trembled in unison with the pace of her 
 gelding. Her manner was ordinarily vivacious, but the pre 
 sent subject of conversation seemed to reduce her to a sober 
 mood. She had been secretly engaged to Nicholas Traver a 
 short time previous to this ride, and he was earnestly stating; 
 to her now some propositions for the future. How startled 
 would both have been could they have known the thoughts 
 of Miss Angiei', who was riding just before them, and mak 
 ing merry with her companions, as if nothing had interposed 
 to make her despise and loathe the imperial horseman behind 
 her. 
 
 The party had just crossed a bridge over a stream which 
 wandered off under rows of willows, and the last hollow 
 sound of passing hoofs had ceased when a gate was opened 
 on the right, and egress given to the highway for a funeral 
 train which solemnly moved out from the boundaries of an 
 estate. Nicholas Traver had just stated to his companion, in
 
 262 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 answer to her inquiry, that never since the death of his wife 
 had he looked upon any woman with thoughts of love until 
 he had met with her. 
 
 "And has no woman ever loved you ?" was the persistent 
 inquiry. 
 
 " Not to my knowledge," was the reply, delivered with a 
 smile. 
 
 " And the treasures of your heart have been hoarded up 
 for me alone ? " 
 
 " Yes, for you alone ! " He turned his eyes from his com 
 panion and saw the funeral train emerging into the highway. 
 Checking his horse, he asked of a man standing near the gate : 
 
 " Whose funeral is this ? " 
 
 " Little Zoe Granville is dead," was the response. 
 
 How startled he looked, that proud, beautiful face, in the 
 sunlight. His mother's name again. The voice of his child 
 hood's friend calling to him from eternity. He saw her grave 
 again and remembered his vows upon the cold turf; the broken 
 vows, the desecrated grave the violated memory. And the 
 little girl who had opened her heart to him, had kissed him 
 in trust, had looked anxiously, trustingly, no doubt, for his 
 return, had died and her arms were closed to him for ever ! 
 His lily child had met him at the gate where he had promised 
 to enter in and protect her, love her, elevate her to honor ; 
 and her cold form, under the funeral canopy, was the dagger 
 of remorse. Then and there he had vowed also to God, and 
 promised to live a new life. His vows were again broken ; 
 another grave was opened ; when would his grave yawn in 
 the sunlight ? Any one would have forgiven him at that 
 moment of agony and remorse, he looked so faint and sick 
 and weary of himself. He felt so conscious of his utter un wor 
 thiness, he yearned to be a child again, and to have a pure 
 finger touch him in love ; to have a child's prayer said for 
 him, and then to be buried in a child's grave. He felt that 
 his place was not upon the proud steed, but low in the dust, 
 where the funeral car of the innocent and the lovely could
 
 STORMCLIFF. 263 
 
 pass over his faithless form. He dismounted from his steed, 
 and stood holding the bridle with uncovered head, as the 
 funeral passed by. He saw the wreath of lilies on the little 
 coffin, and he remembered the lily she clasped when she was 
 dreaming of the angels. His lip trembled, and tears gathered 
 to his eyes. A calm, beautiful face, framed in a crape bonnet, 
 passed him next ; and he knew not the cross of ragged 
 iron she was wearing pressed closely, tightly to her heart. 
 That calm exterior was the face of the future angel. She 
 did not see him. Her eyes took notice of no passing thing. 
 She was trying to catch the loving eyes of her God ; and the 
 train moved on. Never mind, Nicholas Traver, the surprise 
 of your companion at your strange conduct. Be silent and 
 listen, for it is the last warning your soul will receive. The 
 recording angel is noting down this last opportunity of grace 
 extended to you. Yonr account of divine warnings is about 
 to be closed ; your guardian angel is looking in your face 
 with an intensity of love which would melt your soul, could 
 you but see it. Oh ! start this time in sincerity towards 
 Heaven. 
 
 The train of woe passed by, and mounting his steed, Nicho 
 las Traver said seriously to his companion : 
 . " The death of a child, in its innocence and purity, always 
 affects me so. Let us rejoin our party." 
 
 The horses bounded rapidly along the highway. The 
 betrayer hurried on to the open arms of society, while the 
 betrayed moved slowly on to the grave of her child. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BREAKFAST had been announced a full half-hour at "The 
 Glen," and still two seats at the round-table remained unoc 
 cupied. Two plates were clean and glistening in their porce 
 lain whiteness. Two gold napkin-rings still retained posses-
 
 264- STORMCLIFF. 
 
 sion of their napkins. Occasionally an eye would be directed 
 towards the door opening into the hall, and an exclamation 
 be heard at the unaccountably long delay of the strangers 
 in making their appearance. Two new guests had arrived 
 late the night before ; so Mrs. Baltimore had informed the 
 assembled breakfast party. An unfortunate break-down of 
 a vehicle had detained one of the new-comers upon the high 
 way till near the hour of midnight. The other arrival was 
 delayed to an unseasonable hour by a collision of two steam 
 ers on the river. These disasters were ample apology for 
 the non-appearance of the two, as the mistress of the house 
 remarked. Curiosity had been aroused with unusual vehe 
 mence in reference to one arrival by the fact that the strange 
 lady had been styled very beautiful by one of the gentlemen 
 at the table. Indeed she had been pronounced "the belle 
 of the county." He refused to retract one iota of his extra 
 vagant epithets of praise, and assured his listeners that they 
 would soon coincide with his estimate of her. 
 
 The other stranger a gentleman to whose family Mrs. 
 Baltimore felt under obligations for attentions extended to 
 her in the city of New York, upon her arrival from Europe 
 was a young man reared and educated in the city, and who 
 had never made himself familiar with country life. He was. 
 expected to prove a gay gallant, and be the personification 
 of city elegance and fashion. His arrival was calculated, 
 therefore, to produce a flutter among the ladies present, and 
 they were looking for his appearance with as much interest 
 and curiosity as for that of " the county belle." He was 
 mentioned at the table as " Mr. Fred. Cutaway ;" and while 
 his name and family were under discussion he made his 
 appearance at the hall-door, which was swung open for him 
 by a servant in grey livery and white gloves ; and, advancing 
 towards Mrs. Baltimore with a mincing step occasioned by 
 his unwillingness to dispense heel-music in his walk, he bow 
 ed low, and said in a high key : 
 
 " Somnus grappled me so tight, and proved itself so supe
 
 STORMCLIFF. 265 
 
 rior to my delicate organization, that I found it extremely 
 difficult to shake it off. I trust you will excuse me. Ha ! ha ! 
 I would not convey the impression that I am repugnant to 
 late hours not at all. But if this disaster to the steamboat 
 had occurred a half-hour earlier, I should probably have 
 descended from my chamber from five to ten minutes sooner. 
 I hope I have not detained you, madam. I apologize to all 
 of you, ladies; and I trust you will all pardon my delay when 
 you observe how delicately I feed, and how brief is the time 
 occupied in my repast." 
 
 The accent of the young man was so peculiarly marked by 
 a squeak, that it was almost impossible to restrain laughter 
 upon first hearing it. It was coupled, moreover, with such 
 a singular personal formation and style of dress, that the 
 ladies glanced at each other with eyes which seemed to say, 
 "I withdraw my claims to his attention ; you may have him 
 entirely to yourself." 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore assured the new guest that every one at 
 "The Glen" was expected to consult only personal conve 
 nience in rising, and that Mr. Fred. Cutaway must never 
 allow himself to be hurried or incommoded on any occasion 
 by considerations of courtesy to other guests. He would 
 always find servants ready to serve him with breakfast at 
 any hour before one o'clock: sleep at "The Glen" was to be 
 courted, not bounded and restricted. He was then directed 
 to a seat beside Miss Delavan. As he passed around to his 
 place, mincing along and bowing as he was introduced to 
 the company, an excellent opportunity was afforded to notice 
 his costume for the morning. He was about five feet and 
 nine inches in height, and slim in figure. He wore a suit 
 of lemon-colored flannel. Coat, pants, and vest were of the 
 same tropical hue. His coat, with its huge pearl buttons, 
 resembled him in name. It was a cutaway. The knight of 
 the needle and shears had commenced to cut away the front 
 skirts of this remarkable lemon-coat at or near the bottom 
 of the vest, and had continued to cut away towards the rear 
 ' 12
 
 266 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 of Mr. Fred. Cutaway, until the idea of the coat possessing 
 a skirt became purely mythical. About four inches up from 
 the bottom of this mythical .skirt in the rear, the glisten of 
 two large pearl buttons was seen. The pants were gathered 
 in tucks around his waist, and extended downwards to his 
 patent-leather boots in legs which resembled candle-moulds. 
 It was a question of serious study how he had succeeded in 
 thrusting his feet through the small ends of these candle- 
 mould pants. His coat was tightly buttoned two pearl but 
 tons of the vest showing above, and two below the coat. 
 He wore a lemon-colored cravat of silk and a standing-collar, 
 manifest only in a white-starched line of linen, which threat 
 ened to cut his throat as a compensation for holding up his 
 chin. His eyes and hair were in keeping with his garments 
 both bright lemon-color. The hair was parted in the mid 
 dle, and cut as short as that of the inmates of Sing- 
 Sing. His features were thin and regular, approaching 
 nearly to effeminacy. A few yellow hairs bloomed on each 
 cheek, and were pulled out into the skeleton of English 
 whiskers. 
 
 As this yellow personage passed around to his seat at the 
 table, Hugh Winchester whispered to his companion on the 
 left: 
 
 " Is that what is called a butterfly of fashion ? " 
 
 " No," replied Miss Rogers, in the same covert tone of 
 voice. " That is a yellow caterpillar come to forage. Didn't 
 you notice how it walked ? " 
 
 " Hush, you will be heard. Don't lajigfy" whispered the 
 gentleman again ; " Grace will not tolerate disrespect at this 
 table, I assure you." 
 
 "We must be kind to all God's creatures," replied his 
 companion. 
 
 " I have just received an idea. What do you think of it ?" 
 whispered Hugh Winchester, again. " We must have Mr. 
 Fred. Cutaway in some tableau. You recollect we are to 
 have a tableau party soon. Let's have 'The Early Bird
 
 STORMCLIFF. 267 
 
 catches the Worm ; ' let Caterpillar be the worm, you the 
 bird hush ! here conies the blonde angel." 
 
 Into the room, like a gleam of sunlight, glided Marie 
 Heron; a pnre white morning wrapper, with no relieving 
 colors or ornaments save the single branch of red coral that 
 clasped her dress at the throat, was belted at her waist by a 
 white ribbon. Noiselessly she passed to the side of Mrs. 
 Baltimore, the sunbeams dancing upon her light-brown, 
 curls, and the rose-flush enthroned upon her fair round 
 cheeks. Her rich, ripe lips were moist, as if they had been 
 sipping the morning dew from the flowers. Half timidly, 
 half smilingly, she extended her hand to the mistress of the 
 house, and then glanced over the faces of the party at the 
 table. Her bosom rose and fell tremulously under the thin 
 folds of her robe, for she had run rapidly down the stairs 
 and along the deserted halls. She was evidently surprised 
 at the number of the guests. Her liquid eyes of heavenly 
 blue half veiled themselves when unmistakable glances of 
 admiration greeted her appearance. Gentlemen arose from 
 their seats involuntarily as the w^ords of introduction were 
 pronounced ; and Mr. Nicholas Traver escorted her to the 
 vacant seat. She gave him her hand in recollection of their 
 former acquaintance. 
 
 Seated beside Mr. Fred. Cutaway, Marie could not avoid 
 conversation with him occasionally, as he turned to her from 
 Mary Delavan. But she soon discovered more congeniality 
 on her right, where the elegant father of Mrs. Baltimore was 
 seated. With rare skill and consideration, that gentleman 
 diverted the conversation into channels with which she was 
 familiar ; . and soon the slight embarrassment of meeting so 
 many strangers was swept away. Her eyes ranged more 
 freely over the guests of the round table, and she soon dis 
 covered that Reynolds Winchester's eyes travelled more fre 
 quently in her direction than any other. That gentleman 
 found some difficulty in attracting her attention when he 
 wished to address her, in consequence of the brilliant talker
 
 268 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 on her right. Finally, in a lull of the conversation, and Avlien 
 Mr. Traver was occupied in sending her cup after more coffee, 
 Reynolds Winchester caught her eye and said : 
 
 " We are divided from each other, Miss Heron, by the 
 breadth of a town; and if that church-spire was two inches fur 
 ther south, I should be entirely shut out from the view, even of 
 your face. Looking at the silver town reminds me of you." 
 
 " That is a rare compliment, Mr. Winchester," was her 
 reply. 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Because a glimpse of that silver memorial should natu 
 rally recall the heroes and the heroine. In allowing your 
 thoughts to roam towards me, you violate good taste. The 
 memorial recalls greatness ! To you it suggests littleness 
 that is me. It proves bad taste in you, and still pays me a 
 high compliment." 
 
 " No," said he, laughing ; " that will not do. Thinking 
 of the heroes naturally and properly recalls you. I do not 
 violate good taste, as you shall see. In admiring the heroism 
 of those four men, I must think of you. Did not their valor 
 save you ? I have heard so, at least. Thus valor saved 
 beauty. I admire the valor, and it suggests at once the beauty 
 which was saved. But tell me, did those men really save 
 you ? " 
 
 " They did not ; they saved my father. I was already on 
 the street when they appeared." 
 
 "And one perished in the flames ; was that the fact ?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 " Yes ! one noble fellow forfeited his life." 
 
 "And have you no idea who any of them were?" 
 
 " It is said that the chief of the fire department is missing. 
 It appears to be almost a certainty that he is the man lost." 
 
 This reply was an evasion of the question. She really 
 knew one other of the four heroes, but his name was likely 
 to tremble on her lips, and she would not pronounce it. It 
 was a name for her that must remain unuttered. Its pro-
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 209 
 
 nunciation threatened her composure. She would not at 
 tempt it. She noticed that the eyes of Mrs. Baltimore were 
 intently regarding her as she answered Mr. Winchester's 
 inquiry. The mistress of the house followed up her uncle's 
 question. 
 
 " Could you identify the faces of the men if you were to 
 see them again, Miss Heron ?" 
 
 "Their faces were like masks, Mrs. Baltimore, perfectly 
 blackened with cinders, and their hair much burnt." 
 
 " Do you think you could recognise their voices, if you 
 heard them again ?" was the startling question. 
 
 "Very likely I might," said Marie, hoping this branch of 
 interrogation would be pursued no further. 
 
 " Did you hear them all talk ?" was the interrogatory from 
 another part of the table. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I heard every voice." 
 
 ""Were they gentlemen, Miss Heron?" squeaked in the 
 high key-notes of Mr. Fred. Cutaway. 
 
 " Not if clothes are the standard," was the sharp response 
 to this ill-timed inquiry. 
 
 " I could imagine of nothing more disagreeable than to be 
 handled by low men, and tossed about by them at such a 
 time of nervous excitement," put in again the squeak of the 
 gentleman in lemon. 
 
 " I fancy you would find the burning up into a crisp much 
 more disagreeable," was the rejoinder, as Marie turned in 
 amazement to her left-hand companion. 
 
 " I beg leave to differ, Miss Heron," persisted the squeaking 
 voice. " I think the vulgar touch of plebeian hands would 
 occasion such a shock to my nervous system that I should 
 never regain my vitality. Perhaps my sensibilities are ex 
 cessive, but really it would destroy all future enjoyment to 
 be touched. Oh! mercy, just imagine it touched!" 
 
 Everybody laughed, but Hugh Winchester said : 
 
 "There's a way always open to you, Mr. Cutaway, to 
 escape such handling."
 
 270 STOKMCL1FF. 
 
 " I know it, Mr. Winchester ; I'd frown them down ; they 
 never would withstand a gentleman's withering frown." 
 
 " That isn't my remedy for you, Mr. Cutaway." 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Winchester ; what is it you would say ? A rem 
 edy ? I shall listen to you with pleasure." 
 
 The answer given to the gentleman in lemon brought 
 down the house. 
 
 " Always wear a label : ' Sensitive Plant not to be touch 
 ed in time of fire.' " 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a 
 servant with the letters by mail. Every one seemed anxious 
 as the mistress of "The Glen" received the basket, and 
 proceeded to read the address upon the letters. After she 
 had distributed the letters to the fortunate ones, and they 
 had broken the seals and were eagerly reading, Miss Angier, 
 who had shaken out the folds of the morning newspaper, and 
 hastily run her eyes over the headings of news, electrified 
 every one by exclaiming : 
 
 " Terrible news for some one. I beg pardon for the inter 
 ruption of you who are blessed with letters ; but here is 
 something in which some of you may be deeply interested. 
 If you will permit me, I will read it for you." 
 
 Of course there was no objection to such a startling ap 
 peal. She was requested to read aloud, and returning her 
 eye to the heading, she proceeded to enlighten her hearers 
 thus: 
 
 "'HEAVY ROBBERY! 
 
 " ' Daring and successful attempt to plunder the National 
 Bank ! 
 
 " ' $80,000 in funds and securities removed A part of the 
 money recovered ; the balance carried off by an accomplice. 
 One of the robbers arrested with a part of the stolen money 
 on his person. 
 
 'Clarence Rutherford identified as one of the thieves
 
 STOKMCLLFF. 271 
 
 who entered the National Bank. The stolen money found 
 on his person. Intense indignation on the part of his friends. 
 They declare him to be the victim of a political conspiracy. 
 His arrest and commitment. 
 
 " ' At a late hour last night, somewhere between the hours 
 of eleven and twelve o'clock, the man employed as night- 
 watch by the National Bank was overpowered by two men 
 and gagged, and, after being tied hand and foot, was laid in 
 the inclosure on the south side of the bank, while the thieves 
 effected an entrance into the bank through a window on that 
 side. After prying open the iron shutters, they cut through, 
 the sash, and secured admittance to the President's room* 
 From this point they succeeded by means of secret keys in 
 entering the vaults, opened the iron safes, and rifled them of 
 their contents, removing in bills, gold, and securities, about 
 $80,000. 
 
 "'They had barely time to secure their plunder and be 
 off, for the night-watch succeeded in freeing himself of the 
 gag, and called loudly for help. The police arriving upon the 
 spot, delivered him from the ropes by which he was bound, 
 and learning the direction the thieves had taken, started off 
 in pursuit. They succeeded in overtaking one of the rascals 
 several streets off, as he was turning a corner. He wa 
 dressed in a dark-grey coat and pants, as the night-watch, 
 had informed them, and on his person were found several 
 bundles of the bank-bills. Upon taking him to the station- 
 house he was identified as Clarence Rutherford, a young man 
 of some oratorical ability, and who has a small legal practice 
 in town. On his person was found also a check on the bank, 
 signed by Mrs. Baltimore. It is due to the young man to 
 state that he indignantly denied the charge of theft, and de 
 clared that he had found the money on the street. There is 
 a difference of opinion regarding his guilt; but the magis 
 trate, in default of bail, considered it his duty to commit 
 him to the county jail. The great bulk, however, of the
 
 272 STORMCLIPF. 
 
 * 
 
 stolen property has not been recovered, and the bank has 
 been obliged to close its doors. "We do not recollect ever 
 to have seen such a financial panic in our streets. Some 
 persons assert that young Rutherford is innocent, and that 
 his efforts for a certain political party have been the occasion 
 of commencing a political persecution against him. We do 
 not, however, coincide with this view.' " 
 
 Miss Angier let fall the paper with a " What do you all 
 think of that?" 
 
 Before any of the guests of the house could express them 
 selves concerning the robbery, a tall figure beside Mrs. Bal 
 timore sprang up hastily to her feet, and with a countenance 
 livid with excitement and rage, exclaimed : 
 
 "It's false ! false as the black hearts that made the lie." 
 
 Her piercing eyes searched every countenance at the table 
 as she struggled for breath to speak again. Her power re 
 turned to her. 
 
 " I've nursed that boy when he was a feeble infant ; I knew 
 him well when he was a gay-hearted boy running about the 
 meadows of Judge Holden's estate. I've known him and 
 his character for twenty-eight yoai>, and any person, man or 
 woman, that says he is dishonest, lies! He never touched 
 anybody's money that he did not come by honestly. If he 
 says he found the money on the street, he did find it. It's 
 false, wicked, infamous, to trump up this charge to injure 
 the prospects of that poor young man who is struggling so 
 hard against poverty and misfortune." 
 
 Old Nora sank back in her seat, trembling with emotion. 
 Her unexpected departure from her usual composure startled 
 every one. Always quiet and agreeable in her remarks, aa 
 she sat beside the mistress of "The Glen," she had been re 
 spected and admired for her age and her appreciation of 
 whatever commended itself to the learned and refined. 
 
 Some secret spring of tenderness had been touched regard 
 ing young Rutherford, and every one at the table sympathized
 
 STORMCLIFF. 273 
 
 with her, except Nicholas Traver, and the young gentleman 
 in lemon. The former hated her because he was irrevocably 
 in her power. His character rested upon her silent tongue. 
 Mr. Fred. Cutaway hated her on principle. He considered 
 everything old and venerable as a bore ; and with persons 
 of his stamp a bore is a criminal. 
 
 Several persons indulged in remarks calculated to soothe 
 the old nurse, but Marie Heron and Mary Delavan remained 
 silent and listening. The latter looked uneasy and nervous, 
 making several abortive efforts to balance her spoon upon 
 the rim of her coffee-cup, and then turning to the gentleman 
 next her, with apparently interested remarks as to persons 
 who would suffer by the closing of the principal bank of the 
 town. Her brother was also annoyed by the name of Judge 
 Holden's discarded son being introduced. He knew the 
 young man well too well, to allow his sense of propriety to 
 remain undisturbed when his name was alluded to. He had 
 gone along with the great wave of public opinion which dis 
 carded the outcast from society, but he had a conscience 
 like his sister Mary. It was a hard thing to ignore the 
 existence of a friend whirling in the eddy of cruel fate. 
 
 But Marie Heron, the beautiful girl with the hidden pas 
 sion gnawing at her heart, what were her thoughts at this 
 sudden fall of her idol from his young career of fame ? The 
 upward flight of the young eagle had gladdened her heart, 
 though that heart was destined to exist alone unnoticed 
 uncared for by him. Her pride in his success continued 
 when hope folded its wings and lay down to pine and die. 
 He would be great, honored worshipped of men, when her 
 eyes were growing dim and her hands refining a way for the 
 grave. It would be so sweet to know that his great heart 
 and his clear intellect would be acknowledged of men his 
 worth would be recognised on earth when she was gone to 
 the silent home under the sods of the valley. But this great 
 shock almost paralysed her. She saw nothing, heard no 
 thing, for a few seconds after the reading of the dreadful 
 
 12*
 
 274 6TORMCLIFF / 
 
 news. Everything appeared to swim about her. She grasped 
 at her coffee and drank it at a draught. Then the words of 
 encouragement to Nora, from the guests about her, attracted 
 her notice. She saw there were opportunities, means men 
 who might save him. He was innocent. He could be as 
 sisted to prove it. Effort sacrifice of comfort in his behalf 
 might save him. She would consider it. If any one should 
 help him, it must be herself. Why? If any one could save 
 him, she must be that one. Why ? Love has its own logic. 
 Perfect and self-existent, it aims towards its object. For it 
 DO modesty that can hinder action exists. Pride melts in 
 the grasp of true love. It demands no love in return as a 
 condition of its existence and growth. It can flourish alone; 
 hidden, crushed out of sight, it burns into the heart and 
 strongly lives. It is the only love worth having the love 
 which heeds not unkindncss, slight, poverty, crime ; but 
 closer and closer, still clings to its idol. Is the beauty and 
 sublimity of a mother's love to be denied, though it is cen 
 tred in a son who wears a felon's chain ? Never ! Has she 
 a right to love one whom men loathe or fear? Aye, the 
 instinct of men asserts the truth. Then why is a girl's love 
 to be scorned, which goes forth from her towards any man ? 
 Love is sacred. God planted it in the human heart, that rea 
 son might not burn and destroy utterly by its iron mandates. 
 Pure reason, as the sole principle of human action, would 
 make the hearts of men such rocks of pride and conceit, that 
 the gallant ships Sublimity, Beauty, and Self-Sucrifice, would 
 dash upon them and go down for ever. Thank God, this love 
 of woman is not limited to that only which is easy, approved 
 of by society, and respectable ! She can love without re 
 turn ; and where her heart has been once centred, there she 
 lives and dies. This is not that which often bears the resem 
 blance of, and is called love. True love never dies. 
 
 Yes, she loved him. She yearned to help him, only because 
 she loved him. No hope lighted her path, and in the dark 
 ness of despair she moved on to help .him. Perhaps after
 
 STORMCLTFF. 275 
 
 she was dead and gone, he would learn to love her grave. 
 Perhaps he would forget that she had ever lived. What 
 matter ? She listened eagerly to the conversation which 
 sprang up around her ? She tried to catch every word that 
 related to knowledge of law and the evidence which courts 
 of justice admit. She knew the unerring certainty with 
 which the instinct of women sometimes darts to conclusions 
 of truth. She had discussed such questions with Rutherford 
 himself. Therefore she cared not for the shrewd speculations 
 of the female talkers about her. She felt that her own sense 
 as a woman was perfectly as accurate and clear as any one 
 present. It was what Mr. Delavan and Mr. Traver would 
 say of the trial for robbery. They had studied the law, and 
 knew the rules of evidence. She desired to know something 
 practical, something that men would feel and say ; for into 
 the hands of men had Rutherford, her idol, fallen. Men 
 were to try and decide his case, and she listened eagerly to 
 what men would say. She noticed that Charles Delavan, 
 when he entered into the discussion at last, appeared to under 
 stand what he was talking about. And Mr. Traver, her right- 
 hand attendant, when he was forced at last into the conver 
 sation, explained his knowledge of law so clearly that she 
 encouraged him to talk, and soon found out that the discovery 
 of the money in Rutherford's possession, and his grey suit, 
 were the two facts against him. The accused must be able 
 to account satisfactorily how the stolen money happened to be 
 in his hands, or some other person in a grey suit must be 
 identified in connexion with the robbery. The night-watch 
 did not, it appeared, see Rutherford's countenance, but 
 only one man in a grey suit. He could tell nothing about the 
 face of this man. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Baltimore and old Nora retired from the 
 table together, and left the room in some secret discussion. 
 Marie felt that it must relate to the young man in prison. 
 She knew Nora would commence operations in his favor at 
 once. Oh, that she might be taken into their confidence.
 
 276 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 She determined to watch every opportunity to secure evi 
 dence in Rutherford's favor. God only could tell what a 
 woman's heart might accomplish. With these reflections, 
 she left the dining-hall in company with Nicholas Traver. 
 He was the sensible man and lawyer to devote herself to now. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 TICK, tick, tick. How mournfully sounded the deserted 
 clock in the silent room. Darkness enveloped all things. 
 The night was gloomy. The stars of heaven were shrouded. 
 The stars of Hope had vanished, too. Over the earth a pall 
 of blackness hung. Over the hearts of some the more fearful 
 veil of despair was flung. The young eagle was chained. 
 The captive pined in darkness, and thought hopelessly of the 
 morrow. No doubt the morrow would witness deeper 
 shame the unpitying gaze of men, the staring crowd of vul 
 gar intellects, the cruel sentence from the judge, the clank 
 of fetters, and the dreary journey to the convict's cell. Of 
 what avail had effort been? How had the honest purpose 
 and the manly struggle been rewarded ? Weary nights of 
 toil, and overworking of the brain ; the sacrifice of self by 
 day, and the earnest call on God by night, had only led to 
 shame. Was the arm of God shortened, that it could no 
 longer save ? 
 
 Tick, tick, tick. The faithful clock stood lonely and for 
 saken, and yet its duty, the everlasting tick, went on. The 
 fire had long ago smouldered and gone out upon the hearth. 
 Beside the ashes stood the kettle, long neglected. Beside 
 the table stood the vacant chair. The bed was long unopen 
 ed, and beneath the pillow lay the locket, long ago unclasped. 
 And would the faithful monitor thus hold on for ever, with 
 its tick, tick, tick, regardless of the presence or absence of
 
 STOEHCL1FF. 277 
 
 its owner ? No ! In the dark and silent night, and unat 
 tended by the hand of man, the old clock sounded its last 
 alarm. The cathedral chime struck twelve, and all was still. 
 
 The captive's sole companion in his earnest struggles for 
 fame had ceased to sound the tick, tick, tick, and Time was 
 marked no more. Perchance the evil ones who roam the 
 earth on spirit-wings came in and jeered at God and Virtue. 
 
