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 [LIBRARY \ 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 1 
 
 I CALIFORNIA J 
 
 1 SAN DIEGO ; 
 
 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 by 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 Mrs. Edwin W. Meise 
 
 donor

 
 /Co 
 ML.
 
 COUSIN MAUDE 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. MARY J. ..HOLMES 
 
 AUTHOR' OF " TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE," " LENA RIVERS," 
 "MEADOWBROOK," ETC., ETC. 
 
 * 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE FEDERAL BOOK COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 TO 
 
 OF NEW OELEANS, 
 
 THESE STORIES 
 
 OF LIFE AMONQ THE NORTHEBN HILLS 
 
 ARE RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 
 BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Dr. Kennedy 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Journey 15 
 
 CHAPTER IH. 
 The New Home 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Little Louis 35 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Mrs. Janet Blodgett 47 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Mother 60 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Past and Present 64 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 James and J. C 78 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Milkman's Heiress 91 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Engagement, Real and Prospective. 108 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Maude Glendower. . . . 121
 
 ii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 How the Engagements Prospered 128 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Hampton 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Dark Hour 149 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The New Mistress at Laurel Hill 156 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The Blind Girl 165 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Nellie's Bridal Night 178 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Cousin Maude 183 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 A Second Bridal 192 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 The Sexton 198 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Home Again 206
 
 COUSIN MAUDE, 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIEESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DR. KENNEDY. 
 
 " IF you please, marm, the man from York State is 
 comin' afoot. Too stingy to ride, I'll warrant," and 
 Janet, the housekeeper, disappeared from the parlor, 
 just as the sound of the gate was heard, and an un 
 usually fine-looking middle-aged man was seen coming 
 up the box-lined walk which led to the cottage door. 
 
 The person thus addressed was a lady, whose face, 
 though young and handsome, wore a look which told 
 of early sorrow. Matilda Remington had been a 
 happy, loving wife, but the old church-yard in Vernon 
 contained a grass-grown grave, where rested the noble 
 heart which had won her girlish love. And she was a 
 widow now, a fair-haired, blue eyed widow, and the 
 stranger who had so excited Janet's wrath by walking 
 from the depot, a distance of three miles, would claim 
 her as his bride ere the morrow's sun was midway in 
 the heavens. How the engagement happened she could 
 not exactly tell, but happened it had, and she was 
 
 pledged to leave the vine-wreathed cottage which 
 
 5
 
 6 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 Harry had built for her, and go with one of whom she 
 knew comparatively little. 
 
 Six months before our story opens, she had spent a 
 few days with him at the house of a mutual friend in 
 an adjoining state, and since that time they had 
 written to each other regularly, the correspondence 
 resulting at last in an engagement, which he had now 
 come to fulfil. He had never visited her before in her 
 own home, consequently she was wholly unacquainted 
 with his disposition or peculiarities. He Avas intelligent 
 and refined, commanding in appearance, and agreeable 
 in manner, whenever he chose to be, and when he wrote 
 to her of his home, which he said would be a second 
 Paradise were she its mistress, when he spoke of the 
 little curly-headed girl who so much needed a mother's 
 care, and when, more than all, he hinted that his was 
 no beggar's fortune, she yielded ; for Matilda Keming- 
 ton did not dislike the luxuries which money alone can 
 purchase. Her own fortune was small, and as there 
 was now no hand save her own to provide, she often 
 found it necessary to economize more than she wished 
 to do. But Dr. Kennedy was rich, and if she married 
 him she would escape a multitude of annoyances, so 
 she made herself believe that she loved him ; and when 
 she heard, as she more than once did hear, rumors of 
 a sad, white-faced woman, to whom the grave was a 
 welcome rest, she said the story was false, and, shaking 
 her pretty head, refused to believe that there was 
 aught in the doctor of evil. 
 
 " To be sure, he was not at all like Harry she could 
 never find one who was but he was so tall, so digni 
 fied, so grand, so particular, that it seemed almost like 
 stooping for one in his position to think of her, and she 
 liked him all the better for his condescension."
 
 DR. KENNEDY. 7 
 
 Thus she ever reasoned, and when Janet said that 
 he was coming, and she, too, heard his step upon the 
 piazza, the bright blushes broke over her youthful face, 
 and casting a hurried glance at the mirror, she hastened 
 out to meet him. 
 
 " Matty, my dear ! " he said, and his thin lips touched 
 her glowing cheek, but in his cold gray eye, there shone 
 no love, no feeling, no heart. 
 
 He was too supremely selfish to esteem another 
 higher than himself, and though it flattered him to 
 know that the young creature was so glad to meet 
 him, it awoke no answering chord, and he merely 
 thought that with her to minister to him he should 
 possibly be happier than he had been with her pred 
 ecessor. 
 
 " You must be very tired," she said, as she led the 
 way into the cozy parlor. Then, seating him in the 
 easy chair near to the open window, she continued : 
 "How warm you are. What made you walk this 
 sultry afternoon ? " 
 
 "It is a maxim of mine never to ride when I 
 can walk," said he, " for I don't believe in humoring 
 those omnibus drivers by paying their exorbitant 
 prices." 
 
 " Two shillings, surely, is not an exorbitant price," 
 trembled on Mrs. Remington's lips, but she was pre 
 vented from saying so by his asking " if everything 
 were in readiness for the morrow." 
 
 " Yes, everything," she replied. " The cottage is 
 sold, and " 
 
 " Ah, indeed, sold ! " said he, interrupting her. " If 
 I mistake not you told me, when I met you in Rome, 
 that it was left by will to you. May I, as your to 
 morrow's husband, ask how much you received for
 
 8 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 it ? " and he unbent his dignity so far as to wind his 
 arm around her waist. 
 
 But the arm was involuntarily withdrawn, when, 
 with her usual frankness, Matty replied : " I received 
 a thousand dollars, but there were debts to be paid, so 
 that I had only five hundred left, and this I made over 
 to my daughter to be used for her education." 
 
 Dr. Kennedy did not say that he was disappointed, 
 and as Matty was not much of a physiognomist, she 
 did not read it in his face, and she continued : " Janet 
 will remain here awhile, to arrange matters, before 
 joining me in my new home. She wished me to leave 
 my little girl to come with her, but I can't do that. I 
 must have my child with me. You've never seen her, 
 have you ? I'll call her at once," and stepping to the 
 door, she bade Janet bring Maude into the parlor. 
 
 " Maude ! " How Dr. Kennedy started at the men 
 tion of a name, which drove all thoughts of the five 
 hundred dollars from his mind. There was feeling 
 passion everything, now, in his cold gray eye, but 
 quickly recovering his composure, he said calmly : 
 " Maude, Matty Maude, is that your child's name ? " 
 
 "Why, yes," she answered, laughingly. "Didn't 
 you know it before ? " 
 
 " How should I," he replied, " when in your letters 
 you have always called her daughter ? But has she no 
 other name ? She surely was not baptized Maude ? " 
 
 Ere Mrs. Remington could speak, the sound of little 
 pattering feet was heard in the hall without, and in a 
 moment Maude Remington stood before her father-in- 
 law, erect, looking, as that rather fastidious gentleman 
 thought, more like a wild gipsy than the child of a 
 civilized mother. She was a fat, chubby creature, 
 scarcely yet five years old ; black-eyed, black-haired,
 
 DR. KENNEDY. 9 
 
 and black-faced, too, with short, thick curls, which, 
 damp with perspiration, stood up all over her head, 
 giving her a singular appearance. She had been play 
 ing in the brook, her favorite companion, and now, 
 with little spatters of mud ornamenting both face and 
 pantalets, her sun-bonnet hanging down her back, and 
 her hands full of pebble-stones, she stood furtively 
 eying the stranger, whose mental exclamation was : 
 " Mercy, what a fright ! " 
 
 " Maude ! " exclaimed the distressed Mrs. Reming 
 ton, " where have you been ? Go at once to Janet, 
 and have your dress changed ; then come back to me." 
 
 Nothing loth to join Janet, whose company was 
 preferable to that of the stranger, Maude left the 
 room, while Dr. Kennedy, turning to Mrs. Remington, 
 said : " She is not at all like you, my dear." 
 
 " No," answered the lady ; " she is like her father in 
 everything ; the same eyes, the same hair, and " 
 
 She was going on to say more, when the expression 
 of Dr. Kennedy's face stopped her, and she began to 
 wonder if she had displeased him. Dr. Kennedy could 
 talk for hours of " the late Mrs. Kennedy," accom 
 panying his words with long-drawn sighs, and enumerat 
 ing her many virtues, all of which he expected to be 
 improved upon by her successor ; but he could not bear 
 to hear the name of Harry Remington spoken by one 
 who was to be his wife, and he at once changed the 
 subject of Maude's looks to her name, which he learned 
 was really Matilda. She had been called 3faude, 
 Mattie said, after one who was once a very dear friend 
 both of herself and her husband. 
 
 " Then we will call her Matilda," said he, " as it is a 
 maxim of mine never to spoil children by giving them 
 pet-names."
 
 10 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 " But you call your daughter Nellie]* suggested the 
 little widow, and in her soft, blue eye there shone a 
 mischievous twinkle, as if she fancied she had beaten 
 him with his own argument. 
 
 But if she thought to convince that most unreason 
 able man, she was mistaken. "What he did was no 
 criterion for others, unless he chose that it should be 
 so, and he answered, " That is sister Kelsey's idea, and 
 and as she is very fond of Nellie, I do not interfere. 
 But, seriously, Matty, darling" and he drew her to 
 his side, with an uncommon show of fondness " I 
 cannot call your daughter Maude I do not like the 
 name, and it is a maxim of mine, that if a person dis 
 likes a name, 'tis an easy matter to dislike the one who 
 bears it." 
 
 Had Mrs. Remington cared less for him than she did, 
 'she might have wondered how many more disagree 
 able maxims he had in store. But love is blind, or 
 nearly so ; and when, as if to make amends for his re 
 marks, he caressed her with an unusual degree of tender 
 ness, the impulsive woman felt that she would call her 
 daughter anything which suited him. Accordingly, 
 when at last Maude returned to the parlor, with her 
 dress changed, her curls arranged, and her dimpled 
 cheeks shining with the siids in which they had been 
 washed, she was prepared to say Matilda or whatever 
 else pleased his capricious fancy. 
 
 " Little girl," he said extending his hand toward her, 
 "little girl, come here. I wish to talk with you." 
 
 But the little girl hung back, and when her mother 
 insisted upon her going to the gentleman, asking if 
 she did not like him, she answered decidedly, "No, 
 I don't like him, and he shan't be my pa, either ! " 
 
 " Maude, daughter ! " exclaimed Mrs. Remington,
 
 f 
 DR. KENNEDY. 11 
 
 while Dr. Kennedy, turning slightly pale, thought 
 " wretch ! " but said, " Matilda, come here, won't 
 you ? " 
 
 " I ain't Matilda," she answered. " I won't be 
 Matilda I'm Maude," and her large black eyes flashed 
 defiantly upon him. 
 
 It was in vain that Dr. Kennedy coaxed and Mrs- 
 Remington threatened. Maude had taken a dislike to 
 the stranger, and as he persisted in calling her Matilda, 
 she persisted in refusing to answer, until at last, hear 
 ing Janet pass through the hall, she ran out to her, 
 sure of finding comfort and sympathy there. 
 
 " I am afraid I have suffered Maude to have her own 
 way too much, and for the future I must be more 
 strict with her," said Mrs. Remington, apologetically ; 
 while the doctor replied, " I think, myself, a little 
 wholesome discipline would not be amiss. 'Tis a 
 maxim of mine, spare the rod and spoil the child ; but, 
 of course, I shall not interfere in the matter." 
 
 This last he said because he saw a shadow flit over 
 the fair face of the widow, who, like most indulgent 
 mothers, did not wholly believe in Solomon. The 
 sight of Janet in the hall suggested a fresh subject to 
 the doctor's mind, and, after coughing a little, he said, 
 " Did I understand that your domestic was intending 
 to join you at Laurel Hill ? " 
 
 " Yes," returned Mrs. Remington ; " Janet came to 
 live with my mother when I was a little girl no larger 
 than Maude. Since my marriage she has lived with 
 me, and I would not part with her for anything." 
 
 " But do you not think two kinds of servants are 
 apt to make trouble, particularly if one is black and 
 the other white ? " and in the speaker's face there was 
 an expression which puzzled Mrs. Remington, who
 
 12 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 could scarce refrain from crying at the thoughts of 
 parting with Janet, and who began to have a foretaste 
 of the dreary homesickness which was to wear her 
 life away. 
 
 " I can't &Q without Janet," she said ; " she knows all 
 my ways, and I trust her with everything." 
 
 " The very reason why she should not go," returned 
 the doctor. " She and old Hannah would quarrel at 
 once. You would take sides with Janet, I with 
 Hannah, and that might produce a feeling which 
 ought never to exist between man and wife. No, my 
 dear, listen to me in this matter, and let Janet remain 
 in Yernon. Old Hannah has been in my family a long 
 time. She was formerly a slave, and belonged to my 
 uncle, who lived in Yirginia, and who, at his death, 
 gave her to me. Of course I set her free, for I pride 
 myself on being a man of humanity, and since that 
 time she has lived with us, superintending the house 
 hold entirely since Mrs. Kennedy's death. She is very 
 peculiar, and would never suffer Janet to dictate, as I 
 am sure, from what you say, she would do. So, my 
 dear, try and think all is for the best. You need not 
 tell her she is not to come, for it is a maxim of mine to 
 avoid all unnecessary scenes, and you can easily write it 
 in a letter." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Remington ! she knew intuitively that the 
 matter was decided, and was she not to be forgiven, if at 
 that moment she thought of the grass-grown grave, 
 whose occupant had in life been only too happy grant 
 ing her slightest wish ? But Harry was gone, and the 
 man with whom she now had to deal was an exacting, 
 tyrannical master, to whose will her own must ever be 
 subservient. This, however, she did not then under, 
 stand. She knew he was not at all like Harry, but she
 
 DR. KENNEDY. 13 
 
 fancied that the difference consisted in his being so 
 much older, graver, and wiser than her husband had 
 been, and so with a sigh, she yielded the point, think 
 ing that Janet would be the greater sufferer of the two. 
 
 That evening several of her acquaintance called to 
 see the bridegroom elect, whom, in Mrs. Remington's 
 hearing, they pronounced very fine-looking, and quite 
 agreeable in manner ; compliments which tended in a 
 measure to soothe her irritated feelings and quiet the 
 rapid beatings of her heart, which for hours after she 
 retired to rest would occasionally whisper to her that 
 the path she was about to tread was far from being 
 strewn with flowers. 
 
 " He loves me, I know," she thought, " though his 
 manner of showing it is so different from Harry, but I 
 shall become accustomed to that after a while, and be 
 very, very happy," and comforted with this assurance 
 she fell asleep, encircling within her arms the little 
 Maude, whose name had awakened bitter memories in 
 the heart of him who in an adjoining chamber battled 
 with thoughts of the dark past, which now, on the eve 
 of his second marriage, passed in sad review before his 
 mind. 
 
 Memories there were of a gentle, pale-faced woman, 
 who, when her blue eyes were dim with coming death, 
 had shudderingly turned away from him, as if his pres 
 ence brought her more pain than joy. Memories, too, 
 there were of another a peerlessly beautiful creature 
 who ere he had sought the white-faced woman for his 
 wife, had trampled on his affections, and spurned as a 
 useless gift, his offered love. He hated her now, he 
 thought ; and the little black-haired child, sleeping so 
 sweetly in its mother's arms, was hateful in his sight, 
 because it bore that woman's name. One, two, three
 
 14 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 sounded the clock, and then he fell asleep, dreaming 
 that underneath the willows which grew in the church 
 yard, far off on Laurel Hill, there were two graves in 
 stead of one ; that in the house across the common 
 there was a sound of rioting and mirth, unusual in that 
 silent mansion. For she was there, the woman whom 
 he had so madly loved, and wherever she went, crowds 
 gathered about her as in the olden time. 
 
 " Maude Glendower, why are you here ? " he at 
 tempted to say, when a clear, silvery voice aroused him 
 from his sleep, and starting up, he listened half in anger, 
 half in disappointment, to the song which little Maude 
 Remington sang, as she sat in the open door awaiting 
 the return of her mother, who had gone for the last 
 time to see the sunshine fall on Harry's grave.
 
 THE JOURNEY. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 MRS. KENNEDY looked charmingly in her traveling 
 dress of brown, and the happy husband likened her to 
 a Quakeress, as he kissed her blushing cheek, and called 
 her his " little wife." He had passed through the cere 
 mony remarkably well, standing very erect, making 
 the responses very loud, and squeezing very becomingly 
 the soft white hand on whose third finger he placed 
 the wedding ring a very small one, by the way. It 
 was over now, and many of the bridal guests were gone, 
 the minister, too, had gone, and jogging leisurely along 
 upon his sorrel horse, had ascertained the size of his 
 fee, feeling a little disappointed that it was not larger 
 five dollars seemed so small, when he fully expected 
 twenty, from one of Dr. Kennedy's reputed wealth. 
 
 Janet had seen that everything was done for the 
 comfort of the travelers, and then out behind the 
 smokehouse had scolded herself soundly for crying, 
 when she ought to appear brave, and encourage her 
 young mistress. Not the slightest hint had she re 
 ceived that she was not to follow them in a few weeks, 
 and when at parting little Maude clung to her skirts, 
 beseeching her to go, she comforted the child by tell 
 ing her what she would bring her in the autumn, when 
 she came. Half a dozen dolls, as many pounds of 
 candy, a dancing jack and a mewing kitten, were 
 promised, and then the faithful creature turned to the
 
 16 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 weeping bride, who clasped her hard old hand convul 
 sively, for she knew it was a long good-by. Until the 
 carriage disappeared from view, did Mrs. Kennedy look 
 back through blinding tears to the spot where Janet 
 stood, wiping her eyes with a corner of her stiffly 
 starched white apron, and holding up one foot to keep 
 her from soiling her clean blue cotton stockings, for, in 
 accordance with a superstition peculiar to her race, she 
 had thrown after the travelers a shoe, by way of in 
 suring them good luck. 
 
 For once in his life, Dr. Kennedy tried to be very 
 kind and attentive to his bride, who, naturally hopeful 
 and inclined to look upon the brighter side, dried her 
 tears soon after entering the cars, and began to fancy 
 she was very happy in her new position as the wife of 
 Dr. Kennedy. The seat in front of them was turned 
 back and occupied by Maude, who busied herself awhile 
 in watching the fence and the trees, which she said 
 were " running so fast toward Janet and home ! " 
 Then her dark eyes would scan curiously the faces of 
 Dr. Kennedy and her mother, resting upon the latter 
 with a puzzled expression, as if she could not exactly 
 understand it. The doctor persisted in calling her 
 Matilda, and as she resolutely persisted in refusing to 
 answer to that name, it seemed quite improbable that 
 they would ever talk much together. Occasionally, it 
 is true, he made her some advances, by playfully offer 
 ing her his hand, but she would not touch it, and after 
 a time, standing upon the seat and turning round, she 
 found more agreeable society in the company of two 
 schoolboys who sat directly behind her. 
 
 They were evidently twelve or thirteen years of age, 
 and in personal appearance somewhat alike, save that 
 the face of the brown-haired boy was more open, in-
 
 THE JOURNEY. IT 
 
 genuous, and pleasing than that of his companion, whose 
 hair and eyes were black as night. A jolt of the cars 
 caused Maude to lay her chubby hand upon the shoulder 
 of the elder boy, who, being very fond of children, 
 caught it within his own, and in this way made her 
 acquaintance. To him she was very communicative, 
 and in a short time he learned that " her name was 
 Maude Remington, that the pretty lady in brown was 
 her mother, and that the naughty man was not her 
 father, and never would be, for Janet said so." 
 
 This at once awakened an interest in the boys, and 
 for more than an hour they petted and played with 
 the little girl, who, though very gracious to both, still 
 manifested so much preference for the brown-haired, 
 that the other laughingly asked her which she liked 
 the best. 
 
 " I like you and you," was Maude's childlike answer, 
 as she pointed a finger at each. 
 
 "But," persisted her questioner, " you like my cousin 
 the best. "Will you tell me why ? " 
 
 Maude hesitated a moment, then laying a hand on 
 either side of the speaker's face, and looking intently 
 into his eyes, she answered, " You don't look as if you 
 meant for certain^ and he does ! " 
 
 Had Maude Remington been twenty instead of five, 
 she could not better have defined the difference be 
 tween those two young lads, and in after-years she had 
 sad cause for remembering words which seemed al 
 most prophetic. At Albany they parted company, for 
 though the boys lived in Rochester, they were to re 
 main in the city through the night, and Dr. Kennedy 
 had decided to go on. By doing so he would reach 
 home near the close of the next day, beside saving a 
 large hotel bill, and this last was with him a very
 
 18 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 weighty reason. But he did not say so to his wife ; 
 neither did he tell her that he had left orders for his 
 carriage to be in Canandaigua on the arrival of the 
 noon train, but he said " he was in haste to show her 
 to his daughter that 'twas a maxim of his to save as 
 much time as possible, and that unless she were very 
 anxious to sleep, he would rather travel all night." So 
 the poor, weary woman, whose head was aching ter 
 ribly, smiled faintly upon him as she said, " Go on, of 
 course," and nibbled at the hard seed-cakes and harder 
 crackers which he brought her, there not being time 
 for supper in Albany. 
 
 It was a long, tedious ride, and though a strong arm 
 was thrown around her, and her head was pillowed 
 upon the bosom of her husband, who really tried to 
 make her as comfortable as possible, Mrs. Kennedy 
 could scarcely refrain from tears as she thought how 
 different was this bridal tour from what she had antic 
 ipated. She had fully expected to pass by daylight 
 though the Empire State, and she had thought with 
 how much delight her eye would rest upon the grassy 
 meadows, the fertile plains, the winding Mohawk, the 
 drone-like boats on the canal, the beautiful Cayuga, 
 and the silvery water so famed in song ; but, in con 
 trast to all this, she was shut up in a dingy car, whose 
 one dim lamp sent forth a sickly ray and sicklier smell, 
 while without, all was gloomy, dark, and drear. No 
 wonder, then, that when toward morning Maude, who 
 missed her soft, nice bed, began to cry for Janet and 
 for home, the mother too burst forth in tears and 
 choking sobs, which could not be controlled. 
 
 " Hush, Matty don't," and the disturbed doctor 
 shook her very gently ; " it will soon be daylight, and 
 'tis a max " here he stopped, for he had no maxim
 
 THE JOURNEY. 19 
 
 suited to that occasion, and, in a most unenviable frame 
 of mind, he frowned at the crying Maude, and tried to 
 soothe his weeping wife, until at last, as the face of the 
 latter was covered, and the former grew more noisy 
 and unmanageable, he administered a fatherly rebuke 
 in the shape of a boxed ear, which had no other effect 
 than the eliciting from the child the outcry, u Let me 
 be, old doctor, you ! " if, indeed, we except the long 
 scratch made upon his hand by the little sharp nail of 
 his stepdaughter. 
 
 At that moment Matty lifted up her head, but as 
 Maude was no tale-bearer, and the doctor hardly dared 
 to tell her that he had thus early taken upon himself 
 the government of her child, she never knew exactly 
 what it was which made Maude's ear so red or her 
 liege lord's face so dark. 
 
 It was nearly noon when they arrived at Canandai- 
 gua, where the first object which caught Mrs. Kennedy's 
 eye was an old-fashioned carry -all, which her husband 
 honored with the appellation of carriage, said carriage 
 being drawn by two farm-horses, which looked as if 
 oats and corn were to them luxuries unknown. 
 
 " I must have a cup of tea," said Mrs. Kennedy, as 
 she saw the black man, John, arranging the baggage 
 upon the rack of the carry -all, and heard her husband 
 bid him hurry, as there was no time to lose. " I must 
 have a cup of tea, my head is aching dreadfully," and 
 her white lips quivered, while the tears rolled clown 
 her cheeks. 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," answered the doctor, who 
 was in unusually good spirits, having just heard from 
 an acquaintance whom he chanced to meet, that a law 
 suit, which had long been pending, was decided in his 
 favor, and that the house and lot of a widow would
 
 20 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 probably come into his possession. " Certainly, two 
 cups if you like ; I should have proposed it myself only 
 I knew old Hannah would have dinner in readiness for 
 us, and 'tis a maxim of mine, that fasting provokes an 
 appetite." 
 
 " Hang dis nigger, if he ain't a maxin' her so quick ! " 
 muttered the darkey, showing his teeth from ear to 
 ear, and coaxing Maude away from her mother, he 
 took her to a restaurant, where he literally crammed 
 her with ginger-bread, raisins, and candy, bidding her 
 eat all she wanted at once, for it would be a long time 
 maybe ere she'd have another chance ! 
 
 " If you please, sar," he said, when at last he had 
 returned to his master, "if you please, Miss Nellie, 
 say how you must fotch her somethin', and the old 
 woman spec's a present in honor of de 'casion." 
 
 Dr. Kennedy thought of the law-suit, and so far 
 opened both heart and purse as to buy for Nellie a 
 paper of peanuts, and for Hannah a ten-cent calico 
 apron, after which, he pronounced himself in readiness 
 to go, and in a few moments Mrs. Kennedy was on her 
 way to her new home. 
 
 The road led over rocky hills, reminding her so much 
 of Vernon and its surrounding country, that a feeling 
 of rest stole over her and she fell into *a quiet sleep, 
 from which she did not awaken until the carriage 
 stopped suddenly and her husband whispered in her 
 ear, " "Wake, Matty, wake, we are home at last."
 
 THE KEW HOME. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE NEW HOME. 
 
 IT was a large, square, wooden building, built in the 
 olden time, with a wide hall in the center, a tiny por 
 tico in front and a long piazza in the rear. In all the 
 town, there was not so delightful a location, for it com 
 manded a view of the country for many miles around, 
 while, from the chamber windows, was plainly dis 
 cernible, the sparkling Honeoye, whose waters slept so 
 calmly 'mid the hills which lay to the southward. On 
 the grassy lawn in front, tall forest trees were grow 
 ing, almost concealing the house from view, while their 
 long branches so met together as to form a beautiful 
 arch over the graveled walk which led to the front 
 door. It was, indeed, a pleasant spot, and Matty, as 
 she passed through the iron gate, could not account 
 for the feeling of desolation settling down upon her. 
 
 " Maybe it's because there are no flowers here no 
 roses," she thought, as she looked around in vain for 
 her favorites, thinking the while how her first work 
 should be to train a honeysuckle over the door, and 
 plant a rosebush underneath the window. 
 
 Poor Matty. Dr. Kennedy had no love for flowers, 
 and the only rosebush he ever noticed was the one 
 which John had planted at his mistress' grave, and even 
 this would, perchance, have been unseen, if he had not 
 scratched his hand unmercifully upon it, as he one day 
 shook the stone, to see if it were firmly placed in the
 
 22 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 ground, ere he paid the man for putting it there ! It 
 was a maxim of the doctor's never to have anything 
 not strictly for use, consequently his house, both outside 
 and in, was destitute of every kind of ornament, and 
 the bride, as she followed him through the empty hall 
 into the silent parlor, whose bare walls, faded carpet, 
 and uncurtained windows seemed so uninviting, felt a 
 chill creeping over her spirits, and sinking into the first 
 hard chair she came to, she might, perhaps, have cried, 
 had not John who followed close behind with her 
 satchel on his arm, whispered encouraging^ in her ear, 
 "Never you mind, missus, your chamber is a heap 
 sight brighter than this, 'case I tended to that mv- 
 self." 
 
 Mrs. Kennedy smiled gratefully upon him, feeling 
 sure that beneath his black exterior there beat a kind 
 and sympathizing heart, and that in him she had an 
 ally and a friend. 
 
 " Where is Nellie ? " said the doctor. " Call Nellie, 
 John, and tell your mother we are here." 
 
 John left the room, and a moment after a little tiny 
 creature came tripping to the door, where she stopped 
 suddenly, and throwing back her curls, gazed curiously, 
 first at Mrs. Kennedy, and then at Maude, whose large 
 black eyes fastened themselves upon her with a gaze 
 quite as curious and eager as her own. She was more 
 than a year older than Maude, but much smaller in 
 size, and her face seemed to have been fashioned after 
 a beautiful waxen doll, so brilliant washer complexion, 
 and so regular her features. She was naturally affec 
 tionate and amiable, too, when suffered to have her 
 own way. Neither was she at all inclined to be timid, 
 and when her father, taking her hand in his, bade 
 her speak to her new mother, she went unhesitatingly
 
 THE NEW HOME. 23 
 
 to the lady, and climbing into her lap, sat there very 
 quietly so long as Mrs. Kennedy permitted her to play 
 with her rings, pull her collar, and take out her side- 
 combs, for she had laid aside her bonnet ; but when at 
 last her little sharp eyes ferreted out a watch, which 
 she insisted upon having " all to herself," a liberty 
 which Mrs. Kennedy refused to grant, she began to 
 pout, and, sliding from her new mother's lap, walked 
 up to Maude, whose acquaintance she made by asking 
 if she had a pink silk dress ? 
 
 " No, but I guess Janet will bring me one," answered 
 Maude, whose eyes never for an instant left the face of 
 her stepsister. 
 
 She was an enthusiastic admirer of beauty, and 
 Nellie had made an impression upon her at once ; so, 
 when the latter said, " What makes you look at me so 
 funny \ " she answered, " Because you are so pretty." 
 
 This made a place for her at once in the heart of the 
 vain little Nellie, who asked her to go up-stairs and see 
 the pink silk dress which " Aunt Kelsey had given 
 her." 
 
 As they left the room, Mrs. Kennedy said to her hus 
 band, " Your daughter is very beautiful." 
 
 Dr. Kennedy liked to have people say that of his 
 child, for he knew she was much like himself, and he 
 stroked his brown beard complacently, as he replied : 
 " Yes, Nellie is rather pretty, and, considering all 
 things, is as well-behaved a child as one often finds. 
 She seldom gets into a passion, or does anything rude," 
 and he glanced at the long scratch upon his hand ; but 
 as his wife knew nothing of said scratch, the rebuke 
 was wholly lost, and he continued. " I was anxious 
 that she should be a boy, for it is a maxim of mine 
 that the oldest child in every family ought to be a son,
 
 24 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 and so I said, repeatedly, to the late Mrs. Kennedy, 
 who, though a most excellent woman in most matters, 
 was, in others, unaccountably set in her way. I sup 
 pose I said some harsh things when I heard it was a 
 daughter, but it can't be helped now," and with a 
 slightly injured air the husband of " the late Mrs. 
 Kennedy " began to pace up and/lown the room, while 
 the present Mrs. Kennedy puzzled her rather weak 
 brain to know " what in the world he meant." 
 
 Meantime, between John and his mother there was a 
 hurried conversation, the former inquiring naturally 
 after the looks of her new mistress. 
 
 " Pretty as a pink," answered John, " and neat as a 
 fiddle, with the sweetest little baby ways, but I tell 
 you what 'tis," and John's voice fell to a whisper, 
 " He'll maxim her into heaven a heap sight quicker'n 
 he did t'other one ; case you see she hain't so much 
 what you call him so much go off to her as Miss Katy 
 had, and she can't bar his grinding ways. They'll 
 scrush her to onct see if they don't. But I knows 
 one thing, this yer nigger 'tends to do his duty, and 
 hold up them little cheese-curd hands of her'n, jest as 
 some of them scripter' folks held up Moses with the 
 bulrushes." 
 
 " And what of the young one ? " asked Hannah, who 
 had been quite indignant at the thoughts of another 
 child in the family, " what of the young one ? " 
 
 " Bright as a dollar ! " answered John. " Knows 
 more'n a dozen of Nellie, and well she might, for she 
 ain't half as white, and as Master Kennedy says it's a 
 maosim of mine, the blacker the hide, the better the 
 sense ! " 
 
 By this time, Hannah had washed the dough from 
 her hands, and taking the roast chicken from the oven,
 
 THE NEW HOME. 25 
 
 she donned a clean check apron, and started to see 
 the stranger for herself. Although a tolerable good 
 woman, Hannah's face was not very prepossessing, and 
 Mrs. Kennedy intuitively felt that 'twould be long be 
 fore her former domestic's place was made good by the 
 indolent African. It is true her obeisance was very 
 low, and her greeting kindly enough, but there was 
 about her an inquisitive, and at the same time, rather 
 patronizing air, which Mrs. Kennedy did not like, 
 and she was glad when she at last left the parlor, 
 telling them, as she did so, that " dinner was done 
 ready." 
 
 Notwithstanding that the house itself was so large, 
 the dining-room was a small, dark, cheerless apartment, 
 and though she was beginning to feel the want of food, 
 Mrs. Kennedy could scarcely force down a mouthful, 
 for the homesick feeling at her heart ; a feeling which 
 whispered to her that the home to which she had come, 
 was not like that which she had left. Dinner being 
 over, she asked permission to retire to her chamber, 
 saying she needed rest, and should feel better after she 
 had slept. Nellie volunteered to lead the way, and as 
 they left the dining-room, old Hannah, who was notori 
 ously lazy, muttered aloud : " A puny, sickly thing. 
 Great help she'll be to me ; but I shan't stay to wait 
 on more'n forty more." 
 
 Dr. Kennedy had his own private reason for wishing 
 to conciliate Hannah. When he set her free, he made 
 her believe it was her duty to work for him for noth 
 ing, and though she soon learned better and often 
 threatened to leave, he had always managed to keep 
 her, for, on the whole, she liked her place, and did not 
 care to change it for one where her task would be much 
 harder. But if the new wife proved to be sickly
 
 26 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 matters would be different, and so she fretted, as we 
 have seen, while the doctor comforted her with the 
 assurance that Mrs. Kennedy was only tired that sbe 
 was naturally well and strong, and would undoubtedly 
 be of great assistance when the novelty of her position 
 had worn away. 
 
 While this conversation was taking place, Mrs. Ken 
 nedy was examining her chamber and thinking many 
 pleasant things of John, whose handiwork was here 
 so plainly visible. All the smaller and more fanciful 
 pieces of furniture which the house afforded had been 
 brought to this room, whose windows looked out upon 
 the lake and the blue hills beyond. A clean white 
 towel concealed the marred condition of the washstand, 
 while the bed, which was made up high and round, 
 especially in the middle, looked very inviting with its 
 snowy spread. A large stuffed rocking-chair, more 
 comfortable than handsome, occupied the center of the 
 room, while better far than all, the table, the mantel 
 and the windows were filled with flowers, which John 
 had begged from the neighboring gardens, and which 
 seemed to smile a welcome upon the weary woman, 
 who, with a cry of delight, bent down and kissed them 
 through her tears. 
 
 " Did these come from your garden ? " she asked of 
 Nellie, who, childlike, answered, " "We hain't any 
 flowers. Pa won't let John plant any. He told Aunt 
 Kelsey the land had better be used for potatoes, and 
 Aunt Kelsey said he was too stingy to live." 
 
 " Who is Aunt Kelsey ? " asked Mrs. Kennedy, a 
 painful suspicion fastening itself upon her that the 
 lady's opinion might be correct. 
 
 " She is pa's sister Charlotte," answered Nellie, " and 
 lives in Kochester, in a great big house, with the
 
 THE NEW HOME. 27 
 
 handsomest things ; but she don't come here often, it's 
 so heathenish, she says." 
 
 Here spying John, who was going with the oxen to 
 the meadow, she ran away, followed by Maude, between 
 whom and herself there was for the present a most 
 amicable understanding. Thus left alone, Mrs. Ken 
 nedy had time for thought, which crowded upon her 
 so fast that, at last throwing herself upon the bed, she 
 wept bitterly, half wishing she had never come to 
 Laurel Hill, but was still at home in her own pleasant 
 cottage. Then hope whispered to her of a brighter 
 day, when things would not seem to her as they now 
 did. She would fix up the desolate old house, she 
 thought the bare windows which now so stared her 
 in the face, should be shaded with pretty muslin cur 
 tains, and she would loop them back with ribbons. 
 The carpet, too, on the parlor floor should be exchanged 
 for a better one, and when her piano and marble table 
 came, the only articles of furniture she had not sold, 
 it would not seem so cheerless and so cold. 
 
 Comforted with these thoughts, she fell asleep, rest 
 ing quietly until, just as the sun had set and it was 
 growing dark within the room, Maude came rushing 
 in, her dress all wet, her face flushed, and her eyes red 
 with tears. She and Nellie had quarreled nay, ac 
 tually fought; Nellie telling Maude she was blacker 
 than a nigger , and pushing her into the brook, while 
 Maude, in return, had pulled out a handful of the 
 young lady's hair, for which her stepfather had shaken 
 her soundly, and sent her to her mother, whom she 
 begged " to go home, and not stay in that old house 
 where the folks were ugly, and the rooms not a bit 
 pretty." 
 
 Mrs. Kennedy's heart was already full, and drawing
 
 28 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 Maude to her side, the two homesick children mingled 
 their tears together, until a heavy footstep upon the 
 stairs announced the approach of Dr. Kennedy. Not 
 a word did he say of his late adventure with Maude, 
 and his manner was very kind toward his weary wife, 
 who, with his hand upon her aching forehead, and his 
 voice in her ear, telling her how sorry he was that she 
 was sick, forgot that she had been unhappy. 
 
 " Whatever else he may do," she thought, " he cer 
 tainly loves me," and after a fashion he did perhaps 
 love her. She was a pretty little creature, and her 
 playful, coquettish ways had pleased him at first sight. 
 He needed a wife, and when their mutual friend, who 
 knew nothing of him save that he was a man of integ 
 rity and wealth, suggested Matty Remington, he too 
 thought favorably of the matter, and yielding to the 
 fascination of her soft blue eyes, he had won her for 
 his wife, pitying her, it may be, as he sat by her in the 
 gathering twilight, and half guessed that she was 
 homesick. And when he saw how confidingly she 
 clung to him, he was conscious of a half-formed res 
 olution to be to her what a husband ought to be. But 
 Dr. Kennedy's resolves were like the morning dew, and 
 as the days wore on, his peculiarities, one after another, 
 were discovered by his wife, who, womanlike, tried to 
 think that he was right and she was wrong. 
 