 In a distant street of the same town stood a building of 
 stone. Its exterior was gloomy, and its interior more gloomy 
 still. Children were wont, as the shades of evening fell, to 
 look up with awe and wonder to its grated windows, and the 
 strange faces which looked forth between the bars. Some 
 times an arm could be seen hanging partly exposed to view 
 as a prisoner thrust it through the bars, and listlessly 
 looked forth upon the setting sun. Murderers were known 
 to be confined there and all the hideous brood of mortality 
 that live upon the plunder and the ruin of their fellow-men. 
 And when the merry children passed the place a chill fell 
 over their hearts, and they would lower their voices as they 
 spoke of the dreadful men, and women even, who passed 
 their days and nights within those dismal walls, and all un- 
 cheered, unblessed by the presence of their kindred. 
 
 A flight of stone steps under the front entrance of the 
 prison led to an area below. From this area, a door of oak, 
 heavily bound by wrought-iron plates, opened into the base 
 ment of the building. This door was secured on the outside 
 by two immense bolts, in addition to the iron key which the 
 jailor carried about with him. The basement was divided 
 by stone partitions into a hall with cells on either side. 
 These apartments were designed for the safe keeping of 
 criminals who were possessed of extraordinary strength, and 
 the windows were fortified by grates of double bars. The 
 doors were all of wrought iron. Without the aid of files, it 
 seemed impossible for prisoners to escape, unless they could 
 succeed in surprising and throttling the jailor when he came 
 to bring them food, or to inspect the condition of their cells.
 
 278 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 On each side of the building where the windows of these 
 cells looked out, a huge mastiff was chained by a long chain, 
 and taught to prowl back and forth, and give the alarm if 
 any one approached or attempted to leave the windows of 
 the basement. The cells were well calculated to prevent the 
 escape of prisoners of ordinary skill and cunning. There is 
 a class of desperadoes whose skill and patience are equiva 
 lent to genius. For these men the basement might have 
 been insecure. But for ordinary purposes of a county jail, 
 it was regarded as unusually strong. 
 
 In one of these cells the unfortunate Rutherford was con 
 fined, and for some unaccountable reason was chained also. 
 Party spirit outside claimed that this unusual severity was 
 occasioned by political hate. The young lawyer had become 
 a power in the canvass. In the midst of a career in oratory 
 which threatened to annihilate the forces of the opposition, 
 this arrest had fallen upon him like a shock of lightning. 
 He was walking towards his little home at night, when a 
 man passed him upon a full run, as if eager to reach a phy 
 sician's office. He supposed this to be the fact until he had 
 walked half a block further. Then he was surprised by the 
 discovery of a bundle of papers lying upon the sidewalk in 
 the light of a street lamp. Stooping to examine the papers, 
 he discovered that they were bank-bills of large denomina 
 tions. The thought then flashed to his mind that the man 
 on the run must have dropped them. He took up the bun 
 dle and went on his way, studying in his mind the best 
 method of advertising the finding of the money, that the 
 owner might come forward and claim it. In a few seconds 
 sifter taking possession of the bills he was suddenly pounced 
 upon by two of the town police, who came in upon him 
 from the darkness of a side street. He did not know them, 
 and indignantly denied their charge of robbery, and stated 
 the facts as they had occurred. They replied roughly to this 
 denial, and carried their prisoner with the money before a 
 magistrate, who finally committed him to prison. Being a
 
 STORMCLIFF. 279 
 
 political partisan of a bitter stamp he refused to take bail 
 for the prisoner's appearance, and no subsequent efforts of 
 Mrs. Baltimore or Rutherford's friends could shake this pur 
 pose of holding the suspected burglar securely for trial. 
 
 The young lawyer found no difficulty in securing counsel 
 to defend him. Three of the ablest men in his profession 
 volunteered their services at once. His friends insisted upon 
 his employing them all, as the matter was rapidly assuming a 
 political complexion. There were very grave apprehensions 
 that he would not be allowed justice. The dominant party 
 might succeed in packing a jury for the trial ; and in that 
 event nothing could save him, as the Governor of the State 
 was also a bitter partizan of the opposition. Under these 
 unfortunate circumstances Rutherford found himself pressed 
 down on the gloomy night preceding the day of his trial. 
 A crowd of friends had visited him in his cell from time to 
 time. In one party came the Rev. Charles Heron and his 
 daughter, Old Nora, and the mistress of " The Glen." Every 
 encouraging word of cheer and sympathy was offered to him. 
 Every comfort was furnished to him ; and he received the 
 assurance that half at least of the community regarded him 
 as innocent and a martyr to political prejudice. His friends 
 in the canvass gathered to him, and assured him that if he 
 was condemned there was a strong disposition on the part of 
 the people to attack the prison and raze it to the ground, 
 and carry him out of harm's way. Rutherford, in reply to 
 this intelligence of contemplated violence, stated emphati 
 cally that he would not acquiesce in violations of law and 
 order, and that such violence would be immediately followed 
 by his delivery of himself into the hands of the officers of the 
 law. The more discreet of his political friends took care that 
 this remark of the prisoner should be widely circulated, and 
 its good influence upon the community was at once manifest. 
 A man must be innocent that desires only a fair trial, and 
 will have freedom on no other conditions. 
 
 But notwithstanding all the sympathy he received, the
 
 280 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 facts were dreadfully against him. His own statement to 
 the officers who made the arrest could be of no avail. 
 The bank had been robbed, and half of the community 
 had suffered by the closing of its doors. He was poor, 
 reputed to be a bastard, wore a grey suit of clothes 
 which had been seen by the night-watch, and was arrested 
 with the money or a part of it in his possession, and was 
 moving away from the bank in the very direction that 
 the night-watch stated one of the robbers had gone. In 
 his favor was only the fact that he had been reputed honest 
 all his life a weak barrier to hold back suspicion when 
 the community are aroused and passionate in the midst 
 of a great political struggle for power. 
 
 The venerable clergyman, whose son Rutherford had 
 defended successfully in the trial for the murder of Walter 
 Traver, was devoted and diligent in his efforts to aid the 
 prisoner. He visited him and induced members of his church 
 to go with him to the prison. He did everything that an 
 honest and grateful heart could do, and after all went 
 away to his home on the evening preceding the trial in very 
 great depression of spirits, knowing too well the vindictive 
 and stern prejudices of the party to which he himself 
 belonged. He felt assured that if the jury should by any 
 chance or connivance of the officers of the law all prove 
 to be political partisans of strong prejudices, the acquittal 
 of the accused was beyond the bounds of probability. 
 The removal of Rutherford from the scene of the canvass 
 would be very like sounding the death-knell of the political 
 organization to which he belonged, and which had rallied 
 to him as their chief support in the campaign. 
 
 The three gentlemen who were to act as his counsel in the 
 approaching trial visited him just before nightfall ; and after 
 promising to exert themselves for his acquittal as never 
 men had exerted themselves befoi-e, they proceeded to ex 
 press to him candidly their apprehensions that the opposition 
 party would succeed, through the officers of the law, in
 
 STORMCLIFF. 281 
 
 securing a list of jui-ymen who would act in the interest of 
 prejudice rather than the interest of justice. They advised 
 him to be prepared for every emergency, and to conduct 
 himself boldly and manfully even in the event of a convic 
 tion, trusting to after-events that should be arranged to 
 secure his pardon. With this candid statement of their 
 opinions, they cordially bade him adieu for the night, and he 
 was left to the solitary reflections of his lonely cell. 
 
 He sat for a long time on the little bench which had been 
 left him for a seat, with his face buried in his hands. It 
 seemed as if his throbbing heart would break with chagrin 
 and shame. Once soaring so high in ambition and heroic 
 purpose, securing the respect of men, and crowned with 
 wreaths of hope for a bright future ; and now cast into a 
 felon's cell, chained, and of many men regarded as a crimi 
 nal a monster of humanity, whose freedom was dangerous 
 to the peace and happiness of society. It seemed as if fate, 
 for him, had no alleviating cup of joy. An outcast from the 
 home of his childhood, without a relative, without a name 
 which could connect him with an honorable ancestry, with 
 every prospect of success torn from him, and the convict's 
 toilsome life before him, why should he live ? Why had he 
 failed to leap, as he had purposed, from the dizzy height of 
 Stormcliff? Why need he longer bear the cross of effort 
 and humiliation before men ? Why not dash his brains out 
 with the fetters which clung about his wrists ? With his 
 immense power of muscle that death would easily be 
 attained. A few vigorous blows upon his head, and all 
 would be over. He shuddered at the temptation ; not that 
 he feared death, but that he feared God, to whom he had 
 solemnly vowed never to dwell upon the temptation of rid 
 ding himself of life when troubles came upon him. He shook 
 off the dreadful thought, and rising to his feet in the dark 
 ness, said, resolutely : " But I am to succeed ; the spirit of 
 the highlands has said it." Then recalling words of his 
 Creator, which Nora had read to him that day in the prison,
 
 282 * STORMCLIFF. 
 
 he kneeled down by his little bench and reverently repeated 
 them aloud, with his eyes raised to Heaven, in the impene 
 trable gloom of his cell : " For the Lord will plead their 
 cause, and spoil the soul of those that spoiled them." 
 
 All night long did the watchful inmate of the cell medi 
 tate upon these words of Divine promise, and kneeling oft, 
 offered his supplication to the throne where the upright and 
 the honest can never pray in vain. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Morning, bright and beautiful, burst upon the darkness. 
 The rays of its sceptre glanced over the houses of the town, 
 glistened on the church-spire ornaments of brass, poured in 
 through the windows of the prison, and fluttered even on the 
 ceiling of the prisoner's cell. The day of horror for him had 
 come ; but oh, how mockingly beautiful ! He sat for a long 
 time on his bench watching the effects of daylight on his 
 prison-walls. Higher and higher climbed the sun on the 
 ladder of morning, brighter grew the day, and louder sound 
 ed the wheels of business on the streets of the aroused town. 
 He counted the strokes of the town-clock as they told of the 
 approaching hour of his trial the hour when he must face 
 the cruel glances of men, and be the shameful centre of pity 
 or reproach. lie face the suspicious countenances of men ; 
 he who had never known of crime but to condemn and shun 
 it ; he who had looked ever into the blue sky with honest 
 eyes, and loved the stars, the pure stars, with an upright 
 heart. It was hard that he should be called upon to march 
 a prisoner through the halls of that stone-building, and then 
 along the corridor which would usher him. into the crowded 
 court-room to be stared at as a criminal. 
 
 At last the jailor appeared. The key turned in the iron 
 door and it swung back the stern, powerful keeper stalking 
 in gloomily, and placing the simple meal upon the brick 
 floor. Silent, and with the cold air of one who feels that he 
 is dealing with the villanous and the dangerous, the jailor 
 examined the cell and the prisoner with suspicious looks.
 
 STOEMCLIFF. * 283 
 
 His scrutiny of the young man appeared to surprise him, for 
 he said bluntly : 
 
 "You look mighty calm and collected for one who will 
 surely sleep in Sing-Sing prison before you are two days 
 older. Is it possible that you are an old offender? You don't 
 look like the birds I've been used to keep under this key of 
 mine. You've looked down-hearted like all the time till this 
 morning. Now you look bright and cheerful. , There's no 
 hope for you, young man, I can tell you." 
 
 The prisoner arose like a young prince to his feet. His 
 large grey eye was as calm and beautiful as the open eyo 
 of the eagle. He raised one hand with the clanking chain 
 clinging to the wrist, and pointing upwards in majesty, burst 
 forth : 
 
 "The hills of the highlands shall crumble and fall; the 
 cliifs where my feet have climbed to watch the sunset, shall 
 je ground in time to powder; but the great God of justice 
 shall live and His word shall endure for ever. All night, 
 jailor, I have knelt low there on the brick floor to a Father 
 who loves His children, and whose word is the glance. of des 
 tiny. I believe in Him, I trust in Him alone. Darkness has 
 gathered thick about me. A pall hangs over my existence ; 
 but as surely as the God of Heaven answers prayer, so surely 
 will that pall roll up like a scroll and vanish, and I shall 
 walk forth free among the sons of men. I have knelt low 
 there. To-morrow I shall be up there. Do you know the 
 height of Stormcliff? Do you know where it hangs over the 
 habitations of men, like the threat of Omnipotence ? Thero 
 Avill I stand and bless the name of the Adorable before to 
 morrow's sun shall sink in the west. It is here here deep 
 in ray heart, the blessed word of my God. He has heard my 
 prayer ; and before to-morrow's sun shall set, StormclifF shall 
 be my footstool." 
 
 He stood like a young prophet of faith, his manacled arm 
 pointing upwards and away towards the cliffs of the river 
 where he had struggled upwards to seek death, and where
 
 284 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 Nora had saved him. A strange light burned in his eye, and 
 the jailor feared he was going mad. The keeper expressed 
 words of sympathy for him, and trusted he would prove to 
 be innocent. 
 
 " Innocent !" burst from his lips. " Aye ! I am innocent ; 
 and if God's promises shall stand, I will climb before to-mor 
 row's sunset to the top of Storm cliff. Do you believe me, 
 jailer ?" 
 
 " No," was the reply, " I do not ; for mortal man never 
 trod that summit, and you know it." 
 
 "I shall be there," was the firm response. "Will you 
 stand upon the cupola of this prison just before sunset to 
 morrow and watch the cliff? I will wave from its top a 
 white banner, and with a good glass you will see it. I 
 speak from faith in God." 
 
 " If you are free at that hour, I will look for your banner," 
 replied the jailor, the conviction strengthening upon him 
 that his prisoner was indeed losing his intellect. 
 
 " You will see it then floating against the blue sky," was 
 the calm response, as the young man sat down and proudly 
 smiled. He felt strong and sustained by faith in God, and 
 the jailor left him with an ominous shake of the head, and 
 the idea that his charge would soon be in a strait-jacket. 
 
 When the iron door was closed and locked upon him, 
 Rutherford cheerfully and eagerly devoured his morning 
 meal. He had slept none the previous night ; but in answer 
 to his earnest prayers, strength had come to him from above. 
 The consciousness of his innocence, the favor of God, and the 
 enthusiasm of his glorious destiny as a herald of Right, made 
 his spirits buoyant, and he waited impatiently for the scenes 
 of^the court-room and the crowd. 
 
 Higher and higher and higher climbed the sun, but no 
 jailor appeared to summon him to trial no key grated in 
 the lock no footsteps sounded in the basement hall. Surely 
 the appointed hour for the assembling of the court could not 
 be far away. He could hear the tramp of men ascending
 
 STORMCLIFF. 285 
 
 the wooden steps of the court-house, and distinctly the mur 
 mur of voices sounded in the prison yard. Approaching the 
 window, he could see a great assemblage of people in the 
 distance, apparently in a line with the front entrance of the 
 temple of justice. But this crowd appeared to remain sta 
 tionary, and seemed to make no headway towards the 
 court-room. Could it be possible the halls of justice were 
 full, and this was only the mass of outsiders unable to gain 
 admittance ? 
 
 Higher and higher still ascended the sun, but no summons 
 came for him. He grew impatient. He yearned for a trial. 
 Would the opportunity of vindicating himself before men be 
 denied him after all his suffering and confinement ? Why 
 this long delay ? The hour for his trial had passed by. He 
 knew it, for the clock of the town had slowly counted to him 
 the fact. Another half-hour passed by, and still no jailor ap 
 peared. He walked again towards his window to look out 
 upon the distant crowd. Something was surely agitating 
 them, for the murmur of their voices grew louder, and they 
 appeared to be divided asunder by some procession passing 
 through them. The dividing party, whatever it might be, 
 came from the direction of the court-house door, and was 
 moving off. A part of the crowd followed it. It seemed to 
 pass away in the distance. But a large concourse of people 
 remained,^ and he could see that they were becoming much 
 excited. Their voices sounded louder, and they swayed 
 back and forth, and eagerly looked up towards the court 
 house. Some of them climbed to the top of gate-posts for a 
 better view. The excitement evidently waxed greater, for 
 he could see that many were climbing to the tops of sheds, 
 and the roofs of houses even were becoming black with peo 
 ple. At last the cries of the aroused populace broke forth. 
 He could not distinguish the words of their call. The roar 
 of voices waxed louder. Ah ! he heard that fearful cry : 
 " Bring him out ! bring him out !" He understood whom 
 they called for, and he withdrew from the window to be 

 
 i 
 
 286 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 ready. Folding his manacled arms, he stood silently, anx 
 iously looking towards the door of his cell. The jailor was 
 coming. The grating of the key in the oaken door of the 
 basement was heard. Then the tramp of many hurrying feet 
 broke into the echoing hall of the prison, and the confused 
 sound of voices. Many voices were at the door of his cell. 
 The key grated in the iron door, and the door was flung 
 open. A shudder passed over the prisoner. He must face a 
 crowd in the court-room who suspected him of crime. He 
 looked up at the open door. A dozen faces were regarding 
 him, and each one radiant with joy. 
 
 " Huzza ! Rutherford, you are free !" burst forth from 
 the Rev. Charles Heron, as he darted in and grasped him 
 first by the hand. A dozen hands grasped him on every 
 side, and another voice shouted, half wild with joy : " Here, 
 jailor, strike off these fetters. He's going into the keeping 
 of the people now ; hurry up." 
 
 A prolonged cheer resounded from the outside, followed 
 instantly by the deafening report of a cannon from the pub 
 lic square near at hand. 
 
 " Come on, Rutherford," exclaimed the voice of a politi 
 cal friend, as the fetters fell to the floor. " The people are 
 waiting for you on the square ; the platform is built, and 
 they expect you to speak. You remember, this is the day 
 you promised to speak in this town." * 
 
 The boom of the cannon again shook the prison, and the 
 cheers of the populace thundered again from the square. 
 The crowd about the court-house took up the cry, and when 
 the liberators appeared ascending the steps from the area 
 to the yard of the court-house, bearing the bewildered 
 Rutherford on their shoulders, the people rushed about 
 him with frantic cries of joy, and " Down with the oppo 
 sition the child of the people is free once more!" rang 
 wildly out. 
 
 The bank robber in iron-grey had delivered himself up to 
 the court, and the young orator of the highlands was free.
 
 STORMCLIFF. 287 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 As Nora glanced towards the back seat of the carriage, she 
 noticed that Mrs. Baltimore was utterly absorbed in listen 
 ing. Her eyes were eagerly bent upon the speaker. Never 
 before had the young widow appeared so perfectly oblivious 
 to what was passing about her. Then she turned towards 
 the Englishman on the seat beside her. Sir Francis Cleve 
 land appeared to be equally interested hi the utterances of the 
 young orator. Even Fred. Cutaway, on the same seat with 
 Mrs. Baltimore, looked as if the country was not so utterly 
 " wooden " as he had imagined. Rutherford held even the 
 " Caterpillar " spell-bound with his eloquence. There was 
 something down deep in the essence of this conceited and 
 shallow butterfly from the metropolis that could be stirred by 
 the storm of sublimity and beauty which held so many thou 
 sands motionless in wonder and admiration. Oh ! it was a 
 glorious day for this new meteor of eloquence which had burst 
 upon the world. Just free of the fetters of his dungeon, 
 he answered the call of the people, and with the prestige of a 
 political martyr who had suffered unnecessary rigor at the 
 hands of the officers of the law, he mounted to the rostrum, 
 and his whole soul burst forth in the cause he deemed right. 
 Stormcliff had been his hall of practice. Alone, on the lofty 
 crag accessible only to himself and Nora, he had practised 
 oratory with the stars of heaven for his audience, and the 
 ,, voice of God for his prompter. He that strives to live near 
 God will always be great. He that courts the Centre of 
 Greatness must absorb some of its sparkles of fire and of 
 power. Truth is more sublime than falsehood rose-hued 
 and crowned though it be and power and inspiration to 
 give it a hearing are gathered high among the eternal hills, 
 where the soul communes more closely with its Creator. 
 Corruption the sale of offices created solely for the benefit 
 of the people and the sacrifice of the public good for party
 
 288 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 purposes and the interests of individuals were the towers 
 which the orator assailed ; and as he thundered at them, they 
 trembled and fell. He swept the hearts and the brains of 
 the people with him, and the cause he had espoused then and 
 there was won. He descended from the platform amid such 
 shouts of praise and such glistening of eyes as had never 
 attested the truth of any cause. The crowd hurried him off, 
 threatening to tear him to pieces with hand-shaking, and 
 pushing him about, and the occupants of the carriage from 
 " The Glen " saw him no more. Nora looked eagerly, tri 
 umphantly, at Mrs. Baltimore. The young widow was pale 
 with excitement, and her eyes glistened with tears of enthusi 
 asm as she turned to Sir Francis Cleveland : 
 
 " Isn't he splendid ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Baltimore," was the frank reply of the Eng 
 lishman, " he is the greatest man I have seen in America, if 
 he is young." 
 
 " What's your opinion, Mr. Cutaway ?" inquired she, 
 turning to the silent Caterpillar. That young gentleman in . 
 lemon, with the lemon-colored beaver mounted upon his 
 head, looked fondly at his yellow gloves, and after adjusting 
 them more satisfactorily at the ends of the fingers, replied in 
 his high key : 
 
 "In candor, I must state, Mrs. Baltimore, that if by some 
 rude shock of earthquake, or by some conflagration some 
 vulgar conflagration the city should be destroyed, and I 
 should be forced to take refuge in the vulgar country, and 
 none of the elegant troupe of dramatic artists should escape 
 destruction, I might feel inclined to approach this young 
 orator for the purpose of securing an hour's dramatic enter 
 tainment. He is surely a temporary Lethe for ennui." 
 
 " I should think he was," was her amused reply, as the 
 carriage moved off through the dissolving crowd. 
 
 The shouts of the people, as they followed Rutherford off 
 to some place of public entertainment, arose occasionally 
 upon the air. But after awhile they grew faint in the dis-
 
 STORMCLIFF. 289 
 
 tance, and the occupants of the carriage found greater facility 
 in making their way along the street. Many persons, how 
 ever, recognised the saviour of their town, and cheered her as 
 her carriage passed them. Just as the vehicle was about to 
 turn into a side street to secure a clear way for the drive 
 homewards, the Rev. Charles Heron made his appearance 
 on the sidewalk, and Mrs. Baltimore directed the driver to 
 stop the horses until she could speak to him. The clergy 
 man met the carriage at the street-curb, and raising his hat, 
 said: 
 
 " I hope you have enjoyed the speaking to-day as much as 
 I have. I saw you in the distance, but the crowd was so 
 great I could not get anywhere near you. Rutherford has 
 made his mark to-day ; and I hear already that the people are 
 demanding that he shall be nominated at the caucus to-night 
 as the candidate for the Legislature. His speech has pro 
 bably secured him the nomination. If he is elected, there 
 will be a rattling among the dry bones of our State Assembly ; 
 mark my words." 
 
 " I hope he may, indeed," was the fervent response of the 
 mistress of "The Glen." "I never heard such effective 
 imagery in my life. I can understand now how he has won 
 the sobriquet of Golden-Lip. That wonderful mouth is won 
 derfully sweet when he descends to persuasion. But when 
 he denounces, that mouth is the cave of thunderbolts. But 
 where is Marie ? It is not possible that she has missed this 
 treat. I expected to see her with you." 
 
 " What can you mean ?" exclaimed the clergyman. " Did 
 she come with you from ' The Glen ?' " 
 
 "Certainly not," was the surprised answer. "She left for 
 home last evening. She said urgent business demanded her 
 presence At home ; and though I urged her to remain, she 
 would not; consent. So, at her request, I sent her to town 
 in my pLaeton, accompanied by my father. He returned 
 last night and stated that he had parted with his charge at 
 a dry-goods store where she desired to be left. Is it possible 
 
 13
 
 290 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 you have not seen her? You alarm me. She should have 
 been at home by eight o'clock last evening, at the furthest." 
 
 "Merciful Heaven !" exclaimed the father, " what has be 
 come of my child ? Gone all night, do you say ?" 
 
 " Why, certainly," replied Mrs. Baltimore. " What time 
 was it, Nora, when father started home with her ?" 
 
 " It was six o'clock last evening," replied the old nurse. 
 " I heard Miss Heron say to him upon starting, that she 
 wished to be left at Benjamin West's dry-goods store ; there 
 would be time to do some shopping before she went home. 
 If I were in your place, Mr. Heron, I would go to Mrs. 
 Cranch's. She probably went there on her way home, and 
 was persuaded by Mary to stay all night." 
 
 " No, no !" said Mr. Heron, his alarm increasing ; " she 
 would not stay there half the day. It is nearly one o'clock. 
 She may be sick. That would detain her. I will go at once, 
 for it is so unlike Marie's way of acting. Why did she 
 leave you, Mrs. Baltimore ? There was no earthly reason for 
 her doing so that I know of." 
 
 " Indeed I cannot tell, Mr. Heron. She looked low-spirited 
 and depressed for several days. She would not acknowledge 
 it to me, but endeavored to shake it off when she saw that I 
 noticed it. I sincerely trust you will find her at Mrs. 
 Cranch^s. Get in here with us, and we will drive there 
 at once." 
 
 The anxious father accepted the invitation, and the driver 
 urged his fleet steeds along the street. Arriving at the 
 dwelling of Marie's friend, the carriage stopped, and the foot 
 man leaping from the box, ascended the steps and rang 
 the door-bell. A maid-servant answered the bell, and in 
 reply to the inquiry, stated that Miss Heron had not been at 
 the house. The clergyman in dismay announced his intention 
 of seeing Miss Cranch himself. The carriage-door was 
 opened for him, and he hastened up to the house. Summon 
 ing the young lady to the door by a startling message of 
 Marie's absence, he was informed that his daughter had not
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 291 
 
 been seen by any of the Craneh family, and they all supposed 
 her to be still a visitor at " The Glen." 
 
 " Come back to the carriage, Mr. Heron," called out Mrs. 
 Baltimore; " we will drive you around to West's store." 
 
 Again the carriage was driven rapidly ahead, and in a few 
 minutes they were whirled up in front of the designated shop. 
 The proprietor was standing in the door gossiping with a 
 neighbor, but when he saw the face of his most valuable 
 customer in the carriage, he bowed low and advanced to meet 
 her. Mrs. Baltimore did not alight, however, but anticipated 
 the inquiry of the clergyman in her quick, nervous way when 
 excited. 
 
 " Have you seen Miss Heron ? Was she in your store 
 last evening about seven or eight o'clock? She's missing, 
 and her father is very anxious about her. Did my father 
 drive her to your store last evening in the phaeton ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes !" was the bland reply of the serene man of trade, 
 as he bowed respectfully to the different members of the 
 party, and apparently unconscious as yet what a valuable 
 customer for the display of his dress-goods had vanished 
 from the community." " The young lady was here, madam, 
 last evening and made several small purchases. She was left 
 here by your father. I offered to send her little bundle home 
 for her ; but no, she would take it herself." The alarmed 
 countenances of his audience seemed to check the serene 
 flow of his spirits, for the smile gave place to a serious look 
 as he inquired: "Did she not go directly home ? It was 
 quite dark when she left the store. I do not recollect ever 
 to have seen Miss Heron out so late and unattended before : 
 I told her so ; but she only smiled, and said it was only 
 a short walk home," 
 
 "Could she have gone to Mrs. Crandall's?" inquired 
 Nora. 
 
 The clergyman shook his head sorrowfully. The disap 
 pearance of his only child overwhelmed him. " She never 
 goes there to spend the night, Nora. She is lost or mur-
 
 292 8TOEMCLIFF. 
 
 dered. Oh, Marie, my child, where shall I look for 
 you ?" 
 
 " Go to the police-office," said the Englishman, bluntly. 
 
 " The Chief of Police," put in the high key of the gentle 
 man in lemon. " He'll telegraph all over town." 
 
 " What use would a telegraph be in a town like this ? " 
 said the Englishman, gruffly. 
 
 The Caterpillar shrank into himself and volunteered no 
 more suggestions, but sat meekly smoothing on his yellow 
 gloves. The proposition of the Englishman was adopted, 
 and the clergyman was driven around to the office of a po 
 lice justice. The magistrate was found lolling on a bench 
 before his office, and smoking a pipe. He was a thin, wiry- 
 looking man, evidently elected by the people, and responsible 
 only to the devil for the administrative integrity of his posi 
 tion. Corrupt times are easily recognisable by a glance into 
 the faces of local magistrates. The simple, honest face of 
 the farmer-justice is replaced by a countenance of cunning, 
 warmed with other men's whiskey. The justice honored his 
 visitors by straightening his legs, when he saw that the party 
 looked equal to stimulative donations in the interest of jus 
 tice. But soon ascertaining that the principal party inter 
 ested in the recovery of the young lady understood tho 
 roughly the duties of magistrates, and reserved the excess of 
 his purse for suffering humanity, he promised to interest the 
 police in the search, and then relapsed into the lolling posi 
 tion to which the people had elected him. 
 
 " He looks like a blood-sucker," said the Englishman, as 
 they drove away. "That man won't do a thing, I pre 
 dict." 
 
 "I expect little of him," said the clergyman. "I shall ad 
 vertise my child in the papers. I cannot express to you all 
 my anxiety. Please leave me at the next corner; I wish to 
 see the editor of the evening paper. You have all been so 
 kind to me in my anxiety may God bless you all. Here is 
 the place I wish to get out. Yes, that corner."
 