 In due time most of the villagers called upon her, 
 and though they were both intelligent and refined, she 
 did not feel altogether at ease in their presence, for the 
 fancy she had that they regarded her as one who for 
 some reason was entitled to their pity. And in this 
 she was correct. They did pity her, for they remem 
 bered another gentle woman, whose brown hair had 
 turned gray, and whose blue eyes had waxed dim
 
 THE NEW HOME. 29 
 
 beneath the withering influence of him she called her 
 husband. She was dead, and when they saw the young, 
 light-hearted Matty, they did not understand how she 
 could ever have been induced to take that woman's 
 place and wed a man of thirty-eight, and they blamed 
 her somewhat, until they reflected that she knew noth 
 ing of him, and that her fancy was probably captivated 
 by his dignified bearing, his manly figure, and handsome 
 face. But these alone they knew could not make 
 her happy, and ere she had been six weeks a wife, 
 they "were not surprised that her face began to wear 
 a weary look, as if the burden of life were hard to 
 bear. 
 
 As far as she could, she beautified her home, pur 
 chasing with her own means several little articles 
 which the doctor called useless, though, he never failed 
 to appropriate to himself the easy-chair which she had 
 bought for the sitting-room, and which when she was 
 tired rested her so much. On the subject of curtains, 
 he was particularly obstinate. " There were blinds," 
 he said, " and 'twas a maxim of his never to spend his 
 money for anything unnecessary." 
 
 Still, when Matty bought them herself for the parlor, 
 when her piano was unboxed and occupied a corner 
 which had long been destitute of furniture, and when 
 her marble table stood between the windows, with a 
 fresh bouquet of flowers which John had brought, he 
 exclaimed involuntarily, " How nice this is ! " adding 
 the next moment, lest his wife should be too much 
 pleased, " but vastly foolish ! " 
 
 In accordance with her husband's suggestion, Mrs. 
 Kennedy wrote to Janet, breaking to her as gently as 
 possible the fact that she was not to come, but saying 
 nothing definite concerning her new home, or her own
 
 80 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 happiness as a second wife. Several weeks went by* 
 and then an answer came. 
 
 " If you had of wanted me," wrote Janet, " I should 
 of come, but bein' you didn't, I've went to live with 
 Mr. Blodgett, who peddles milk, and raises butter and 
 cheese, and who they say is worth a deal of money, 
 and well he may be, for he's saved this forty years." 
 
 Then followed a detailed account of her household 
 matters, occupying in all three pages of foolscap, to 
 which was pinned a bit of paper, containing the follow 
 ing : 
 
 " Joel looked over my writing and said I'd left out 
 the very thing I wanted to tell the most. We are 
 married, me and Joel, and I only hope you are 
 as happy with that doctor as I am with my old 
 man." 
 
 This announcement crushed at once the faint hope 
 which Mrs. Kennedy had secretly entertained, of event 
 ually having Janet to supply the place of Hannah, who 
 was notoriously lazy, and never, under any circum 
 stances, did anything she possibly could avoid. Dr. 
 Kennedy did not tell his wife that he expected her to 
 make it easy for Hannah, so she would not leave them ; 
 but he told her how industrious the late Mrs. Kennedy 
 had been, and hinted that a true woman was not above 
 kitchen work. The consequence of this was, that 
 Matty, who really wished to please him, became, in 
 time a very drudge, doing things which she once 
 thought she could not do, and then, without a murmur, 
 ministering to her exacting husband when he came 
 home from visiting a patient, and declared himself 
 " tired to death." Yery still he sat, while her weary 
 little feet ran for the cool drink the daily paper or 
 the morning mail ; and very happy he looked when her
 
 THE NEW HOME. 31 
 
 snowy fingers combed his hair or brushed his thread 
 bare coat, and if, perchance, she sighed amid her labor 
 of love, his ear was deaf, and he did not hear, neither 
 did he see how white and thin she grew, as day by day 
 went by. 
 
 Her piano was now seldom touched, for the doctor 
 did not care for music ; still he was glad that she could 
 play, for " Sister Kelsey," who was to him a kind of 
 terror, would insist that Nellie should take music lessons, 
 and, as his wife was wholly competent to give them, 
 he would be spared a very great expense. " Save, save, 
 save" seemed to be his motto, and when at church the 
 plate was passed to him, he gave his dime a loving 
 pinch ere parting company with it ; and yet none read 
 the service louder, or defended his favorite liturgy 
 more zealously than himself. In some things he was 
 a pattern man, and when once his servant John an 
 nounced his intention of withdrawing from the Episco 
 palians and joining himself to the Methodists, who 
 held their meetings in the schoolhouse, he was greatly 
 shocked, and labored long with the degenerate son of 
 Ethiopia, who would render to him no reason for his 
 most unaccountable taste, though he did to Matty, 
 when she questioned him of his choice. 
 
 " You see, missus," said he, " I wasn't allus a herry tic, 
 but was as good a 'piscopal as St. George ever had. 
 That's when I lived in Virginny, and was hired out to 
 Marster Morton, who had a school for boys, and who 
 iarnt me how to read a little. After I'd arn't a heap 
 of money for Marster Kennedy, he wanted to go to the 
 Legislatur', and as some on 'em wouldn't vote for him 
 while he owned a nigger, he set me free, and sent for 
 me to come home. 'Twas hard partin' wid dem boys 
 and Marster Morton, I tell you, but I kinder wanted
 
 82 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 to see mother, who had been here a good while, and 
 who, like a fool, was a workin' an' is a workin' for 
 nothin'." 
 
 " For nothing ! " exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy, a sus 
 picion of the reason why Janet was refused crossing 
 her mind. 
 
 " Yes, inarm, for nothm'," answered John, " but I 
 ain't green enough for that, and 'fused outright. Then 
 Marster, who got beat 'lection day, threatened to send 
 me back, but I knew he couldn't do it, and so he agreed 
 to pay eight dollars a month. I could get more some 
 whar else, but I'd rather stay with mother, and so I 
 stayed." 
 
 " But that has nothing to do with the church," sug 
 gested Mrs. Kennedy, and John replied : 
 
 " I'm comin' to the p'int now. I lived with Marster 
 Kennedy, and went with him to church, and when I 
 see how he carried on week days, and how peart like 
 he read up Sabba' days, sayin' the Lord's prar and 
 'Postle's Creed, I began to think thar's somethin' rotten 
 in Denmark, as the boys use to say in Virginny, so 
 when mother, who allus was a roarin' Methodis' asked 
 me to go wid her to meetin', I went, and was never so 
 mortified in my life, for arter the elder had 'xorted a 
 spell at the top of his voice, he sot down and said there 
 was room for others. I couldn't see how that was, 
 bein' he took up the whole chair, and while I was 
 wonderin' what he meant, as I'm a livin' nigger, up 
 got marm and spoke a piece right in meetin' ! I never 
 was so 'shamed, and I keppullin'at hergownd to make 
 her set down, but the harder I pulled, the louder she 
 hollored, till at last she blowed her breath all away, 
 and down she sot." 
 
 " And did any of the rest speak pieces ? " asked Mrs.
 
 THE NEW HOME. 33 
 
 Kennedy, convulsed with laughter, at John's vivid 
 description. 
 
 " Bless your heart," he answered with a knowing- 
 look, "'twan't & piece she Avas speaking she wastellin' 
 her 'sperience, but it sounded so like the boys at school 
 that I was deceived, for I'd never seen such work be 
 fore. But I've got so I like it now, and I believe thar's 
 more 'sistency down in that schoolhouse, than thar is 
 in I won't say the 'Piscapal church, 'case thar's heaps 
 of shinin' lights thar, but if you won't be mad, I'll 
 say more than thar is in Marster Kennedy, who has 
 hisself to thank for my bein' a Methodis'." 
 
 Whatever Mrs. Kennedy might have thought, she 
 could not help laughing heartily at John, who was now 
 a decided Methodist, and adorned his profession far 
 more than his selfish, hard-hearted master. His prom 
 ise of holding up his mistress' hands had been most 
 faithfully kept, and, without any disparagement to 
 Janet, Mrs. Kennedy felt that the loss of her former 
 servant was in a great measure made up to her in the 
 kind negro, who, as the months went by and her face 
 grew thinner each day, purchased with his own money 
 many a little delicacy, which he hoped would tempt 
 her capricious appetite. Maude, too, was a favorite 
 with John, both on account of her color, which he 
 greatly admired, and because, poor, ignorant creature 
 though he was, he saw in her the germ of the noble 
 girl, who, in the coming years, was to bear uncom 
 plainingly a burden of care from which the selfish 
 Nellie would unhesitatingly turn away. 
 
 Toward Maude the doctor had ever manifested a 
 feeling of aversion, both because of her name, and be 
 cause she had compelled him to yield when his mind 
 was fully made up to do otherwise. She had resolutely
 
 84 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 refused to be called Matilda, and as it was necessary 
 for him sometimes to address her, he called her first, 
 " You girl," then. " Mat," and finally arrived at 
 "Maude" speaking it always spitefully, as if pro 
 voked that he had once in his life been conquered. 
 With the management of her he seldom interfered, for 
 that scratch had given him a timely lesson, and as he 
 did not like to be unnecessarily troubled, he left both 
 Maude and Nellie to his wife, who suffered the la.tter 
 to do nearly as she pleased, and thus escaped many of 
 the annoyances to which stepmothers are usually 
 subject. 
 
 Although exceedingly selfish, Nellie was affectionate 
 in her disposition, and when Maude did not cross her 
 path the two were on the best of terms. Disturbances 
 there were, however quarrels and fights, in the latter 
 of which, Maude, being the stronger of the two, al 
 ways came off victor ; but these did not last long, and 
 had her husband been to her what he ought, Mrs. 
 Kennedy's life would not have been as dreary as it 
 was. He meant well enough, perhaps, but he did not 
 understand a woman, much less know how to treat her, 
 and as the winter months went by, Matty's heart would 
 have fainted within her, but for a hope which whis 
 pered to her " He will love me better when next sum 
 mer comes."
 
 LITTLE LOUIS, 35 
 
 CHAPTEE IY. 
 
 LITTLE LOUIS. 
 
 IT is just one year since the summer morning when 
 Matty Kennedy took upon herself a second time the 
 duties of a wife, and now she lies in a darkened room, 
 her face white as the winter snow, and her breath 
 scarcely perceptible to the touch, as it comes faintly from 
 her parted lips. In dignified silence the doctor sits by, 
 counting her feeble pulse, while an expression of pride, 
 and almost perfect happiness breaks over his face as he 
 glances toward the cradle, which Hannah has brought 
 from the garret, and where now slept the child born to 
 him that day. His oft repeated maxim that if the 
 first were not a boy the second ought to be, had pre 
 vailed at last, and Dombey had a son. It was a puny 
 thing, but the father said it looked as Nellie did when 
 she first rested there, and Nellie, holding back her 
 breath and pushing aside her curls, bent down to see 
 the red-faced infant. 
 
 " I was never as ugly as that, and I don't love him a 
 bit ! " she exclaimed, turning away in disgust ; while 
 Maude approached on tip-toe, and kneeling by the 
 cradle side, kissed the unconscious sleeper, whispering 
 as she did so, " /love you, poor little brother." 
 
 Darling Maude blessed Maude in all your after 
 life, you proved the truth of those low spoken words, 
 " I love you, poor little brother."
 
 36 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 For many days did Mrs. Kennedy hover between 
 life and death, never asking for her baby, and seldom 
 noticing her husband, who, while declaring there was 
 no danger, still deemed it necessary, in case anything 
 should happen, to send for his sister, Mrs. Kelsey, who 
 had not visited him since his last marriage. She was 
 a proud, fashionable woman, who saw nothing attrac 
 tive in the desolate old house, and who had conceived 
 an idea that her brother's second wife was a sort of 
 nobody, whom he had picked up among the New Eng 
 land hills. But the news of her illness softened her 
 feelings in a measure, and she started for Laurel Hill, 
 thinking that if Matty died, she hoped a certain dash 
 ing, brilliant woman, called Maude Glendower, might 
 go there and govern the tyrannical doctor, even as he 
 had governed others. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when she reached her 
 brother's house, from which Nellie came running out 
 to meet her, accompanied by Maude. From the latter 
 the lady at first turned disdainfully away, but ere long 
 stole another look at the brown-faced girl, about whom 
 there was something very attractive. 
 
 " Curtains, as I live ! " she exclaimed, as she entered 
 the parlor. " A piano, and marble table, too. Where 
 did these come from ? " 
 
 " They are ma's, and she's got a baby up-stairs," an 
 swered Maude, and the lady's hand rested for an in 
 stant on the little curly head, for strange as it may 
 seem, she esteemed more highly a woman who owned 
 a piano and handsome table, than she did one whose 
 worldly possessions were more limited. 
 
 After making some changes in her dress, she went 
 up to the sick-room, and as Matty was asleep, she had 
 ample time to examine her face, and also to inspect the
 
 LITTLE LOUIS. 37 
 
 room, which showed in some one a refined and delicate 
 taste. 
 
 " She must be more of a lady than I supposed," she 
 thought, and when at last, her sister-in-law awoke, she 
 greeted her kindly, and during her visit, which lasted 
 nearly two weeks, she exerted herself to be agreeable, 
 succeeding so far that Matty parted from her at last 
 with genuine regret. 
 
 " Poor thing she'll never see another winter," was 
 Mrs. Kelsey's mental comment, as she bade the invalid 
 good-by, but in this she was mistaken, for with the 
 falling of the leaf Matty began to improve, and though 
 she never fully regained her health, she was able again 
 to be about the house, doing far more than she ought 
 to have done, but never uttering a word of complaint, 
 however heavy was the burden imposed upon her. 
 
 With Maude and her baby, who bore the name of 
 Louis, she found her greatest comfort. He was a sweet, 
 playful child, and sure never before was father so fool 
 ishly proud of his son, as was Dr. Kennedy of his. For 
 hours would he sit watching him while he slept, and 
 building castles of the future, when " Louis Kennedy, 
 only son of Dr. Kennedy," should be honored among 
 men. Toward the mother, too, who had borne him 
 such a prodigy, he became a little more indulgent, 
 occasionally suffering her wishes to prevail over his 
 maxims, and on three several occasions giving her a 
 dollar to spend as she pleased. Surely such generosity 
 did not deserve so severe a punishment as was in store 
 for the proud father. 
 
 Louis had a most beautiful face, and in his soft, 
 brown eyes there was a " look like the angels," as 
 Maude once said to her mother, who seldom spoke of 
 him without a sigh, for on her mind a terrible fear was
 
 38 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 fastening itself. Although mentally as forward as 
 other children, Louis's body did not keep pace with the 
 growth of his intellect, and when he was two years of 
 age, he could not bear his weight upon his feet, but in 
 creeping dragged his limbs slowly, as if in them there 
 was no life no strength. 
 
 " Ma, why don't Louis walk ? " asked Maude, one 
 evening when she saw how long it took him to cross 
 the room. 
 
 " Loui' tan't walk," answered the child, who talked 
 with perfect ease. 
 
 The tears came instantly to Mrs. Kennedy's eyes, 
 for, availing herself of her husband's absence, she had 
 that morning consulted another physician, who, after 
 carefully examining Louis's body, had whispered in 
 the poor woman's ear that which made every nerve 
 quiver with pain, while at the same time it made dearer 
 a thousand-fold her baby-boy ; for a mother's pity 
 increases a mother's love. 
 
 " Say, ma, what is it ? " persisted Maude. " "Will 
 Louis ever walk ? " 
 
 " Loui'll never walk," answered the little fellow, 
 shaking his brown curls, and tearing in twain a pic 
 ture-book which his father had bought him the day 
 before. 
 
 "Maude," said Mrs. Kennedy, drawing her daughter 
 to her side, " I must tell somebody or my heart will 
 burst," and laying her head upon the table, she wept 
 aloud. 
 
 "Don't try ma, Loui' good," lisped the infant on the 
 floor, while Mrs. Kennedy, drying at last her tears, told 
 to the wondering Maude that Louis was not like other 
 children that he would probably never have the use 
 of his feet that a bunch was growing on his back
 
 LITTLE LOUIS. 39 
 
 and he in time would be" she could not say deformed, 
 and so she said at last, " he'll be forever lame." 
 
 Poor little Maude ! How all her childish dreams 
 were blasted ! She had anticipated so much pleasure in 
 guiding her brother's tottering footsteps, in leading 
 him to school, to church, and everywhere, and she 
 could not have him lame. 
 
 " Oh, Louis, Louis ! " she cried, winding her arms 
 around his neck, as if she would thus avert the dreaded 
 evil. 
 
 Very wonderfully the child looked up into her eyes, 
 and raising his waxen hand, he wiped her tears away, 
 saying, as he did so, " Loui' love Maude." 
 
 With a choking sob Maude kissed her baby brother, 
 then going back to her mother, whose head still lay 
 upon the table, she whispered, " We will love poor 
 Louis all the more, you and I." 
 
 Blessed Maude, we say again, for these were no idle 
 words, and the clinging, tender love with which she 
 cherished her unfortunate brother, ought to have 
 shamed the heartless man, who, when he heard of his 
 affliction, refused to be comforted, and almost cursed 
 the day when his only son was born. He had been 
 absent for a week or more, and with the exception of 
 the time when he first knew he had a son, he did not 
 remember of having experienced a moment of greater 
 happiness than that in which he reached his home, 
 where dwelt his boy his pride his idol. Louis was 
 not in the room, and on the mother's face there was 
 an expression of sadness, which at once awakened the 
 father's fears lest something had befallen his child. 
 
 " Where is Louis ? " he asked. " lias anything hap 
 pened to him that you look so pale ? " 
 
 " Louis is well," answered Matty, and then unable
 
 40 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 longer to control her feelings, she burst into tears, 
 while the doctor looked on in amazement, wondering 
 if all women were as nervous and foolish as the two 
 it had been his fortune to marry. 
 
 " Oh, husband," she cried, feeling sure of his sym 
 pathy, and thinking it better to tell the truth at once ; 
 " has it never occurred to you that Louis was not like 
 other children ? " 
 
 " Of course it has," he answered quickly. " He is a 
 thousand times brighter than any child I have ever 
 known." 
 
 " 'Tisn't that, 'tisn't that," said Matty. " He'll never 
 walk he's lame deformed ! " 
 
 " "What do you mean ? " thundered the doctor, reel 
 ing for an instant like a drunken man, then'recovering 
 his composure, he listened while Matty told him what 
 she meant. 
 
 At that moment, Maude drew Louis into the room, 
 and taking the child in his arms, the doctor examined 
 him for himself, wondering he had never observed be 
 fore how small and seemingly destitute of life were his 
 lower limbs. The bunch upon the back, though slight 
 as yet, was really there, and Matty, when questioned, 
 said it had been there for weeks, but she did not tell of 
 it, for she hoped it would go away. 
 
 " It will stay until his dying day," he muttered, as 
 he ordered Maude to take the child away. " Louis de 
 formed ! Louis a cripple ! What have I done that 
 I should be thus sorely punished ? " he exclaimed, when 
 he was alone with his wife, and then, as he dared not 
 blame the Almighty, he charged it to her until at last his 
 thoughts took another channel " Maude had dropped 
 him he knew she had, and Matty was to blame 
 for letting her handle him so much, when she knew
 
 LITTLE LOUIS. 41 
 
 'twas a maxim of his that children should not take 
 care of children." 
 
 He had forgotten the time when his worn-out wife 
 had asked him to hire a nurse girl for Louis, and he 
 had answered that " Maude was large enough for 
 that." On some points his memory was treacherous, 
 and for days he continued to repine at his hard fate, 
 wishing once in Matty's presence that Louis had never 
 been born. 
 
 " Oh, husband," she cried, " how can you say that ! 
 Do you hate our poor boy because he is a cripple ? " 
 
 " A cripple ! " roared the doctor. " Never use that 
 word again in my presence. My son a cripple ! I can't 
 have it so ! I won't have it so ! for 'tis a max " 
 
 Here he stopped, being for a second time in his life 
 at a loss what to say. 
 
 " Sarve 'em right, sarve 'em right," muttered John, 
 whose quick eye saw everything. " Ole Sam payin' 
 him off good. He think he'll be in the seventh heaven 
 when he got a boy, and he mighty nigh torment that 
 little gal's life out with his mexens and things but 
 now he got a boy, he feel a heap like the bad place." 
 
 Still much as John rejoiced that his master was so 
 punished, his heart went out in pity toward the help 
 less child whom he almost worshiped, carrying him, 
 often to the fields, where, seeking out the shadiest spot 
 and the softest grass for a throne, he would place the 
 child upon it, and then pay him obeisance by bobbing 
 up and down his wooly head in a manner quite as satis 
 factory to Louis as if he indeed had been a king and 
 John his loyal subject. Old Hannah, too, was greatly 
 softened, and many a little cake and pie she baked in 
 secret for the child, while even Nellie gave up to him 
 Jier favorite playthings and her blue eyes wore a pity-
 
 42 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 ing look whenever they rested on the poor unfortunate. 
 All loved him seemingly the more all, save the cruel 
 father, who, as the months and years rolled on, seemed 
 to acquire a positive dislike to the little boy, seldom 
 noticing him in any way, except to frown if he were 
 brought into his sight. And Louis, with the quick 
 instinct of childhood, learned to expect nothing from 
 his father, whose attention he never tried to attract. 
 
 As if to make amends for his physical deformity, he 
 possessed an uncommon mind, and when he was nearly 
 six years of age accident revealed to him the reason of 
 his father's continued coldness, and wrung from him 
 the first tears he had ever shed for his misfortune. He 
 heard one day his mother praying that God would 
 soften her husband's heart toward his poor hunchback 
 boy, who was not to blame for his misfortune and 
 laying his head upon the broad arm of the chair which 
 had been made for him, he wept bitterly, for he knew 
 now why he was not loved. That night, as in his crib 
 he lay, watching the stars which shone upon him 
 through the window, and wondering if in heaven there 
 were hunchback boys like him, he overheard his father 
 talking to his mother, and the -words that father said 
 were never forgotten to his dying day. They were : 
 " Don't ask me to be reconciled to a cripple ! What 
 good can he do me? He will never earn his own 
 living, lame as he is, and will only be in the way." 
 
 " Oh, father, father," the cripple essayed to say, but 
 he could not speak, so full of pain was his little, burst 
 ing heart, and that night he lay awake, praying that 
 he might die, and so be out of the way. 
 
 The next morning he asked Maude to draw him to 
 the churchyard where <% his other mother," as he called 
 her, was buried. Maude complied, and when they
 
 LITTLE LOUIS. 43 
 
 were there, placed him at his request upon the ground, 
 where, stretching himself out at his full length, he 
 said : " Look, Maude, won't mine be a little grave ? " 
 then, ere she could answer the strange question, he 
 continued, " I want to die so bad ; and if you leave me 
 lying here in the long grass maybe God's angel will 
 take me up to Heaven. Will I be lame there, think ? " 
 
 " Oh, Louis, Louis, what do you mean ? " cried 
 Maude, and as well as he could, for the tears he shed, 
 Louis told her what he meant. 
 
 " Father don't love me because I'm lame, and he 
 called me a cripple, too. What is a cripple, Maude 2 
 Is it anything very bad f " and his beautiful brown 
 eyes turned anxiously to \vard his sister. 
 
 He had never heard that word before, and to him it 
 had a fearful significance, even worse than lameness. 
 In an instant Maude knelt by his side his head was 
 pillowed on her bosom, and in the silent graveyard, 
 with the quiet dead around them, she spoke blessed 
 words of comfort to her brother, telling him what a 
 cripple was, and that because he bore that name he 
 was dearer far to her. 
 
 " Your father will love you, too," she said, " when 
 he learns how good you are. He loves Nellie, and " 
 
 Ere she could say more she was interrupted by Louis, 
 on whose mind another truth had dawned, and who 
 now said, " but he don't love you as he does Nellie. 
 Why not ? Are you a cripple, too ? " 
 
 Folding him still closer in her arms, and kissing his 
 fair, white brow, Maude answered : " Your father, 
 Louis, is not mine for mine is dead, and his grave is 
 far away. I came here to live when I was a little 
 girl, not quite as old as you, and Nellie is not my 
 sister, though you are my darling brother."
 
 44 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 " And do you love father ? " asked Louis, his eyes 
 still fixed upon her face as if he would read the truth. 
 
 Every feeling of Maude Remington's heart answered, 
 " No," to that question, but she could not say so to the 
 boy, and she replied, " Not as I could love my own 
 father neither does he love me, for I am not his 
 child." 
 
 This explanation was not then wholly clear to Louis, 
 but he understood that there was a barrier between his 
 father and Maude, and this of itself was sufficient to 
 draw him more closely to the latter, who, after that 
 day, cherished him, if possible, more tenderly than she 
 had done before, keeping him out of his father's way, 
 and cushioning his little crutches so they could not be 
 heard, for she rightly guessed that the sound of them, 
 was hateful to the harsh man's ears. 
 
 Maude was far older than her years, and during the 
 period of time over which we have passed so briefly, 
 she had matured both in mind and body, until now at 
 the age of twelve, she was a self-reliant little woman 
 on whom her mother wholly depended for comfort and 
 counsel. Very rapidly was Mrs. Kennedy passing 
 from the world, and as she felt the approach of death, 
 she leaned more and more upon her daughter, talking 
 to her often of the future and commending Louis to 
 her care, when with her he would be motherless. 
 Maude's position was now a trying one, for, when her 
 mother became too ill to leave her room, and the doctor 
 refused to hire extra help, saying, " two great girls 
 were help enough," it was necessary for her to go into 
 the kitchen, where she vainly tried to conciliate old 
 Hannah, who " wouldn't mind a chit of a girl, and 
 wouldn't fret herself either if things were not half 
 done."
 
 LITTLE LOUIS. 45 
 
 From the first Nellie resolutely refused to work " it 
 would black her hands," she said, and as her father 
 never remonstrated, she spent her time in reading, 
 admiring her pretty face, and drumming upon the 
 piano, which Maude, who was fonder even than Nellie 
 of music, seldom found time to touch. One there was, 
 however, who gave to Maude every possible assistance, 
 and this was John. " Having tried his hand," as he 
 said, " at everything in Marster Norton's school," he 
 proved of invaluable service sweeping, dusting, wash 
 ing dishes, cleaning knives, and once ironing Dr. 
 Kennedy's shirts, when old Hannah was in what he 
 called her " tantrums." But alas for John the entire 
 print of the iron upon the bosom of one, to say nothing 
 of the piles of starch upon another, and more than all, 
 the tremendous scolding which he received from the 
 owner of said shirt, warned him never to turn laundress 
 again, and in disgust he gave up his new vocation, 
 devoting his leisure moments to the cultivation of 
 flowers, which he carried to his mistress, who smiled 
 gratefully upon him, saying they were the sweetest she 
 had ever smelt. And so each morning a fresh bouquet 
 was laid upon her pillow, and as she inhaled their 
 perfume, she thought of her New England home, which, 
 she would never see again thought, too of Janet, 
 whose cheering words and motherly acts would be so 
 grateful to her now when she so much needed care. 
 
 " 'Tis a long time since I've heard from her," she 
 said one day to Maude. " Suppose you write to 
 morrow, and tell her I am sick tell her, too, that the 
 sight of her would almost make me well, and maybe 
 she will come," and on the sick woman's face there 
 was a joyous expression as she thought how pleasant 
 it would be to see once more one who had breathed the
 
 46 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 air of her native hills had looked upon her Harry's 
 grave nay, had known her Harry when in life, and 
 wept over him in death. 
 
 Poor, lonesome, homesick woman ! Janet shall 
 surely come in answer to your call, and ere you deem 
 it possible her shadow shall fall across your threshold 
 her step be heard upon the stairs her hand be 
 clasped in yours !
 
 MRS. JANET BLODGETT. 47 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 MRS. JANET BLODGETT. 
 
 IT was a chilly, rainy afternoon toward the latter 
 part of August. John was gone, the doctor was cross, 
 and Hannah was cross. Nellie, too, was unusually 
 irritable, and venting her spite upon Hannah because 
 there was nothing for dinner fit to eat, and upon Maude 
 because the house was so desolate and dark, she crept 
 away up -stairs, and wrapping a shawl round her, sat 
 down to a novel, pausing occasionally to frown at the 
 rain which beat at the windows, or the wind as it 
 roared dismally through the trees. While thus em 
 ployed, she heard the sound of wheels, and looking up, 
 saw standing before their gate a muddy wagon, from 
 which a little, dumpy figure in black was alighting, 
 carefully holding up her alpaca dress, and carrying in 
 one hand a small box which seemed to be full of 
 flowers. 
 
 " She must have come to stay a long time," thought 
 Nellie, as she saw the piles of baggage which the 
 driver was depositing upon the stoop. " "Who can it 
 be ? " she continued, as she recalled all her aunts and 
 cousins, and found that none of them answered the 
 description of this woman, who knocked loudly at the 
 door, and then walked in to shelter herself from the 
 storm. 
 
 " Forlornity ! " Nellie heard her exclaim, as she left 
 the chamber in answer to the summons. " Forlornity !
 
 48 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 No table, no hat-stand, no nothin', and the dingiest old 
 ilecloth ! What does it mean ? Your servant, Miss," 
 she added, dropping a curtesy to Nellie, who now stood 
 on the stairs, with her finger between the pages of 
 her book, so as not to lose the place. " I guess I've 
 made a mistake," said the woman ; " is this Dr. 
 Canady's ? " 
 
 " It is," answered Nellie, and the stranger continued, 
 " Dr. Canady who married the widder Remington ? " 
 
 " The same," returned Nellie, thinking how un 
 mercifully she would tease Maude should this prove to 
 be any of her relations. 
 
 " And who be you ? " asked the stranger, feeling a 
 little piqued at the coldness of her reception. 
 
 " I am Miss Helen Dr. Kennedy's daughter," 
 answered the young lady, assuming an air of dignity, 
 which was not at all diminished by the very expressive 
 " Mortal ! " which dropped from the woman's lips. 
 
 " Can I do anything for you ? " asked Nellie, and 
 the stranger answered : " Yes, go and call Maude, but 
 don't tell her who I am." 
 
 She forgot that Nellie did not herself know who she 
 was, and sitting down upon her trunk, she waited while 
 Nellie hurried to the kitchen, where, over a smoky fire 
 Maude was trying in vain to make a bit of nicely 
 browned toast for her mother, who had expressed a 
 wish for something good to eat. 
 
 " Here, Maude," called out Nellie, " your grand 
 mother or aunt has come, I guess, and wants to see you 
 in the hall." 
 
 " It's Janet, it's Janet, I know," screamed Maude, 
 and leaving her slice of bread to burn and blacken 
 before the fire, she hurried away, while Nellie who had 
 heard nothing of the letter sent the week before,
 
 MRS. JANET BLODGETT. 49 
 
 wondered much who the " witched old thing with the 
 poking- black bonnet could be." 
 
 With a cry of delight, Maude wound her arms around 
 the neck of her old nurse, whom she knew in a moment, 
 though Janet had more difficulty in recognizing the 
 little girl of other years, in the womanly looking maiden 
 before her. 
 
 " It beats all how you've changed," she said, " though 
 your eyes and hair are the same," and she passed her 
 hand caressingly over the short glossy curls. Then, 
 looking intently in Maude's face she continued. 
 " You've grown handsome, child." 
 
 " No, no, not handsome, Janet ; Nellie is the beauty 
 of the house ; " and Maude shook her head mournfully, 
 for on the subject of beauty, she was a little sensitive, 
 her sister always pronouncing her "a fright," and 
 manifesting a most unamiable spirit if any one com 
 plimented her in the least. 
 
 " "What, that yaller-haired, whited face chit, who went 
 for you ? " rejoined Janet. " No such thing ; but tell 
 me now of your marm. How sick is she, and what of 
 the little boy ? Is he much deformed ? " 
 
 " Come in here," said Maude, leading the way into 
 the parlor, and drawing a chair close to Janet, she told 
 all she deemed it necessary to tell. 
 
 But the quick-witted Janet knew there was something 
 more, and casting a scornful glance around the room, 
 she said : " You are a good girl, Maude ; but you can't 
 deceive an old girl like me. I knew, by the tremblin' 
 way you writ' that somethin' was wrong, and started 
 the first blessed morning after gettin' your letter. I 
 was calculating to come pretty soon, anyway, and had 
 all my arrangements made. So I can stay a good long 
 spell always, mebby for I'm a widder now," and she
 
 50 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 heaved a few sighs to the memory of Mr. Joel Blodgett, 
 who, she said, " had been dead a year," adding, in a 
 whisper, " but there's one consolation he willed me 
 all his property," and she drew from her belt a huge 
 silver time-piece, which she was in the habit of con 
 sulting quite often, by way of showing that " she could 
 carry a watch as well as the next one." 
 
 After a little her mind came back from her lamented 
 husband, and she gave Maude a most minute account 
 of her tedious ride in a lumber- wagon from Canadaigua 
 to Laurel Hill, for the stage had left when she reached 
 the depot, and she was in too great a hurry to remain 
 at the hotel until the next morning. 
 
 " But what of that doctor do you like him ? " she 
 said at last, and Maude answered : " Never mind him 
 now ; let us see mother first, or rather let me see to her 
 dinner," and she arose to leave the room. 
 
 " You don't like him," continued Janet, "and I knew 
 you wouldn't ; but your poor mother, I pity her. Didn't 
 you say you was gettin' her something to eat ? She's 
 had a good time waitin', but I'll make amends by seein' 
 to her dinner, myself," and spite of Maude's endeavors 
 to keep her back, she followed on into the disorderly 
 kitchen, from which Nellie had disappeared, and where 
 old Hannah sat smoking her pipe as leisurely as if on 
 the table there were not piles of unwashed dishes, to 
 say nothing of the unswept floor and dirty hearth. 
 
 " What a hole ! " was Janet's involuntary exclama 
 tion, to which Hannah responded a most contemptuous 
 " umph," and thus was the war-cry raised on either 
 side. " What was you goin' to git for your mother \ " 
 asked Janet, without deigning to notice the portly 
 African, who smoked on in dignified silence. 
 
 " Toast and tea," answered Maude, and casting a
 
 MRS. JANET BLODGETT. 51 
 
 deprecating glance at the fire, Janet continued: "You 
 can't make any toast fit for a heathen to eat by that 
 fire. Ain't there any dry wood kindlin' nor nothin' ? " 
 and she walked into the woodshed, where, spying a 
 pine board, she seized the ax, and was about to com 
 mence operations, when Hannah called out : " Ole 
 Marster'll be in yer bar, if you tache that." 
 
 " I ain't afraid of your old marster," answered Janet, 
 and in a moment the board, which Dr. Kennedy would 
 not suffer John to use, because he might want it for 
 something, was crackling on the fire. 
 
 The hearth was swept, the tea-kettle hung in the 
 blaze, and then, with a look of perfect delight, Janet sat 
 down to make the toast, fixing it just as she knew 
 Matty liked it best. 
 
 " Biled eggs will be good for her digester, and if I 
 only had one dropped in water," she said, and quick as 
 thought Maude brought her one, while Hannah growled 
 again, " Ole master'll raise de ruff, case he put 'em 
 away to sell." 
 
 " Ole marster be hanged ! " muttered Janet, breaking 
 not one but three into the water, for her own stomach 
 began to clamor for food. 
 
 Everything was ready at last ; a clean towel cov 
 ered the server, the fragrant black tea was made, the 
 boiled egg was laid upon the toast, and then Janet 
 said, " She ought to have a relish preserves, jelly, 
 baked-apple, or somethin'," and she opened a cupboard 
 door, while Hannah, springing to her feet, exclaimed, 
 " Quit dat ; thar ain't no sich truck in dis house." 
 
 But Janet's sharp eye had discovered behind a pile 
 of papers, rags, and dried herbs, a tumbler of currant 
 jelly, which Hannah had secretly made and hidden 
 away for her own private eating. Hannah's first im-
 
 52 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 pulse was to snatch the jelly from Janet's hand, but 
 feeling intuitively that in the resolute Scotchwoman 
 she had a mistress, and fearing lest Maude should be 
 tray her to the doctor, she exclaimed, " If that ain't the 
 very stuff Miss Ruggles sent in for Miss Matty ! I for 
 got it till this blessed minit ! " and shutting the cup 
 board door, she stood with her back against it lest Janet 
 should discover sundry other delicacies hidden away 
 for a like purpose. 
 
 " Mother has not had a feast like this and she'll en 
 joy it so much," said Maude, as she started up the 
 stairs followed by Janet, who, ere they reached the 
 chamber, suddenly stopped, saying, " I tell you what 
 'tis, if she knows I'm here she won't eat a mou'ful, so 
 you say nothin', and when she's through I'll come." 
 
 This seemed reasonable to Maude, who, leaving Janet 
 to look through a crevice in the door, entered alone 
 into her mother's presence. Mrs. Kennedy had waited 
 long for Maude, and at last, weary with listening to 
 the rain, which made her feel so desolate and sad, she 
 fell asleep, as little Louis at her side had done before 
 her ; but Maude's cheering voice awoke her. 
 
 " Look, mother," she cried, " see the nice dinner ! " 
 and her own eyes fairly danced as she placed the tray 
 upon the table before her mother, who, scarcely less 
 pleased, exclaimed, " A boiled egg and jelly, too ! 
 I've wanted them both so much. How did it hap 
 pen?" 
 
 " Eat first, and then I'll tell you," answered Maude, 
 propping her up with pillows, and setting the server in 
 her lap. 
 
 "It tastes like old times like Janet," said the 
 invalid, and from the room without, where Janet 
 watched, there came a faint, choking sound, which
 
 MRS. JANET BLODGETT. 53 
 
 Matty thought was the wind, and which Maude knew 
 was Janet. 
 