 STORMCLIFF. 293 
 
 The carriage drove up to the sidewalk again ; and bidding 
 them farewell, he walked away in terrible anxiety and dis 
 tress. Alone in the world, every affection of his heart had 
 twined around Marie. She had been his sole idol since the 
 death of his wife ; and now to lose her, with such frightful 
 possibilities surrounding her disappearance, nearly drove 
 him frantic. He hurried on towards the office of the even 
 ing paper. In passing the post-office he recollected that he 
 had not yet called for the mail of the day. He entered the 
 office and inquired for his letters. They were handed to 
 him. Lo ! one of them was addressed to him in his daugh 
 ter's handwriting. He tore the letter open, and his amazed 
 eyes read thus : 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER : 
 
 " I drop this note into the office myself. I am going to 
 leave, and my heart is almost broken at the thought. You 
 have trusted me implicitly always, and this fact renders it so 
 hard to take the important step without consulting you. I 
 know you would persuade me from the step I am about to 
 take ; you would oppose me utterly. And this is the one 
 great occasion of my life when I cannot be thwarted. No ! 
 I cannot. And yet I look back to you in your loneliness and 
 desolation with feelings of anguish which you must believe 
 in because your Marie assures you she suffers from them. 
 I cannot consult you, because you would oppose me ; and 
 my heart is so utterly and absolutely enlisted in my depar 
 ture, that my very existence depends upon it. I must go, 
 and you must be left in the darkness of suspicion regarding 
 me. I may return ; but, alas ! I feel that a long, long time 
 may elapse before I shall be in your arms again. Forgive 
 me and pray for me, for I am very unhappy. Don't adver 
 tise me, I beg of you; it will only cause reproach to attach 
 to my name, and will do no good. I cannot be tracked. I 
 have taken every means that human ingenuity could suggest 
 to avoid being followed. You cannot find me ; and I beg of
 
 294 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 yon patiently to await my return in silence, though my ab 
 sence should extend to years. You will, I hope, be satisfied 
 at last with your poor lost daughter 
 
 " MARIE." 
 
 The note was crushed convulsively in his hand, and blind 
 ing tears came to his eyes. He knew then that she had 
 eloped ; but who in the name of mercy had enticed her 
 away ? Who had borne away that inestimable treasure of 
 his home, and for what conceivable motive could she have 
 eloped without trusting him? Would he not have given 
 his consent to her marriage with any man who was master 
 of her heart, and who was not irreclaimably evil and aban 
 doned ? She knew that he would, and still had she fled. 
 He wandered up and down the streets of the town uncon 
 scious of human presence on the walks. He wandered until 
 near nightfall, mourning and meditating upon her note. 
 Then he went to his desolate lodging-place, and shut him 
 self up in his room, and kneeling beside his table, mur 
 mured : " Thy holy will be done." After a long time of 
 prayer he arose, and his purpose was fixed. In the first 
 place, he would dispatch a note to the mistress of " The 
 Glen," stating that he had a letter from his daughter, and 
 requesting the courtesy of Mrs. Baltimore's silence until his 
 child should return. He would request her, if possible, 
 to close the lips also of her guests. In the second place, he 
 would follow Marie's request, and raise no alarm regarding 
 her mysterious absence ; but wait patiently her return, when 
 the difficulties attending her should be cleared from her 
 path. He proceeded, in pursuance of this resolution, to ad 
 dress a note to Mrs. Baltimore and another to the police 
 justice; one to Mrs. Crunch, and one to the keeper of the 
 dry-goods store. If they could not keep the strange secret, 
 he would feel at least that he had obeyed his child's last 
 request. Having finished ,the notes, he went out into the 
 street to deliver them himself, or to find messengers trusty
 
 STORMCLIFF. 295 
 
 to bear them to their destination. He found a boy in whom 
 he had great confidence, and sent him off on horseback to 
 " The Glen." The persons for whom the other notes were 
 intended he was successful in finding at home ; and to them 
 he explained that his daughter had written him a letter, and 
 there was no further necessity of following the matter up. 
 Having fulfilled this sensible mission, he returned to his deso 
 late and deserted home at the private boarding-house, to 
 seek consolation in the promises of God. 
 
 While Mrs, Baltimore and her friends were enjoying them 
 selves in the town, and listening to the oratory of Rutherford, 
 the servants at " The Glen " were holding high revel. Every 
 guest was absent upon some party of pleasure, and no one 
 remained in the mansion but the domestics. There was no 
 one to restrain their hilarity, and they roved through the 
 gardens of the place and around the park. Some of them 
 chased after the deer, which had been secured for the pro 
 perty in the wilds of the North, enjoying their fright as they 
 bounded away under the trees. Some roamed through the 
 gardens, and compelled the old gardener to desist from his 
 work, telling him that there was no mistress upon the place, 
 and they were determined there should be no work either 
 until there should be signs of Mrs. Baltimore's return. The 
 old man was forced to acquiesce, for his tools were hidden, 
 from him; and determined to make the most of his forced 
 holiday he found his way into the house, and wandered up 
 and down its rooms, enjoying a glimpse of its rare decora 
 tions and the elegant works of art which had arrived from 
 Europe. In the course of his wanderings he entered the 
 ancient parlor of the front building, and recollecting the 
 disappointment he had experienced upon his former visit to 
 it, when accompanied by the mistress of " The Glen," he 
 could not forbear taking another look at the family portraits 
 from which the gem of them all had been removed. What 
 was his amazement, upon throwing open the shutters and 
 admitting light to the room, to discover the lost portrait of
 
 296 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 Gertrude Baltimore restored to its place upon the wall. 
 There it was, sure enough, with its quaint look, cap and 
 tassels, and all. He shaded his eyes with his hand, as was 
 his wont when he wished great accuracy of vision, and took 
 a good look at the ancient lady, whose memory had been 
 revered by his father with a devotion due to a goddess. 
 Could it be possible that his old eyes were failing him so 
 fast ! He rubbed them with his wrinkled and weather- 
 beaten hand and took another look. A low whistle of sur 
 prise escaped him. Then he looked around to see that he 
 was not followed by any of the domestics. That glance 
 satisfied him that he was entirely alone. He approached the 
 portrait and scrutinized it carefully. Then he exclaimed 
 aloud : 
 
 " Well, well, well ! if that don't beat all the queer things 
 this old man ever saw. It's her, and it aint her. It's the 
 Lady Gertrude, and then agin it ain't. What the bothera 
 tion has happened to the old lady? I know the livin' 
 changes beyond knowin' sometimes ; but may old Weaver 
 be shot for a hieenee, if he ever seen a black eye change into 
 a grey eye afore. It's past the laws of natur. And the eye 
 is shaped, too, as it never were afore. It's kind o' squeezed 
 out and stretched. How kin that be ? how can that be ? 
 It's the lady herself; but she's stole some other woman's 
 eyes, or some other woman has stolen hern." 
 
 The old man stood in every favorable position that he 
 could think of to secure the most favorable light upon the 
 picture, still fancying that his eyes must be playing him false, 
 and that all would come right at last. It was ah 1 in vain, 
 however. He shook his old head, and muttered: "It's her; 
 and then agin it ain't her." 
 
 Finally, after a long discussion with himself, he ejacu 
 lated : 
 
 " What a stupid thing old Weaver's a gettin' to be. I 
 understand it ; of course I do." 
 
 With the last exclamation he thrust his hand up and out-
 
 STORMCI.IFF. 297 
 
 wards before him, as a gesture of finnl and irrevocable cer 
 tainty, and repeated : " Of course I do. It's Nora's doin's, 
 and I jest know it. O rny! but isn't she cunnin' ? The 
 pictur is there ; but it might jest as well have a mask onto 
 it. I can't dispute the pictur ; no, sir, that I can't. But 
 who'll know the face 'ceptin' some such old critter as me ? 
 That's what I want to know. My fine lady Gertrude has 
 gone and got strange eyes onto herself. I'll bet Nora went 
 and painted the eyes over herself. She kin do that thing. 
 But O my ! ain't she crafty ?" 
 
 One of the servants came rushing into the house, shouting : 
 " Weaver ! Weaver ! you old rascal ; hurry out, the mistress 
 is comin'. Her carriage is a'most up to the porter's lodge." 
 , The old gardener stole quietly out of the house and found 
 the servants flying in every direction, to be back in their pro 
 per places for the arrival of the young widow. He walked out 
 to his post in the garden green-houses, muttering to himself: 
 
 " I respect Nora, that I do. She means well, and she is a 
 faithful soul ; but O my ! ain't she cunnin' ?" 
 
 The carriage of Mrs. Baltimore was just on the point of 
 entering the park, when a boy on horseback rode up to the 
 porter's gate, and, attracting her attention, delivered to her 
 a note. She glanced her eye over the contents, and, seeing 
 that it required no answer, sent the boy back to the town. 
 Then, as the carriage rolled along the avenue of the park, 
 she explained to her companions the wishes of the Rev. 
 Charles Heron regarding the note from, and the disappear 
 ance of, his daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A TEAK passed by and no further word came to the lonely 
 clergyman of his lost daughter. Whether she slept beneath 
 the sods of the earth, or dragged out a life of weariness, or 
 
 15*
 
 298 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 rejoiced in the love of one worthy of her pure heart's devo 
 tion, he knew not. To him she was as one dond. The new 
 dwelling, in which he had anticipated so much joy with 
 Marie, was finished. The plans of the new house had been 
 made by her own hands. Every convenience, every comfort 
 which she had advocated, was secured in its construction. He 
 had furnished every room as she had indicated, in the tender 
 ness of his love and hope that she would yet return. But at 
 last he gave himself up to the belief that she was so involved 
 in secret troubles that she could not return. He even 
 prayed to God as if his all was now gathered in Heaven, 
 and he bad only to wait patiently his own summons to the 
 "Better Land." 
 
 Society only shook its wise head now when Marie's name 
 was mentioned, and regretted that so much loveliness and so 
 much talent should have been so easily led astray. No 
 doubt, she had run off with some sudden and romantic object 
 of attachment ; but wh'o that object could have been was 
 the great mystery for the town. No one was missing, no 
 one had gone away from the town ; and therefore she must 
 have eloped with eome gentleman whom she had met upon 
 her visits elsewhere. Miss Louise Stanford, who had formerly 
 considered it her great vocation in life to be the grand bearer 
 of intelligence to the neighborhood of Marie's daily conduct, 
 contented herself now with raids upon young females gene 
 rally. Her specialty had fled beyond the reach of her keen 
 eyes, and she only said of her now: "Romantic people 
 always end like that unfortunate Marie Heron. Poor girl, 
 if she had only remained constant to Mr. Rutherford, how 
 happy it might have been for her. He is a member of the 
 Legislature ; is gaining distinction in his profession ; is be 
 coming very popular in society ; and if this terrible stigma 
 of his birth could only be removed, how sweet he would be." 
 
 The qualified character of this last statement was quite a 
 fair index of the young lawyer's actual position in society. 
 His marvellous success had planted him just half way in and
 
 STORMCLIFF. 299 
 
 half way out of society. By some families of the " highest 
 respectability" he was received and courted unqualifiedly. 
 By others, he was still held in probation, for other and fur 
 ther approving nods of the modern Jove fashion. The 
 novel which had occasioned such a sensation in literary cir 
 cles, " Oloffe, the Dreamer," was now believed to have ema 
 nated from his little office by the river. Who else could 
 the lady friend have been but Mary Delavan ? Had she not 
 deserted him upon his rejection by the will of Judge Holden ? 
 And had she not returned into his circle of friends when the 
 superb and wealthy Mrs Baltimore took him up, and placed 
 him high on her list of intimates ? What woman in the 
 town was ignorant of these facts ? What woman did not 
 know that the mistress of " The Glen " contrived to have a 
 pressure of legal business since Rutherford had become her 
 lawyer ? Who was ignorant that Nicholas Traver, notwith 
 standing the young lawyer had opposed him in the murder 
 trial, now, through the influence of his daughter, gave him 
 several important matters to litigate for him ? Did he not 
 ride to the gloomy and mysterious estate when no one else 
 could gain admittance ? Had he not stood beside Nicholas 
 Traver in the mysterious parlor of that doomed property, 
 when the lightning descended the chimney and tore up the 
 planks of the floor within ten feet of them ? Everybody 
 knew this ; and everybody was aware also that Nicholas 
 Traver appeared anxious to have the lawyer with him when 
 storms threatened from the skies. It was said that the strange, 
 elegant man had a superstitious confidence that Rutherford's 
 presence protected him from destruction by the electric 
 fluid. A stranger rumor still was gaining credit among 
 the crowd. Within the year, the old prophetess had fallen 
 into her trances again ; and in one of them, as report gave 
 the whisper, she had testified vaguely that Nicholas Traver 
 had been the cause of Marie Heron's mysterious disappear 
 ance ; whether he had murdered her, or how he had disposed 
 of her, after his last ride with her in the phaeton, was not
 
 300 STOKMCLIFP. 
 
 defined accurately by the marvellous dame of tea-pnrties. It 
 was enough to know that the trance referred to it, and 
 Nora's trances never lied. When this terrible addition 
 had become recently a part of the mystery fund of the town, 
 it seemed -as if the maw of curiosity would be stretched 
 to its utter destruction. Who was the strange being that 
 uttered prophecies, and held the steward's key of the young 
 widow's unbounded wealth ? Who was Rutherford, the 
 brilliant and the rising sun ? Why had Nicholas Traver 
 sacrificed his daughter Grace to the arms of the aged Balti 
 more ; and why had her old nurse been forbidden access to 
 the mysterious marriage ? Who had murdered the brother 
 of Mrs. Baltimore, and still ranged the earth unpunished ? 
 What was the venerable clock willed to the outcast for ? 
 And where was Marie, the beautiful and the fawn-footed ? 
 
 While these questions were renewed in the autumnal 
 months, and the dreamy wand of October commenced its 
 gorgeous transformations of the oaks and maples of " The 
 Glen," the town was electrified by cards of invitation which 
 fell like autumn leaves within its limits. The young widow 
 had laid aside her mourning, and the ancient halls of the 
 Baltimore estate were to be thrown open for a grand mas 
 querade-ball. The excitement was unprecedented in the 
 circles of fashion. Such wonderful stories of the improve 
 ments and decorations of " The Glen" had gone abroad 
 through the county, such extravagant descriptions of the 
 wealth and grandeur of the young widow had been circu 
 lated, that an invitation to the great entertainment was 
 looked upon with delight, and the most expensive and 
 elaborate toilets to personate the royal and the great 
 were everywhere in course of preparation. A note accom 
 panied every invitation to the effect that Mrs Rudd alone 
 would remain unmasked ; and it w r as expected as a matter 
 of courtesy and precaution that every one would, upon enter 
 ing the house, pass into the apartment designated and 
 unmask before her, previously to joining the revel. No one
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 301 
 
 more competent could have been selected for the purpose of 
 limiting the entertainment to only the invited guests. The 
 entire house was to be thrown open for the masqueraders, 
 and two splendid bands of music were secured from the 
 metropolis to facilitate dancing in the old and new buildings 
 of "The Glen." 
 
 When the momentous evening of the ball arrived, the 
 whole town appeared to be thronged with, carriages driving 
 up to the doors of the fashionables for the splendidly attired 
 guests who had such a long ride before them to reach the 
 scene of the entertainment. From the private residences, 
 also, through the county, vehicles were hurrying forward 
 to the revel, filled with personages attired in scarlet and 
 velvet, in royal robes and crowns ; white and scarlet plumes 
 dancing in the light of the carriage lamps, and diamonds 
 glistening in the powdered hair of the olden time. Upon 
 arriving at the porter's lodge of " The Glen," the revellers 
 discovered an arch of colored lamps suspended high above 
 the gate-posts, and beneath them was an illumination in 
 scarlet letters of the word " welcome" 
 
 From the entrance-gate to the door of the mansion the 
 entire avenue was radiant with colored lamps suspended 
 from the trees some twining upwards around the ancient 
 oaks like vines with many-colored fruits, others suspended 
 across the avenue in festoons above. Banners of the olden 
 time fluttered from the branches of the trees, with their 
 heraldic devices of crowns and lions' heads and stags and 
 the Crusaders' cross of red. As the carriages came pouring 
 up along the avenue the occupants caught glimpses through 
 the trees of some great brilliancy ahead. But only upon 
 whirling around into the sweep of the great open circle 
 in front of the house was the real splendor of the scene 
 made manifest. The whole mansion was illuminated from 
 top to bottom in yellow fire. The great dome of the 
 old building was one mass of scarlet lamps, like a huge 
 sun setting in a sea of gold. And beyond the mansion
 
 302 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 towards the pine-bordered glen, the eye caught glimpses 
 of the garden walks, brilliantly lighted in various colors. 
 
 The stirring music of the dance was already inviting to 
 revelry and mirth, and the blended music of the two bands 
 in the distinct buildings echoed far away under the trees of 
 the park. The entrance through the ivy-wreathed porch of 
 stone was guarded by four servants in the armor of Cru 
 saders, and each holding aloft a flaming torch. These guar 
 dians of the entrance admitted but one carriage party at a 
 time, who passed in under an arch of green-house flowers, 
 and were conducted to the side apartment opposite the par 
 lor of family portraits, where each unmasked before old 
 Nora, who stood there, calm and tall and dignified, and 
 bowing recognition as the disguise was for a moment re 
 moved from the face. The approved guest then resumed the 
 musk, and was pointed away to the parlors and halls by 
 another servant in armor, who wore a scarf of red silk and 
 acted as usher, calling out in a loud voice the historic titles 
 of the new comers as they passed in. As the maskers entered 
 the parlor of family portraits they found the room brilliantly 
 lighted and festooned with fresh flowers. Passing thence 
 into the great drawing-rooms of the old house, they found a 
 band of music upon a dais two feet high festooned with 
 flowers. Huge mirrors were arranged at the extremities of 
 these drawing-rooms, which gave the appearance of rooms 
 twice their actual length, and reflected back the images of 
 other cavaliers and ladies 'whirling in the dance. The music 
 from this band distinctly met the ears of the dancers in the 
 great circular dining-room under the dome, from which the 
 circular table had been removed, and the memorial city 
 of silver carried to a place of honor in the hall which 
 connected the old and new buildings. Passing through 
 this hall, the guests arrived at a scene of beauty in the 
 new buildings which resembled the dream-visions of fairy 
 land. 
 
 A single step gave ascent from the connecting hall to the
 
 STORMCLIFF. 303 
 
 great colonnade which formed the grand hall of the new 
 building. The floor was of polished marble of variegated 
 colors. The rows of columns on either side, sustaining the 
 galleries of the second story, were of snow-white marble, 
 with Corinthian capitals. The rows of columns above them, 
 sustaining the roof of the house, were similar in pattern and 
 material, and between them the guests on the second floor 
 could seat themselves and look down upon the dancers below. 
 At intervals between the columns of the grand hall were 
 pedestals sustaining the statues brought from Italy, the huge 
 glass vases filled with sporting gold-fish, the exotic plants from 
 the conservatories, and orange and lemon trees full of golden 
 and yellow fruit. At the far end of this princely hall the 
 marble steps curved upwards either way to the colonnade and 
 rooms above. Upon the second. floor, between two pillars 
 of marble, was stationed the band, flooding the house with 
 melody, arid timing the steps of the revellers below. At 
 every available point flowers were festooned, long lilies of 
 white nodded over the heads of the dancers, and the rare 
 exotics of scarlet and golden hue were arranged with lavish 
 hand. The saloon, with its divans and fountain of mermaids, 
 was a lounging-place for the romantic and the weary. No 
 lamp-light illumined it, save that which streamed in through 
 the arch from the grand hall ; but the Venetian blinds were 
 raised, and the moonlight, in the height of the revel, flooded 
 into the apartment, and found unknown cavaliers in mask in 
 secret converse with equally unknown queens and fairies in 
 disguise. From the grand hall doors opened into apart 
 ments richly draped and ornamented in the semblance of 
 oriental luxury or Roman and Grecian taste, where lovers or 
 groups could retreat for quiet love or mirth. 
 
 In the second story of the old house, in the front, apart 
 ments were provided for the arrangement of disordered 
 dress and hair, and where the maskers could assume new 
 characters and costumes at will. So superbly were the ar 
 rangements of the revel conducted, that closets opening into
 
 304 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 these apartments were filled with costumes and masks of every 
 pattern, that the revellers might, if recognised, retire and 
 change their dresses during the evening. 
 
 The revel was at its height. The clocks had been masked 
 with folds of silk, that the heart of mirth might not be touch 
 ed by the chilling hand of Time. Oblivion of care was the 
 order of the night. The dancing waxed wilder, the music 
 sounded more dreamily to the loungers in the saloons or 
 gardens, the wine sparkled more freely in the hands of the 
 revellers, eyes grew brighter in the intoxication of pleasure, 
 feet tripped more buoyantly through the mazes of the dance, 
 and care and sorrow were swept away from the hearts of the 
 beautiful Amid the disguises of that Lethean night, one had 
 been conspicuous to all for its brilliant beauty and the grace 
 ful carriage of its wearer. The prince in scarlet and ermine, 
 with the exquisite collar of point lace, and the long plume of 
 white fluttering off from the scarlet velvet cap, was the most 
 gallant and graceful dancer of the evening. His compliments, 
 delivered with such insinuating tones of delicacy and tact, 
 had caused many a blush to the unknown and unseen cheeks 
 of the hearers. No offers to dance were accepted more will 
 ingly than his; no bows were more courtly, no steps more 
 princely than his. Conjectures had been whispered repeat 
 edly from lady to lady, but the scarlet prince remained a 
 mystery still. Through all the flattery and the attentions 
 lavished upon him by the female throng, he had never lost 
 sight of his premeditated purpose of the night. He sought 
 to identify one lady alone, to win her arm and to solve a 
 mystery of her heart. In vain had he exhausted the arrows 
 from the quiver of his intellect, and the golden words of art 
 from his tongue. He could not identify her. He could not 
 discover under any mask language of repartee and wit which 
 should be the brilliant and familiar reply of her lips. Sho 
 was unusually graceful, too, and that clue also had baffled 
 his search. He had danced in every room, jested in every 
 group, and promenaded with half the lady-masks in the house,
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 305 
 
 "but all in vain. Nothing satisfactory as yet pointed out any 
 female as the lady of his search. She might have walked 
 Avith him, danced with him, and still have baffled him. He 
 knew she was equal to this, had she recognised him and been 
 so inclined. But he was unwilling to believe she had actual 
 ly evaded him, gone fi'om his society, yet unknown. Already 
 by his superior wit he had discovered the identity of many 
 ladies, and informed them of it, though remaining himself, 
 through his admirable counterfeit of other gentlemen, still 
 unknown. Where should he turn next ? Where should he 
 make another essay to find her? He stood silent, and 
 thoughtful, and alone on the second marble step leading to 
 the gallery above the dancing-hall, his scarlet cloak flung 
 carelessly over one shoulder, and the point of his rapier rest 
 ing upon the step just above the one on which he was keeping 
 watch of the dancers. As his eye ranged over their heads, 
 he saw a new-comer, apparently, at the end of the hall. She 
 might be only a reveller in a new disguise. He ascended a 
 few steps higher for a better view over the crowd, and then 
 he was able to study the detail of her dress. It was the 
 character of a priestess of the Pagan temple ; flowing 
 drapery of white, arranged admirably to display a waist of 
 exquisite beauty, and one bare arm, moulded in snow. A 
 a wreath of green oak leaves circled her head, whose outline 
 and hair was completely disguised by some white drapery she 
 had gathered about it. She wore a mask of white silk. In 
 her small, beautiful hand she grasped a sacrificial knife of 
 her order. The attentive prince upon the steps muttered 
 to himself: "That is just like one of her conceits. I'll wager 
 my life against a boor's she is the lady of my pursuit. I 
 would give up many an hour of joy to catch one glimpse 
 of that costume minus the mask. That figure must be hers. 
 It can be no other." 
 
 He left the stairway, and gradually made his way through 
 the dancers to her side. Bowing gallantly, he said, in the 
 disguised voice he had adopted for the evening :
 
 306 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 " A priestess, if I mistake not. Does the law of your tem 
 ple allow you to court the favor of Terpsichore ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied a voice he did not recognise. " Dan 
 cing can be made subservient to the worship of our goddess. 
 In our holy rites we both sing and dance." 
 
 "But would you be allowed to dance with the crown 
 prince of the realm ?" 
 
 " Only in the interest of religion, and to further the cause 
 of worship," was the response from beneath the white mask. 
 
 " Then I solicit the honor of your hand for the next dance. 
 In it I shall be serving the goddess whom I adore. Pure 
 worship urges me to solicit your hand for the dance. You 
 are the divinity who has arisen upon my sight like a star of 
 heaven. I would attend you and serve you." 
 
 " Spoken like a true devotee," said the white mask, with a 
 clear, ringing laugh which he was unable to identify. " Your 
 gallantry entitles you to favor. I will dance with you. I trust 
 you are handsome, for the laws of our temple are limited to 
 the beautiful." Again the ringing laugh followed. 
 
 " Please define your ideas of handsome and I can answer 
 you more satisfactorily," said the prince. 
 
 " Well, listen," said the white mask. " The prince who 
 can win my favor must have blue eyes." 
 
 " I have them to a certainty." 
 
 " Then his hair must curl." 
 
 " I can satisfy you in that respect." 
 
 "And you must have a small mouth." 
 
 " My mouth my mouth," exclaimed the bewildered prince. 
 " How can a man know that his mouth is small enough to 
 satisfy a lady ?" 
 
 " By raising his mask and giving her a glimpse of it," said 
 the white mask. 
 
 "Mouth for mouth," said the prince, laughing. "Raise 
 your mask sufficiently to satisfy me of the mouth of my 
 goddess and I will do the same." 
 
 " You have no right to impose conditions upon a
 
 STORMCLIFF. 307 
 
 goddess. I demand implicit obedience. Up with your 
 mask." 
 
 " I will die first," exclaimed the prince. 
 
 " Now I know," said the lady, " that your mouth is large. 
 You men are so conceited, that if you had a small mouth you 
 would hasten to let it be known. I know you think your 
 mouth is handsome some foolish girls have told you so." 
 
 "I don't allow girls to tell me such things," said the 
 prince. " I never hear any lady's voice but yours. It is so 
 sweet and musical, it rings in my ears like a silver bell. I 
 would only listen to you. One word from you in praise 
 would thrill my heart." 
 
 " Nonsense !" exclaimed the white mask. " How many 
 girls have you said the same thing to within a year ?" 
 
 " Not one," said the prince, emphatically. 
 
 " Don't think to deceive me," was the response. " Do 
 you know what I have heard ?" 
 
 " How could I ?" 
 
 " Do you wish to know what I have heard ?" 
 
 "Yes ! indeed, only for the pleasure of hearing your sweet 
 voice again." 
 
 " I heard that you had proposed marriage to three ladies 
 within as many weeks." 
 
 The prince was uneasy under his disguise, for he made no 
 answer. Then he said : 
 
 " If I had been guilty of such an act, my subjects ought to 
 behead me. Indeed I feel affronted at such a charge." 
 
 "Don't write your own sentence. You should be be 
 headed sure enough, for you did it." 
 
 " If I could prove to you that it was a false charge, what 
 would you do ?" 
 
 " Follow you to the ends of the earth," said the white 
 mask, with a deep sigh. 
 
 " I know you," said the prince, the sigh confirming his 
 suspicion that it was the lady he had been looking for the 
 whole evening.
 
 308 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 " No ! you don't," said the lady in a low tone. 
 
 " Yes ! I do ; and I love you better than any woman was 
 ever loved before. Don't you think the instincts of my 
 heart can tell me who you are?" 
 
 " Alas ! if I could only trust you," sighed the lady again. 
 
 " Come with me come with me," said the prince, ener 
 getically. " I have been looking for you, sweetest, the 
 whole evening. I have had no enjoyment till this moment. 
 Oh ! how cruelly you have treated me for a whole year : 
 snubbing me on every occasion taking pride in exhibiting 
 to strangers how much you despised me. And I see it all 
 now, and I forgive you. Oh ! Kate, how could you believe 
 such a falsehood ?" 
 
 " Hush !" said the white mask, " you will be overheard. 
 Don't pronounce my name again." 
 
 " Then come with me," said the prince. " Never mind 
 the next dance. We will walk in the gardens where no one 
 can hear us. Will you go confidently with me once more ?" 
 
 " I fear I had better not," said the white mask dubiously. 
 "I do doubt you ; but it is painful to me to do so." 
 
 " Go but for one moment. Go, I entreat of you. I will 
 explain everything there." 
 
 " Well," said the lady, reluctantly. Then, as she took his 
 arm, she said : " We had better go out through the con 
 necting-hall, where I can get a shawl. I am not as strong 
 as I was a year ago." 
 