 Through the door she had caught sight of her mis 
 tress, whose white, wasted face wrung from her that 
 cry. Stuffing her handkerchief into her mouth, she 
 waited until toast, tea, egg, and all had disappeared, 
 then, with the exclamation, " She's et 'em all up slick 
 and clean," she walked into the room. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe that meeting, 
 when the poor sick woman bowed her weary head 
 upon the motherly bosom of her faithful domestic, 
 weeping most piteously while Janet folded her lov 
 ingly in her arms, saying to her soothingly, " Nay, 
 now, Matty darling nay, my bonnie bird take it easy 
 like take it easy, and you'll feel all the better." 
 
 " You won't leave me, will you ? " sobbed Matty, 
 feeling that it would not be hard to die with Janet 
 standing near. 
 
 " No, honey, no," answered Janet, " I'll stay till one 
 or t'other of us is carried down the walk and across the 
 common, where them gravestones is standin', which I 
 noticed when I drove up." 
 
 " It will be me, Janet. It will be me," said Matty. 
 " They will bury me beneath the willows, for the other 
 one is lying there, oh, so peacefully." 
 
 Louis was by this time awake, and taking him upon 
 her lap, Janet laughed and cried alternately, mentally 
 resolving that so long as she should live, she would 
 befriend the little helpless boy, whose face, she said, 
 " was far winsomer than any she had ever seen." 
 
 Then followed many mutual inquiries, during which 
 Matty learned that Janet was a widow, and had really 
 come to stay if necessary. 
 
 " I'm able now to live as I please, for I've got prop-
 
 54 COUSIN MATJDE. 
 
 erty," said Janet, again consulting the silver watch, as 
 she usually did when speaking of her husband's will. 
 
 Many questions, too, did Matty ask concerning her 
 former home her friends her flowers and Harry's 
 grave ; '* was it well kept now, or was it overrun with 
 weeds ? " 
 
 To this last question Janet did not reply directly, but 
 making some excuse for leaving the room, she soon re 
 turned, bearing in one hand a box in which a small 
 rosebush was growing. In the other hand she held 
 a beautiful bouquet, which, having been kept moist, 
 looked almost as fresh as when it was first gathered. 
 This she gave to Matty, saying, " They grew on Harry's 
 grave. I picked 'em myself yesterday morning before 
 I left ; and this," pointing to the rosebush, " is a root 
 I took from there last spring on purpose for you, for I 
 meant to visit you this fall." 
 
 Need we say those flowers were dearer to Matty 
 than the wealth of the Indies would have been ! They 
 had blossomed on Harry's grave his dust had added 
 to them life, and as if they were indeed a part of him, 
 she hugged them to her heart kissing them through 
 her tears and blessing Janet for the priceless gift. 
 
 " Don't tell him, though," she whispered, and a deep 
 flush mounted to her cheek, as on the stairs she heard 
 a heavy footstep, and knew that Dr. Kennedy was 
 coming. 
 
 He had been in the kitchen, demanding of Hannah, 
 " Whose is all that baggage in the hall ? " and Hannah, 
 glad of an opportunity to " free her mind," had an 
 swered, " Some low lived-truck or other that they called 
 1 Janet,' and a body'd s'pose she owned the house, the 
 way she went on, splittin' up yer board for kindlin', 
 makin' Missus' toast swim in butter, and a bilin' three
 
 MRS. JANET BLODGETT. 55 
 
 of them eggs you laid away to sell. If she stays here, 
 this nigger won't that's my 'pinion," and feeling 
 greatly injured she left the kitchen, while Dr. Kennedy, 
 with a dark, moody look upon his face, started for the 
 sick room. 
 
 He knew very well who his visitor was, and when 
 his wife said, " Husband, this is my faithful Janet, 
 or rather Mrs. Blodgett now. Wasn't it kind in her to 
 come so far to see me ? " he merely nodded coolly to 
 Mrs. Blodgett, who nodded as coolly in return, then 
 turning to his wife, he said, " You seem excited, my 
 dear, and this ought not to be. 'Tis a maxim of mine 
 that company is injurious to sick people. What do you 
 think, Mrs. Blodgett 3 " 
 
 Mrs. Blodgett didn't think anything save that he 
 was a most disagreeable man, and as she could not say 
 this in his presence, she made no particular answer. 
 Glancing toward the empty plate which stood upon 
 the table, he continued, " Hannah tells me, ray dear, 
 that you have eaten three boiled eggs. I wonder at 
 your want of discretion, when you know how indi 
 gestible they are," and his eye rested reprovingly on 
 Janet, who now found her tongue, and starting up, 
 exclaimed, " One biled egg won't hurt anybody's 
 digester, if it's ever so much out of kilter but the 
 jade lied. Two of them eggs I cooked for myself, and 
 I'll warrant she's guzzled 'em down before this. Any 
 way, I'll go and see," and she arose to leave the room. 
 
 Just as she reached the door, the doctor called after 
 her, saying, " Mrs. Blodgett, I observed a trunk or two 
 in the lower hall, which I presume are yours. Will 
 you have them left there, or shall I bring them up to 
 your chamber ? You will stay all night with us, of 
 course ! "
 
 56 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 For an instant Janet's face was crimson, but forcing 
 clown her wrath for Matty's sake, she answered, " I 
 shall probably stay as long as that," and slamming 
 together the door she went down-stairs, while Matty 
 said, sadly, " Oh, husband, how could you thus insult 
 her when you knew she had come to stay awhile at 
 least, and that her presence would do me so much good ? " 
 
 " How should I know she had come to stay, when 
 I've heard nothing about it," was the doctor's reply ; 
 and then in no mild terms he gave his opinion of the 
 lady said opinion being based on what old Hannah 
 had told him. 
 
 There were tears in Matty's eyes, and they dropped 
 from her long eyelashes, as, taking the doctor's hand, 
 she said : " Husband, you know that I'm going to die 
 that ere the snow is falling you will be a second 
 time alone. And you surely will not refuse me when 
 I ask that Janet shall stay until the last. "When I am 
 gone you will, perhaps, be happier in the remembrance 
 that you granted me one request." 
 
 There was something in the tone of her voice far 
 more convincing than her words, and when she added, 
 " She does not expect wages, for she has money of her 
 own," Dr. Kennedy yielded the point, prophesying the 
 while that there would be trouble with Hannah. 
 
 Meantime, Mrs. Blodgett had wended her way to 
 the kitchen, meeting in the way with Nellie, around 
 whose mouth there was a substance greatly resem 
 bling the yolk of an egg ! Thus prepared for the worst, 
 Janet was not greatly disappointed when she found 
 that her eggs had been disposed of by both the young 
 lady and Hannah, the latter of whom was too busy 
 with her dishes to turn her head, or in any way ac 
 knowledge the presence of a second person.
 
 MRS. JANET BLODGETT. 57 
 
 "Joel Blodgett's widow ought to be above havin' 
 words w r ith a nigger," was Janet's mental comment 
 as she contented herself with a slice of bread and a 
 cup of tea, which, by this time, was of quite a reddish 
 hue. 
 
 Her hunger being satisfied, she began to feel more 
 amiably disposed toward the old negress, whose dishes 
 she offered to wipe. This kindness was duly appre 
 ciated by Hannah, and that night, in speaking of Janet 
 to her son, she pronounced her " not quite so onery a 
 white woman as she at first took her to be." 
 
 As the days wore on, Janet's presence in the family 
 was felt in various ways. To Matty, it brought a 
 greater degree of happiness than she had experienced 
 since she left her New England home, while even 
 the doctor acknowledged an increased degree of com 
 fort in his household, though not willing at first to at 
 tribute it to its proper source. He did not like Janet ; 
 her ideas were too extravagant for him, and on several 
 different occasions he hinted quite strongly that she 
 was not wanted there ; but Janet was perfectly invin 
 cible to hints, and when, at one time, he embodied 
 them in language that could not be misunderstood, 
 telling her, " 'twas a maxim of his, that if a person had 
 a home of their own they had better stay there ; " she 
 promptly replied, that " 'twas a maxim of hers to stay 
 where she pleased, particularly as she was a woman 
 of property," and so, as she pleased to stay there, she 
 stayed ! 
 
 It took but a short time for her to understand the 
 doctor, and to say that she disliked him would but 
 feebly express the feeling of aversion with which she 
 regarded him. Not a word, however, would Matty 
 admit, of past or present unkindness neither was it
 
 58 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 necessary that she should, for Janet saw it all saw 
 how " old maxim," as she called him, had worried her 
 life away, and while cherishing for him a sentiment of 
 hatred, she strove to comfort her young mistress, who 
 grew weaker and weaker every day, until at last the 
 husband himself, aroused to a sense of her danger, 
 strove by little acts of kindness unusual in him to make 
 amends for years of wrong. Experience is a thorough 
 teacher, and he shrunk from the bitter memories which 
 spring from the grave of a neglected wife, and he would 
 rather that Matty, when she died, should not turn away 
 from him, shuddering at his touch, and asking him to 
 take his hand from off her brow, just as one brown- 
 haired woman had done. This feeling of his was ap 
 preciated by Janet, who in proportion as he became 
 tender toward Matty, was respectful to him, until at 
 last there came to be a tolerably good understanding 
 between them, and she was suffered, in most matters, 
 to have her own way. 
 
 With John she was a special favorite, and through 
 his instrumentality open hostilities were prevented 
 between herself and his mother, until the latter missed 
 another cup of jelly from its new hiding-place. Then, 
 indeed, the indignant African announced her intention 
 of going at once to " Miss Ruggles's," who had offered 
 her " twelve shillings a week, and a heap of leisure." 
 
 " Let her go," said John, who knew Mrs. Kuggles to 
 be a fashionble woman, the mother of nine children 
 whose ages varied from one to fifteen ; " let her go 
 she'll be glad to come back," and the sequel proved he 
 was right, for just as it was beginning to grow light 
 on the second day of her absence, some one rapped at 
 his window, and a half-crying voice whispered, " Let 
 me in, John ; I've been out to sarvice enough."
 
 MRS. JANET BLODGETT. 59 
 
 John complied with the request, and when Janet 
 came down to the kitchen, how was she surprised at 
 finding Hannah there, leisurely grinding her coffee, 
 with an innocent look upon her sable face as if nothing 
 had ever happened. John's raillery, however, loosened 
 her tongue at last, and very minutely she detailed her 
 grievances. " She had done a two weeks' washing, 
 besides all the work, and the whole of them young 
 ones under her feet into the bargain. Then at night, 
 when she hoped for a little rest, Mrs. Buggies had gone 
 off to a party and stayed till midnight, leaving her with 
 that squallin' brat ; but never you mind," said she, " I 
 poured a little paregol down its throat, or my name 
 ain't Hannah," and with a sigh of relief at her escape 
 from " Miss Ruggles," she finished her story and re 
 sumed her accustomed duties, which for many weeks 
 she faithfully performed, finding but little fault with 
 the frequent suggestions of Mrs. Janet Blodgett, whose 
 rule in the household was for the time being firmly 
 established.
 
 60 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MOTHER. 
 
 FROM the tall trees which shade the desolate old 
 house the leaves have fallen one by one, and the 
 November rain makes mournful music, as in the still 
 ness of the night it drops upon the withered foliage, 
 softly, slowly, as if weeping for the sorrow which has 
 come upon the household. Matty Kennedy is dead ; 
 and in the husband's heart there is a gnawing pain, 
 such as he never felt before ; not even when Katy 
 died ; for Katy, though pure and good, was not so 
 wholly unselfish as Matty had been, and in thinking 
 of her, he could occasionally recall an impatient word ; 
 but from Matty, none. Gentle, loving and beautiful, 
 she had been to him in life, and now, beautiful in 
 death, she lay in the silent parlor, on the marble table 
 she had brought from home, while he, oh, who shall 
 tell what thoughts were busy at his heart, as he sat 
 there alone, that dismal, rainy night. 
 
 In one respect his wishes had been gratified ; Matty 
 had not turned from him in death. She had died 
 within his arms ; but so long as the light of reason 
 shone in her blue eyes, so long had they rested on the 
 rosebush within the window, the rosebush brought 
 from Harry's grave. Nestled among its leaves was a 
 half-opened bud, and when none could hear, she 
 whispered softly to Janet, " Place it in my bosom just
 
 THE MOTHER. 61 
 
 as you placed one, years ago, when I was Harry's 
 bride." 
 
 To Nellie and to Maude she had spoken blessed 
 words of comfort, commending to the latter as to a 
 second mother the little Louis, who, trembling with 
 fear, had hidden beneath the bedclothes, so that he 
 could not see the white look upon her face. Then to 
 her husband she had turned, pleading with all a 
 mother's tenderness for her youngest born her un 
 fortunate one. 
 
 "Oh, husband," she said, "you will care for him 
 when I am gone. You will love my poor, crippled 
 boy ! Promise me this, and death will not be hard to 
 meet. Promise me, won't you ! " and the voice \vas 
 very, very faint. 
 
 He could not refuse, and bending lo\v, he said, 
 " Matty, I will, I will." 
 
 " Bless you, my husband, bless you for that," were 
 Matty's dying words, for she never spoke again. 
 
 It was morning then, early morning, and a long, 
 dreary day had intervened, until at last it was mid 
 night, and silence reigned throughout the house. 
 Maude, Nellie, Janet and John, had wept themselves 
 sick, while in little Louis's bosom there was a sense of 
 desolation which kept him wakeful, even after Maude 
 had cried herself to sleep. Many a time that day had 
 he stolen into the parlor, and climbing into a chair, as 
 best he could, had laid his baby cheek against the cold, 
 white face, and smoothing with his dimpled hand, the 
 shining hair, had whispered, " Poor, sick mother, won't 
 you speak to Louis any more ? " 
 
 He knew better than most children of his age what 
 was meant by death, and as he lay awake, thinking 
 how dreadful it was to have no mother, his thoughts
 
 62 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 turned toward his father, who had that day been too 
 much absorbed in own grief to notice him. 
 
 " Maybe he'll love me some now ma is dead," he 
 thought, and with that yearning for paternal sympathy 
 natural to the motherless, he crept out of bed, and 
 groping his way with his noiseless crutches to his 
 father's door, he knocked softly for admittance. 
 
 "Who's there?" demanded Dr. Kennedy, every 
 nerve thrilling to the answer. 
 
 " It's me, father ; won't you let me in, for it's dark 
 out here, and lonesome, with her lying in the parlor. 
 Oh, father, won't you love me a little, now mother's 
 dead ? I can't help it because I'm lame, and, when 
 I'm a man, I will earn my own living. I won't be in 
 the way. Say, pa, will you love me \ " 
 
 He remembered the charges his father had preferred 
 against him, and the father remembered them too. 
 She to whom the cruel words were spoken was gone 
 from him now and her child, their child was at the 
 door, pleading for his love. Could he refuse ? No, by 
 every kindly feeling, by every parental tie, we answer 
 no, he could not, and opening the door he took the 
 little fellow in his arms, hugging him to. his bosom, 
 while tears, the first he had shed for many a year, fell 
 like rain upon the face of his crippled boy. Like some 
 mighty water, which breaking through its prison walls, 
 seeks again its natural channel, so did his love go out 
 toward the child so long neglected, the child who was 
 not now to him a cripple. He did not think of the 
 deformity, he did not even see it. He saw only the 
 beautiful face, the soft brown eyes, and silken hair of 
 the little one, who ere long fell asleep, murmuring in 
 his dreams, " He loves me, ma, he does." 
 
 Surely the father cannot be blamed, if when he looked
 
 THE MOTHER. 63 
 
 again upon the calm face of the dead, he fancied that 
 it wore a happier look, as if the whispered words of 
 Louis had reached her unconscious ear. Yery beauti 
 ful looked Matty in her coffin for thirty years had 
 but slightly marred her youthful face and the 
 doctor, as he gazed upon her, thought within himself, 
 " shewas almost as fair as Maude Glendower." 
 
 Then, as his eye fell upon the rosebud which Janet 
 had laid upon her bosom, he said, "'T was kind in Mrs. 
 Blodgett to place it there, for Matty was fond of 
 flowers ; " but he did not dream how closely was that 
 rosebud connected with a grave made many years 
 before. 
 
 Thoughts of Maude Glendower and mementos of 
 Harry Remington meeting together at Matty's coffin ! 
 Alas, that such should be our life ! 
 
 Underneath the willows, and by the side of Katy, was 
 Matty laid to rest, and then the desolate old house 
 seemed doubly desolate Maude mourning truly for 
 her mother, while the impulsive Nellie, too, wept bit 
 terly, for one whom she had really loved. To the doc 
 tor, however, a new feeling had been born, and in the 
 society of his son he found a balm for his sorrow, be 
 coming ere long, to all outward appearance, the same 
 exacting, overbearing man he had been before. The 
 blows are hard and oft repeated which break the solid 
 rock, and there will come a time when that selfish 
 nature shall be subdued and broken down ; but 'tis not 
 yet not yet. 
 
 And now, leaving him a while to himself, we will 
 pass on to a period when Maude herself shall become 
 in reality the heroine of our story.
 
 64 COUSIN MAUDE 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 
 
 FOTJE years and a half have passed away since the 
 dark November night when Matty Kennedy died, and 
 in her home all things are not as they were then. Janet, 
 the presiding genius of the household, is gone mar 
 ried a second time, and by this means escaped, as she 
 verily believes, the embarrassment of refusing outright 
 to be Mrs. Dr. Kennedy, No. 3 ! Not that Dr. Kennedy 
 ever entertained the slightest idea of making her his 
 wife, but knowing how highly he valued money, and 
 being herself " a woman of property," Janet came at 
 last to fancy that he had serious thoughts of offering 
 himself to her. He, on the contrary, was only intent 
 upon the best means of removing her from his house, 
 for, though he was not insensible to the comfort which 
 her presence brought, it was a comfort for which he 
 paid too dearly. Still he endured it for nearly three 
 years, but at the end of that time he determined that 
 she should go away, and as he dreaded a scene, he did 
 not tell her plainly what he meant, but hinted, and with 
 each hint the widow groaned afresh over her lamented 
 Joel. 
 
 At last, emboldened by some fresh extravagance, he 
 said to her one day : " Mrs. Blodgett, ah ahem," here 
 he stopped, while Mrs. Blodgett, thinking her time had 
 come, drew out Joel's picture, which latterly she
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 65 
 
 carried in her pocket, so as to be ready for any emer 
 gency. 
 
 " Mrs. Blodgett, are you paying attention ? " asked 
 the doctor, observing how intently she was regarding 
 the picture of the deceased. 
 
 " Yes, yes," she answered, and he continued : " Mrs. 
 Blodgett, I hardly know what to say, but I've been 
 thinking for some time past " 
 
 "I know you've been thinking," interrupted the 
 widow, " but it won't do an atom of good, for my mind 
 was made up long ago, and I shan't do it, and if you've 
 any kind of feelings for Matt} 7 , which you hain't, nor 
 never had, you wouldn't think of such a thing, and I 
 know, as well as I want to know, that it's my property, 
 and nothin' else, which has put such an idee into your 
 head!" 
 
 Here, overcome with her burst of indignation, she 
 began to cry, while the doctor, wholly misunderstand 
 ing her, attempted to smooth the matter somewhat by 
 saying : " I had no intention of distressing you, Mrs. 
 Blodgett, but I thought I might as well free my mind. 
 "Were you a poor woman, I should feel differently, but 
 knowing you have money " 
 
 " "Wretch ! " fairly screamed the insulted Janet. " So 
 you confess my property is at the bottom of it, but I'll 
 fix it. I'll put an end to it," and in a state of great 
 excitement she rushed from the room. 
 
 Just across the way, a newly-fledged lawyer had 
 hung out his sign, and thither, that very afternoon, the 
 wrathful widow wended her way, nor left the dingy 
 office until one-half of her property, which was far 
 greater than any one supposed it to be, was transferred 
 by deed of gift to Maude Remington, who was to come 
 in possession of it on her eighteenth birthday, and
 
 66 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 was to inherit the remainder by will at the death of 
 the donor. 
 
 " That fixes him," she muttered, as she returned to 
 the house, " that fixes old maxim good ; to think of his 
 insultin' me, by ownin' right up that 'twas my property 
 lie was after, the rascal ! I wouldn't have him if there 
 warn't another man in the world ! " and entering the 
 room where Maude was sewing, she astonished the 
 young girl by telling her what she had done. " I have 
 made you my heir," said she, tossing the deed of gift 
 and the will into Maude's lap. " I've made you my 
 heir; and the day you're eighteen you'll be worth 
 five thousand dollars, besides havin' the interest to use 
 between this time and that. Then, if I ever die, you'll 
 have five thousand more. Joel Blodgett didn't keep 
 thirty cows and peddle milk for nothin'." 
 
 Maude was at first too much astonished to compre 
 hend the meaning of what she heard, but she understood 
 it at last, and then, with many tears, thanked the 
 eccentric woman for what she had done, and asked the 
 reason for this unexpected generosity. 
 
 " 'Cause I like you ! " answered Janet, determined 
 not to injure Maude's feelings by letting her know how 
 soon her mother had been forgotten. " 'Cause I like 
 you, and always meant to give it to you. But don't 
 tell any one how much 'tis, for if the old fool widowers 
 round here know I am still worth five thousand dollars, 
 they'll like enough be botherin' me with offers, hopin' 
 I'll change my will, but 1 shan't. I'll teach 'em a trick 
 or two, the good-for-nothin' old maxim." 
 
 The latter part of this speech was made as Janet was 
 leaving the room, consequently Maude did not hear it, 
 neither would she have understood if she had. She 
 knew her nurse was very peculiar, but she never
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 67 
 
 dreamed it possible for her to fancy that Dr. Kennedy 
 wished to make her his wife, and she was greatly puzzled 
 to know why she had been so generous to her. But Janet 
 knew ; and when a few days afterward. Dr. Kennedy, 
 determining upon a fresh attempt to remove her from 
 his house, came to her side, as she was sitting alone in 
 the twilight, she felt glad that one-half her property 
 at least was beyond her control. 
 
 " Mrs. Blodgett," he said, clearing his throat, and 
 looking considerably embarrassed, "Mrs. Blodgett." 
 
 " Well, what do you want of Mrs. Blodgett ? " was 
 the widow's testy answer, and the doctor replied, " I 
 did not finish what I wished to say to you the other 
 day, and it's a maxim of mine, if a person has any 
 thing on his mind, he had better tell it at once." 
 
 " Certainly, ease yourself off, do," and Janet's little 
 gray eyes twinkled with delight, as she thought how 
 crestfallen he would look when she told him her prop 
 erty was gone. 
 
 " I was going, Mrs. Blodgett," he continued, " I was 
 going to propose to you " 
 
 He never finished the sentence, for the widow sprang 
 to her feet, exclaiming, " It's of no kind of use ! I've 
 gin my property all to Maude ; half of it the day she's 
 eighteen, and the rest on't is willed to her when I die, 
 so you may as well let me alone," and feeling greatly 
 flurried with what she verily believed to have been an 
 offer, she walked away, leaving the doctor to think 
 her the most inexplicable woman he ever saw. 
 
 The next day Janet received an invitation to visit 
 her husband's sister who lived in Canada. The invita 
 tion was accepted, and to his great delight, the doctor 
 saw her drive from his door, just one week after his 
 last amusing interview. In Canada, Janet formed the
 
 68 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 acquaintance of a man full ten years her junior. He 
 had been a distant relative of her husband, and know 
 ing of her property, asked her to be his wife. For 
 several days Janet studied her face to see what was in 
 it, " which made every man in Christendom want 
 her ! " and concluding at last, that " handsome is that 
 handsome does," said " Yes," and made Peter Hop 
 kins the happiest of men. 
 
 There was a bridal trip to Laurel Hill, where the 
 new husband ascertained that the half of that for 
 which he had married was beyond his reach ; but be 
 ing naturally of a hopeful nature, he did not despair 
 of eventually changing the will, so he swallowed his 
 disappointment, and redoubled his attentions to his 
 mother-wife, now Mrs. Janet Blodyett Hopkins. 
 
 Meantime, the story that Maude was an heiress, cir 
 culated rapidly, and, as the lawyer kept his own coun 
 sel, and Maude, in accordance with Janet's request, 
 never told how much had been given her, the amount 
 was doubled, nay, in some cases trebled, and she sud 
 denly found herself a person of considerable impor 
 tance, particularly in the estimation of Dr. Kennedy, 
 who, aside from setting a high value upon money, 
 fancied he saw a way by which he himself could reap 
 some benefit from his stepdaughter's fortune. If 
 Maude had money, she certainly ought to pay for her 
 board, and so he said to her one day, prefacing his 
 remarks with his stereotyped phrase, that " 'twas a 
 maxim of his, that one person should not live upon 
 another if they could help it." 
 
 Since Janet's last marriage, Maude had taken the 
 entire management of affairs, and without her there 
 would have been but little comfort or order in a house 
 hold whose only servant was old and lazy, and whose
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 69 
 
 eldest daughter was far too proud to work. This 
 Maude knew, and with a flush of indignation upon her 
 cheek, she replied to her stepfather : " Very well, sir, 
 I can pay for my board, if you like ; but boarders, you 
 know, never trouble themselves with the affairs of the 
 kitchen." 
 
 The doctor was confounded. He knew he could not 
 well dispense with Maude's services, and it had not be 
 fore occurred to him that a housekeeper and boarder 
 were two different persons. 
 
 " Ah yes just so," said he, " I see I'm laboring 
 under a mistake ; you prefer working for your board 
 all right," and feeling a good deal more disconcerted 
 than he ever supposed it possible for him to feel, he 
 gave up the contest. 
 
 Maude was at this time nearly sixteen years of age, 
 and during the next year she was to all intents and 
 purposes the housekeeper, discharging faithfully every 
 duty and still finding time to pursue her own studies 
 and superintend the education of little Louis, to whom 
 she was indeed a second mother. She was very fond 
 of books, and while Janet was with them, she had with 
 Nellie attended the seminary at Laurel Hill, where she 
 stood high in all her classes, for learning \vas with her 
 a delight, and when at last it seemed necessary for her 
 to remain at home, she still devoted a portion of each 
 day to her studies, reciting to a teacher who came reg 
 ularly to the house, and whom she paid with her own 
 money. By this means she was at the age of seven 
 teen a far better scholar than Nellie, who left every 
 care to her stepsister, saying she was just suited to the 
 kitchen work, and the tiresome old books with which 
 she kept her chamber littered. This chamber to which 
 Nellie referred, was Maude's particular province.
 
 70 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 Here she reigned joint sovereign with Louis, who thus 
 early evinced a degree of intellectuality wonderful in 
 one so young, and who in some things excelled even 
 Maude herself. 
 
 Drawing and painting seemed to be his ruling taste, 
 and as Dr. Kennedy still cherished for his crippled boy 
 a love almost idolatrous, he spared neither money nor 
 pains to procure for him everything necessary for his 
 favorite pursuit. Almost the entire day did Louis pass 
 in what he termed Maude's library, where, poring over 
 books, or busy with his pencil, he whiled the hours 
 away without a sigh for the green fields and shadowy 
 woods, through which he could never hope to ramble. 
 And Maude was very proud of her artist brother 
 proud of the beautiful boy whose face seemed not to 
 be of earth so calm, so angel-like was its expression. 
 All the softer, gentler virtues of the mother, and all 
 the intellectual qualities of the father were blended to 
 gether in the child, who presented a combination of 
 goodness, talent, beauty, and deformity, such as is sel 
 dom seen. For his sister Maude, Louis possessed a 
 deep, undying love, which neither time nor misfortune 
 could in any way abate. She was part and portion of 
 himself his life his light his all in all and to his 
 childlike imagination a purer, nobler being had never 
 been created than his darling sister Maude. And well 
 might Louis Kennedy love the self-sacrificing girl 
 who devoted herself so wholly to him, and who well 
 fulfilled her mother's charge, " Care for my little 
 boy." 
 
 Nellie, too, was well beloved, but he soon grew 
 weary of her company, for she seldom talked of anything 
 save herself and the compliments which were given to 
 her youthful beauty. And Nellie, at the age of eigh-
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 71 
 
 teen, was beautiful, if that can be called beauty which 
 is void of heart or soul or intellect. She was very small, 
 and the profusion of golden curls which fell about her 
 neck and shoulders, gave her the appearance of being 
 younger than she really was. Her features were al 
 most painfully regular, her complexion dazzlingly 
 brilliant, while her large blue eyes had in them a 
 dreamy, languid expression exceedingly attractive to 
 those who looked for nothing beyond no inner cham 
 ber where dwell the graces which make a woman 
 what she ought to be. Louis' artist eye, undeveloped 
 though it was, acknowledged the rare loveliness of 
 Nellie's face. She would make a beautiful picture, 
 he thought but for the noble, the good, the pure, he 
 turned to the dark-eyed Maude, who was as wholly 
 unlike her stepsister as it was possible for her to be. 
 The one was a delicate blonde, the other a decided 
 brunette, with hair and eyes of deepest black. Her 
 complexion, too, was dark, but tinged with a beautiful 
 red, which Nellie would gladly have transferred to her 
 own paler cheek. It was around the mouth, however, 
 the exquisitely-shaped mouth, and white even teeth, 
 that Maude's principal beauty lay, and the bright smile 
 which lit up her features when at all animated in con 
 versation would have made a plain face handsome. 
 Some there were who gave her the preference, saying 
 there was far more beauty in her clear, beautiful eyes 
 and sunny smile than in the dollish face of Nellie, 
 who treated such remarks with the utmost scorn. 
 She knew that she was beautiful. She had known it 
 all her life for had she not been told so by her mir 
 ror, her father, her schoolmates, her aunt Kelsey, and 
 more than all by J. C. De Vere, the elegant young man 
 whom she had met in Rochester, where she had spent
 
 72 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 the winter preceding the summer of which we now 
 are writing, and which was four and one half years 
 after Matty's death. 
 
 Greatly had the } T oung lady murmured on her return 
 against the dreary old house and lonely life at Laurel 
 Hill, which did indeed present a striking contrast to 
 the city gaieties in which she had been mingling. 
 Even the cosy little chamber which the kind-hearted 
 Maude had fitted up for her with her own means, was 
 pronounced heathenish and old-fashioned, while Maude 
 herself was constantly taunted with being countrified 
 and odd. 
 
 " I wish J. C. De Vere could see you now," she said 
 one morning to her sister, who had donned her work 
 ing dress, and with sleeves rolled up, and wide checked 
 apron tied around her waist, was deep in the mysteries 
 of bread -making. 
 
 " I wish he could see her, too," said Louis, who had 
 rolled his chair into the kitchen so that he could be 
 with Maude. " He would say he never saw a hand 
 somer color than the red upon her cheeks." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " returned Nellie. " I guess he knows the 
 difference between rose-tint and sunburn. Why, he's 
 the most fastidious man I ever saw. He can't endure 
 the smell of cooking, and says he would never look 
 twice at a lady whose hands were not as soft and white 
 as well, as mine," and she glanced admiringly at the 
 little snowy fingers, which were beating a tune upon 
 the window-sill. 
 
 " I wants no better proof that he's a fool," muttered 
 old Hannah, who looked upon Nellie as being what 
 she really was, a vain, silly thing. 
 
 " A fool, Hannah," retorted Nellie ; " I'd like to 
 have Aunt Kelsey hear you say that. Why, he's the
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 73 
 
 very best match in Rochester. All the girls are dying 
 for him, but he don't care a straw for one of them. 
 He's out of health now, and is coming here this sum 
 mer with Aunt Kelsey, and then you'll see how per 
 fectly refined he is. By the way, Maude, if I had as 
 much money at my command as you have, I'd fix up 
 the parlor a little. You know father won't, and that 
 carpet, I'll venture to say, was in the ark. I almost 
 dread to have J. C. come, he's so particular, but then 
 he knows we are rich, and beside that, Aunt Kelsey 
 has told him just how stingy father is, so I don't care 
 so much. Did I tell you J. C. has a cousin James, who 
 may possibly come too. I never saw him, but Aunt 
 Kelsey says he's the queerest man that ever lived. He 
 never was known to pay the slightest attention to a 
 woman unless she was married or engaged. He has a 
 most delightful house at Hampton, where he lives with 
 his mother, but he'll never marry, unless it is some 
 hired girl who knows how to work. Why, he was 
 once heard to say he would sooner marry a good-natured 
 Irish girl than a fashionable city lady, who knew noth 
 ing but to dress, and flirt, and play the piano the 
 wretch ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I know I should like him," exclaimed Louis, 
 who had been an attentive listener. 
 
 " I dare say you would, and Maude, too," returned 
 Nellie, adding, after a moment ; " and I shouldn't 
 wonder if Maude just suited him, particularly if he 
 finds her up to her elbows in dough. So, Maude, it is 
 for your interest to improve the old castle a little. 
 Won't you buy a new carpet ? " and she drew nearer 
 to Maude, who made no direct reply. 
 
 The three hundred and fifty dollars interest money 
 which she had received the year before had but little
 
 74 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 of it been expended on herself, though it had purchased 
 many a comfort for the household, for Maude was 
 generous, and freely gave what was her own to give. 
 The parlor carpet troubled even her, but she would 
 not pledge herself to buy another, until she had first 
 tried her powers of persuasion upon the doctor, who, 
 as she expected, refused outright. 
 
 " He knew the carpet was faded," he said, " but 
 'twas hardly worn at all, and 'twas a maxim of his to 
 make things last as long as possible." 
 
 It was in vain that Nellie, who was present, quoted 
 Aunt Kelsey, and J. 0. De Vere, the old doctor didn't 
 care a straw for either, unless indeed, J. C. should 
 some time take Nellie off his hands, and pay her bills, 
 which were altogether too large for one of his maosims. 
 That this would probably be the result of the young 
 man's expected visit, had been strongly hinted by Mrs. 
 Kelsey, and thus was he more willing to have him 
 come. But on the subject of the carpet he was inex 
 orable, and with tears of anger in her large blue eyes, 
 Nellie gave up the contest, while Maude very quietly 
 walked over to the store, and gave orders that a hand 
 some thee-ply carpet which she had heard her sister 
 admire, should be sent home as soon as possible. 
 
 " You are a dear good girl after all, and I hope 
 James De Vere Avill fall in love with you," was Nellie's 
 exclamation as she saw a large roll deposited at their 
 door, but not a stitch in the making of the carpet did 
 she volunteer to take. " She should prick her fingers, 
 or callous her hand," she said, " and Mr. De Vere 
 thought so much of a pretty hand." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said John, who was still a member of 
 the family, " nonsense, Miss Nellie. I'd give a heap 
 more for one of Miss Maude's little fingers, red and
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 75 
 
 rough as they be, than I would for both them soft, 
 sickish feeling hands of yourn ; " and John hastily dis 
 appeared from the room to escape the angry words 
 which he knew would follow his bold remark. 
 
 Nellie was not a favorite at home, and no one 
 humored her as much as Maude, who, on this occasion, 
 almost outdid herself in her endeavors to please the 
 exacting girl, and make the house as presentable as 
 possible to the fashionable Mrs. Kelsey, and the still 
 more fashionable J. C. De Vere. The new carpet was 
 nicely fitted to the floor, new curtains hung before the 
 windows, the old sofa was re-covered, the piano was 
 tuned, a hat-stand purchased for the hall, the spare 
 chamber cleaned, and then, very impatiently Nellie 
 waited for the day when her guests were expected to 
 arrive. 
 
 The time came at last, a clear June afternoon, and 
 immediately after dinner Nellie repaired to her cham 
 ber, so as to have ample time to try the effect of her 
 different dresses, ere deciding upon any one. Maude, 
 too, was a good deal excited, for one of her even tem 
 perament. She rather dreaded Mrs. Kelsey, whom she 
 had seen but twice in her life, but for some reason, 
 wholly inexplicable to herself, she felt a strange in 
 terest in the wonderful J. (7., of whom she had heard 
 so much. Not that he would notice her in the least, 
 but a man who could turn the heads of all the girls in 
 Rochester must be somewhat above the common order 
 of mortals; and when at last her work was done, and 
 she, too, went up to dress, it was with an unusual de 
 gree of earnestness that she asked her sister what she 
 should wear that would be becoming. 
 
 " Wear what you please, but don't bother me." an 
 swered Nellie, smoothing down the folds of her light
 
 76 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 blue muslin, which harmonized admirably with her 
 clear complexion. 
 
 " Maude," called Louis, from the adjoining room, 
 "wear white. You always look pretty in 'white." 
 
 " So does every black person ! " answered Nellie, 
 feeling provoked that she had not advised the wearing 
 of some color not as becoming to Maude as she knew 
 white to be. 
 
 Maude had the utmost confidence in Louis' taste, and 
 when, fifteen minutes later, she stood before the mirror, 
 her short, glossy curls clustering about her head, a 
 bright bloom on her cheek, and a brighter smile upon 
 her lip, she thought it was the dress which made her 
 look so well, for it had never entered her mind that 
 she was handsome. 
 
 " Wear your coral earrings," said Louis, who had 
 wheeled himself into the room, and was watching her 
 with all a fond brother's pride. 
 
 The earrings were a decided improvement, and the 
 jealous Nellie, when she saw how neat and tasteful was 
 her sister's dress, began to cry, saying, " she herself 
 looked a fright, that she'd nothing fit to wear, and if 
 her father did not buy her something she'd run away." 
 
 This last was her usual threat when at all indignant, 
 and as after giving vent to it she generally felt better, 
 she soon dried her tears, saying, " she was glad any 
 way that she had blue eyes, for J. C. could not endure 
 black ones." 
 
 "Maybe James can," was the quick rejoinder of 
 Louis, who always defended Maude from Nellie's 
 envious attacks. 
 
 By this time the clock was striking five. Half an 
 hour more and they would be there, and going through 
 the rooms below, Nellie looked to see if everything
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 77 
 
 was in order, then returning to her chamber above, she 
 waited impatiently until the sound of wheels was heard 
 in the distance. A cloud of dust was visible next, and 
 soon a large traveling-carriage stopped at the gate 
 laden with trunks and boxes, as if its occupants had 
 come to spend the remainder of the summer. A straight, 
 slender, dandified -looking young man sprang out, fol 
 lowed by another far different in style, though equally 
 as fine looking. The lady next alighted, and scarcely 
 were her feet upon the ground when she was caught 
 around the neck by a little fairy figure in blue, which 
 had tripped gracefully down the walk, seemingly un 
 conscious, but really very conscious of every step she 
 took, for the black-moustached young man, who touched 
 his hat to her so politely, was particular about a 
 woman's gait. 
 