 They passed out near the silver memorial of the burning 
 city, after the white mask had secured a shawl which the 
 prince flung over his arm. The night was brilliant with 
 moonlight, and they concluded to leave the illuminations 
 of the gardens behind them, and travel on towards the 
 rustic bridge, hallowed in their minds by the strolls and 
 associations of the last October which they had passed 
 at "The Glen." The lady whispered once or twice 
 in remonstrance, at the great distance he was conducting 
 her from the mansion and from the masqueraders in tho
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 309 
 
 gardens. He, however, prevailed upon her to go as far 
 as the seats under the pines near the bridge, promising that 
 their absence from the ball should not be prolonged beyond 
 a quarter of an hour. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " WHY don't you drop that disguise of your voice ? I 
 know you, Kate Angier, perfectly well, and that tone can no 
 longer deceive me," said the prince, as they seated themselves 
 on a rustic bench under the pines bordering the brook. The 
 moonbeams fluttered through the dense foliage upon his 
 companion's white robe, and glistened from the sacrificial 
 blade of steel she carried in her hand. She was silent for a 
 few seconds. Then heaving a sigh, she said : 
 
 " I have several reasons why I choose to disguise my 
 voice. In the first place, I am not certain that you really 
 recognise me. In the second place, I wish to hear your con 
 fession. You have called me away from the dancers to satisfy 
 me that you love Kate Angier. Suppose that I am not she, 
 but Lucretia Rogers. What then ?" 
 
 " Then I wish to make to Lucretia Rogers the decla 
 ration that T love Kate Angier better than any woman 
 alive. That since my wife died I have never breathed love 
 into the ear of any woman but Kate Angier, and that if I 
 speak falsely I call upon the wrath of Heaven to destroy me." 
 
 The white mask laughed heartily. There was the keenest 
 vein of irony in her tone as she answered : 
 
 " You are a brave man. You have staked everything upon 
 a single cast of the die, to win your purpose and secure love 
 and confidence. Oh, what a fearless player you are ?" 
 
 " I am no player, but an earnest man. I never have loved, 
 I never can love any one but Kate Angier." 
 
 The white mask laughed immoderately at the earnest tones 
 of the prince. Controlling her merriment, she said :
 
 310 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " You are a prince, indeed, but it is the prince of humbug. 
 You are incapable of a real love, such a love as a woman 
 values. You have no more stability of purpose in regard to 
 woman than a butterfly. It is whispered, moreover^ that 
 you are not a proper associate for ladies. Of course, you 
 will call this slander and demand my authority. Such men 
 as you always have a virtuous indignation at such charges 
 being made against you, and demand authority, authority." 
 She laughed bitterly, scornfully, her words stinging him 
 like vipers. 
 
 "Well," said he angrily, "what would you have me 
 do when such things are trumped up against me by 
 bitterness and falsehood ?" 
 
 " Admit their truth, and then hide yourself from the 
 society of the upright," was the cool, contemptuous reply. 
 
 " Kate Angier, you are vindictive in the extreme. You deny 
 justice to the innocent. Some day God may deny it to you.'* 
 
 " Ha, ha !" laughed his companion, " the infidel and the 
 sceptic invokes. Deity. How consistent you are ! You who 
 have built up a rival altar against the most High God. 
 But I defy you," she added sternly, " to prove your inno 
 cence of these charges. Will you acknowledge your o\vn 
 handwriting when you see it, or will you pronounce it a 
 forgery as all men like you invariably do ?" 
 
 " Oh, Kate, how bitter you are. I will do anything to 
 satisfy you that I am not altogether unworthy of you. Give 
 me my handwriting ; I demand it fearlessly." 
 
 "Will you promise upon your honor, or whatever quality 
 you really do possess, that you will return it to me ? that 
 you will not attempt to keep it from me, and that you will 
 not attempt to destroy it? " 
 
 "I swear it! " said the prince, solemnly, confident that he 
 had never committed himself on paper, and that notwith 
 standing the efforts and arts of the year before, which Kate 
 Angier and Miss Rogers had employed, he could not be 
 opposed with a single line of writing.
 
 STORMCL1FF. 311 
 
 " Come, then," said the white mask, " out into the open 
 moonlight. Can you read by moonlight ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed." 
 
 " Well, come on, then ; and if you did not write what I 
 have possession of, then Kate Angier if I am she will 
 marry you." 
 
 " Kate, I am sure of you this time," said the prince, with 
 an exultant air, as she took his arm and walked towards the 
 gardens and the open moonlight. 
 
 Arriving at a favorable locality behind a garden hedge, 
 where the eye could behold the moon sailing upwards in un 
 veiled splendor, the priestess paused and thrust her hand into 
 her bosom, and drawing forth a folded paper, handed it to 
 the prince, and exclaimed : 
 
 "There! read that, and deny your handwriting if you 
 dare !" 
 
 He opened the paper, and two dark ribbons fluttered out 
 upon one corner of the document, held to the paper by a 
 large seal of wax. He glanced over the heading. The docu 
 ment, in his own handwriting, read thus : 
 
 "In order that my life may not be taken by violence, 
 which is threatened, and for which violence I fear no jury 
 of my countrymen will find my murderer guilty, I make the 
 following confession and promise. The penalty of failing in 
 my promise will be death, and I know it. Under the pro 
 mise of marriage I ruined the daughter of Mr. Baltimore's 
 sister Mr. Baltimore, I mean, who has present possession of 
 * The Glen.' She was my ward, appointed by will ; and 1 
 know that I ought to die. Upon condition that he will spare 
 my life, I solemnly swear that he shall marry my daughter 
 Grace whenever and wherever he shall please to do so. 
 
 "NICHOLAS TJRAVER." 
 N. 
 
 SEAL. 
 
 T.
 
 312 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 When he recognised the handwriting of the first two lines 
 he uttered a cry of anguish, and then made a quick move- 
 vent to place the document under his princely mantle. But 
 the white mask, with a dexterous dart of her sacrificial knife, 
 pierced the palm of his hand, and he let the paper drop. 
 Instantly she regained possession of it, and thrusting it into 
 her bosom, stoxl upon the defensive, with the altar weapon 
 glittering in the moonlight. She remained silent and watch 
 ing him as he staunched the blood in his palm with his hand 
 kerchief. The wound was not dangerous, but he turned very 
 pale under his mask, unable to explain a word of the docu 
 ment. He was completely foiled, and his usual self-possession 
 deserted him. She held the proof of his infamy, and all 
 hopes of gaining her were lost. At length, after binding up 
 the wound, he looked at the beautiful image in white who 
 stood so tragically before him in the moonlight, and said, 
 calmly : 
 
 " Do you propose to make a public exhibition of that paper 
 to the world ? " 
 
 " No ! your ro/al highness," was the sneering response of 
 the white mask. 
 
 "What, then, will the priestess do with it? Offer it to 
 the chaste goddess on your altar? " 
 
 " No ! ' said the white mask, fiercely ; " keep it to torment 
 your life and protect women from you." 
 
 " I shall leave these parts," was the cool reply. " You 
 will hardly tramp the world after me." 
 
 " The vengeance of God will follow you. Hear me once 
 more pronounce upon you the cui-se of a broken heart : 
 
 " May your bright and beautiful ones perish by violence ; 
 and your name be the symbol of terror for all time ! " 
 
 The prince started back with a shudder of fear. 
 
 " What voice is that ? Have the tombs an outlet, that 
 that voice arises to curse me ? " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " shouted the white mask in phrensy. " It 
 was I cursed you. And I met your boy on the highway and
 
 STORMCLTFF. 3-13 
 
 throttled him to death. Believe me, you will all perish by 
 violence, for I am a mother, and I have cursed you. When 
 the lightnings of God's wrath come, may you and your habi 
 tation be destroyed, and your name be the symbol of terror 
 for all time !" She tore away the white mask, and the glar 
 ing eyes of the lunatic mother were revealed. With a yell 
 of defiance, she brandished the knife of the priestess in his 
 face, and then shouting : " Tremble when the lightning falls ; 
 tremble ! " she darted off along the garden walk and van 
 ished in the direction of the pine-bordered glen. 
 
 Dreamily, dreamily sounded the distant music as he stood 
 there alone. He feared to follow her to attempt the reco 
 very of the fatal document. The chances were that she was 
 already following one of the circuitous paths around to the 
 house to rejoin the dancers. It would require cunning and 
 tact to regain the paper. She must be suddenly surprised 
 and arrested as a lunatic, to prevent the agreement passing 
 into other hands than his own. He reflected in silence for a 
 few seconds what would be his best plan in returning to the 
 revel. Finally he decided to steal as secretly as possible to 
 the costume room of the gentlemen, and exchange his dress 
 for one which she would not recognise upon his reentering 
 the ball. In pursuance of this purpose, he concealed the 
 shawl of the priestess under his mantle and walked rapidly 
 on through the garden towards the house. Maskers were 
 promenading along the paths, and as he passed one lady, he 
 heard her exclaiming : 
 
 " There goes the elegant prince of the night what has he 
 done with the priestess ? " 
 
 He soon entered the connecting hall, and passing carelessly 
 along the circular dining-room where the masqueraders were 
 dancing merrily, he found his way to the dressing-rooms 
 above, and proceeded to examine the costumes in the closets, 
 which were carefully and civilly guarded and kept in order 
 by the servants selected for that purpose. He succeeded in 
 finding the dress of a harlequin which fitted him accurately, 
 
 14
 
 314 6TORMCLIFF. 
 
 and exchanging his mask for a black one, he mounted the 
 cap and bells, and hastened to the apartments below. The 
 same unflagging revelry was holding sway, and he commenced 
 to act out his new character to perfection. Laughter greeted 
 his droll remarks from every side ; and he passed on, jesting 
 with every one till he arrived once more at the grand dan 
 cing hall of marble. He had noticed that a gentleman in 
 the dressing-room immediately donned the prince's suit which 
 he had thrown aside, and, perfectly secure from recognition 
 by this double change, he now endeavored to trace out 
 the priestess again. It was a cruel satisfaction to him to 
 reflect that there was a possibility of the gentleman in his 
 rejected dress of the prince being some time startled during 
 the evening by a sharp thrust of the knife of the lunatic 
 priestess. He resolved to keep her in sight, in order that he 
 might take advantage of any such startling episode to be 
 come one of those who should arrest her, and thus secure 
 the fatal paper she carried in her bosom before it could be 
 read by others. He wandered up and down the dancing- 
 room in his search for the priestess ; and bearing also in his 
 mind his former purpose of finding out the disguise of Miss 
 Angier. She was not, it appeared, lost to him after all ; and 
 though her conduct of the past year had baffled his idea of 
 his supreme influence over women, he still trusted to deceive 
 her and regain her confidence with his honeyed tongue. 
 But as he strolled back and forth, entertaining the guests 
 with his drollery, and occasionally joining capriciously in a 
 dance, the recollection of the mother's curse would come 
 back to him in terror, and an undefinable feeling of awe 
 would creep over him. She had murdered his son, then. 
 Whose death would she compass next ? Was it improbable 
 that, with the rare tact and cunning which often accompany 
 insanity, she might have assumed another disguise by this 
 time herself, and be prowling about among the dancers, 
 watching her opportunity to bury her knife in him when she 
 should succeed in identifying him again ? He knew it was
 
 STOEMCLIFP. 315 
 
 not, and he remained upon his guard daring the whole time 
 that he was searching so diligently for Miss Angler. How 
 had the lunatic escaped from the asylum ? He had believed 
 the rumor that she was dead. How had she gained admit 
 tance at the front door ? Had Nora connived at her coming ? 
 It was possible ; but not probable. With all his vindictive- 
 ness, he was obliged to admit the integrity and general pro 
 priety of the old nurse's conduct. She would hardly admit 
 a wild lunatic to her friend Grace's entertainment. But how 
 had the priestess gained possession of the terrible paper by 
 which he had sold his daughter to old Baltimore ? That 
 document surely had been in the power of Nora. Another 
 fact was singular enough to his studying mind. 
 
 The white mask had charged him with having offered him 
 self to three young ladies within as many weeks. The charge 
 had been so correct and truthful that he had been at a loss 
 for a reply. The three were Miss Angier, Miss Rogers, and 
 the unfortunate Marie. Who could have surmised thus cor 
 rectly and informed the lunatic ? He was puzzled by these 
 reflections ; terrified by the repetition of the curse which had 
 haunted his memory for years, and seemed so often to ob 
 tain the sanction of Heaven. But notwithstanding all the 
 anxieties of that night of revelry, he was still as indefati 
 gable, as earnest in his search for the young lady who had 
 tormented his pride and conceit for more than a year, as if 
 she were the only being upon whom his attentions had ever 
 been centred. She should love him and trust him, if the 
 accomplishment of his purpose cost him the worry and in 
 genuity of years. But wander, and dance, and converse as 
 he might, he could not detect her under her mask ; neither 
 did the figure of the pagan priestess reward his vigilant eye. 
 
 While Nicholas Traver continued his double and fruitless 
 search, a wizard had arisen upon the scene. A fortune 
 teller of marvellous power and insight was gradually work 
 ing his way through the different rooms, and everywhere 
 eliciting ejaculations of surprise by the wonderful accuracy
 
 316 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 with which he informed the masks who consulted him of 
 their secret thoughts and of the objects of their love and 
 friendship. Occasionally he would break forth in the recita 
 tion of extemporaneous verses appropriate to those who 
 sought evidences of his power, and detailing to some of his 
 listeners the several costumes they had put off and on during 
 the evening. Believing themselves to have been remarkably 
 dexterous in avoiding discovery, they were startled to learn 
 that they had been tracked to the dressing-rooms and their 
 changes of costume were known. A clamor being raised 
 as to the accuracy of the wizard's statements, two or three 
 of the guests were selected by the conjuror; and after de 
 scribing the dresses which they had worn to the ball and 
 the changes of costume they had made during the evening, 
 he demanded of them by their proper names to unmask, and 
 then, testify as to the accuracy of what he had stated regard 
 ing the past and the present. 
 
 The masks were removed, and, to the surprise of the 
 parties themselves and the masks standing around, he was 
 proved to be a true wizard. Then, with a haughty accent 
 of command, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Clear the way and let the prince of wizards pass. With 
 such insight to the unknown of the past and present, who 
 shall dispute my truth in regard to the future ? Clear the 
 way!" Amid shouts of applause and exclamations of sur 
 prise he moved on with dignity, draped in his loose robe of 
 blue ornamented with flames and fiends in red, and waving 
 his long sceptre before him. Pausing occasionally before 
 some timid maiden whose mask would seem effectually to 
 conceal her age, he would recite exquisite verses of her 
 future fate, and then pass on with a chuckling laugh at the 
 surprise and merriment he had occasioned. 
 
 At length, in the midst of his stately perambulations 
 through the grand hall or colonnade, where the dancing had 
 temporarily ceased, he was confronted by a lady-mask who 
 disputed his power and defied him to declare who she was.
 
 BTORMCLIFF. 317 
 
 She was an exquisite figure, of medium height. Her grace 
 ful dancing had been repeatedly commented upon during 
 the night; but no one felt satisfied of her identity. The 
 character she had assumed was that of the " White Lady of 
 Avenel." Her slight waist was circled by a golden zone, 
 and the extraordinary luxuriance of her golden hair covered 
 her snowy dress like a mantle. Her mask was white wire 
 of remarkable fineness. Thus far she had eluded detection. 
 
 " Who am I, false wizard, and deceiver of mortals ?" was 
 the question of the white lady, as she swept her misty train 
 up to his presence. 
 
 "The wizard's dream," was the solemn response, as he 
 waved his sceptre slowly above her head. 
 
 " Answer me not in riddles," was the sharp retort, as she 
 stamped her little white slipper upon the marble floor. " I 
 knew your power was limited; your vaunted insight is gone. 
 Who am I ?" 
 
 The spectators who crowded up around the two, observed 
 the faintest indication of a tremor in his voice as the wizard 
 repeated these lines, emphasizing the word dark distinctly 
 and slowly : 
 
 " Thy loveliness haunts me by day and by night, 
 Stealing over my soul like holy starlight ; 
 I think of thee waking, and dream of thee oft, 
 With thy dark loving eyes and dark hair so soft. 
 
 " A voice ever whispered in years that are fled, 
 Of a vision to come of an ideal head, 
 So rare in its beauty and magical power, 
 That my soul would become a slave from that hour. 
 
 " How little I dreamed in my careless stroll, 
 Of meeting that angel, that light of my soul; 
 Who should fling open wide the bright gate of dreams, 
 And point to the altar where quenchless fire gleams ? 
 
 {i But that vision has come, and now evermore 
 My life shall resemble the surf on the shore,
 
 318 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 That sighs and then struggles, but struggles in vain, 
 To recover its place upon the blue main. 
 
 " Yet welcome the unrest of sunshine and shower, 
 That mingles the smiles and the tears in an hour; 
 And welcome the sadness, the faintness and gloom, 
 The fluttering of heart, or chill of the tomb. 
 
 " To know thou art worthy of worship and love, 
 And purer than yon star that gleams from above ; 
 To know that the homage of thousands is thine 
 Shall soothe the wild yearnings of this heart of mine." 
 
 "That is all very pretty and very sentimental, Mr. Wizard," 
 exclaimed the white lady ; " but I appeal to the company if 
 it is not a palpable evasion of my question ? Dark hair, in 
 deed ! Look at my tresses golden as the sun ! Ha ! ha ! 
 the wizard is baffled ; the mighty is fallen. Give me your 
 sceptre ; it has passed from you by right." 
 
 Unmindful of the lady's taunts, the sceptre still waved 
 above her head as he pronounced these words : 
 
 " Beneath the golden stream as it flows, 
 Lurks raven hair of the Baltimore rose." 
 
 " Will you stake your sceptre and mask against my zone 
 and mask ?" said the white lady, eagerly. 
 
 " Mrs. Baltimore, I will," was the calm and confident re 
 sponse of the wizard. 
 
 The white lady removed her mask, and said : " Your power 
 is beyond all comprehension. You have won." 
 
 The laughter of the company greeted the dark eyes of the 
 mistress of " The Glen," as she presented her mask and zone 
 to the wizard, and hastened away from the hall to change 
 her dress. The conjuror appeared to be satisfied with his 
 success in divining the secrets of others, for instantly he 
 flung aside his mask and sceptre, appeared to rend his robe 
 asunder before it fell to the floor, and with a shout of ex-
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 319 
 
 ultation stood before the surprised group of revellers in the 
 barbaric costume of Attila, King of the Huns, and still dis 
 guised by a mask. Flinging his discarded dress into a side 
 apartment, he joined the dance which was about to com 
 mence. He became at once the centre of speculation, but 
 successfully he retained his incognito. 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore, immediately upon leaving the grand hall, 
 turned into a small closet, of which she held the key. Lock 
 ing the door behind her, she placed her hands upon a mar 
 ble slab which held two silver basins for washing purposes, 
 and by a slight exertion of strength the whole stand swung 
 into the wall, exposing a narrow flight of steps leading down 
 into the cellar. Before leaving the steps she put up her 
 hands and swung the marble washstand back to its place. 
 Then rapidly she descended to the floor of the cellar, and 
 aided by the faint lights always kept burning below hur 
 ried on through the brick halls till she reached the cellar 
 under the old house. Here she adjusted her key to a small 
 point of iron in the stone foundation, and lo ! a part of the 
 wall itself moved inwards, exposing another secret stairway 
 leading entirely up to her own suite of rooms in the second 
 story. It was one of the concealed ways built for her by 
 Nora, in response to her directions from Europe, and was 
 masked in her bath-roorn above by a similar marble stand to 
 the one which had furnished her a secret way into the cel 
 lar. Carefully closing the foundation-door behind her she 
 ascended in darkness to her own apartments and emerged 
 'under the marble slab. Her maid, who was seated in her 
 boudoir, was startled by the appearance of her mistress 
 from the bath-room, but recollected at once that she might 
 have entered that room from the hall. Several costumes 
 and masks were spread upon Mrs. Baltimore's bed, and the 
 maid was directed to array her mistress at once in a new dis 
 guise, as the old one had been discovered. The golden man 
 tle of hair was flung aside. The fastenings of the lady's real 
 hair were removed as she stood before her long mirror, and
 
 320 STORMCLTFF. 
 
 down fell the luxuriant mass of dark tresses almost to the 
 carpet. 
 
 "Don't tremble so, my lady," ejaculated the maid, as she 
 proceeded to array her mistress anew for the revel. "It 
 frightens me to see you so excited and trembling. Dear, 
 dear, what can ail you ? It seems like I could hear your 
 heart beat. Is it the finding of you out that makes you 
 tremble so? La! me, I wouldn't mind that. Some peo 
 ple allers has to be caught in such times as this. It's a 
 lucky thing you wan't caught afore. Hannah, who has 
 been stealing looks at you from the winder outside, says you 
 was making all kinds of mischief of the folks as didn't know 
 you. I think Hannah might come and take me place just a 
 bit till I could look at 'em all meself. La ! me, don't trem 
 ble so. Are you feeling well, ma'am. ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ! you silly thing, I am well enough, but I have 
 been running. Do you know, that man disguised as a wiz 
 ard exposed me before a crowd of people and took away 
 my mask and zone ? Draw that tighter I can stand it a 
 good deal tighter than that. Here let me show you that 
 must meet all the way. Do you think I am gouig down 
 there with a figure like a washerwoman ? Why, it isn't 
 near as tight as my every-day dresses. Put your hand 
 under here, and you will see how loose it is." 
 
 " Providential !" exclaimed the maid, as she obeyed the 
 last direction. "It is too loose for you altogether; you'll 
 have to put on another waist. Why don't you wear that 
 dress ; that '11 be sweeter nor this." 
 
 "Oh! mercy!" exclaimed her mistress, "I'll never be 
 dressed. I must find out who that wizard is. I'm so afraid 
 he will change his dress, and then I can't track him. Do 
 hurry. Yes ! put that on, or anything only hurry." 
 
 " Indeed, my lady, I'm doing the best I kin ; but it takes 
 time to fix such queer garments as these. Be patient, 
 only one minute now there! that's together. Now you 
 begin to look perfectly splendid. Oh, my ! how your eyes
 
 STORMCLIFF. 321 
 
 are a glistenin'. And who do you think the wizard is, that 
 you're so mighty curious to find him out ?" 
 
 " Never mind. He's a gentleman." 
 
 " Of course, ma'am ; I knew that. Wizards is all gen 
 tlemen, or men 'tall events, they're not women." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE new costume was at last adjusted, and she stood before 
 the mirror surveying herself and holding a yellow satin mask 
 in her hand. She was the " Queen of the Fairies," arrayed 
 in golden satin, with a long train studded with large single 
 diamonds, which flashed brilliantly at every movement. She 
 wore a crown of gold of open work most delicately traced 
 like the lines of a spider's web. Her hair was concealed by 
 a lace veil. Her bust and arms were disguised by the clouds 
 of white illusion which enveloped her; but one gloved hand 
 was apparent, holding her sceptre composed entirely of 
 jewels. 
 
 "Do you think they will know me, Clorinde ?" she said to 
 the maid. 
 
 "No more than they would an angel just dropped out of 
 heaven," was the complimentary response. 
 
 Her mistress appeared to study a few seconds in silence, as 
 the maid moved entirely around her, expressing her admira 
 tion. Then she said, as if with a sudden purpose : 
 
 " I would like so much to entrust you with a mission for 
 me. Can you keep a secret? keep close-mouthed if I will 
 dress you up, and send you down into the dancing hall in 
 disguise ? " 
 
 " Bless your sweet heart !" exclaimed the maid, in raptures, 
 " wouldn't I give a pretty penny to go into that beautiful 
 hall and wear a mask, and all. Oh ! Mrs. Baltimore, can you 
 be askin' me if I kin keep secrets ? Did I ever breathe a 
 
 14*
 
 322 STOIIMCLIFF. 
 
 single word that you trusted me with? Let me go for you 
 and I'll do everything you wants of me, and " 
 
 " There that is enough. I will let you go, if you think 
 you can play your part well enough." 
 
 " It's me tongue I'm afearin', ma'am. Me discourse will 
 show that I'm not a lady." 
 
 "No! that will be just the thing. I'll dress you like a 
 lady's maid, and they'll think your talk is put on for a dis 
 guise. You'll be the most disguised person in the ball, for 
 they'll never dream of your being a sure-enough maid. You 
 may go, if you'll promise to say nothing to the servants or 
 anybody else about what happens, or about your attending 
 the ball." 
 
 "I'll promise you on my bended knees," declared the 
 maid, half-crazy with delight. " Oh ! but won't I play me 
 part ; jest trust me with anything. I'll be the fine lady's 
 maid, that will whisper me lady's secrets into the ears of the 
 gentlemen that I will." 
 
 " I don't want you to tell any secrets, only to find some 
 out," said her mistress. 
 
 "Oh! ma'am," exclaimed Clorinde, in an ofiended tone, 
 "I wouldn't tell your secrets ; you might know that. Only 
 pretend to know other ladies' secrets, and git round the 
 gentlemen that way. That's what I mean." 
 
 " Yes ! that will do," said Mrs. Baltimore. " Now listen 
 to me. The chances are, that some ladies who know I was 
 found out will gather at the foot of the stairs, or near them, and 
 look to see what new dress comes down. Now I am deter 
 mined they shall not know me in that way. You must go 
 down first, and it will be a long time before they see me 
 come down. You will probably be taken for me by some of 
 them, if they happen to be on the lookout at the foot of the 
 stairs. But you go right on and play the lady's maid. 
 Never mind any one in particular, but keep right on till you 
 enter the grand colonnade. Look about you for the wizard, 
 the man in a blue robe, with fire and devils all over it. Don't
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 323 
 
 permit him to leave your sight. See that he makes no 
 change of dress that you can't follow up. Keep as close to 
 him as you can, and if you find an opportunity, take his arm 
 and talk to him. I must know who he is. If you will find 
 out with certainty who he is you shall own the brown silk 
 trimmed with black velvet that I wore yesterday. But you 
 must be very sharp. He is one of the brightest men here 
 to-night. Can you stick to him close, and find out who 
 he is?" 
 
 "Trust me," was the confident response of the maid. 
 "I'll own that brown silk long afore daylight. And you 
 don't wish me, ma'am, to tell him anything for you ?" 
 
 " No, indeed !" said her mistress ; " only find out who 
 he is." 
 
 "I'll do that thing," said Clorinde, nearly frantic with 
 joy at the idea of attending the ball. 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore proceeded at once to array Clorinde as 
 a maid in attendance upon a fine lady. The girl was 
 delighted with her new appearance, and when the mask 
 was handed her she commenced her performances, bows, 
 and simpers, and " my lady So-and-So says." 
 
 " You will succeed, Clorinde, admirably," said her mistress ; 
 " now off with you." 
 
 The maid hastened away ; and, descending the stairs, was 
 greeted, as her mistress had anticipated, by the remarks 
 of two or three lady masks. 
 
 " That is admirable, Mrs. Baltimore ; we know you. 
 You will cheat everybody else, however ; go out into the 
 dining-hall." 
 
 The maid commenced to hum a rural love-song, and bowing 
 and simpering with her hands thrust into the pockets of her 
 white apron, passed along, unmindful of their fancied recog 
 nition. But a gentleman mask was also on the watch for a 
 new-comer from the costume-rooms. The moment the maid 
 had passed the group of ladies, he stepped forward, and 
 presenting his arm to her, said :
 
 824 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " My pretty maid, will you do me the honor of walking 
 with me ?" 
 
 " No, thank'ee," said the girl ; " my mistress says I'm too 
 giddy-headed now, with all me beaux ; and she forbid me to 
 walk wid any man perticklerly wid strangers." 
 
 " But I'm no stranger," said the mask. " Look at me 
 everybody knows me I'm the great Attila, King of the 
 Huns I destroyed cities without number." 
 
 " I don't care if you did," said the maid ; " you ain't going 
 to destroy me, for I ain't without a number I am number 
 one, and I'm going to take care of it, too." 
 
 "Ah, you sweet creature only walk with me a few 
 minutes." 
 
 " Get out," was the unceremonious response ; " my mistress 
 said I want to be coaxed and I don't put any faith in your 
 beinl a king you look like a butcher, with that great big 
 knife." 
 
 The magnificently attired King of the Huns roared with 
 laughter, and exclaimed : " It's a short step from the sublime 
 to the ridiculous, I know; but I thought my dress was 
 stupendous, annihilating, and awful in its barbaric splendor." 
 
 " What's the price of veal ?" was the contemptuous reply 
 of the maid. 
 
 " Come with me, my sweet little lamb," said the ancient 
 butcher of mankind, " and I will show you my pretty shop 
 there's plenty of material in there to make veal of, I assure 
 you. Do come !" 
 
 " Where are you going ?" said the maid, as the king again 
 offered her his arm. 
 
 " Into the grand dancing-hall, you pretty -looking creature. 
 Will you honor me by taking my arm ?" 
 