 A little apart from the rest stood the stranger, 
 casually eyeing the diminutive creature, of whose 
 beauty and perfections he had heard so much, both 
 from her partial aunt and his half-smitten cousin. 
 There was a momentary thrill a feeling such as one 
 experiences in gazing upon a rare piece of sculpture 
 and then the heart of James De Yere resumed its 
 accustomed beat, for lie knew the inner chamber of the 
 mind was empty, and henceforth Nellie's beauty would 
 have no attraction for him. Very prettily she led the 
 way to the house, and after ushering her guests into 
 the parlor, ran up-stairs to Maude, bidding her to order 
 supper at once, and telling her as a piece of important 
 news, which she did not already know, that "Aunt 
 Kelsey, James, and J. C. had come."
 
 78 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JAMES AND J. C. 
 
 JAMES and J. C. De Vere were cousins, and also 
 cousins of Mrs. Kelsey's husband ; and hence the in 
 timacy between that lady and themselves, or rather 
 between that lady and J. C., who was undeniably the 
 favorite, partly because he was much like herself, and 
 partly because of his name, which she thought so ex 
 clusive so different from any one's else. His romantic 
 young mother, who liked anything savoring at all of 
 Waverly, had inflicted upon him the cognomen of 
 Jedediah Cleishbotham, and repenting of her act when 
 too late, had dubbed him " J. C." by which name he 
 was now generally known. The ladies called him " a 
 love of a man," and so he was, if a faultless form, a 
 wicked black eye, a superb set of teeth, an unexcep 
 tionable moustache, a tiny foot, the finest of broad 
 cloth, reported wealth, and perfect good humor con 
 stitute the ingredients which make up " a love of a 
 man." Added to this, he really did possess a good share 
 of common sense, and with the right kind of influence, 
 would have made a far different man from what he 
 was. Self-love was the bane of his life, and as he liked 
 dearly to be flattered, so he in turn became a most 
 consummate flatterer ; always, however, adapting his 
 remarks to the nature of the person with whom he was 
 conversing. Thus to Nellie Kennedy, he said a thou- 
 
 o / j
 
 JAMES AND J. C. 79 
 
 sand foolish things, just because he knew he gratified 
 her vanity by doing so. Although possessing the rep 
 utation of a wealthy man, J. C. was far from being 
 one, and his great object was to secure a wife, who, 
 while not distasteful to him, still had money enough 
 to cover many faults, and such an one he fancied Nellie 
 Kennedy to be. From Mrs. Kelsey he had received 
 the impression that the doctor was very rich, and as 
 Nellie was the only daughter, her fortune would 
 necessarily be large. To be sure, he would rather she 
 had been a little more sensible, but as she was not, he 
 resolved to make the best of it, and although claiming 
 to be something of an invalid in quest of health, it was 
 really with the view of asking her to be his wife that 
 he had come to Laurel Hill. He had first objected to 
 his cousin accompanying him not for fear of rivalry, 
 but because he disliked what he might say of Nellie, 
 for if there was a person in the world whose opinion 
 he respected, and whose judgment he honored, it was 
 his cousin James. 
 
 Wholly unlike J. C., was James, and yet he was 
 quite as popular, for one word from him was more 
 highly prized by scheming mothers and artful young 
 girls, than the most complimentary speech that J. C. 
 ever made. He meant what he said ; and to the kindest, 
 noblest of hearts, he added a fine commanding person, a 
 finished education, and a quiet, gentlemanly manner, 
 to say nothing of his unbounded wealth, and musical 
 voice, whose low, deep tones had stirred the heart 
 strings of more than one fair maiden in her teens, but 
 stirred them in vain, for James De Yere had never seen 
 the woman he wished to call his wife ; and now, at 
 the age of twenty-six, he was looked upon as a con 
 firmed old bachelor, whom almost any one would marry,
 
 80 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 but whom no one ever could. He had come to Laurel 
 Hill because Mrs. Kelsey had asked him so to do, and 
 because he thought it would be pleasant to spend a few 
 weeks in that part of the country. 
 
 Of Maude's existence he knew nothing, and when 
 at last supper was announced, and he followed his 
 cousin to the dining-room, he started in surprise, as his 
 eye fell on the dark-eyed girl, who, with a heightened 
 bloom upon her cheek, presided at the table, with so 
 much grace and dignity. "Whether intentionally or 
 not, we cannot say, but Nellie failed to introduce her 
 stepsister, and as Mrs. Kelsey was too much absorbed 
 in looking at her pretty niece, and in talking to her 
 brother, to notice the omission, Maude's position would 
 have been peculiarly embarrassing, but for the gen 
 tlemanly demeanor of James, who, always courteous, 
 particularly to those whom he thought neglected, 
 bowed politely, and made to her several remarks con 
 cerning the fineness of the day, and the delightful 
 view which Laurel Hill commanded of the surrounding 
 country. She was no menial, he knew, and looking in 
 her bright, black eyes, he saw that she had far more 
 mind than the dollish Nellie, who, as usual, was pro 
 voking J. C. to say all manner of foolish things. 
 
 As they were returning to the parlor, J. C. said to 
 Nellie : " By the way, Nell, who is that young girl in 
 white, and what is she doing here ? " 
 
 "Why, that's Maude "Remington, my stepsister," 
 answered Nellie. " I'm sure you've heard me speak of 
 her." 
 
 J. C. was sure he hadn't ; but he did not contradict 
 the little lady, whose manner plainly indicated that 
 any attention paid by him to the said Maude would 
 be resented as an insult to herself. Just then, Mrs.
 
 JAMES AND J. C. 81 
 
 Kelsey went up-stairs, taking her niece with her ; and, 
 as Dr. Kennedy had a patient to visit, he, too, asked 
 to be excused, and the young men were left alone. 
 The day was warm, and sauntering out beneath the 
 trees, they sat down upon a rustic seat, which com 
 manded a view of the dining-room, the doors and 
 windows of which were open, disclosing to view all 
 that was transpiring within. 
 
 " In the name of wonder, what's that ? " exclaimed 
 J. C., as he saw a curiously shaped chair wheeling 
 itself, as it were, into the room. 
 
 " It must be Dr. Kennedy's crippled boy," answered 
 James, as Louis skipped across the floor on crutches, 
 and climbed into the chair which Maude carefully held 
 for him. 
 
 Louis did not wish to eat with the strangers until 
 somewhat acquainted, consequently he waited until 
 they were gone, and then came to the table, where 
 Maude stood by his side, carefully ministering to his 
 wants, and assisting him into his chair when he was 
 through. Then, pushing back her curls, and donning 
 the check apron whi'ch Nellie so much abhorred, she 
 removed the dishes herself, for old Hannah she knew 
 was very tired, having done an unusual amount of 
 work that day. 
 
 " I tell you what, Jim, I wouldn't wonder if that's 
 the very one for you," said J. C., puffing leisurely at 
 his cigar, and still keeping his eyes fixed upon the 
 figure in white, as if to one of his fastidious taste there 
 was nothing very revolting in seeing Maude Reming 
 ton wash the supper dishes, even though her hands 
 were brown and her arms a little red. 
 
 James did not answer immediately, and when he did, 
 he said : " Do you remember a little girl we met in
 
 82 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 the cars between Springfield and Albany several years 
 ago when we were returning from school ? She was 
 a funny little black-eyed creature, and amused us very 
 much with her remarks." 
 
 " I wouldn't wonder if I remembered her," returned 
 J. C., " for didn't she say I looked as if I didn't mean for 
 certain ? I tell you what it is, Jim, I've thought of the 
 speech more than a thousand times when I've been 
 saying things I did not mean to foolish girls and their 
 mammas. But what reminded you of her ? " 
 
 " If I mistake not, that child and the young lady 
 yonder are one and the same. You know she told us 
 her name was Maude Remington, and that the naughty 
 man behind us wasn't her father, and she didn't like 
 him a bit, or something like that." 
 
 " And I honor her judgment both in his case and 
 mine," interrupted J. C., continuing, after a moment : 
 " The old fellow looks as that man did. I guess you 
 are right. I mean to question Cuffee on the subject," 
 and he beckoned to John, who was passing at no great 
 distance. 
 
 " Sambo," said he, as the negro approached, " who 
 is that young lady using the broom-handle so vigor 
 ously ? " and he pointed to Maude, who was finishing 
 her domestic duties, by brushing the crumbs from the 
 carpet. 
 
 " If you please, sar, my name is John," answered 
 the African, assuming a dignity of manner which even 
 J. C. respected. 
 
 " Be it Jo/in, then," returned the young man, " but 
 tell us how long has she lived here, and where did she 
 come from ? " 
 
 Nothing pleased John better than chance to talk of 
 Maude, and he replied : " She came here twelve years
 
 JAMES AND J. C. 83 
 
 ago this very month with that little blue- eyed mother 
 of hern, who is lyin' under them willers in the grave 
 yard. We couldn't live without Miss Maude. She's all 
 the sunshine thar is about the lonesome old place. 
 Why, she does everything, from takin' care of her 
 crippled half-brother to mendin' t'other one's gownd." 
 
 " And who is t'other one ? " asked J. C., beginning 
 to feel greatly interested in the negro's remarks. 
 
 " T'other one," said John, "is Miss Nellie, who 
 won't work for fear of s'ilin' her hands, which some fool 
 of a city chap has made her b'lieve are so white and 
 handsome," and a row of ivory was just visible, as, 
 leaning against a tree, John watched the effect of his 
 words upon " the fool of a city chap." 
 
 J. C. was exceedingly good natured, and tossing his 
 cigar into the grass, he replied, " You don't mean me, 
 of course ; but tell us more of this Maude, who mops 
 the floor and mends Nellie's dresses." 
 
 " She don't mop the floor," muttered John. " This 
 nigger wouldn't let her do that but she does mend 
 Nellie's gownds, which I wouldn't do, if I's worth as 
 much money as she is ! " 
 
 If J. C. had been interested before, he was doubly 
 interested now, and coming nearer to John, he said : 
 " Money, my good fellow ! is Maude an heiress ? " 
 
 " She ain't nothin' else," returned John, who 
 proceeded to speak of Janet and her generous gift, the 
 amount of which he greatly exaggerated. " Nobody 
 knows how much 'tis," said he ; " but everybody 
 s'poses that will and all it must be thirty or forty 
 thousand," and as the doctor was just then seen riding 
 into the yard, John walked away to attend to his 
 master's horse. 
 
 " Those butter and cheese men do accumulate money
 
 84 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 fast," said J. C., more to himself than to his companion, 
 who laughingly replied, " It would be funny if you 
 should make this Maude my cousin instead of Nellie. 
 Let me see cousin Nellie cousin Maude. I like the 
 sound of the latter the best, though I am inclined to 
 think she is altogether too good for a mercenery dog 
 like you," 
 
 " Pshaw ! " returned J. C., pulling at the maple 
 leaves which grew above his head, " I hope you don't 
 think I'd marry a rude country girl for her money. 
 No, give me la charmante Nellie, even though she 
 cannot mend her dress, and you are welcome to cousin 
 Maude, the milkman's heiress." 
 
 At that moment Mrs. Kelsey and Nellie appeared 
 upon the stoop, and as Maude was no longer visible, 
 the young gentlemen returned to the parlor, where 
 J. C. asked Nellie to favor him with some music. 
 Nellie liked to play, for it showed her white hands to 
 advantage, and seating herself at the piano, she said : 
 " I have learned a new song since I saw you, but Maude 
 must sing the other part maybe, though, I can get 
 along without her." 
 
 This last was said because she did not care to have 
 Maude in the parlor, and she had inadvertently spoken 
 of her singing. The young men, however, were not as 
 willing to excuse her, and Maude was accordingly sent 
 for. She came readily, and performed her part without 
 the least embarrassment, although she more than once 
 half paused to listen to the rich, full tones of James's 
 voice, for he was an unusually fine singer ; Maude had 
 never heard anything like it before, and when the song 
 was ended, the bright, sparkling eyes which she turned 
 upon him told of her delight quite as eloquently as 
 words could have done.
 
 JAMES AND J. C. 85 
 
 " You play, I am sure, Miss Remington," he said, as 
 Nellie arose from the stool. 
 
 Maude glanced at her red hands, which J. C. would 
 be sure to notice, then feeling ashamed to hesitate for 
 a reason like this, she answered, "Yes, sometimes," 
 and taking her seat, she played several pieces, keeping 
 admirable time, and giving to the music a grace and 
 finish which Nellie had often tried in vain to imitate. 
 
 " Mr. De Yere did not expect you to play all night," 
 called out the envious girl, who, not satisfied with 
 having enticed J. C. from the piano, wished James to 
 join her also. 
 
 " She is merely playing at my request," said Mr. 
 De Yere, " but if it is distasteful to Miss Kennedy we 
 will of course desist," and bending low he said a few 
 words of commendation to Maude, whose heart thrilled 
 to the gentle tones of his voice just as many another 
 maiden's had done before. 
 
 Mr. De Yere was exceedingly agreeable, and so 
 Maude found him to be, for feeling intuitively that she 
 was somewhat slighted by the overbearing Nellie, he 
 devoted himself to her entirely, talking first of books, 
 then of music, and lastly of his home, which, without 
 any apparent boasting, he described as a most beautiful 
 spot. 
 
 For a long time that night did Louis wait for his 
 sister in his little bed, and when at last she came to 
 give him her accustomed kiss, he pushed the thick curls 
 from off her face and said, " I never saw you look so 
 happy, Maude. Do you like that Mr. De Yere ? " 
 
 " Which one ? " asked Maude. " There are two, you 
 know." 
 
 " Yes, I know," returned Louis, " but I mean the 
 one with the voice. Forgive me, Maude, but I sat ever
 
 86 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 so long at the bead of the stairs, listening as he talked. 
 He is a good man, I am sure. Will you tell me how 
 he looks ? " 
 
 Maude could not well describe him. She only knew 
 that he was taller than J.C., and, as she thought, much 
 finer looking, with deep blue eyes, dark brown hair, 
 and a mouth just fitted to his voice. Farther than 
 this, she could not tell. " But you will see him in the 
 morning," she said. " I have told him how gifted, how 
 good you are, and to-morrow he says he shall visit you 
 in your den." 
 
 " Don't let the other one come," said Loujs hastily, 
 " for if he can't endure red hands, he'd laugh at my 
 withered feet, and the bunch upon my back ; but the 
 other one won't, I know." 
 
 Maude knew so too, and somewhat impatiently she 
 waited for the morrow, when she could introduce her 
 brother to her friend. The morrow came, but, as was 
 frequently the case, Louis was suffering from a severe 
 pain in his back, which kept him confined to his room, 
 so that Mr. De Vere neither saw him at all nor Maude 
 as much as he wished to do. He had been greatly 
 interested in her, and when at dinner he heard that she 
 would not be down, he was conscious of a feeling- of 
 
 7 O 
 
 disappointment. She was not present at supper either, 
 but after it was over she joined him in the parlor, and, 
 together with J. C. and Nellie, accompanied him to 
 the graveyard, where, seating herself upon her mother's 
 grave, she told him of that mother, and the desolation 
 which crept into her heart when first she knew she 
 was an orphan. From talking of her mother it was an 
 easy matter to speak of her Vernon home, which she 
 had never seen since she left it twelve years before, and 
 then Mr. De Vere asked if she had met two boys in
 
 JAMES AND J. C. 8T 
 
 the cars on her way to Albany. At first Maude could 
 not recall them, and when at last she did so, her 
 recollections were so vague that Mr. De Yere felt 
 another pang of disappointment, though wherefore he 
 could not tell, unless indeed, he thought there Avould 
 be something pleasant in being remembered twelve 
 long years by a girl like Maude Remington. He 
 reminded her of her remark made to his cousin, and 
 in speaking of him casually, alluded to his evident 
 liking for Nellie, saying playfully, " Who knows, Miss 
 Remington, but you may some time be related to me 
 not my cousin exactly, though Cousin Maude sounds 
 well. I like that name." 
 
 " I like it too," she said impulsively, " much better 
 than Miss Remington, which seems so stiff." 
 
 " Then let me call you so. I have no girl cousin in, 
 the world," and leaning forward, he put back from her 
 forehead one of her short, glossy curls, which had been 
 displaced by the evening breeze. 
 
 This was a good deal for him to do. Never before 
 had he touched a maiden's tresses, and he had no idea 
 that it would make his fingers tingle as it did. Still, 
 on the whole, he liked it, and half-wished the wind 
 would blow those curls over the upturned face again, 
 but it did not, and he was about to make some casual 
 remark, when J. C., who was not far distant, called 
 out, " Making love, I do believe ! " 
 
 The speech was sudden, and grated harshly on 
 James' ear. Not because the idea of making love to 
 Maude was utterly distasteful, but because he fancied 
 she might be annoyed, and over his features there came 
 a shadow, which Maude did not fail to observe. 
 
 "He does not wish to be teased about me," she 
 thought, and around the warm spot which the name of
 
 88 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 " Cousin Maude " had made within her heart, there 
 crept a nameless chill a fear that she had been de 
 graded in his eyes. " I must go back to Louis," she 
 said at last, and rising from her mother's grave, she 
 returned to the house, accompanied by Mr. De Vere, 
 who walked by her side in silence, wondering if she 
 really cared for J. C.'s untimely joke. 
 
 " James De Vere did not understand the female 
 heart, and wishing to relieve Maude from all embarrass 
 ment in her future intercourse with himself, he said to 
 her as they reached the door : " My Cousin Maude 
 must not mind what J. C. said, for she knows it is not 
 so." 
 
 " Certainly not," was Maude's answer, as she ran up 
 stairs, hardly knowing whether she wished it were, or 
 were not so. 
 
 One thing, however, she knew. She liked to have 
 him call her Cousin Maude ; and when Louis asked 
 what Mr. De Vere had said beneath the willows, she 
 told him of her new name, and asked if he did not like 
 it. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " but I'd rather you were his 
 sister, for then maybe he'd call me brother, even if I 
 am a cripple. How I wish I could see him, and per 
 haps I shall to-morrow." 
 
 But on the morrow Louis was so much worse that, 
 in attending to him, Maude found but little time to 
 spend with Mr. De Vere, who was to leave them that 
 evening. When, however, the carriage which was to 
 take him away stood at the gate, she went down to 
 bid him good-by, and ask him to visit them again. 
 
 " I shall be happy to do so," he said ; and then, as 
 they were standing alone together, he continued : 
 " Though I have not seen as much of you as I wished,
 
 JAMES AND J. C. 89 
 
 I shall remember my visit at Laurel Hill with pleasure. 
 In Hampton, there are not many ladies for whose 
 acquaintance I particularly care, and I have often 
 wished that I had some female friend with whom I 
 could correspond, and thus while away some of my 
 leisure moments. Will my Cousin Maude answer me 
 if I should some time chance to write her, mere friendly, 
 cousinly letters, of course ? " 
 
 This last he said because he mistook the deep flush 
 on Maude's cheek for an unwillingness to do anything 
 which looked at all like " making love." 
 