 "That is the very place I want to go," said Clorinde. 
 " I've heard there's a fortune-teller in there as knows every 
 blessed thing." 
 
 " We'll see if we can find him, if you will take my arm," 
 said the king.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 325 
 
 The offer was accepted, and the maid passed on under escort 
 of the former wizard, who felt confident he was conducting 
 Mrs. Baltimore in her new disguise. What was the surprise of 
 Clorinde upon reaching the grand colonnade, to discover that 
 the " Queen of the Fairies" was already promenading that 
 hall in advance of her. How, in the name of miracles, had 
 her mistress succeeded in reaching that hall in advance of 
 her, if not through the agency of real fairy power! But the 
 maid was too intent upon her mission, and too absorbed by 
 the gallant talk of her companion, to notice Mrs. Baltimore 
 long, or indulge in speculations upon her marvellous speed 
 in reaching the hall first. The wizard was nowhere to be seen, 
 but Attila was apparently very obliging in his efforts to 
 track him out for her contemplation. Finding at last that the 
 wizard had vanished, she consented to accompany the King 
 of the Huns to the gardens where the fortune-teller might be 
 promenading. After a long search, the maid concluded that 
 the wizard must have changed his costume, and that her 
 anticipated present of the brown silk dress would prove to be 
 mythical. Under these depressing circumstances she was the 
 more easily persuaded to accept the king's offer of a tte-a- 
 Ute on one of the rustic benches of the garden. 
 
 The mistress of "The Glen," in the meantime, pursued her 
 own search for the wizard. Seeing her maid walking about 
 with the King of the Huns, she supposed she was still obeying 
 her directions, and took no further notice of her. She was 
 persuaded to dance once by a Greek sailor who offered her 
 his arm. When the dance was finished she asked her 
 partner what had become of the fortune-teller. The sailor 
 expressed his ignorance of his whereabouts, but offered to 
 assist her in finding him, that their fortunes might be fore 
 told. In the course of their inquiries through the rooms 
 they chanced to meet a lady mask, who informed them that 
 the wizard had suddenly transformed himself into Attila. 
 Mrs. Baltimore made some excuse to the sailor for leaving 
 him, and hastened away to find the King of the Huns, whom
 
 326 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 she recollected her maid had gone off with. In vain did she 
 search for the lost couple. They were in none of the dancing- 
 rooms. Then she traversed the gardens slowly and alone. 
 She could not find them there, and returned to the dancing- 
 hall of marble. As she ascended the step from the connect 
 ing-hall, she turned to look over her shoulder. She espied 
 her maid hastening towards her. The first whisper of the 
 servant in the ear of her mistress was : 
 
 "I have made some dreadful mischief. I found out the 
 wizard, but he has left me and gone off very angry." 
 
 " What in the world have you been doing, Clorinde ?" 
 
 " Why, ma'am, you know you said I must play my part 
 the best I knowed how, and I did it. I 'sposed the way was 
 to hide anybody's real character, and make believe it was 
 somebody else. So I did it." 
 
 *' And who, pray, did you represent yourself to be ?" said 
 Mrs. Baltimore. 
 
 " Why, ma'am, you see, I made out first as if I was a lady's 
 waitin' maid. And the gentleman as was wid me played 
 like he believed I was, too. Then, byme-by, he asked me if 
 I wouldn't like to walk in the garden, and I says yes ; 'cause 
 I was huntin' for the wizard. We couldn't find the wizard, 
 hunt high, hunt low. Then he asked me what made me so 
 curious to find the wizard ; and says I, ' 'cause I likes him.' 
 * Very much ?' says he. * Yes,' says I, * awful much.' Then 
 he asked me what I'd give hirn if he'd tell me who the wiz 
 ard was, and I told him most anything he'd ask. And what 
 do you think, ma'am, he did ask ?" 
 
 " A kiss, I'll venture," said her mistress. 
 
 "You've guessed it exact," said the maid. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Baltimore, " what next ? You didn't 
 let him kiss you did you, you huzzy ?" 
 
 "How could I help it, ma'am?" remonstrated Clorinde. 
 " It wud be the means of telling me what you wanted to 
 know, ma'am ; and then, ma'am, I was thinkin' of me brown 
 silk dress with the velvet trimmin's that I was to have."
 
 . STOKHCLIFF. 327 
 
 "Oh, you good-for-nothing thing!" exclaimed her mis 
 tress, "have you no more sense than that?" 
 
 The maid hung her head abashed, and muttered : " It was 
 in the line of me duty, ma'am ; it was to obey your orders, 
 ma'am, and find out who the wizard was." 
 
 "And did he tell you?" 
 
 " After he'd kissed me, ma'am oh ! awful hard says he, 
 ' I'm the wizard ; I changed my dress.' Says I, ' Who are 
 you, any way ?' And do you believe, ma'am, he said that 
 was a second question, and he wouldn't answer it without 
 another kiss." 
 
 " I suppose you did not refuse him ?" said her mistress. 
 . " How could I ma'am? just to be sure who he was." 
 
 " Well, go on. Did he tell you, then ?" 
 
 "This is the answer he made, ma'am; says he, 'I'm a 
 lawyer that's who I am.' " 
 
 "And then I suppose he wanted another kiss for another 
 answer. Oh, Clorinde, how could you act so ! Don't you 
 know how dangerous it is for a girl like you to be allowing 
 such familiarities from men ?" 
 
 " There wasn't a bit of danger for me, ma'am, for he was 
 surely a kissin' me for some other person." 
 
 " How can you know that ? " inquired her mistress, 
 angrily. 
 
 " 'Cause he kept puttin' his arm around my waist, and 
 callin' me 'Mrs. Baltimore ' the hull time. Bless your soul, 
 ma'am, he told me all about it. How he stood at the foot 
 of the stairs and watched for you, after he showed you up 
 afore all the company, and was sartin you'd come down in 
 some simple dress, and he knowed I was you ; and he'd been 
 crazy with love for me, for ever so many months, and he 
 couldn't help tellin' me at last, and hoped I'd forgive him ; and 
 he kept a kissin' of me the hull time like he thought he'd 
 got the hull market of them things all to himself. What 
 could I do, ma'am ? " 
 
 " What did you do ? " said her mistress, sternly.
 
 328 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 " Oh, don't be angry, ma'am ; I did it all for the best. I 
 jest let him talk on till I found out who he was and who 
 do you think, ma'am, he \vas ? " 
 
 " I don't know, surely," said Mrs. Baltimore. 
 
 " Why he was that Mr. Rutherford, that smart man that 
 everybody's a-talkin' about." 
 
 " And how do you know that ? " inquired her mistress, 
 apparently much mollified. 
 
 " Why, ma'am, I made him take off his mask, and I seen 
 him." 
 
 " You had to pay for that, too, I'll venture." 
 
 " Of course I did, ma'am ; he most took away my 
 breath." 
 
 " Well, what next ? go on tell me all." 
 
 " Why then, ma'am, I looked at his face, and I sot up a 
 scream like as if I was awful surprised and says I : ' Oh, 
 Mr. Rutherford, my goodness gracious, this is a terrible mis 
 take ! I thought all the time you was Sir Francis Cleveland. 
 I would not have let you kiss me for all the world.' And then 
 I up and run away from him, like I was frightened most to 
 death. And when I got around to the house, I hid and 
 watched for him ; and do you believe, I seen him come out 
 of the garden with his mask off, and he jest as pale as death. 
 He wouldn't come into the house, but kept right on around 
 to the front porch, and I followed him on the sly ; and jest as 
 sure as you're alive, ma'am, he called to one of the servants 
 to bring him his horse, and away he went the maddest man 
 you ever seen. I'm so sorry for him, ma'am ; but I found 
 him out, and he's the wizard ; and I hope you won't forget 
 how hard work I've had, ma'am, earnin' of my brown silk 
 dress with the black velvet trimmin's. Oh ! don't do so, 
 ma'am, I beg of you. I'm dreadful sorry ef I've done any 
 thing as wasn't right indeed I am indeed I am." 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore controlled her emotion, whatever it was 
 that occasioned the deprecatory tone of her maid. Masks 
 were gathering about her to express their admiration of
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 329 
 
 her fairy costume, and she said in a low earnest voice, that 
 none but Clorinde could hear : 
 
 " Go directly to my room and remove your disguise. Don't 
 you dare to mention anything that has occurred to-night. 
 The brown silk is yours take it when you please." 
 
 No one who followed the movements of the Queen of the 
 Fairies, or noted her gay laugh during the remainder of that 
 eventful night, would conceive of the heavy heart she bore 
 under the golden satin robe. The one bright dream of her 
 life had vanished at the moment of its fulfilment. She felt 
 the tremor of Rutherford's voice as he pronoxmced over her 
 the verses of his love and admiration for her. To make 
 " assurance doubly sure," she had called in the assistance of 
 her maid to identify the wizard. He loved her then with 
 all the fervor of his great soul. His love had been offered 
 to her in the person of Clorinde. He was satisfied the mis 
 tress of " The Glen" was before him, and he had offered him 
 self only to be informed that she was mistaken in the person, 
 and loved the Englishman. He must believe it. He would 
 believe it. It was the impression of the neighborhood. Sir 
 Francis Cleveland and his daughter had been invited for the 
 second time to the estate, and she knew that rumor pro 
 nounced decidedly upon their engagement. Could she ever 
 rectify the dreadful mistake of her maid ? Could she ever 
 sacrifice modesty sufficiently to tell him he had been de 
 ceived ? She felt that she could not. He had dashed away 
 from her estate mortified, wounded, wretched. He would 
 never return. His pride would make her home the great 
 place of all others to be shunned. Higher and higher upon 
 the hill of fame would he ascend, seeking to bury his love 
 and shame in the narcotic of ambition and worldly praise, 
 and still would the arrow of agony rankle in his heart. He 
 would never love another woman as he did her. She knew 
 he was too noble, too great, for more than one love. He 
 might in time marry another woman, as one partakes of an 
 opiate to gain a temporary oblivion of pain. But in his great
 
 330 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 hours of success or loneliness he would fall down before the 
 altar of her memory and worship in tears. The conscious 
 ness that Rutherford loved her had been as the growth of a 
 flower. The tiny plant had given no definite idea of form 
 and color ; as it expanded into the perfect plant there still 
 was no assurance of the flower to come. At last the bud 
 was manifest, and as she timidly put on her fairy guise to 
 wander around it, and watch its last development, the flower 
 burst forth into full bloom, and instantly was torn from its 
 stem by the rude hand of her maid. He had offered himself 
 and been rejected. She was a woman and could make him 
 no offer in return. How drearily sounded the music ! how 
 tasteless seemed the viands of the great feast when the masks 
 were removed and friends looked into each other's eyes once 
 more ! Only two of the maskers were missing at the hour 
 of supper, the priestess and the barbarian king. Many were 
 the conjectures concerning the lost two. They must have 
 been lovers, who still lurked away in some corner unmind 
 ful of supper when the food of the soul was exchanged. The 
 mistress of the revel was the object of admiration now as she 
 sat at the banquet with the fairy crown and the mock laugh 
 ter and the breaking heart. Her wit sparkled high amid the 
 gay revellers, and still was she alone ; without her were the 
 emblems of wealth and power; within her, only weariness 
 and despair. 
 
 The clock in the boudoir of the young widow struck four. 
 Three ladies were seated upon the bed in the adjoining room 
 discussing the events of the ball, which had just terminated 
 in the flight of the revellers to their homes. 
 
 Miss Angier, with dishevelled hair and a loose wrapper, 
 counted the strokes, and then exclaimed with a yawn : 
 
 " Oh, dear ! four o'clock at last. Life is real life is ear 
 nest. For my part, I wish poets had never been born. 
 They have a way of telling us so many disagreeable truths.
 
 STOKMCLHT. 331 
 
 What's the matter, Mrs. Baltimore ? You look weary of 
 life, and you were the belle of the evening, too." 
 
 "No, no, Katy," said the young widow, also in dishabille, 
 with her dark hair streaming down in disorder, which old 
 Nora was quietly endeavoring to comb out for her, "I'm 
 not weary of life only the life of this land. What do you 
 say of another visit to Europe ? There is so much of the 
 classic and the beautiful there yet for us to see. I fear the 
 winter will be too lonely for us here upon this old place 
 when the storms set in and our friends are gone." 
 
 " What, and leave all this luxury and comfort behind us 
 for the slim chances of hotel comfort on the continent ?" 
 exclaimed her friend. " What's the matter with you, honey ? 
 I never knew you look so sepulchral before. Don't you give 
 away with your bright face to the blues, or poor Kate An- 
 gier will invite you to her funeral before two weeks. I 
 live in the light of your eyes, as the lovers say ; and if 
 those stars set, Kate Angler's night has surely come. 
 Cheer up. You didn't drink any champagne to-night 
 that's what's the matter. Shall I ring for some ? I think 
 one more glass would enable me to see my grandmother's 
 ghost crowned and beautiful. For it's 
 
 " ' Sparkling and bright in its liquid light, 
 Is the wine our goblets filling ; 
 With a hue as red as the rosy bed,' etc.,, etc., etc. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! Cheer up, mistress of millions. If I was you, and 
 you was me, I'd spend my millions on a spree. Why, 
 what's the matter with you, ducky?" 
 
 " Hush your nonsense," replied Mrs. Baltimore, making a 
 heroic effort to laugh. " If I didn't know the strength of 
 your head, I should mildly insinuate that you were affected 
 by wine. If I'm low-spirited, you are growing reckless. 
 You're not the self possessed damsel you were a year ago. 
 Nora, look at her she is going to throw all those fancy 
 dresses over onto us. Kate you Kate don't you do it."
 
 332 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 The remonstrance came too late. A pile of costumes was 
 lifted and showered over Mrs. Baltimore and Nora. " I'm 
 going to stir you up a little you need it, both of you 
 here's more of the same sort." Another shower of dry -goods 
 enveloped both of them. They could not restrain her dis 
 position to romp, and in a few minutes the whole party were 
 in an uproar, laughing and heaping the loose articles over 
 each other. In a few minutes, the gay girl stood by the 
 door, and, enjoying their confusion amid pillows and dresses, 
 shouted before leaving : " I knew I could get you all in bet 
 ter spirits. Ha, ha ! look at Nora's hair. Good-night 
 good-morning, I mean." 
 
 Thus parted two wretched and beautiful beings, happy 
 only in the friendship of each other ; the lover of one re 
 jected for his crimes, the lover of the other rejected through 
 the stupidity of a maid. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 RUTHERFORD, after leaving the park, put spurs to his horse 
 and flew homeward like the wind. It was not far from day 
 light, and the setting moon shed a sickly light from the west. 
 The pale, gloomy scene accorded with his desolation of heart. 
 The earth was gloomy, the lamp of heaven was gloomy, the 
 hopes of the future were more gloomy still. To struggle for 
 fame and wealth, that a loving heart may share them with 
 us ; to know that one eager soul watches our efforts with 
 hope and sympathy ; to feel that a kindred nature shares our 
 impulses and aspirations all these nerve us in the hour of 
 depression to rise and struggle upwards still. Few know the 
 reaction and the weariness, the faintness and the foreboding 
 of failure, which follow upon long continued and severe effort 
 of the impulsive soul which aspires to intellectual fame.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 333 
 
 There is an intensity and concentration of purpose in the 
 student who so persistently isolates himself from society and 
 friends, which one might imagine to be substitutes for human 
 sympathy and kindness. .But no lofty purpose, no devotion 
 to intellectual ambition, can comfort and sustain him when 
 he emerges from that isolation, weary in mind, and with the 
 nerves of the brain excited and overtasked. Then does the. 
 heart stretch forth its tendrils, present its claims to gentleness 
 and sympathy ; and in the rest and peace secured through the 
 instrumentality of kind words, cheering appreciation, and the 
 gentle and magnetic touch of loving hands, is born new 
 strength for future effort in the noble, arduous pursuits of 
 the intellectual. The most persistent devotees at the temple 
 of fame are often the most tender and sensitive in the affec 
 tions of the heart. Spurn them, neglect them as they issue 
 from that temple, weary and sick with the strain upon the 
 nerves, and longing for quiet and sympathy, and you may 
 drive them to the Lethe of some sensual opiate which ruins 
 soul and body, blights the intellect, and leaves on the pedes 
 tal of love only the image of despair. 
 
 Such a nature did Rutherford, the young orator of the 
 highlands, possess. When the bugle-blast of fame pro 
 claimed most thrillingly his advent on the borders of elo 
 quence and letters, his heart turned eagerly about for some 
 object of love to share his pride and success. The magnetic 
 needle of his soul pointed at last to Grace Baltimore. And 
 when her image became distinct and beautiful upon the mir 
 ror of his taste and judgment ; when he realized how essen 
 tial her existence had become to his own happiness in life, 
 with the impulse, the uncalculating earnestness of a true 
 heart, he sought her hand. The rebuff came so unexpectedly, 
 it shocked the refinement of his heart. Not without encour 
 agement, not rashly, had he approached the heiress of millions. 
 There had been palpable manifestations of partiality for his 
 society. She preferred his conversation to that of any of 
 the visitors at " The Glen." He could not but observe the
 
 334 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 truth, and he felt assured- that his character stood high in 
 her esteem. And when, therefore, she avowed so abruptly 
 her partiality for the Englishman, and her horror at the mis 
 take she had made in the masker beside her, the floodgates 
 of shame were opened. He felt confident that the mystery, 
 the suspicion attending his birth, his want of home and 
 family, had condemned him to be an outcast from joy for 
 ever. He had been abandoned by the woman, whose inde 
 pendence of character he had estimated so high, because she 
 was not an iron breakwater to cleave the waves of preju 
 dice. He looked inwards and beheld integrity ; he looked 
 upwards and realized the God who made him. Like the 
 mother who convulsively draws the veil for the last time 
 over the face of her dead, her only child, and turns to God 
 for future comfort alone, so did Rutherford tear himself away 
 from the home and the presence of that superb woman whose 
 equal he had never seen, save in his dreams of the ideal. 
 
 Purposeless, desolate, with no idea save that of burying 
 himself away from the gaze of men in some lonely spot where 
 he could mourn unnoticed, the lawyer, in his strange garb, 
 found himself close upon the hour of dawn standing before 
 the long-neglected and deserted cottage of old Nora on the 
 outskirts of the town. He had left the borrowed horse with 
 the owner on his way through the silent streets, and now 
 stood with Nora's key before her vacant tenement. He had 
 often availed himself of the old woman's invitation to use her 
 key in making his visits to the height of StormcliiF. He felt 
 so utterly deserted now that he yearned to ascend the sub 
 terranean path to the summit, and watch the god of day rise 
 upon the world. Nature had not deserted him yet, and in 
 her companionship he had often found solace and strength. 
 
 He was surprised to find a human being seated upon the 
 doorstep. The pale light in the east revealed an obstruction 
 in his way in the shape of an old man. Stooping to examine 
 the stranger, he discovered that he was sleeping. Pity was 
 aroused at once, for the October morning was cold, and per-
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 835 
 
 haps the old wanderer had been sleeping there all night. He 
 touched the stranger's forehead ; it was very cold. He re 
 solved to arouse him, and if necessary offer him a place upon 
 Uie floor of Nora's tenement. But his gentle touch had been 
 sufficient, for the old man started and opened his eyes. 
 
 " What are you doing here, my old friend ?" he asked, 
 kindly. 
 
 " Waiting for the owner of the house to wake up," was 
 the response. 
 
 "Rather useless keeping such a vigil," said the lawyer. 
 " This house has not been occupied for a long time." 
 
 "Ho! ho!" exclaimed the stranger, in surprise. "They 
 told me about one o'clock at the tavern that this was old 
 Nora Rudd's house." 
 
 "They told you right, then. It belongs to her; but she 
 don't live in it now. She lives several miles away from here 
 up the river." 
 
 " They might have been civil enough to tell me that," said 
 the old man, rising to his feet, and glancing in amazement at 
 the lawyer's startling costume. " But I must be dreaming 
 yet, for it seems to me as if you were some kind of an 
 ancient king, with your crown, and armor, and sword, and 
 all. Am I dreaming yet, my friend ?" 
 
 " No ! you are awake. No doubt I look singular enough 
 to you, for I have been out late to a masquerade-ball, and I 
 haven't succeeded in reaching my bed yet. Do you know 
 old Nora Rudd ? 
 
 The old man looked keenly at his interrogator before he 
 replied. Then he said, dryly : 
 
 " I do know her, else I wouldn't be waiting for her here. 
 I came on the boat late last night. We were delayed, and 
 I thought when I arrived at the tavern that perhaps I might 
 succeed in waking the old lady up and getting a lodging 
 here. The stable-boy up there directed me here when I asked 
 about her house. But he must have been a kind of fool to 
 send an old man like me to an empty house."
 
 336 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 "I should think so," said the lawyer. "But if you wish 
 to see Mrs. Rudd you will have to travel some distance 
 yet. She lives on an estate called ' The Glen.' " 
 
 " You don't tell me so," exclaimed the old man. " Why 
 that's the old place of the Baltimore family. It can't be pos 
 sible she is staying there /" 
 
 "Why not?" said Rutherford. "These old nurses have 
 no limit to the places they can stay at, so far as my expe 
 rience goes." 
 
 "My young friend, are you positive about it ?" 
 
 "Certainly I am. I have just come from there myself. 
 The ball was there, and I saw Nora there. She has been 
 there a long time." 
 
 " Let me see," said the old man ; " what's the name of the 
 Baltimore that owns the place now ? He's an old man, if 
 I recollect aright." 
 
 " The Glen is owned by a lady now," replied Rutherford ; 
 " Mrs. Grace Baltimore, the widow of old Baltimore, is the 
 present proprietor." 
 
 "Was old Baltimore married?" .asked the stranger, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "He was married about seven years ago," was the re 
 sponse. "It was about that long ago that he was mar 
 ried." 
 
 " And pray who did he marry ?" persisted the old man. 
 
 " Miss Grace Traver, the daughter of Nicholas Traver." 
 
 " And did he have a daughter old enough to marry that 
 old man?" 
 
 " She was fifteen years old, I believe," replied the lawyer. 
 
 " That was strange," muttered the stranger. 
 
 " I think so myself," replied Rutherford. " It was a great 
 discrepancy in their ages. But what do you intend to do 
 go back to the tavern ?" 
 
 " I don't know," said the old man, recalled to the neces 
 sities of the present. " I came to this town to see old Nora 
 Rudd. I had just money enough to bring me here, and I
 
 STORMCLIFF. 337 
 
 haven't anything to pay my way here at the tavern, and I 
 fear I shall have to walk out to ' The Glen.' " 
 
 " That will be a long tramp for an old man like you," said 
 Rutherford, in a kindly tone, which gave the stranger en-' 
 couragement, for he said : 
 
 " If I can get to see old Nora Rudd, she will let me have 
 all the money I need ; and if I can find somebody in this town 
 kind enough to loan me money to hire a horse to take me 
 out there, I will be able to pay it back by to-night or to-mor 
 row morning." 
 
 " You appear to be acquainted with this neighborhood," 
 said Rutherford, steadily contemplating the features of the 
 stranger, which were becoming more distinct in the increas 
 ing dawn. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " I knew this country many years ago. 
 But you know there's many changes in a place in a quarter 
 of a century, and it's upwards of that since I laid my eyes on 
 this town last." 
 
 " I must have been quite a young fellow about the time you 
 were here last, then," said the lawyer, examining the stran 
 ger's features more closely. 
 
 The old man looked at him fiom head to foot, and then said : 
 " You're a powerful-looking man, I declare. I should say 
 you're not over thirty yet." 
 
 " I'll soon be that," said the lawyer, suddenly changing his 
 purpose of entering Nora's house, and turning away. After 
 a few steps, however, he turned back, and seeing the old 
 man still standing in uncertainty of purpose, he said to him : 
 ; " I can't see a fellow-being in a tight place without trying 
 to do something for him. Are you a friend of old Nora ?" 
 
 " I am that," said the stranger, moving on to the lawyer's 
 side. " She'll feel happier at seeing my face than she has 
 been for many a long day, I'll venture." 
 
 " How so ?" inquired Rutherford. 
 
 "That's a matter between the old woman and me," he 
 replied, guardedly. 
 
 15
 
 338 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " Well," said the lawyer, " if you are a friend of Nora, 
 you shall have a helping hand from me ; for she's my best 
 friend in the world. Come along with me to my little house. 
 I'll give you a breakfast cooked by my own hands, and 
 then I'll hire a horse for you and start you off." 
 i " Why ! you're the good Samaritan, ain't you ? May I 
 inquire your name, sir ?" 
 
 "Certainly. Rutherford's my name. Clarence Ruther 
 ford. I'm a lawyer." 
 
 "Rutherford, Rutherford?" repeated the old man. "I 
 don't think I ever knew any person by that name. Was 
 you a native of this place, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes ; born and brought up here. But let's hurry along. 
 I don't think people will understand how the King of the 
 Huns has descended, or ascended rather, into the streets of 
 this town; and I'd rather they wouldn't get an opportunity 
 to speculate about it either. Let's hurry along to my office, 
 and I'll change my dress." 
 
 Thus admonished, the stranger quickened his pace, and 
 they moved rapidly along together. Few persons were 
 stirring on the streets, and they succeeded in a few minutes 
 in crossing the town, and reaching the lawyer's office by the 
 river. The only person who noted the lawyer's appearance 
 in the distance was a small juvenile, who shouted : 
 
 " Cricky, the surkis is a comin'." 
 
 When the stranger had been introduced to the interior of 
 the little office, where he was directed to be seated until the 
 lawyer could change his garments and prepare the morning 
 meal, he examined curiously every article in the room, even 
 taking up some of the law books from the table and glancing 
 over their titles. Before he had made a thorough survey of 
 the apartment, he was startled by a sudden noise behind 
 him. Turning around in his chair, he beheld the old clock 
 diligently marking off the hour. With an exclamation, he 
 started to his feet. 
 
 " Where in the name of God did you get that clock ?"
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 339 
 
 Rutherford, who was building a fire on the hearth, looked 
 up and said : 
 
 " It was willed to me. Why, is there anything peculiar 
 about it ? " 
 
 The old man quickly regained his reserve of manner, and 
 answered : 
 
 " Why, yes I should say there was. It's a rare thing to 
 meet such a piece of furniture these days. When I was a 
 boy those clocks were in fashion ; but now, my goodness, it 
 is odd enough to meet with one. You say it was willed to 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes," said the lawyer, resuming his work on the hearth. 
 " That's all that the past has left me for a legacy." 
 
 The old man was regarding him intently as he in 
 quired : 
 
 " I hope it ain't presumption in me to inquire who willed 
 the old thing to you, is it ?" 
 
 " Oh no," said the lawyer, still continuing his work, and 
 looking down at the flames slowly enveloping his kindling 
 wood. " Judge Holden willed that clock to me." 
 
 "The deuce he did," said the stranger, trying to get a 
 better look at his companion's face. " Was old Judge Hol 
 den any kin of yours ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," said the lawyer. 
 
 " Well, upon my word, now that I see your face better, I 
 declare you look amazingly like the Judge. Your mouth 
 and forehead is the Judge's all over again. Likely you was 
 a friend of his ? " 
 
 "You seem to have a pretty good memory for faces 
 twenty-five years ago," said Rutherford, turning away from 
 his fire, and going in pursuit of cooking utensils. " I've 
 heard that remark of yours repeated many a time. Every 
 body traces a strong likeness in me to the Judge. No, the 
 Judge wasn't any particular friend of mine, else lie would 
 have given me something more in the shape of legal tender 
 than that old baggage."
 
 340 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 " But how came he to do it, anyway ? " persisted the 
 stranger. 
 
 " That's as much a mystery to me, my friend, as it is to 
 you," was the response. 
 
 Rutherford was too busy to notice the effect of his answer 
 upon the old man. The stranger was on the very point of 
 uttering an exclamation as he arose partly from the chair ; 
 but he restrained himself, and dropped back again into his 
 Beat. Resting his face upon his hand, he watched every 
 movement of his host, eagerly looking into his face when the 
 changing attitudes of the lawyer gave him an opportunity. 
 At length he appeared to be perfectly satisfied with his 
 scrutiny, for he arose from his chair, and walking around to 
 the old clock, examined it from top to bottom. His back 
 was towards his host, so that the expression of his counte 
 nance, as he contemplated the old monitor, was not seen. 
 Then he came back to his seat, and after a few minutes of 
 silent reflection, he said : 
 
 " The Judge was a pretty likely man." 
 
 " A very fine man," was the lawyer's reply. " His charac 
 ter stood high in this community." 
 
 " And did he leave much property ? " inquired the old man. 
 
 " Oh, yes, a very handsome fortune. And his homestead, 
 Rockview, is considered one of the finest estates in this 
 county," said the lawyer, striving to suppress an emotion 
 of pain at the allusion. 
 
 " Any heirs, sir ?" 
 
 " He had no children," was the response. " He left his 
 entire property to a relative in trust." 
 
 " And why in trust ?" inquired the stranger. 
 
 " Because the Judge was under the impression that a child 
 of his, who had been missing since infancy, W.AS stlil alive 
 somewhere on the earth, and might turn up some day. He 
 believed that his own child had been exchanged for another 
 in infancy, and he determined to retain his property for that 
 lost child."
 
 STORMCLIFF. 341 
 
 "I suppose he acted upon information, and not from 
 eccentricity," said the stranger. 
 
 " I cannot inform you on that subject, for the simple 
 reason that I do not know," replied Rutherford. 
 
 " But what child did the Judge suppose his own child had 
 leen exchanged for ?" 
 
 " For the child who is busily prepai-ing your breakfast for 
 you at this very moment," said the lawyer. 
 
 " I thought so," muttered the stranger. But he was 
 overheard. 
 
 " You did ? "What made you suppose that ?" asked the 
 lawyer, pausing in the act of clearing off his table for the 
 breakfast which was now cooking, and looking in amazement 
 at the old man. The stranger appeared embarrassed at being 
 overheard, and made no response. 
 
 " How could you suppose anything about it without 
 knowing me ?" inquired Rutherford again. 
 
 "Why," said the man slowly, and as if studying his 
 answer " why, you see you look like old Judge Holden 
 and you walk like him, and your voice reminds me of him 
 every minute that's why." 
 
 " So you knew him well, did you ?" 
 
 " Oh, I knew him," said the stranger, evasively. 
 
 " Well, I'm that child, sure enough, and I have no parents 
 that I ever heard of, and I just have to fight single-handed 
 against the world. I've been pretty successful, but I'm 
 growing tired of being kin to nobody, and I don't care 
 much what happens to me now.' T 
 
 There was such despondency in the young lawyer's tones 
 that the old man seemed touched. 
 
 "Never say that word this side of the grave, young man. 
 The devil likes such conclusions as that. Keep a stout 
 heart to the end, and remember that God helps those that 
 help themselves." 
 
 " I take it back, sir," said Rutherford ; " it's a weakness to 
 give up. But I'm mighty lonely, sometimes, I can tell you."
 
 342 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 "And does old Nora Rudd never come to see you?" 
 inquired the old man. 
 
 " Bless her old heart," exclaimed Rutherford, " she's always 
 stood by me and defended me and cheered me up, when my 
 heart was most broken. She is a splendid woman. I 
 wonder who she is ? Nobody seems to know." 
 
 " I know," said the old man, calmly. 
 
 " The mischief you do," exclaimed the lawyer. 
 
 " Indeed I do," answered the stranger. " But look here, 
 young man : let this be a lesson to you as long as you live. 
 Never refuse to .help a fellow-being in trouble when you 
 can. You have treated me like a gentleman, and you've 
 entertained an angel in disguise. You'll find that fact out 
 before you're many days older. But don't you be asking me 
 questions now. Just wait till I have seen old Nora, and then 
 if you don't hear something to your advantage, take this old 
 man's head for a football." 
 
 Rutherford looked anxiously at the stranger. 
 
 " Don't ask me questions, young man wait I can't explain 
 matters until I have consulted old Nora." 
 
 " Well," said the lawyer, " draw your chair up to the table 
 and I'll give you some breakfast. So you think I look like the 
 Judge, do you ?" 
 
 " You're his image, and nothing else. I never saw such 
 a resemblance before. And so Nora lives at ' The Glen ' 
 now, does she ?" 
 
 " She does that." 
 
 " And is she a nurse there ?" 
 
 " No, she's a kind of factotum, steward, and friend, and 
 housekeeper, and everything. Mrs. Baltimore has great con 
 fidence in her. She used to be Grace Traver's old nurse. 
 That's how the intimacy arose between them. Here, try 
 some of this coifee. I've had to learn everything in battling 
 with this world. I was left without a cent. But my old 
 friend, the clock there and I have fought our way up in life. 
 I've bought and paid for this house and lot, been elected to
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 343 
 
 the Legislature, and have quite a little business in the law 
 building up around me. But alas ! I feel lonely and dis 
 couraged. It's mighty hard to live alone. Did you ever 
 try it ?" 
 
 " No, never," was the response. " I have a family, and 
 it's been a tough time for me to support them ; but I have 
 contrived to live along by keeping a stout heart. I am a 
 sail-maker by trade, and I have wandered in most every 
 country in the world. I have been gone from my native 
 land many years. I have just returned from England now." 
 
 " Where is your family ?" 
 
 " They're in New York. I brought them back from Eng 
 land with me. They've been living with me while I wan 
 dered about the world." 
 
 " And where did you know Nora Rudd ?" 
 
 " Here, and in New York. But don't question me now. 
 When I return from ' The Glen,' I'll have another talk with 
 you." 
 
 " You've no objection to giving me your name," said the 
 lawyer. 
 
 " None at all. My name is Moses Goble." 
 
 " That's very queer !" exclaimed Rutherford. 
 
 " I don't think so," said the old man. " I think that's a 
 very respectable name." 
 
 " No ! not the name, but the coincidence." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" 
 
 " Why, in one of those strange trances which Nora Rudd 
 is subject to, she foretold that my own fate would be in 
 fluenced this fall by the appearance of a man named Moses 
 Goble. She was sitting here a few months ago, in that very 
 chair that you occupy now, when the trance came upon her." 
 
 " And is she subject to those trances yet ?" 
 
 " Yes, several times a year she has them." 
 
 " I've no doubt," said the stranger, " that her having been 
 expecting me to return to this country, produced that remark 
 in her trance."
 
 344 STOUMCLIFF. 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Rutherford, thoughtfully. " But this 
 whole subject of trances is an enigma. Perhaps science will 
 explain it some day. Are you ready now for your horse? 
 If so, we will go to the stables at once. I have much busi 
 ness to attend to to-day, and the morning is my best time for 
 work." 
 
 " All ready now," said the old man ; " and many thanks 
 for your kindness. I trust you will feel in better spirits when 
 I return. Young people should be the gay ones in this 
 world ; but you've done wonders under the circumstances." 
 
 Thus speaking, he followed the dejected lawyer into the 
 street of the town. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 IT was mid-day early in the dreamy month of October. The 
 purple grapes on the garden trellises still hung in huge clus 
 ters awaiting the pleasure of their owner. The mansion bad 
 been vacated by the tenant a few weeks before, and no one 
 remained upon the premises but an old female servant, who 
 had lived many years upon the property, and was permitted 
 to remain now by the kindness of the agent. She had been 
 a favorite domestic of the deceased proprietor. The family 
 who had leased the property, and had just vacated it, were 
 induced to retain the services of the old woman during their 
 occupancy of the estate. But now they were gone, and 
 the lonely old creature wandered up and down the meadow- 
 lands or slowly traversed the garden paths dreaming of the 
 past, and wondering what was to become of her now. An 
 old blue sun-bonnet shaded her face from the warm rays of 
 the noontide as she moved about the premises, and her faded 
 calico, as it trailed slowly along, swept the crisp and rustling 
 leaves which had fallen upon the avenues.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 345 
 
 She paused at length before the deserted mansion, and 
 looking up at its closed blinds and its stately proportions, 
 as it stood so far above the surrounding lands on its lofty 
 pedestal of rocks, which in the ancient time had been severed 
 from the adjacent mountain probably by volcanic action, 
 she muttered : 
 
 " Aye ! Rockview, it is ; a strange idea, that of planting a 
 house so high up above the trees and the country around. 
 Now, if it had been me as had the building of that ar' 
 house, I'd put it down here under the trees where they'd 
 have sheltered it from the sun. But there's no accounting 
 for tastes ; and then the Judge was so queer in his notions 
 any way. He hated shade 'cause he'd got a notion 'twas 
 unhealthy. I think it is myself in the winter-time. But 
 there's one thing sure. By putting that house high up on 
 the rocks, he always got a breeze in hot weather. But didn't 
 it blow cold, though, up there in the winter? It's hard 
 climbing up to it from these gardens for an old thing like 
 me, and yet when you're once up there, ain't the river view 
 great ! It is that. I wouldn't like to lose that no, sir ! 
 How I do wish Mister Clarence was back here poor boy! 
 I've no more idea he ain't the Judge's son than I have that 
 the sun's cheese. Why, jest look at it face and walk, and 
 everything. He's the Judge all over. Pooh ! you needn't tell 
 me none of your trash. He's the Judge's son, and he oughter 
 be here. My goodness alive ! what's a comin' ? If there 
 ain't Mister Clarence himself." 
 
 A young man in iron-grey was advancing rapidly up the 
 gardens with his arms laden with bunches of grapes and yel 
 low pears. The moment he caught sight of the old domestic 
 he uttered a shout that made the welkin ring. Then he let 
 the fruit drop, and ran towards her, shouting : 
 
 " Hurrah ! you old queen of the kitchen ! Are you glad 
 to see me ? Say ! one more yell just to clear my lungs, and 
 then I'll talk to you. Ho ! ho ! ho ! Rockview ! ho ! ho !" 
 
 The wild shout of exultation was echoed back from the 
 
 15*
 
 346 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 mountain behind the house. Then he dashed up to the as 
 tounded servant, and clasping both arms about her, made 
 her dance round on the avenue, as he said wildly and half 
 out of breath : 
 
 " I'm going crazy. Why don't you talk, I say ; why don't 
 you talk ?" As if any human being hugged in that manner by 
 a young giant, and danced around on the tips of her aged 
 toes, could even approximate to a talk. Her sun-bonnet was 
 danced off before he let her drop. Then catching hold of both 
 her hands, he looked in her face and laughed a loud, merry, 
 ringing, exultant laugh of joy. She was satisfied he had lost 
 his reason. She looked the picture of dismay, with her hair 
 half-shaken down from its fastenings and her sun-bonnet 
 under her feet. Rutherford stooped and picked up the bonnet 
 and placed it on her head quickly; but he put it on tho 
 wrong way so that she could not see. Discovering his mis 
 take, he removed it again, and stood with it in his hand 
 waiting for her to arrange her disordered hair. 
 
 O O 
 
 " Mister Clarence, are you crazy ?" 
 
 " Perfectly and hopelessly insane," was the response. " You 
 shall be the cook of a crazy master. Have you heard the 
 news, Hannah? Have you heard the news? Why didn't 
 you come down to me at the gate ? I expected you to be 
 there looking out for me. Here I come back to claim my 
 old home, and not a human turns out to greet me. The 
 old cook skulks under the trees, and nothing says to me eat, 
 eat, except the pears and the grapes. What's the matter 
 with you ? Why don't you speak ? I shall go crazy, suro 
 enough, if something don't speak. Have you heard the 
 news ?" 
 
 The old woman took her sun-bonnet from his hand, and 
 said, half-bewildered as she looked at his happy face : 
 
 "What can an old, out-of-the-way thing like me hear? 
 What do you mean, Mister Clarence, by scaring me so ?" 
 
 " I mean that I'm lord and master of Rockview. Judge 
 Holden was my father and his wife wasn't my mother that's
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 347 
 
 what I mean ; and I've got a grandmother, and she's coming 
 here to-day to keep house for me, and her name's Nora Rudd, 
 and she's a sister of old Baltimore at 'The Glen,' the one 
 that married Grace Traver, and she's my mother's mother ; and 
 I've got kin and a name and lots of money, and you're going 
 to be my cook, and I'm going to stir up things generally. 
 Why don't you laugh and shout like me ? You're going to 
 have a good time like everybody else on these premises. 
 I'm the owner sure enough, like you told me yourself over 
 and over again. Now yell, I tell you. If you don't I'll choke 
 one out of you. One good yell for joy." 
 
 Catching her around the neck, he continued : " Now yell 
 just as loud as you can, or you'll never have another chance." 
 
 " I will, I will, Mister Clarence ; only let go of me !" 
 
 " No, not till you yell at the top of your lungs. Out with 
 it now now !" 
 
 The old woman uttered a screech like a witch in a fire. 
 
 " That's splendid that's music ! Now here's a ten-dollar 
 gold-piece to buy you a new gown. Oh ! I'm so glad to see 
 you at Rockview once more. Come on, take me up to the 
 house up up away we go !" 
 
 He darted away up the terraces, leaving old Hannah stand 
 ing in bewilderment over the gold coin in her hand. It was 
 real, sure enough, and as the consciousness of her good for 
 tune broke in upon her startled brain, she laughed and cried. 
 But the voice of her master shouted down to her from the 
 terraces : 
 
 "Why in the devil don't you hurry up here with the 
 keys?" 
 
 "I'm coming, you wild hare, you," muttered the old 
 woman ; and thrusting her gold piece into her pocket, after 
 one more glance at it, she toiled up the stone steps after 
 him, puffing and blowing, and muttering : 
 
 " He's the same wild devil, and impatient as ever he was. 
 Oh, mercy! but I'm upset altogether. And yet I always 
 said so; I always did say so. But who's his mother?
 
 848 STOKMCLTFF. 
 
 That's what I wants to know. Nora Rudd ! Gracious king 
 doms alive ! how on airth did she git to be Clarence Hoi- 
 den's grandmother ? Yes, Mr. Clarence ! I'm a-coming 
 don't yell so I'm a-coming just as fast as ever I can !" 
 
 In a few minutes she stood upon the rock plateau of Rock- 
 view beside Rutherford, who was waving his hat at the river 
 view which had burst upon his excited vision. It was the 
 glorious perspective which had astonished the eyes of his 
 infancy. Home again ! The familiar view of his childhood 
 spread out before him ; the same onward sweep of the great 
 river; the same mountains, in their hazy, purple veils; 
 the same sea of autumn foliage beneath him ; the same 
 white sails of the vessels, glistening like wings as they 
 moved in the sunlight towards the passes of the high 
 lands. And there, away off towards the noontide sun, the 
 frowning brow of Stormcliff the temptation mountain of 
 his despair, the pulpit of his rescued soul there had the 
 astonished jailor seen the prediction verified, as he ascended 
 to the cupola of the prison and pointed his telescope at a 
 small white object waving from the cliff. There had the 
 outcast struggled and wrestled with God for the power 
 which chains and leads captive the souls of men. The vic 
 tory had been won, the palm had been accorded ; and in the 
 full tide of success, the mystery of his birth had rolled away 
 and vanished like the river mists, as they float upwards past 
 the brow of Stoi'm cliff. 
 
 Eagerly he took the keys from the servant and opened his 
 way through the house. Everything was as it had been 
 when he was driven forth friendless and poor upon the world. 
 Every object with which his youthful memory had been asso 
 ciated, every book, every picture which had been his own 
 especial property for years, was in its old place. Nothing had 
 been removed from Rockview except the old clock which 
 had been his companion in exile. There he found the por 
 trait of his father and the likeness of her whom he had been 
 taught to regard as his mother. He knew now that the
 
 STOKMCLIFF 349 
 
 lady of the locket was his mother's sister, and that the late 
 Mrs. Holden, whose face looked at him from the wall, was 
 only his reputed mother. Everything connected with his 
 parentage seemed so strange to him, as he wandered up and 
 down his ancestral halls with the keys of ownership in his 
 hands, that he ceased at length to speak with the old servant 
 who followed him, and dropping upon a sofa, buried his face 
 in his hands, and reflected long and earnestly. The old 
 woman seeing him so absorbed, wandered off and left him 
 alone. 
 
 While Rutherford dreams, the reader may gain admittance 
 to his silent brain by the perusal of a letter which was handed 
 to Mrs. Grace Baltimore by one of her servants at "The 
 Glen." The domestic informed her that Nora Rudd had 
 suddenly taken her departure, and had requested that the 
 letter be delivered only after she had passed the porter',3 
 gate. The young widow, upon breaking the seal, -discovered 
 the solution of the mystery in the following lines, in the 
 handwriting of the old nurse : 
 
 " Farewell, my darling ! farewell ! I leave you with tears 
 in these aged eyes, for love like mine for you is seldom known 
 on this side of the grave ; for it is a love which has trampled 
 down pride to make you happy. I am not far from my jour 
 ney's end. I should think of nothing now but prayer and 
 preparation for the passage of the dark valley. And yet, 
 strange as it may appear in one so aged and so conscious of 
 her numbered days, I am possessed of all the pride and lofty 
 feeling which appertain to a member of an ancient family. 
 Oh, Grace, my darling ! the name of Baltimore is rich in asso 
 ciations with pomp and power, ability and prowess. Un 
 known and unsuspected, I might have lived with you till my 
 death. To be near your dear form, to cheer your lonely 
 hours, and to share your confidence and love, seemed too 
 much happiness to me, the old and unknown nurse of the 
 highlands. When you wrote that letter to me from abroad
 
 350 STORMCLfFF. 
 
 and opened your arms to your old nurse, I kneeled down 
 and entreated God to soften the pride of my heart, that I 
 might respond to your offer and struggle to render you 
 happy. You have been to me a younger sister in kindness, 
 and still you were unconscious that you had become my sister 
 by marriage. This unconsciousness enabled me to stifle 
 pride, and to live in the halls of my ancestors as a dependant 
 upon your bounty. But I loved you so, my darling, and the 
 sweetness of stealing glances over the meadows and wood 
 lands of my girlhood's home was such a dear temptation, 
 that I consented day by day to live on under the dear old 
 trees, and to be lulled asleep "at night by the music of the 
 waterfall which had sung to me in childhood. Beside that 
 waterfall my magnificent, my loving mother, Gertrude Bal 
 timore, taught me the lesson of family pride ; and like her, 
 I gloried in the race from which I sprang. But when the 
 struggle came between my pride and love when I forgot 
 my mother's teachings to follow the fate of a man beneath 
 me, but beneath me only in family consequence, my tears 
 were mingled with the dashings of that waterfall. The 
 woman's heart triumphed ; and I fled away with him with 
 him whose name I now bear. 
 
 " So young was I when I defied the will of my mother, 
 and became the wife of a man whom she would never recog 
 nise as her son, that when 1 returned, long, long years after 
 wards, no one knew me. Misfortune pursued my wedded 
 life. My husband became very poor ; and in the great city 
 I struggled hard for bread. My daughter was beautiful ; 
 and in walking one day upon a crowded thoroughfare she 
 attracted the notice of a lawyer, who afterwards attained 
 distinction in his profession. This gentleman pursued his 
 inquiries concerning her, and finally succeeded in forming an 
 acquaintance with her, and won her heart. They were se 
 cretly married at the house. of an acquaintance of my daugh 
 ter. The only witnesses who could testify to the marriage- 
 contract, shortly after the ceremony was performed, crossed
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 351 
 
 the seas and were heard of no more. After long years 
 of waiting and watching for these witnesses to return 
 after countless letters written to every quarter of the civil 
 ized earth, I am finally relieved of my anxiety by the 
 sudden appearance of a sail-maker and his family in this 
 country, who testify fully to my daughter's legal marriage. 
 The legitimacy of my grandson is, to my exceeding great 
 joy, at last established. That grandson is Clarence Holden, 
 whom you know as Clarence Rutherford ; and his father is 
 Judge Holden, of this county, not long deceased. Before 
 Clarence was born, my daughter, through religious excite 
 ment, became insane, and was removed to an asylnm. Re 
 port was carried to Judge Holden that she was dead, and 
 immediately he married again. My daughter died in giving 
 birth to Clarence, and I at once brought the infant to this 
 county to present to his father, the Judge. To my horror 
 I found that Judge Holden was married to another lady; 
 and upon the very night of my arrival this estimable woman 
 was delivered of a son. The Judge was absent from home, 
 but upon my stating that I had been a nurse in families for 
 several years, this lady employed me to attend her. Her 
 child died before morning ; and while she was sleeping from 
 the effect of narcotics. I sat beside the living and the dead 
 for a long time, in earnest study of the strange situation in 
 which I found myself. I had no witnesses to prove my 
 daughter's marriage or to confirm my statements. The evi 
 dence to establish my grandson's claims upon the judge 
 was, under the most hopeful view of the matter, beyond 
 my reach. The witnesses might never return ; they might 
 be dead. Before me was sleeping a lovely woman, whose 
 life would be rendered utterly wretched by the announce 
 ment that she had married another woman's husband. She 
 was innocent; and I earnestly hoped the Judge had also 
 some excuse for his strange neglect of my child, after he 
 knew that she had been conveyed to a lunatic asylum. 
 Why not substitute my infant grandson for the dead child,
 
 352 STOBMCLTFF. 
 
 until such time as the witnesses of my daughter's marriage 
 should return ? This question agitated me as I sat in the 
 silent chamber, between the living mother and the dead 
 child. The exchange would never be known ; and should 
 difficulty finally arise in establishing my grandson's claim 
 before a 4egal tribunal, the matter might remain for ever 
 hushed, and the child would inherit the property of Judge 
 Holden as the acknowledged offspring of his supposed legal 
 marriage with the lady who was sleeping beside me. After 
 a careful examination of the situation, I determined to make 
 the substitution. The house was silent as the grave; and 
 taking the dead child in my arms I stole noiselessly out 
 into the garden and buried the infant in a little box, and 
 levelled the grave to enable the passing feet of persons on 
 the walk to harden it like the rest of the path. Then I hur 
 ried on to the tavern where I had left my grandchild in care 
 of a woman who was a transient guest, and arousing her 
 from her sleep, thanked her for her kindness, and returned 
 with my little charge to the unconscious lady in the chamber. 
 I placed the infant on the sofa ; and when she awaked from her 
 sleep, she believed she was looking upon the face of her own 
 child. She died in that belief, for my witnesses appeared to 
 be lost for ever, and I deemed it unwise to avow the exchange. 
 When Judge Holden returned he expressed his satisfaction 
 at seeing me in attendance upon his wife and child, and ad 
 vised me to remain as a nurse in the county. He had never 
 known of my relationship to the Baltimore family, and as I 
 was an outcast I cared not to avow it myself. I discovered 
 that he had married upon misrepresentations respecting the 
 death of his lunatic wife. He believed that his first wife was 
 of low origin ; and as I desired to remain near my grandson 
 in the county and unknown, I consented at his request to 
 remain silent, and never opened my lips regarding his secret 
 marriage to my daughter. I was fearful of the eventual fail 
 ure of my witnesses. The Judge often supplied my wants 
 when I was reduced by sickness, and remained my friend
 
 STORMCLIFF. 353 
 
 up to the time of liis death. "What was my amazement to 
 learn that Clarence was disinherited by his will, and that a 
 suspicion of exchange of children existed in his mind. How 
 this suspicion became fastened upon him I cannot conceive. 
 When ^discovered that my grandchild was an outcast, I 
 commenced immediately more vigorous efforts than ever be 
 fore to trace out, by the medium of letters, the whereabouts 
 of the sail-maker's family. One of my letters at last reached 
 them. They returned ; and upon application to the person 
 to whom the Judge had conveyed his property in trust, I 
 found that he was honest enough to admit the weight of my 
 proofs, and he has placed the entire property of Judge Hoi- 
 den at my grandson's disposal. 
 
 " When I first arrived in the city of New York, after my 
 own secret marriage, I recollected that my mother had sent, 
 months before, to the city an old family clock of the Balti- 
 mores to be repaired. She had always given me to under 
 stand that she intended it to be my property upon my mar 
 riage. I proceeded at once to the shop of the clockmaker, 
 who knew me, and claiming the clock, caused it to be re 
 moved to my husband's little home. During my sojourn at 
 the residence of Judge Holden, in attendance upon his wife 
 and infant child, I deemed it advisable to place the venerable 
 relic of the past in a situation where it would be appreciated 
 for its quaint old beauty, and where it could always be sub 
 ject to the claim of my grandson. I caused a letter to be 
 sent to the Judge, accompanied by the clock. It purported 
 to be a present to the young heir of Rockview from an 
 anonymous friend. Judge Holden was much mystified at the 
 arrival of this enormous gift, but he never succeeded in 
 tracing out the donor. I suppose my mother inquired, be 
 fore her death, for the clock in New York, and ascertaining 
 that I had removed it, was unwilling to approach my lowly 
 home to reclaim it. Upon one of my visits to the city, in 
 attendance upon Judge Holden's wife, I took the little boy 
 Clarence to see my second daugthter, Constance, who was a
 
 354 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 few years younger than his mother, and resembled her 
 strongly. An artist painted a miniature of Constance hold 
 ing the little Clarence in her lap. I concealed that picture 
 upon my return to the country in the works of the old clock, 
 at the residence of the Judge. In those works Clarence 
 found it, and has often exhibited it to me in wonder and 
 inquiry. Poor boy, he has the heart of a woman and the will 
 of an emperor. He has won a name and position under 
 obstacles which would have crushed most men of keenly 
 sensitive natures ; and now fortune has been added to his 
 self-made triumph. I go in duty to live and die for him. I 
 am proud of the young giant of the highlands. The Bal 
 timore blood courses his veins. That blood sometimes 
 impels to unwise and inconsiderate acts to revenge, even 
 but to dishonor, never. I shall live and die with him. 
 
 " But I leave you, Grace my baby with anguish. You 
 are so sweet and noble, and still so lonely in life. I cannot 
 remain with you, because the flight of secresy has unveiled 
 my Baltimore pride. Love God and keep His command 
 ments ; and remember the proud, foolish old woman who 
 loved you so that she lingered beside you as a dependant in 
 the halls of her ancestors who first hid her mother's portrait, 
 and afterwards caused it to be painted in false colors, that 
 you might not recognise the resemblance to the daughter 
 who was your old nurse. Go to my deserted room, Grace, 
 and in a vial behind a clock you will find a fluid which will 
 wash away the false eyes of Gertrude Baltimore, and then 
 you will discover how much that proud woman resembled 
 me. God bless you, my baby, and give you that peace which 
 th world can never give or take away. Hereafter I shall 
 meet you as my equal, but with the same yearning tender 
 ness as of old. My feet and my heart reluctantly leave 'The 
 Glen,' but pride and duty have been ever the choice of the 
 Baltimores. God keep you ever ! 
 
 "NOEA."
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 855 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 GEACE BALTIMORE possessed within herself great resources 
 for enjoyment. When the human idols of her existence had 
 proved unworthy of her regard, or had, at the beck of fate, 
 passed away from the vision of her daily life, she was not 
 destitute of objects which could chain her admiration or her 
 appreciation. The reserve of her father had not softened in. 
 her regard. Indeed, so conscious had he become of the re 
 straint which always attended his daughter's interviews with 
 him, that he gradually neglected her, and his visits to "The 
 Glen" became in time like angel visits, few and far between. 
 He liked not to face those clear, honest eyes, which seemed 
 always to be demanding explanations of the evasive remarks 
 he had employed at that last attempt at confidence. He 
 knew it was impossible ever to explain her untimely mar 
 riage and still retain her respect. He knew that his daugh 
 ter's consciousness was now perfectly developed. That her 
 womanly perceptions were clear, and that she was looking 
 back with wonder at the early sacrifice of herself which he 
 had permitted nay more, demanded. He knew her heart 
 was yearning for love, but that her pride would never allow 
 her to seek it from him when mutual confidence was want 
 ing. Her developed beauty of person and intellect none 
 could appreciate more than himself. His natural refinement 
 of taste and heart would have impelled him to take her in 
 his arms, love her devotedly, arid make her the companion 
 of his intellect and his studies. But, alas ! sin destroys even 
 the intensity of parental affection, and the consciousness of 
 his daughter's integrity and purity made him feel uneasy and 
 dissatisfied in her presence. He lived now almost entirely 
 alone in his gloomy home, as he did before her return from 
 abroad. He had failed to entangle Miss Angier in his snare, 
 and her cool, scornful, contemptuous manner made his visits 
 of ceremony at " The Glen" exceedingly disagreeable. For-
 
 356 STOEMCLIFF. 
 
 tnne had favored Nicholas Traver in regard to the lunatic 
 lady who hud gained possession of the secret agreement. 
 He had instituted a search for her, and succeeded in securing 
 her person and the document also. She had escaped from 
 the old gardener's custody on the night of the masquerade ; 
 and after the surprise of Nicholas Traver in the garden, she 
 had wandered up and down the country until his agents 
 discovered her and sent her off again to the asylum. He 
 regained possession of the agreement and destroyed it. The 
 evil ones of the earth have their limit of success, and his day 
 of perfect retribution had not yet arrived. 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore's loss of her friend and companion, the old 
 nurse, overwhelmed her for a time ; but as the autumn days 
 wore away, she contrived to find much consolation in the 
 reflection that the old lady had gone to be the comfort and 
 assistant of the brilliant and lonely being who was the 
 star of her own secret adoration. He would derive benefit 
 from her loss. That was a precious thought. It was 
 the satisfaction of a true woman's love. How willingly 
 would she relinquish any society which could comfort 
 and cheer him. Was he not sad and weary of life ? Had 
 he not suffered the agonies of shame and contempt ? Was 
 he not still brooding over her supposed rejection of his 
 love ? Were not natures like his more keenly susceptible to 
 the desolation and despair of unreciprocated love ? She felt 
 that this was true, and still was there no way to rectify the 
 mistake. A woman's love must smoulder and inward burn 
 until the man declares his passion to her alone. She cannot 
 move, she cannot speak in the interest of her heart, and the 
 world, conventionalism states the unsatisfactory reason : 
 " She is a woman." The fact of his love was written in cha 
 racters of fire upon her consciousness. But what availed it ? 
 Alas ! why did she not, under the peculiar circumstances of 
 the case, exert her powerful will make one of those earnest 
 sacrifices of herself which made her so brilliant in times of 
 public calamity, and stamped upon her brow the verdict of
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 357 
 
 hearts, "heroine?" Because, and only because, love makes 
 the bold heart timid, gentle, fearful. There was a slumber 
 ing fire in that woman's heart which, under the influence of 
 one single word of love from her idol, would have burst forth 
 to life. She would have given the one happy gaze into his 
 eyes, and then flung herself in utter abandonment upon his 
 heart. It would have been a love worth possessing that, . 
 devotion of a high-born soul. Two such natures blending 
 are the realization of the ideal, the glimpse of the celestial 
 city, the fact of eternity. Both honored God, and both were 
 honored of men. Why did the two remain apart ? Why, 
 in the counsels of Heaven, was this mistake allowed to exist ? 
 There are eyes that will read this question, and the memory 
 it will recall will fill those eyes with tears, and something 
 will press upon the heart with a faint, weary sensation that 
 death is not so painful as early youth imagines, and the 
 aspiration will go up towards the blue sky, " There, up there, 
 it will all be made right." These intense emotions are given 
 to us by the Creator for some wise purpose. He makes the 
 human heart to love one being better, and with more absorb 
 ing passion than any other. He causes that heart to turn 
 back to the one image ever, with the constancy of the child 
 for its one mother. No form so precious, no eye so dazzling, 
 no musical voice so sweet as that. Had not that misunder 
 standing arisen that word been so strangely misconstrued 
 that letter so mysteriously lost that intermeddling friend so 
 inconsiderate, how transcendently happy and beautiful would 
 our mutual love and life have been ! This is the secret medi 
 tation the silent pang of many a heart. Ah! why did we 
 not break through every barrier of modesty and custom 
 when we felt that we were loved ? We should have been 
 most certainly received and pressed tightly to an agonized 
 and lonely heart. And now it is too late. We are parted 
 for Time. Our hope is in Eternity. 
 
 Grace Baltimore did not speak. He had fled away from her 
 home and her hospitality in chagrin and despair ; and the
 
 358 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 proud, loving woman, with a gasp of mortal agony, fell on her 
 knees and whispered to God that she was now indeed alone. 
 She prayed for strength to live alone and to die alone, to 
 accomplish her duty alone, and to cling to the promises of God 
 and suffer alone. Kate Angier noticed that the young widow 
 seemed to draw closer to her, to appreciate her qualities 
 better, and to modulate her voice to a sweeter strain of en 
 dearment than she had ever done before. She felt that her 
 companionship was more necessary to Grace, but she did 
 not conjecture why. The arrow was buried deep, and the 
 wound was carefully concealed from her. She only saw that 
 the buds of taste and power in Mrs. Baltimore's brain were 
 rapidly developing now ; that she was finding beauty, hid 
 den meanings, harmonies, hopes, God, in every leaf and every 
 floating cloud. Music was in greater demand, poetry a more 
 frequent guest of their intercourse, and the contemplation 
 of nature a more constant study. The mistress of "The 
 Glen" was becoming more devoted to the sublime poetry of 
 the Scriptures. She struck a new chord of enthusiasm in 
 her friend's intellect when her voice repeated the prophecies 
 of Isaiah, or murmured in the gentle accents of the Teacher of 
 Galilee. On the stairway of nature and love her soul was 
 mounting upwards to God, and on every landing of the ascent 
 she was uttering secret prayers for the noble one who 
 dreamed of her at Rockview. She heard of the young ora 
 tor often. He was strenuously pursuing his calling ; and the 
 impression was gaining ground that he was irresistible be 
 fore any jury, and a respectable power before any bench of 
 judges. His voice was gaining power and compass from 
 continual practice, and his eloquent phrases were becoming 
 household words. There were no more slurs upon his cha 
 racter, no more omissions of his name from society's list of 
 invitations. Success and wealth soften and gild the tongues of 
 the slanderous. He was universally admired and courted now, 
 and his grandmother, the prophetess, shared his popularity. 
 But in the great soul of Mrs. Baltimore a new sensation
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 359 
 
 was destined to be born. An emotion, often deemed of men 
 the attribute solely of weak and inferior minds, but in the 
 judgment of many the necessary concomitant of true love, 
 was to fill her heart. The town was to receive a new sensa 
 tion. A new heroine was advancing ; a martyr was ap 
 proaching ; and her pale brows were encircled by a wreath 
 so exquisitely beautiful, that when men looked upon it they 
 shed tears and recalled the sublime sacrifices of the past ages. 
 She was coming at the proper moment, too. The orator of 
 the highlands was nearing the summit of universal popular 
 ity. He was the favorite of the majority, and soon, no doubt, 
 he would gather to his control the majority of his opponents. 
 He was near that pinnacle of fame where men pass from the 
 throne of respect up to the throne of love. The world was 
 beginning to learn that the orator was struggling upwards 
 less for love of fame than for love of truth. But the martyr 
 was coming ; and while the very hills themselves were echo 
 ing the praise of power and noble effort on the part of Judge 
 Holden's son, the music of the sublime and the beautiful was 
 faintly rising from the distance. 
 
 The owner of Rockview was seated one morning in the 
 library of his lofty home, in consultation with his friend the 
 Rev. Charles Heron. The intimacy established under the 
 clouds of shame and reproach had ripened into an indissolu 
 ble love long before the sun of success had arisen. To the 
 faithful and consistent servant of Christ was Clarence Hoi den 
 indebted for the encouragement which had sustained him 
 after Nora had intervened between him and the angel of 
 death. The outcast had been persuaded to occupy a seat in 
 the clergyman's pew, while Marie still remained to listen to 
 her father's preaching. Time and success had removed the 
 strangeness of his position in that pew. He was respected 
 and honored, devout and constant in attendance at the house 
 of God. Eyes which had stolen glances of commiseration 
 or surprise at the clergyman's protege had learned to change 
 their expression during the progress of divine service. He
 
 360 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 had passed through the successive stages of reproach, tolera 
 tion, respect, honor ; and now he took his seat there as one 
 whom ambitious mothers or speculative politicians contem 
 plated as an advantageous match for their daughters. The 
 orator, the wit, the author, the heir, had become a power in 
 the town which had trampled upon him. There had been no 
 change in him as regarded his integrity, his sincerity, or his 
 real character. Society had forgotten Jesus when they looked 
 coldly upon the unfortunate young man. But he had learned 
 to respect religion in the person of Nora and the clergyman ; 
 he had imitated them and turned to God. Instead of be 
 coming a suicide or a reprobate, as the cruelty or thought 
 lessness of church members had tended to make him, he had 
 arisen a star upon society. That star had been marked upon 
 the great book of the recording angel to the credit of old 
 Nora and the Rev. Charles Heron. " For I was an hungered, 
 and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink ; 
 I was a stranger, and ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed 
 me ; I was sick, and ye visited me ; I was in prison, and ye 
 came unto me." 
 
 When Marie had fled, the young lawyer had been the 
 first to approach the clergyman and offer his services to 
 track her out and rescue her from her mysterious fate. Find 
 ing that silence was demanded of him, and silence only, he 
 drew nearer to the clergyman in sympathy and attention ; 
 and sacrificing comfort and ambition often, he endeavored 
 by his society and congenial literary intercourse to alleviate 
 the distress of the deserted father. His efforts were appre 
 ciated ; and in time there were few interests in life which 
 were not shared by the two. The first man at Rockview 
 after the restoration was the clergyman, the first warm grasp 
 of the hand was his, the first ardent tears of joy aud sympa 
 thy were his. 
 
 The reverend gentleman had come on the present occasion 
 at the solicitation of Judge Holden's son, to confer with him 
 as to the propriety and expediency of accepting a nomination
 
 STORMCLIFF. 361 
 
 to the Congress of the nation, which many friends of the 
 lawyer were determined upon securing for him. Clarence 
 Holden's eloquence and integrity were required at the Capi 
 tol. The clergyman had insisted upon the lawyer's accept 
 ance with vehemence, and the orator had finally acquiesced 
 in his views. While the subject was still under considera 
 tion a servant had been standing behind his master's chair, 
 awaiting a pause to interrupt the discussion and present a 
 letter to the clergyman.' A favorable opportunity occurred, 
 and the missive was delivered with these words : 
 
 " The clerk at the post-office, sir, sent this letter by a mes 
 senger. He knew the handwriting, and thought you would 
 like to have it right away." 
 
 The father's countenance changed to a deathly pallor as 
 he recognised the handwriting of his child. 
 
 " Oh ! Marie, my lost Marie ! God, my Father, has answer 
 ed my prayer. Oh ! Clarence, this is from my darling child." 
 
 He tore the letter open and read eagerly, silently. The 
 lawyer watched every change in his countenance. Joy, sur 
 prise, tenderness, followed each other as he read, and the 
 young man wondered when he would reach the end. Emo 
 tion, intense emotion, was thrilling his own heart. Could 
 he ever forget the beautiful, graceful girl, who had stood by 
 his side when the storm of prejudice was raging when he 
 was an outcast ? Could he ever forget the trembling, timid 
 angel of charity who had appeared to him as he was stretch 
 ed upon his lonely couch in the grasp of the fearful cholera? 
 No ! If one quality of heart was uppermost in the organi 
 zation of "Golden-Lip," it was gratitude. . Where was this 
 lovely daughter of song wandering? Where was the fawn- 
 foot treading ? Where was the refined tone and the ardent 
 spirit warming the hearts of her listeners? She might have 
 misjudged; but she never had sinned for love's sake. Ho 
 knew this always, and stoutly maintained it in her defence, 
 when society speculated upon her disappearance. How ten 
 der had been her appreciation and friendship for himself! 
 
 16
 
 362 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 How like a dream of poetry had she hovered upon his con 
 sciousness ! How ardent her poetic soul ! how soothing her 
 presence ! Why did not her father divulge the contents 
 of the letter to him, who esteemed them both so highly ? 
 Strange passions were flitting across the reader's counte 
 nance. He was nearing the end. It was reached at last, 
 and the letter was crushed in his hand. He looked up tit 
 the lawyer. Oh ! that look. 
 
 ." She has saved you, Clarence ! my glorious child has 
 saved you." 
 
 "Where is she? What can you mean?" exclaimed the 
 listener, rising eagerly from his seat. 
 
 "She is in the State Prison," was the trembling reply. 
 " Dear, noble girl ! she has fulfilled her idea of atonement. 
 She has sacrificed all that was dear to her on earth, that you 
 might be saved and honored. She has become a felon to 
 shield you. The gentle and the high-bred has chosen a con 
 vict's chain that you might breathe the pure air untram 
 melled ; that your genius might expand and bless your fellow- 
 men. Oh !' such a sacrifice. Oh ! the glory and the honor 
 of being that girl's father." 
 
 He bowed his head and wept long, convulsively. Then 
 he arose, and placing his hands upon the shoulders of the 
 young athlete who stood before him in bewilderment, he 
 said : 
 
 " You are a noble young man. God has high destinies in 
 store for you, as He permits and ordains that the young and 
 the beautiful shall appreciate, and sacrifice, and suffer for 
 you. Sit down now beside me, and listen to this letter. 
 You may as well know its contents at once. The world will 
 trumpet it my friends will rejoice that a father's heart and 
 pride are comforted by the return of a daughter in honor. 
 Sit down and listen. She loved and honored you; and I do 
 not wonder, for I love and honor you too." 
 
 The lawyer resumed his seat and listened in amazement 
 to these lines :
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 363 
 
 " MY PRECIOUS FATHER : 
 
 " Your Marie is coming back to your arms. Will you 
 receive me in forgiveness for my desertion ? I know that my 
 sacrifice is now complete, and no harm can ever come nigh 
 Mr. Rutherford. He is ascending higher and still higher 
 towards the temple ; and it is so sweet to realize that I have 
 aided and saved him. Oh ! how his enemies hovered about 
 his path to ruin and destroy him ; and Fate with her cruel eye 
 gave them countenance ; they would have triumphed then. 
 The frenzy of political hate and power would have convicted 
 him, and the convict's irons would have penetrated to his 
 heart, and the eagle of the highlands would have perished 
 in despair. Oh ! will you forgive your Marie for trying to 
 imitate her father? Did you not say, 'Marie, we must make 
 a sacrifice for God ?' What more earnest a sacrifice than 
 to save an innocent man from shame ; to avert the accumu 
 lated wrongs which would crush and destroy for ever a 
 bright intellect ? I knew he was innocent ; Mr. Traver 
 knew he was innocent. But he declared to me that Ruther 
 ford would be lost unless the man in the grey clothes was 
 secured and convicted ; that only could save him. 
 
 " Oh ! my father, listen to me and forgive me. A woman 
 cannot aid her race as her heart prompts. She cannot con 
 tend in the councils of men ; she cannot render practical her 
 aspirations by the aid of oratory and the arts which govern 
 minds. But she can sacrifice and suiFer for those to whom 
 God has given the power of swaying intellect. And thus I 
 determined to save Mr. Rutherford, that his sincerity 
 and love for truth might remain as a blessing for my 
 country. 
 
 " There was an artist visiting at ' The Glen.' Our tastes and 
 sympathies regarding art were congenial. He admired my 
 sketches, and praised them. He admitted me to the secrets 
 of his coloring. He even explained to me a mystery of 
 coloring and disguising real flesh which he had learned 
 during his travels in the East. I learned to make a com-
 
 364 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 bination of chemicals which produces a wash for the face 
 effecting a perfect disguise. This coloring will not wear off 
 for months. Water will not affect it, and a knowledge of 
 another chemical combination is required to remove it from 
 the skin. 1 resolved to employ this knowledge to avert Mr. 
 Rutherford's fate. Oh ! how my heart trembled at first. 
 But I grew bolder and stronger, the nearer the day of trial 
 approached. It seemed to me that I could thus be worthy 
 of you and your character for sacrifice. It seemed to mo 
 that Mr. Rutherford's imprisonment for years would break 
 my heart. I carefully prepared my materials for accomplish 
 ing the disguise. Every day I secured some article of men's 
 wearing apparel and secreted it. At last my arrangements 
 were completed, and I desired Mr. Traver to drive me to the 
 town. He left me at the dry-goods store, and after making 
 a few trifling purchases, I hastened off to the vacant building 
 where I had secreted my male apparel. I arrayed myself in 
 this, and cut my hair short like a man. Then I found, upon 
 looking into my little mirror, that I was a bronzed, hardened- 
 looking young culprit ; my face and neck and hands were 
 bronzed utterly beyond recognition. Then I hid my own 
 garments, and wandering forth, I disguised my voice as best 
 I could, and inquired my way to a magistrate's office. I de 
 clared myself to have been one of the two men who robbed 
 the bank. I gave the name of the other robber as a sailor 
 who had enticed me into the plunder of the money and 
 bonds. I was taken for a young sailor myself, who wns 
 penitent and sought for mercy ; I declared that I had dropped 
 the money as I ran past Mr. Rutherford, and that he wns 
 entirely innocent. My testimony was deemed sufficient, and 
 on the opening of the court, I was conducted before it, and 
 on my own confession and statements I was found guilty. 
 Oh! how happy I was when I was pronounced guilty and 
 ordered off to prison. I felt that Mr. Rutherford was saved. 
 That he would have time at least to clear himself when 
 the prejudices of the day should have been forgotten. When
 
 STORMCLIFF. 365 
 
 I reached the State Prison, I had a vial of the coloring fluid 
 concealed about me, which I contrived to retain possession 
 of, to be prepared for any indication of my disguise wearing 
 off. I knew that prisoners of skill and chemical knowledge 
 were sometimes employed in the apothecary's department 
 of the prison. I had heard so, at all events ; and I conven I 
 in such a way that I was assigned to that department. But 
 oh! how weary, how horrible, has been my confinement. 
 The bright star of my gloomy night was the conscious 
 ness that the young orator of my native hills was free and 
 soaring upwards, day by day, to that height which God de 
 signed for him. My tears in my cell were for you in your 
 loneliness, my dear father. But I knew when my time had 
 expired you would love and honor your Marie for saving 
 poor Mr. Rutherford. I thought, too, of the Lamb of God, 
 who suffered all things for us, and how little a matter it was 
 for me, who had never been of any use in the world, to suffer 
 a few years of confinement within stone walls to save a noble, 
 struggling child of genius from the cruelty of men. Every 
 word, every counsel you had ever given your Marie, was 
 remembered in this prison, and sometimes the tears which 
 trickled down upon my lips tasted sweet, as if I had indeed 
 secured the favor of God. 
 
 " But oh ! my father, how my wild heart bounded with joy 
 when they told me that I was free. A convict was brought 
 here a few days ago who had been guilty of a robbery. He 
 confessed, after he was condemned, that he had assisted also 
 in the plunder of our bank, and exposed his accomplice, and 
 declared that I had never had anything to do with it. The 
 Governor of the State has been here to see me, and lie shed 
 tears when he heard my story, and put his hands on my 
 head and tried to speak, but he could not. I know now that 
 I have saved Rutherford ; and I am so proud and happy that 
 my poor life has been of service to some one of my race. I 
 know Mr. Rutherford will feel kindly towards poor Marie 
 now as long as he lives. I would still be willing to make
 
 366 STOEMCLTFF. 
 
 any sacrifice to enable him to win that ideal summit of 
 fame and purity whither his great soul tends. 
 
 " I was so patient, dear father, so long as there was any 
 danger for him ; but now that I know the world will acquit 
 him, I am impatient to be out again where I can look once 
 more upon the blue sky, and the river, and the hills of my 
 childhood. They tell me I must wait until I am stronger. 
 I am lying now upon my bed, where excitement has flung 
 me ; but I know I shall be well when you come for me, and 
 take me home, and forgive me. Your own Marie has not 
 deserted you, but only given a little of her life and youth to 
 the noble and the good. I want yon to come for me as soon 
 as you can ; and when I am once more in your arras, you 
 will realize how dearly and truly you have ever been wor 
 shipped by your little 
 
 "MARIE." 
 
 " P. S. I know I shall be stronger and better when you 
 touch me again. It is so hard to live without the presence 
 of those we love. Do not be anxious ; I am only weak. I 
 hope I shall be well soon." 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 " AND so you were present at their first interview, Annie. 
 Was it in the parlor of the Rector's house ? " 
 
 This question was addressed to the sewing-girl at " The 
 Glen " by the young widow, as she leaned comfortably back 
 in her arm-chair, with her head resting against its green lea 
 ther back. She was robed in white, and seemed to enjoy 
 her lounging attitude. The summer sun was blazing fiercely 
 without, but its rays were carefully excluded from the room, 
 save at the narrow space where the shutter was opened to 
 aid the sewing-girl at her work. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Baltimore, I saw it all. I was making her
 
 STORMCLIFF. 367 
 
 ^ 
 
 winter dresses. Poor thing, she was almost destitute. No 
 thing would fit her of her old dresses, and I was making up 
 everything new for her. You see she had grown very thin. 
 She was so pale and changed every way, that I'm sure I 
 should never have known her out of her father's house." 
 
 " Did he appear to be much affected ?" inquired Mrs. Bal 
 timore. 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma'am I never saw such an expression on any 
 man's face. He said nothing but, ' Oh, Miss Heron ! oh, Miss 
 Heron !' and then he fell down on his knees, and laying his 
 face on her hand, he covered it with tears. He never spoke 
 another word ; but rising up, he walked away to the win 
 dow where her father was standing, and tried to conceal his 
 emotion, but he couldn't do it. His head struck against the 
 window, and he shook with feeling. He appreciated it all, I 
 assure you. After a while, he came back to her side, and 
 drawing a chair up to her, he sat down and said : ' As long 
 as my life lasts, Miss Heron, everything that bears the mark 
 of my ownership is subject to your demand property, health, 
 life, services everything will answer your call. You have 
 saved my fame for this world, but that is the least of all the 
 benefits your sacrifice of yourself has conferred upon me. 
 You have saved something infinitely better for me than a 
 name. For you have saved my immortal soul. That last 
 humiliation of the State Prison would have caused me to 
 seek death by my own hand. I shudder to think of the 
 consequences of my incarceration there,' and then he wept 
 again as if he was a child." 
 
 " And what did Miss Heron say ? " inquired Mrs. Balti 
 more. 
 
 " She didn't talk much, ma'am she was too weak ; but her 
 blue eyes looked so happy at him, just as if she knew she 
 was a guardian angel who had just saved her ward from the 
 devil that's the very look she had, ma'am, so sweet, so pure. 
 Oh ! I do think she is so lovely don't you ? " 
 
 " The sweetest blonde I have ever seen," responded the
 
 368 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 young widow, heartily. " But is she not changed ? Did 
 not her imprisonment affect her beauty ?" 
 
 " Not according to my taste, ma'am : she is much thinner, 
 but she looks more angelic. I think she will gain her flesh 
 again soon. She has improved, I think, within the last two 
 or three months. But it would be strange indeed if she did 
 not improve when she has such attentions from him.' 
 
 " He is very devoted to her, is he ?" 
 
 " I should say so, ma'am. He seems to be always with 
 her. Scarcely a day passes that I do not see him walking 
 with her. They say he is engaged to her; but you know 
 what such stories amount to in the town." 
 
 "It would be an eminently proper match," said the widow. 
 
 " I think so myself, Mrs. Baltimore. How do you want 
 this trimming put on? They're wearing it up and down, 
 that way, or you can have it crossed so; both ways are 
 worn. Miss Edgefield has one dress made this way, and the 
 other with the trimming crossed. They're both pretty styles, 
 I think." 
 
 " I don't fancy either of them. Can't you loop it like Mrs. 
 Conda's dress? I don't fancy Miss Edgefield's taste. If 
 there is a chance in the fashion-plates to adopt a trimming 
 that is ugly, she is sure to select it. Yes ; loop it that way. 
 But tell me, does Mr. Holden intend to accompany Miss 
 Heron and her father to Europe this fall ? They are going 
 abroad for a year : and I heard that he expected to go with 
 them." 
 
 " I know that Tie is not going, Mrs. Baltimore ; for I 
 heard him distinctly tell Mr. Heron that his business would 
 prevent." 
 
 " Are you positive, Annie ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, positive. I heard him say that his duty lay 
 here in his State. He is going out on a great electioneering 
 tour for his party before he goes back to Congress. He said 
 his ambition and his duty were here, and he was going to 
 work hard."
 
 STORHCLIFF. 309 
 
 "Was Miss Heron present?" 
 
 " She was, ma'am ; but she didn't utter a word to per 
 suade him, though her father seemed very anxious that Mr. 
 Holden should go." 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore took up a book carelessly that lay open on 
 the table, and seemed for several minutes deeply engrossed 
 in its pages. She soon flung it aside, however, and after a 
 reverie of a few seconds, arose suddenly from her chair, and 
 left the room. Passing along the hall of the front building, 
 she met Kate Angier. 
 
 " What have you done with Corlear ?" 
 
 " Left him lounging by the fountain of mermaids while I 
 hunt up my sketch-book to show him. He has visited all the 
 places, and discourses of them like a master." 
 
 " Do you like him, Kate ?" 
 
 " Immensely no, that term is improper : he thrills me. 
 If you don't interpose, I may love him. Use your position 
 as my elder, and pronounce upon him. May I properly admit 
 his attentions ? always provided that he persists in keeping 
 them up." 
 
 "I know of no reason why you should not. He is a gentle 
 man, and I believe he is a man destined to win legal renown. 
 You know he is to argue the great Reynolds caste against 
 Mr. Holden." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! what is legal renown in these days when 
 judges buy and sell their decisions like shopkeepers? Tell 
 me something more encouraging about Mr. Corlear than 
 that." 
 
 " Well, I will. He can't be bought and sold, if judges 
 can." 
 
 "That is something, to be sure. I didn't think as deep 
 as that. Good-bye ; he is waiting for me. I always thought 
 I should like to write my last name with a capital C. I am 
 splendid on that letter." 
 
 "Will you be ready for a horseback ride this evening, 
 Kate ? 
 
 16*
 
 3 TO STOE3ICLIFF. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! I want to try my incorruptible friend on 
 horseback. Where do you propose to go ?" 
 
 " To a new place away up in the hills wild, unknown, 
 and dangerous. Will you go ?" 
 
 " With all my heart. Good-bye." 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore was left alone, and continued on her way 
 till she reached the garden. Finding the sun too disagree 
 able, she flung her handkerchief over her head, and passed 
 on under the shrubbery. She walked slowly along until she 
 reached the brook of the glen. Turning sharply to her right, 
 she followed the bank of the stream till she came to a little 
 temple built of grey marble. It was situated in the midst 
 of low pines, and was her favorite resort in warm weather. 
 She kept a private journal concealed in one of the fluted 
 columns which supported the roof. Removing the journal 
 from its hiding-place, she sat down in the temple on a pedes 
 tal which had yet no statue and reflected for awhile. Then 
 she opened the book and scribbled with a pencil the fol 
 lowing : 
 
 "TEMPLE GROVE, July 27th. 
 
 "Great plans are impracticable lack vitality, when the 
 heart is burdened. If the Creator intends rapid and prompt 
 action, He will indicate that wish by deafening the roar of 
 memory which comes to my ear Eke the sea. I felt this 
 morning, when the sun looked at me from the horizon, that 
 it was the eye of my God inquiring the reason of my delay ; 
 but now my will is feeble, and I yearn for a coadjutor. 
 Alas ! I cannot act alone ; the law of my being calls for 
 sympathy. I appreciate fully the perfection of my own plan. 
 The artists all confirm my taste ; but when it becomes neces 
 sary to pronounce the word of command, 'Begin,' I find 
 myself weary, listless, uncertain. This everlasting roar of 
 the Past will not depart from me. T will hope in spite of 
 myself. I will believe in the constancy of man's love until 
 at least his noble form is frozen by the destroyer. He did 
 love rue ; and it seems to me that his great passions must be
 
 STORMCLIFF. 371 
 
 eternal. If he would, if he could come back to me, how 
 quickly would my purpose take form and life to itself. Ho 
 would appreciate with a kingly soul this work of charity. 
 He would give vitality and force to it. But alone ah ! 
 alone, how every purpose wearies and sickens me! After 
 all my sublime readings', all my contemplation of great 
 women, how forced I am at last to admit that I am a woman 
 powerless in the grasp of Love. I study and stimulate my 
 self by great thoughts ; and when I fancy myself strongest 
 equal to any accomplishment a sudden knock at my heart 
 tells me that I have soared above my destiny, that I have a 
 woman's tenderness ; and for one eager, ardent term of en 
 dearment, one dear word of love, I would barter my estates, 
 my books, my plans, and become the creature of another's 
 will. And ever the word of my Heavenly Father seems to 
 whisper to me : ' If you would best please Me, fulfil a wo 
 man's destiny : respond to My purpose in your creation.' 
 
 " I do not, I cannot believe Clarence Holden loves her. It 
 would be to my eternal shame to deny the splendor of her 
 character, the intensity of her devotion to him. But what 
 right has she to rob me of all that makes life beautiful ? Can 
 she suffer greater loneliness, greater unrest than I do ? 
 It seems that in all matters of the heart nature makes us 
 like wolves that selfishly and fiercely grasp, unmindful of our 
 companions. But I cannot pronounce myself superior to this 
 same nature. I can deny myself food, and raiment, and 
 comfort, when it is necessary ; but to admit my willingness 
 to relinquish him into her keeping, I cannot, I will not make 
 the acknowledgment. He is too dear to me. Oh, that he 
 knew it ! 
 
 " Write upon my tombstone these words : ' She would have 
 been a great woman had not God given her a heart? 
 
 "I will try dear Nature in her wildest temple to-day. 
 Perhaps 'He that ordereth all things well' will give me new 
 life in the mountains. The pure, free air of my native hills 
 gives to my physical frame freshness and elasticity. It may
 
 372 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 be that it will afford my spirit balm and freshness too. 
 Mould me, O God ! to Thine adorable will, that the eternal 
 home may gain me the joy which is denied to my earthly * 
 habitation !" 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 The setting sun lingered behind a wall of clouds of salmon 
 color through which, in spots, a dazzing flame of scarlet fire 
 was visible, which flung upon the scenery of the highlands 
 the startling effect of a great conflagration. The hills and 
 the river shared the red light which issued from these western 
 windows. Even the sails of the vessels exhibited the fiery 
 tinge. High on the side of a mountain, robed in summer 
 foliage, were grouped a party of ladies and gentlemen who 
 had paused hi their horseback ride, and from a ledge of rocks 
 in their narrow bridle-path were enjoying the wild vision of 
 the monarch Day yielding up his sceptre, 
 the wall of clouds were regular, and at intervals: 
 were the handiwork of some great master 
 and high above them in the vault of heaven, the wandering 
 patches of cloud were flecked with dashes of scarlet fire. So 
 startling a vision of the power of God might well claim the 
 attention of any human being capable of appreciation ; but 
 still the delay required to study it well was hazardous to the 
 safe descent of the mountain-path by the riders. They had 
 followed the guiding will of Mrs. Baltimore, as she urged 
 her snow-white steed up unfrequented and dangerous bridle 
 paths where constant care and attention were demanded to 
 avoid catastrophes. And the ever-new natural beauties she 
 had conducted them to had served to make them forgetful 
 of the flight of time. But now the more prudent ones urged 
 an immediate descent of the mountain before darkness should 
 have gathered upon the place. 
 
 Mrs. Baltimore, after one more lingering glance at the fire- 
 windows, assented to their demand, and wheeling Mirage 
 away from the cliff, commenced the difficult descent. The 
 sure-footed beast slowly but accurately performed his duty, 
 
 r the wild vision of 
 ;. The openings in / 
 ntervals; as if they / 
 Ler in architecture,,/
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 373 
 
 and after a half-hour's careful riding, the whole party su* 
 ceeded in reaching the gorge, between two mountains, 
 through which their more level path now led. The shadows 
 of the mountains, however, rendered this path by no means 
 distinct by the time they had reached it, and the riders were 
 obliged to rely partly upon the instinct of their horses to 
 carry them through the forest in safety. They, however, 
 moved along cheerfully conversing, or occasionally breaking 
 forth into a song. Mrs. Baltimore still took the lead, attend 
 ed by Mr. Charles Delavan. Kate Angier followed with her 
 admirer, Mr. Corlear. The sky above them now rapidly 
 lost all brilliancy of coloring, and presently the young widow 
 looking up, exclaimed : 
 
 " It is growing dark too fast ; the hour is surely not so 
 late but that we will have time to reach the open country 
 before night-fall." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that, Mrs. Baltimore," responded 
 Charles Delavan. "But what in the name of goodness can 
 that mean ? Look up there to your right, Mrs. Baltimore !" 
 
 The whole party glanced upwards through the trees in the 
 indicated direction, and beheld a cloud of intense blackness 
 sweeping along the sky. It was the precursor of a thunder 
 storm ; and while they looked, the pall was gathering rapidly 
 over the gorge. The dread messenger of the tempest aroused 
 the party at once to the consciousness of their danger. It 
 would soon be too late to escape from the forest. The storm 
 would certainly block up their way with the blackness of 
 ink, Grace Baltimore, with an exclamation of alarm, urged 
 Mirage forward. There was no time to lose in idle regrets. 
 Their love of the sublime had probably entailed upon them 
 a night in the forest under the beatings of a drenching storm. 
 The horses bounded ahead, regardless of the narrow path 
 between the trees, and had just emerged into an opening or 
 glade in the woods, when they encountered a horseman 
 rapidly advancing towards them. He uttered an exclama 
 tion of relief when he recognised Mrs. Baltimore.
 
 374 STORMCLIFP. 
 
 " Why, my daughter ! This is fortunate, indeed, meeting 
 you at this spot. The biidge behind me has just fallen in 
 the stone bridge at the pass and there is no time to lose. 
 Turn right back on your course, and try to come out of the 
 woods at the spur of the mountain. Great God ! what is 
 that ?" 
 
 A gleam of intense brilliancy seemed to leap from the 
 mountain above their heads, and immediately followed a 
 report of heavy thunder. Nicholas Traver turned ghastly 
 pale. A thunder-storm immediately upon such a sunset was 
 altogether beyond his calculations, and startling. He recover 
 ed himself sufficiently to induce them to reverse their course 
 at once, and spurring his horse past his daughter and her 
 friends, he bade them all follow him and he would bring 
 them out into a clearing in a few minutes. Boldly and 
 splendidly his grey stallion took the lead in the uncertain 
 light. The rest of the party,' in single file, flew after him, in 
 imminent peril, apparently, of dashing eVery minute into 
 some forest tree. Soon there was little to direct the course 
 of the riders except the dashing of hoofs just in front of 
 them, and the occasional shout of their bold leader. Occa 
 sionally a steed would diverge a little from the path, and the 
 error was immediately followed by a sweep of branches or 
 twigs violently across the face or form of the rider. No 
 one, however, was unseated ; and the horses, given free 
 rein, clung closely to each other, and dashed recklessly on. 
 Presently, Nicholas Traver shouted at the top of his 
 lungs : . , , 
 
 " Hold up here ! stop !" And instantly his stallion was 
 flung back upon his haunches, and the foremost rider, a lady, 
 was nearly precipitated over the leader. The party was 
 brought violently to a dead halt. 
 
 "There is a diverging path just about here ; it leads up 
 over a ledge of rocks. Whether it is the right path for me 
 to take I am uncertain. Wait here till I feel my way up the 
 ascent. I will be able in a few rods to identify the place.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 375 
 
 We must rise to our right a little, and I am not quite sure of 
 the locality. This may be the place ; wait for me." 
 
 A gust of wind which bent the trees swept over the gorge 
 and drowned his voice. But the party heard his horse break 
 ing through the bushes on their right. A wilder rush of 
 the wind passed over them, and a blinding flash of lightning 
 penetrated the forest darkness and shivered a tree between 
 the party and the rider who had left them. When the con 
 cussion had left them in bewilderment and darkness, they 
 heard a yell of command given by Nicholas Traver. It was 
 evidently unheeded by the stallion, for immediately the 
 sounds of hoofs pattering and clattering among the rocks 
 above them on the right were heard. Another yell, which 
 appeared to be blended with mortal terror, was followed by 
 a shower of sparks, which scintillated forth into the darkness, 
 and then the rapid beat of the hoofs appeared to follow 
 around the side of the mountain in the impenetrable gloom. 
 Soon the sounds died away, and were replaced by the crash 
 of the lightning which fell again into the forest, and the 
 yells and moans of the storm, which burst over the gorge in 
 intense fury. The riders huddled together in uncertainty 
 and terror, while the rain poured down upon their unshel 
 tered forms in torrents. Mrs. Baltimore, after a moment's 
 silence, exclaimed : " Follow me, and see if we can't find our 
 way out. His horse has run away with him, and will likely 
 come out at the end of the mountain spur." 
 
 There was no choice left for them, and they walked their 
 horses slowly after her in the darkness. In a few minutes 
 so few, that it seemed like a special mark of God's favor 
 they emerged from the trees into the open country, and into 
 the full blast of the wind, which hurled the rain-torrents be 
 fore it. At that instant they heard the yell of Nicholas 
 Traver again, and directly in front of them. The stallion 
 was crossing their very path. A bolt of intense brilliancy 
 from the clouds passed near the flying steed, and for an in 
 stant horse and rider were visible. Then followed the blood-
 
 3*76 STOBMCLIFF. 
 
 curdling cry of terror again ; and immediately another bolt 
 from the anger of heaven hurled horse and rider a crushed 
 mass at the feet of Grace Baltimore's Mirage. 
 
 In the awful madness and rush of the storm the party hud 
 dled about the victim. No sound from the proud, beautiful 
 leader met their ears. No motion, no convulsive struggle, 
 came from the lifeless steed, once so gloriously plunging with 
 fire and spirit, and the admiration of the county. Retribu 
 tion had corne unexpectedly, and the destroyer of innocence 
 had been hurled in God's anger to the mother earth which 
 he had dishonored. Gifted, beautiful, graceful, born almost 
 an ideal image of man, that he might by his conspicuous 
 beauty and splendor with greater effectiveness and power 
 guide mortals in the paths of honor and 'truth, he was lying 
 now a crushed mass a monument of the accuracy of the 
 Eternal's word. In vain did the agonized daughter dis 
 mount and kneel over him. He had never been to her an 
 iipright, true, noble father. Of her own choice she had 
 turned to God ; and Nicholas Traver had no part or merit 
 in leading her to the feet of her Lord. 
 
 Carry him out. It is better that she, the innocent, should 
 be parted from him. This is the judgment of men. But 
 hark ! While the storm is gathering and the messengers of 
 wrath are preparing the bolts of heaven, a controversy has 
 arisen before the great white throne. The Holy of Holies 
 is veiled in ineffable splendor, and before the Mercy-Seat the 
 angels of Justice and Mercy are contending. The incompa 
 rable privilege of debate is exercised by the intellects of the 
 immortals. Around the disputants are congregated myriads 
 of ethereal beings, white-winged and beautiful, and eagerly 
 listening. 
 
 Angel of Justice. Thy words, O God ! are unchangeable, 
 and Thy wisdom fixed and immovable. Only the pure and 
 the upright can appreciate an-d enjoy the bliss of Heaven. 
 This man has added impiety and scorn of Thee to his sin, 
 and revelled in the defiance which springs from the intellect.
 
 STOKMCLIFF. 377 
 
 
 
 To blast him before the eyes of his fellows will establish Thy 
 word, and mortals will learn to fear Thee and Thy threaten- 
 ings. I demand in the interest of Justice that he remain no 
 longer unpunished, and that the angel of the storm smite 
 him to the depths of perdition. 
 
 Angel of Mercy. Spare him, O God of mercy, yet a little 
 longer! The soul most dyed in sin and corruption has often 
 arisen under the beams of Thy mercy to be a star in Thy 
 service. Forget not this, I entreat Thee, and direct the bolts 
 of vengeance to pass him by, that so much beauty of body 
 and mind may be withheld from Satan, and may learn to 
 /become one of the jewels in Thy crown of glory. Spare him ! 
 oh, spare him a little longer ! 
 
 Silence remained in the ineffable splendor which wreathed 
 the Great White Throne, and the adoring angels veiled their 
 faces at the majesty of Eternal Thought ; and the unceasing 
 harmonies of heaven went On. And lo ! a child of exquisite 
 loveliness and winged grace fluttered in between the expec 
 tant angels, and kneeled in adoration before the Throne. In 
 her tiny hands was a harp, and in her bosom the beautiful 
 memento of her earth-life a white lily. And, raising her 
 sweet voice in prayer, she said : 
 
 " Little Zoe pleads for his soul in the name which thrills 
 the court of Heaven ; in the name of Jesus, whose adorable 
 name shall never be pleaded here in vain." 
 
 A thrill of melody gushed forth upon the silence. The 
 prayer of the child was heard ; and, at the edict of God, the 
 angels of Justice and Mercy flew away to attend the Spirit 
 of the gathering storm. When the bolt of vengeance was 
 aimed at the head of the flying horseman, Mercy raised her 
 hand, and the lightning was diverted to his side. Senseless 
 and paralysed for life, he fell to the earth with his blackened 
 steed. He was suffered to live a helpless being, shattered, 
 attended by his daughter, and learning from her lips to lisp 
 the name of Jesus which had saved his soul.
 
 378 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 IT was the hour of midnight, and the full moon silvered the 
 edges of the garden shrubbery. Summer was preparing to 
 leave the sceptre to the autumnal king, and the moon seemed 
 bent on offering her most radiant tribute to her warm friend 
 of ripening and rosy memory who was passing away for ever. 
 To a lonely and desolate heart no change comes so seriously 
 as the death of the seasons. The contemplation of their 
 beauties becomes a habit, and as they are passing away, the 
 heart begins to realize a sense of loss : something is leaving 
 us which has contributed to our happiness or temporary con 
 tentment. That which is to come will be a stranger ; that 
 which is passing away has become familiar ; its birds or its 
 skies will be no longer. Such were the meditations of Mrs. 
 Baltimore as she left her helpless invalid father sleeping, and 
 wandered out alone in the garden. So dreamily thinking, 
 so noiselessly walking, was the young widow as she passed 
 along the silent garden, that her presence was undetected by 
 a man who was carefully stealing along a path parallel to 
 the one she was treading. At length his person came in 
 contact with a shrub which hung neglected across his way, 
 and immediately there fell upon her startled ear the twang 
 of a musical chord. She paused at once in surprise, for 
 certainly all the inmates of her house were soundly sleeping 
 by that lone hour. She turned quickly around, and saw the 
 man moving on towards the dwelling. The familiar note of 
 a musical instrument which she loved suggested no thought 
 of fear, and her curiosity prompted her to follow after the 
 intruder on her premises. Who was the strange musician, 
 and w T hat could he be doing so far from the highway at that 
 late hour? Cautiously she moved on after him along the 
 parallel path. He seemed to be unconscious of any human 
 life in the garden, for he held on his way ; and presently she 
 saw him pause directly under the window of her sleeping 
 apartment.
 
 STOKHCLIFF. 379 
 
 
 
 She approached him very closely under cover of the shrub 
 bery, and peeping through the leaves of a grape arbor, saw 
 him raise something up to the moonlight. As he turned to 
 look around the garden, she discovered that it was a guitar, 
 and at the same instant the moonbeams revealed his features. 
 She trembled violently at recognising the face of the man 
 who haunted her dreams. It was Clarence Holden. No 
 doubt he had come to indulge his fancy and his fine voice 
 in a midnight serenade. She had heard of his eiforts in this 
 department of romance before. Could it be within the range 
 of possibilities that he had come to sing to her after all the 
 unfortunate error of the past ? Had he forgiven her for re 
 fusing him, and was he so much in earnest that he had tram 
 pled down his pride, to come again after such a long lapse of 
 time ? What, in the name of a trembling and truthful heart, 
 conld be the motive of this musical visit from the pride of 
 the county the noble, upright orator of the highlands ? 
 
 Eagerly she parted the grape-leaves and watched his 
 movements. He examined the guitar carefully, and then, 
 without touching the chords, laid it down upon the grass 
 under her window. He stood with his arms folded looking 
 up at the moon. She dared not move, she was so close to 
 him. His face was sad, inexpressibly sad. What could he 
 be studying so deeply ? He was evidently undecided, for he 
 took up the guitar as if he would play, and then la'id it down 
 again upon the grass, and walked back and forth. Some 
 powerful emotion was holding the music in check. Her 
 heart whispered to her that it was pride. " He is a Balti 
 more that dreadful pride, that unyielding Baltimore pride 
 is holding him back. Oh, my God ! will he go away silently 
 after all." She pressed her hand upon her palpitating heart. 
 It seemed ready to burst with anguish. If his pride should 
 drive him away now, probably he would never come again. 
 No doubt he had come there under a burning impulse. He 
 was realizing how weak he was to seek again a woman who 
 had rejected him. In a few seconds more, pride would gain
 
 380 STORM CLIFF. 
 
 the entire mastery of him, and he would walk away, and her 
 heart would break. How utterly unconscious he was of the 
 eager heart which was burning with passion for him which 
 was reaching forth to him in agony, yearning to be clasped 
 and pressed to his own. 
 
 He stooped suddenly, and raised the guitar from the grass. 
 What would, he do this time ? Alas ! her heart anticipated 
 his movement. He cautiously loosened all the strings^ and 
 prepared the instrument to be put away in its case for the 
 night. Break, weary, desolate heart of woman, for pride is 
 stronger than love. The hope which had arisen so suddenly 
 fell like a meteor from heaven. Like the leaf of the dying 
 flower which flutters silently to the earth, did the white- 
 robed figure of Grace Baltimore drop to her knees in prayer 
 to the God who had given her heart its mission on earth. 
 Her lip was quivering, her bosom rising and falling, as she 
 whispered : " I ask of Thee, O my God 1 , to make me sub 
 missive to Thy holy will. Though my heart should break, 
 I will trust and praise Thee for ever." 
 
 Her head had fallen, with its glorious crown of woman 
 hood, against a bar of the grape arbor, and a faintness as of 
 death overcame her for an instant ; and in that instant the 
 wise Ruler of all things put forth His retarding hand to the 
 arrow of fate. Hush ! beating heart. A whisper of melody, 
 so faint and exquisite that it might be the music of a dream, 
 breathed forth upon the moonlight. He was calling to her 
 in that subdued melody. It was no twang of the guitar she 
 heard, but a low, sweet harmony a memory, an old hope, 
 breathed from a sweeter instrument, a heaven-born instru 
 ment, a soothing, dreamy flute. It had been his favorite 
 medium of sweet sound in the past. It had been her favorite 
 too ; and now he had chosen it to wake the lady of his heart 
 from her sleep. In the past, the dear old past, they had ** 
 sung that hope in unison. He knew that she would recog 
 nise the tune, and trusted a face at the window would 
 reward his melody. The gentle, dreamlike melody quivered
 
 STOBMCLIFF. 381 
 
 out upon the moonlight swelling, fainting, dying, and theu 
 all was silence again. Raising her head from the grape 
 arbor, she saw that he was silently looking up at her room. 
 No rattle of the shutter no sound at the window met his 
 ear. She heard a sigh distinct, and to her woman's heart 
 full of rapture. " He loves me yet. I knew it." 
 
 He waited a moment longer, aftd then hearing no sound 
 to encourage him, he commenced to pace back and forth on 
 the grass-plat. Would he be discouraged and discontinue 
 the music ? Would he walk away and make no further 
 effort to attract her attention ? Her woman's instinct told 
 her that now she had a right to recognise the compliment of 
 the music at any time, or in any manner she pleased. She 
 might even acknowledge it by note, if she were so dis 
 posed, for he had made advances to her now. But the 
 flute commenced its sweet repinings again, and she bowed 
 her head to listen. , Ah ! dear, precious memory, how faithful 
 was it now. She recognised the love-song which he had 
 once declared should be his declaration of love whenever 
 his heart should be touched by woman's influence. The flute 
 whispered the love which possessed him, and the true heart 
 concealed behind the grape-leaves filled and trembled with 
 rapture : 
 
 ' I wake from dreams of thee ; 
 And a spirit in my feet 
 Has led me, who knows how, 
 To thy chamber window sweet. 
 
 Oh! lift me from the grass, 
 I die, I faint, I fail : 
 Let thy love in kisses rain 
 On my lips and eyelids pale. 
 
 My cheek is cold and white; 
 Alas! my heart beats loud and fast: 
 Oh ! press it close to thine again, 
 Where it must break at last."
 
 382 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 The musician paused again and looked up at the window, 
 No recognition came from Mrs. Baltimore's room. 
 
 " Am I despised ?" he muttered at last, never imagining 
 the possibility of his being overheard at that distance. 
 
 " The noble and the true are never despised by a woman," 
 was the startling response behind him. 
 
 He looked bewildered at the extraordinary direction from 
 which the sound came. Then he said aloud : 
 
 " That is the voice which of all others has power to influ 
 ence and rule my heart. But whence does it come ? Is it 
 an echo from the invisible land ?" 
 
 Perfect silence followed this inquiry, and he passed 
 around to the rear of the grape arbor. The figure of 
 the young widow arose before him with the majesty and the 
 robe of an angel, the moonlight full in her face, and her dark 
 eyelashes veiling the tears which clung there ready to 
 fall. 
 
 " Mrs. Baltimore, I came here to surprise you, and you 
 have given me the greater surprise." 
 
 " No," she said earnestly. " You have indeed surprised me 
 more. How could you ask if I despised you? Was our 
 former intercourse no guaranty that you never could be held 
 in aught but honor ?" 
 
 " And yet," he exclaimed, " you were shocked at my 
 avowal in this garden." 
 
 " Mr. Holden, you never made an avowal to me in this 
 garden," was the calm response. 
 
 " Then I am a dreamer, and unworthy the respect of men 
 of sense ; still do I assert that in this garden I told you how 
 dear you were to me ; that you had become the light and the 
 hope of my existence, and that I craved a return of my love 
 as the greatest boon I could ever receive in life." 
 
 " Mr. Holden, your declaration was made to a mask." 
 
 " Aye ! and that mask was none other than Mrs. Grace 
 Baltimore," was the firm response. 
 
 " It was not Grace Baltimore, Mr. Holden. Had it been
 
 STORMCLIFF. 383 
 
 that lady, you would never have neglected, or rather shunned 
 one who has cherished you above all others." 
 
 " And why not ?" 
 
 She made no response, and looked down. Clarence Holden 
 felt a thrill of hope dart through him at her words : 
 
 " You mean that you would not have rejected me ?" 
 
 The single word which came in reply was scarcely audible. 
 But it broke the floodgates of his heart. It was enough. 
 
 o o 
 
 He clasped both arms about her and pressed her to his heart. 
 " Look up at me, Grace. Do you love me ?" 
 Those dark eyes, so often veiled, so lustrous, so beautiful, 
 
 obeyed his request ; and in them he read the passion of a 
 
 great woman's love. 
 
 " I claim you for my wife, Grace my own darling one." 
 A smile of unutterable bliss was the only answer ; and her 
 
 head fell again to the support of his manly breast. 
 
 " One more evidence, Grace, and I shall be the happiest 
 
 man in existence." 
 
 She looked up at him in surprise. But it was only love's 
 
 artifice to secure that passionate kiss which is the offering of 
 
 a woman's first and only love. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 Miss Louise Stanford, from long experience, had attained 
 the reputation of being thoroughly acquainted with the de 
 tails of family life in all the principal households of the 
 town. The philanthropic motives which induced this aged 
 damsel to familiarize herself with the domestic affairs of her 
 .neighbors were denied by many of her contemporaries. But 
 the ill-nature of those who doubted these motives was plainly 
 manifest, from the fact that they were the very first to recog 
 nise the importance of her daily bulletin, and never allowed 
 themselves to find fault with her tongue until her bulletin, 
 collected at so much sacrifice of shoe-leather, had been trans 
 ferred to their own minutes. They always gave her credit 
 for the evil stories told of her neighbors, but were sure to 
 ignore her tales of commendation, collected at great sacri-
 
 384 STORMCLIFF. 
 
 fice of time and perseverance. Slander her as they migV t 
 the town was under obligations to Miss Stanford for consent 
 ing to act as an irregular annalist of families and individuals. 
 Half the pleasure of living in the town would have been 
 destroyed by the loss of the information which she contri 
 buted to the common fund. 
 
 For instance, she was the first to announce the departure 
 of the Rev. Charles Heron and his daughter to Europe. She 
 was the first to ascertain that Marie was induced to take the 
 trip by her father, who desired her to forget the existence 
 of Clarence Holden. She, too, first announced thk details 
 of the bridal wardrobes of Mrs. Grace Holden and Mrs. 
 Kate Corlear, who were married on the same day and by 
 the same clergyman, and went off together on the same bri 
 dal tour. The grief of Mr. Charles Delavan at the widow's 
 marriage was also the product of her mental garden. She, 
 too, published the account of the disagreements between 
 old Nora and her grandson's wife, and maintained stoutly 
 that notwithstanding all amicable appearances, the old nurse 
 was nourishing a slumbering fire, which would ere long 
 burst forth into a great family conflagration among the Bal- 
 timores. She knew it was there, even if the public were 
 unable at present to detect it. She discovered also, in the 
 course of time, that an heir was born to inherit the joint 
 estates of Holden and Baltimore. Its eyes and mouth were 
 described with great accuracy to the curious in those mat 
 ters, though some evil-disposed young man did assert that 
 Miss Stanford was a little too fast in her chronology, and 
 that the Holden baby's mouth was small and delicate. But 
 these apparent discrepancies in the female annalist must be 
 overlooked in consideration of the valuable services rendered 
 to the cause of general information by her researches. 
 
 But one interesting fact was distinctly traceable to Miss 
 Louise Stanford's authority. She discovered it first, and 
 of course had a perfect right to embellish it properly for 
 the conversational market. She had ever cherished a firm
 
 STOEMCLIFF. 385 
 
 conviction that Nora Rudd was in frequent communication 
 with the potentate of the fiery realm. How else could the 
 old lady fall into trances and predict so accurately of the fu 
 ture ? Of course the prophets who lived near to God were 
 capable of doing such things, without securing to themselves 
 a reputation of being friends of his caloric majesty ; but it 
 was beyond the bounds of all reason that an old lady, whc 
 lived in the constant exercise of prayer, and Bible reading, 
 and works of charity, could fall into trances and predict the 
 future, without being either a hypocrite, an illusionist, or a 
 tool of the lower regions. Miss Stanford was satisfied of this 
 fact ; and once upon a time she made a discovery which con 
 firmed her orthodox views. 
 
 She happened to be passing the neglected house of old 
 Nora one morning, and to her surprise she saw the old lady 
 enter the tenement with a bundle in her arms. "What could 
 she do with a bundle in an old vacant dwelling like that? 
 The inquiry was repeated in her mind : it demanded investi 
 gation. She walked back and forth at a distance, but keep 
 ing her eyes upon the door, where the old lady had gone in. 
 She tarried long in the neighborhood, but the door of the 
 little house remained closed. The shutters had not been 
 opened. All was silent about the premises as the grave. 
 Growing weary at length with walking and standing, she sat 
 down upon a door-step. She remained seated more than an 
 hour. No Nora appeared; no sign of life was manifest 
 about the house. Then arising from the door-step, she rang 
 the bell of the house behind her, and concluded to make a 
 brief visit to an acquaintance, whose sitting-room looked out 
 upon the street. Her friend welcomed her, and in time she 
 contrived to secure a seat near a window which overlooked 
 Nora's little house. The same silence and absence of life 
 was manifest across the street. She informed her friend, 
 finally, that Nora had disappeared through the door with a 
 bundle, and requested that she would keep a look-out for her 
 reappearance, as she deemed the matter very strange. Her 
 
 IT
 
 386 STOKMCLIFF. 
 
 friend promised to aid her in her laudable watch, and when 
 at last Miss Stanford was forced to leave for home by the 
 approach of night, this friend had become as curious regarding 
 Nora's disappearance in the cottage as herself. She pro 
 mised to sit up all night and keep a starlight watch upon the 
 door. Miss Stanford returned on the ensuing morning, and 
 to her amazement it was reported that Nora had not yet 
 come out of that house. The two watchers were now tho 
 roughly excited, and maintained a vigilant watch the entire 
 day, without their eyes being once rewarded by any sign of 
 life on those premises. They had surely something tangible 
 now to report of Nora's secret consultations with the devil. 
 This little house was no doubt one of the satanic stations 
 while the Prince of darkness was traversing the earth. In a 
 day or two more the whole town was startled by a report 
 that Clarence Holden's grandmother was lost, and no trace 
 of her could be found. Miss Louise Stanford immediately 
 became a lioness. She knew all about it. The old lady had 
 given the devil a reception in the little house, and no doubt 
 the power of the Evil One was holding her still a captive 
 there. Her report gathered a great crowd about the place ; 
 and when Clarence Holden made his appearance in great 
 anxiety before the door to burst it in, the excitement was 
 at its height. Upon entering the house, the crowd, to their 
 great disappointment, ascertained that Nora was not there. 
 What had become of her? Miss Stanford made her way 
 to Clarence Holden's side and gave him her facts. He 
 immediately ordered the people out into the street; and 
 locking the door behind him, went along with them to the 
 newspaper office and caused an advertisement to be inserted, 
 offering for the discovery of his grandmother a large reward. 
 He did this as a mere blind, and to draw the crowd away 
 from the house. He suspected where the old lady had gone, 
 and waited his opportunity to follow her up unnoticed. 
 
 Days, weeks, months glided by, and still no tidings arrived 
 of the lost nurse. Years rolled on, and the name of Nora
 
 STORMCLIPF. 387 
 
 Rudd became a type of mystery, of terror, and of supersti 
 tion to the dwellers in the highlands. Her life had been re 
 plete with strangeness and with accurate prophecies. The 
 general impression regarding her was that she had been 
 spirited away by the devil. 
 
 But another class of minds, not so easily diverted from the 
 remembrance of her Christian virtues and her unceasing 
 charity, were disposed to give credence to the story that old 
 Nora received a Christian burial, though at a strange point 
 high ampng the mountains, where no trees grow and no im 
 pediment is offered to the rush of the wild winds as they 
 howl and moan in the winter, or sigh and murmur in the 
 summer-time, over her sleeping dust. A rumor in the high 
 lands has it that the tall dark prophetess sleeps in a tomb 
 hollowed out of the solid rock which hangs threateningly 
 over the Hudson, and at the very spot that she was found 
 dead, kneeling in prayer to God, with her Bible and her 
 steel-pointed staff lying beside her. It is said, too, that the 
 descendants of the Baltimore family have a secret custom, 
 when a male heir is born to their estates, to send him with 
 his nurse by a subterranean way to the very summit of a 
 frowning cliff, and there devote him to the service of the 
 God of Heaven. Then and there, it is said, the spirit of the 
 old prophetess is permitted to whisper in the ears of the 
 child language sublime and beautiful, and which possesses 
 the strange power of filling the soul with grand and glorious 
 images of true greatness. It is said the spirit of oratory is 
 then and there born ; and that the mightiest eloquence of the 
 highlands can be traced, through the Baltimore family, to 
 this early dedication to God on the wild and lofty height of 
 Stormcliff. 
 
 THE END.
 
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