 "I will write,'- was all Maude had a chance to say 
 ere Nellie joined them, accompanied by J. C., who had 
 not yet terminated his visit at Laurel Hill, and as soon 
 as his cousin left he intended removing to the hotel, 
 where he would be independent of Dr. Kennedy, and 
 at the same time devote himself to the daughter or 
 stepdaughter, just as he should feel inclined. 
 
 Some such idea might have intruded itself upon the 
 mind of James, for w r hen, at parting, he took his 
 cousin's hand, he said, " You have my good wishes for 
 your success with Nellie, but " 
 
 " But not with t'other one, hey ? " laughingly re 
 joined J. C., adding that James need have no fears, for 
 there was not the slightest possibility of his addressing 
 the Milkman's Heiress ! 
 
 Alas for J. C.'s honesty ! Even while he spoke, there 
 was treachery in his saucy eyes, for the milkman's 
 heiress, as he called her, was not to him an object of 
 dislike, and when, after the carriage drove away, he 
 saw the shadows on her face, and suspected their 
 cause, he felt a strong desire that his departure might 
 affect her in a similar manner. That evening, too, 
 when Nellie sang to him his favorite song, he kept one
 
 90 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 ear turned toward the chamber above, where, in a low, 
 sweet voice, Maude Remington sang her suffering 
 brother to sleep. 
 
 The next morning he removed to the hotel, saying- 
 he should probably remain there during the summer, 
 as the air of Laurel Hill was highly conducive to his 
 rather delicate health ; but whether he meant the in 
 vigorating breeze, which blew from the surrounding 
 hills, or an heir of a more substantial kind, time and 
 our story will show.
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 91 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 
 
 MB. DE VERB had been gone four weeks. Louis had 
 entirely recovered from his illness, and had made the 
 acquaintance of J. C., with whom he was on the best of 
 terms. Almost every bright day did the young man 
 draw the little covered wagon through the village, and 
 away to some lovely spot, where the boy artist could 
 indulge in his favorite occupation that of sketching 
 the familiar objects around him. At first Nellie ac 
 companied them in these excursions ; but when one day 
 her aunt, who still remained at Laurel Hill, pointed out 
 to her a patch of sunburn and a dozen freckles the 
 result of her outdoor exercise, she declared her inten 
 tion of remaining at home thereafter a resolution not 
 altogether unpleasant to J. C., as by this means Maude 
 was more frequently his companion. 
 
 If our readers suppose that to a man of J. C.'s nature 
 there was anything particularly agreeable in thus de 
 voting himself to a cripple boy, they are mistaken, for 
 Louis Kennedy might have remained indoors for ever, 
 had it not been for the sunny smile and look of grati 
 tude which Maude Remington always gave to J. C. 
 De Yere, when he came for or returned with her dar 
 ling brother. Insensibly the domestic virtues and quiet 
 ways of the black-haired Maude were winning a strong 
 hold upon J. C.'s affections, and still he had never seri 
 ously thought of making her his wife. He only knew 
 that he liked her, that he felt very comfortable where
 
 92 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 she was, and very uncomfortable where she was not 
 that the souud of her voice singing in the choir was the 
 only music he heard on the Sabbath day, and though 
 Nellie, in her character of soprano, ofttimes warbled 
 like a bird, filling the old church with melody, he did 
 not heed it, so intent was he in listening to the deeper, 
 richer notes of her who sang the alto, and whose 
 fingers swept the organ keys with so much grace and 
 beauty. 
 
 And Maude ! within her bosom was there no inter 
 est awakened for one who thought so much of her ? 
 Yes, but it was an interest of a different nature from his. 
 She liked him, because he was so much more polite to 
 her than she had expected him to be, and more than 
 all, she liked him for his kindness to her brother, never 
 dreaming that for her sake alone those kindly acts 
 were done. Of James De Yere she often thought, re 
 peating sometimes to herself the name of Cousin Maude, 
 which had sounded so sweetly to her ear, when he had 
 spoken it. His promise she remembered, too, and as 
 often as the mail came in, bringing her no letter, she 
 sighed involuntarily to think she was forgotten. Not 
 forgotten, Maude, no, not forgotten, and when one 
 afternoon, five weeks after James's departure, J. C. 
 stood at her side, he had good reason for turning his 
 eyes away from her truthful glance, for he knew of a 
 secret wrong done to her that day. There had come 
 to him that morning, a letter from James, containing a 
 note for Maude, and the request that he would hand it 
 to her. 
 
 " I should have written to her sooner," James wrote, 
 " but mother's illness and an unusual amount of busi 
 ness prevented me from doing so. ' Better late than 
 never,' is, however, a good motto at times, and I en-
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 9S 
 
 trust the letter to you, because I would save her from 
 any gossip which an open correspondence with me might 
 create." 
 
 For James De Vere to write to a young girl was an 
 unheard-of circumstance, and the sight of that note 
 aroused in J. C.'s bosom a feeling of jealousy lest the 
 prize he now knew he coveted should be taken from 
 him. No one but himself should write to Maude Rem 
 ington, for she was his, or rather she should be his. 
 The contents of that note might be of the most ordi 
 nary kind, but for some reason undefinable to himself he 
 would rather she should not see it yet, and though it 
 cost him a struggle to deal thus falsely with both, he 
 resolved to keep it from her until she had promised to 
 be his wife. He never dreamed it possible that she 
 could tell him no ; he had been so flattered and admired 
 by the city belles, and the only point which troubled 
 him was what his fashionable friends would say when 
 in place of the Nellie, whose name had been so long 
 associated with his, he brought to them a Maude fresh 
 from the rural districts, with naught in her disposition, 
 save goodness, purity, and truth. They would be sur 
 prised, he knew, but she was worth a thousand of them 
 all, and then, with aglow of pride, he thought how his 
 tender love and care would shield her from all unkind 
 remarks, and how he would make himself worthy of 
 such a treasure. 
 
 This was the nobler, better part of J. C.'s nature, but 
 anon a more sordid feeling crept in, and he blushed to 
 find himself wondering how large her fortune really 
 was ! No one knew, save the lawyers and the trustee 
 to whose care it had been committed, and since he had 
 become interested in her, he dared not question them, 
 lest they should accuse him of mercenary motives.
 
 94 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 Was it as large as Nellie's? He wished he knew, 
 while, at the same time, he declared to himself that it 
 should make no difference. The heart which had with 
 stood so many charms was really interested at last, and 
 though he knew both Mrs. Kelsey and her niece would 
 array themselves against him, he was prepared to with 
 stand the indignation of the one and the opposition of 
 the other. 
 
 So perfectly secure was Nellie in J. C.'s admiration 
 for herself, that she failed to see his growing prefer 
 ence for Maude, whom she frequently ridiculed in his 
 presence, just because she thought he would laugh at 
 it, and think her witty. But in this she was mistaken, 
 for her ridicule raised Maude higher in his estimation, 
 and he was glad when at last an opportunity occurred 
 for him to declare his intentions. 
 
 For a week or more, Nellie, and a few of the young 
 people of the village, had been planning a picnic to the 
 lake and the day was finally decided upon. Nellie did 
 not ask J. C. if he were going ; she expected it as a 
 matter of course, just as she expected that Maude 
 would stay at home to look after Louis and the house. 
 But J. C. had his own opinion of the matter, and when 
 the morning came he found it very convenient to be 
 suffering from a severe headache, which would not 
 permit him to leave his bed, much less to join the 
 pleasure-party. 
 
 " Give my compliments to Miss Kennedy," he said to 
 the young man who came to his door, " and tell her I 
 cannot possible go this morning, but will perhaps come 
 down this afternoon." 
 
 " Mr. De Vere not going ! I can't believe it ! " and 
 the angry tears glittered in Nellie's blue eyes, when she 
 heard the message he had sent her.
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 95 
 
 " Not going ! " exclaimed Mrs. Kelsey, while even 
 Maude sympathized in the general sorrow, for her 
 hands had prepared the repast, and she had taken 
 especial pains with the pies which Mr. De Yere liked 
 the best, and which, notwithstanding his dislike to 
 kitchen odors, he had seen her make, standing at her 
 elbow, and complimenting her skill. 
 
 Nellie was in favor of deferring the ride, but others 
 of the party, who did not care so much for Mr. De 
 Vere's society, objected, and poutingly tying on her 
 flat, the young lady took her seat beside her aunt, who 
 was scarcely less chagrined than herself at their dis 
 appointment. 
 
 Meanwhile, from behind his paper curtains, J. C. 
 looked after the party as they rode away, feeling some 
 what relieved when the blue ribbons of Nellie's flat 
 disappeared from view. For appearance's sake, he felt 
 obliged to keep his room for an hour or more, but at 
 the end of that time he ventured to feel better, and 
 dressing himself with unusual care, he started for Dr. 
 Kennedy's, walking very slowly, as became one suffer 
 ing from a nervous headache, as he was supposed to 
 be. Maude had finished her domestic duties, and in 
 tasteful gingham morning-gown, with the whitest of 
 linen collars upon her neck, she sat reading alone at 
 the foot of the garden, beneath at all cherry tree, 
 where John had built her a rough seat of boards. This 
 was her favorite resort, and here J. C. found her, so 
 intent upon her book as not to observe his approach 
 until he stood before her. She seemed surprised to 
 see him, and made anxious inquiries concerning his 
 headache, which he told her was much better. 
 
 " And even if it were not," said he, seating himself 
 at her feet ; " even if it were not, the sight of you, look-
 
 96 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 ing so bright, so fresh and so neat, would dissipate it 
 entirely," and his eyes, from which the saucy, wicked 
 look was for the moment gone, rested admiringly upon 
 her face. 
 
 His manner was even more pointed than his words, 
 and coloring crimson, Maude replied, " You are dis 
 posed to be complimentary, Mr. De Yere." 
 
 " I am disposed for once to tell the truth," he an 
 swered. " All my life long I have acted a part, say 
 ing and doing a thousand foolish things I did not 
 mean, just because I thought it would please the sense 
 less bubbles with whom I have been associated. But 
 you, Maude Remington, have brought me to my senses, 
 and determined me to be a man instead of &fool. Will 
 you help me, Maude, in this resolution ? " and seizing 
 both her hands, he poured into her astonished ear his 
 declaration of love, speaking so rapidly and so vehe 
 mently as almost to take her breath away, for she had 
 never expected a scene like this. 
 
 She had looked upon him as one who would undoubt 
 edly be her sister's husband, and the uniform kindness 
 with which he had treated her, she attributed to his 
 exceeding good nature ; but to be loved by him ; by J. 
 C. De Yere, who had been sought after by the fairest 
 ladies in the land, she could not believe it possible, and 
 with mingled feelings of pleasure, pain and gratified 
 vanity, she burst into tears. 
 
 Yery gently J. C. wiped her tears away, and sitting 
 clown beside her, he said, " The first time I ever saw 
 you, Maude, you told me ' I did not look as if I meant 
 for certain,' and you were right, for all my life has 
 been a humbug ; but I. mean * for certain' now. I love 
 you, Maude, love you for the very virtues which I have 
 so often affected to despise, and you must make me
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 97 
 
 what J. C. De Yere ought to be. Will you, Maude ? 
 Will you be my wife ? " 
 
 To say Maude was not gratified that this man of 
 fashion should prefer her to all the world, would be 
 an untruth, but she could not then say " Yes," for 
 another, and a more melodious voice was still ringing 
 in her ear, and she saw in fancy a taller, nobler form 
 than that of him who was pressing her to answer. 
 
 " Not yet, Mr. De Yere," she said. " Not yet. I 
 must have time to think. It has come upon me so 
 suddenly, so unexpectedly, for I have always thought 
 of you as Nellie's future husband, and my manners are 
 so different from what you profess to admire." 
 
 " 'Twas only profession, Maude," he said, and then, 
 still holding her closely to him, he frankly and in 
 genuously gave her a truthful history of his life up to 
 the time of his first acquaintance with Nellie, of whom 
 he spoke kindly, saying she pleased him better than 
 most of his city friends, and as he began really to 
 want a wife, he had followed her to Laurel Hill, fully 
 intending to offer her the heart which, ere he was 
 aware of it, was given to another. " And now, I 
 cannot live without you," he said. " You must be 
 mine. Won't you, Maude ? I will be a good husband. 
 I will take lessons of Cousin James, who is called a 
 pattern man." 
 
 The mention of that name was unfortunate, and 
 rising to her feet Maude replied : " I cannot answer 
 you now, Mr. de Yere. I should say, No, if I did, 
 I am sure, and I would rather think of it awhile." 
 
 He knew by her voice that she was in earnest, and 
 kissing her hand he walked rapidly away, his love 
 increasing in intensity with each step he took. He 
 had not expected anything like hesitancy. Everyone
 
 98 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 else had met his advances _at least half-way, and 
 Maude's indecision made him feel more ardent than 
 he otherwise might have been. 
 
 " What if she should refuse me ? " he said, as he 
 paced up and down his room, working himself up to 
 such a pitch of feeling, that when that afternoon 
 Nellie on the lake shore was waiting impatiently his 
 coming, he on his pillow was really suffering all the 
 pangs of a racking headache, brought on by strong 
 nervous excitement. " What if she should say, No ? " 
 he kept repeating to himself, and at last, maddened by 
 the thought, he arose, and dashing off a wild rambling 
 letter, was about sending it by a servant, when he 
 received a note from her, for an explanation of which, 
 we will go back an hour or so in our story. 
 
 In a state of great perplexity Maude returned to the 
 house, and seeking out her brother, the only person to 
 whom she could go for counsel, she told him of the 
 offer she had received, and asked him what he thought. 
 In most respects Louis was far older than his years; 
 and he entered at once into the feelings of his sister. 
 
 " J. C. De Vere propose to you ! " he exclaimed. 
 " What will Nellie say ? " 
 
 " If 1 refuse, she never need to know of it," answered 
 Maude, and Louis continued : " They say he is a 
 great catch, and wouldn't it be nice to get him away 
 from everybody else. But what of the other De Vere ? 
 Don't you like him the best ? " 
 
 Maude's heart beat rapidly, and the color on her 
 cheek deepened to a brighter hue, as she replied, 
 " What made you think of him ? " 
 
 " I don't know," was Louis' answer, " only when he 
 was here, I fancied you were pleased with him, and 
 that he would suit you better than J. C."
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 99 
 
 " But he don't like me," said Maude. " He don't like 
 any woman well enough to make her his wife," and 
 she sighed deeply as she thought of his broken promise, 
 and the letter looked for so long. 
 
 " Maude," said Louis suddenly, " men like J. C. De 
 Vere sometimes marry for money, and maybe he 
 thinks your fortune larger than it is. Most everybody 
 does." 
 
 That Maude was more interested in J. C. De Yere 
 than she supposed, was proved by the earnestness with 
 which she defended him from all mercenary motives. 
 
 " He knows Nellie's fortune is much larger than my 
 own," she said, " and, by preferring me to her, he 
 shows that money is not his motive." 
 
 Still Louis's suggestion troubled her, and by way of 
 testing the matter, she sat down at once and wrote him 
 a note, telling him frankly how much she had in her 
 own name, and how much in expectancy. This note 
 she sent to him by John, who, naturally quick-witted, 
 read a portion of the truth in her tell-tale face, and 
 giving a loud whistle in token of his approbation, he 
 exclaimed, " This nigger'll never quit larfin' if you gets 
 him, after all Miss Nellie's nonsense, and I hopes you 
 will, for he's a heap better chap than I s'posed, though 
 I b'lieve I like t'other one the best ! " 
 
 Poor Maude ! That other one seemed destined to be 
 continually thrust upon her, but resolving to banish 
 him from her mind, as one who had long since ceased 
 to think of her, she waited impatiently for a reply to 
 her letter. 
 
 Very hastily J. C. tore it open, hoping, believing 
 that it contained the much-desired answer. " I knew 
 she could not hold out against me no one ever did," 
 he said ; but when he read the few brief lines, he
 
 100 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 dashed it to the floor with an impatient " Pshaw ! " 
 feeling a good deal disappointed that she had not said 
 T'es, and a very little disappointed that the figures 
 were not larger ! 
 
 " Five thousand dollars the twentieth of next June, 
 and five thousand more when that old Janet dies ; ten 
 thousand in all. Quite a handsome property if Maude 
 could have it at once. I wonder if she's healthy, this 
 Mrs. Hopkins," soliloquized J. C., until at last, a new 
 idea entered his mind, and striking his fist upon the 
 table, he exclaimed, " Of course she will. Such peo 
 ple always do, and that knocks the will in the head ! " 
 and J. C. De Yere frowned wrathfully upon the little 
 imaginary Hopkinses who were to share the milkman's 
 fortune with Maude. 
 
 Just then a girlish figure was seen beneath the trees 
 in Dr. Kennedy's yard, and glancing at the white cape 
 bonnet, J. C. knew that it was Maude, the sight of 
 whom drove young Hopkins and the will effectually 
 from his mind. " He would marry her, anyway," he 
 said, " five thousand dollars was enough ; " k and donning 
 his hat, he started at once for the doctor's. Maude 
 had returned to the house, and was sitting with her 
 brother, when the young man was announced. Wholly 
 unmindful of Louis's presence, he began at once by 
 asking " if she esteemed him so lightly as to believe 
 that money could make any difference with him." 
 
 " It influences some men," answered Maude, " and 
 though you may like me " 
 
 " Like you, Maude Remington," he exclaimed, " like 
 is a feeble word. I worship you, I love the very air 
 you breathe, and you must be mine. "Will you, 
 Maude ? " 
 
 J. C. had never before been so much in earnest, for
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 101 
 
 never before bad be met witb tbe least indecision, and 
 be continued pleading bis cause so vebemently tbat 
 Louis, wbo was wholly unprepared for so stormy a 
 wooing, stopped bis ears, and wbispered to bis sister, 
 " Tell him Yes, before be drives me crazy ! " 
 
 But Maude felt tbat sbe must bave time for sober, 
 serious reflection ; J. C. was not indifferent to ber, 
 and the thought was very soothing that she wbo bad 
 never aspired to tbe honor bad been chosen from all 
 -others to be bis wife. He was handsome, agreeable, 
 Idnd-hearted, and, as she believed, sincere in his love 
 for ber. And still there was something lacking. Sbe 
 could not well tell what, unless, indeed, she would bave 
 bim more like James De Vere. 
 
 " Will you answer me ? " J. C. said, after there had 
 been a moment's silence, and in his deep black eyes 
 there was a truthful, earnest look, wholly unlike the 
 wicked, treacherous expression usually hidden there. 
 
 " Wait awhile," answered Maude, coming to bis side 
 and laying her hand upon his shoulder. " Wait a few 
 days, and I most know 1 shall tell you Yes. I like 
 you, Mr. De Yere, and if I hesitate, it is because be 
 cause I really don't know what, but something keeps 
 telling me tbat our engagement may be broken, and if 
 so, it had better not be made." 
 
 There was another storm of words, and then, as 
 Maude still seemed firm in her resolution to do nothing 
 hastily J. C. took bis leave. As the door closed after 
 him, Louis heaved a deep sigh of relief, and, turning 
 to his sister said : " I never beard anything like it ; I 
 wonder if James would act like that ! " 
 
 " Louis," said Maude, but ere Louis could reply she 
 had changed her mind, and determined not to tell him 
 that James De Yere alone stood between ber and the
 
 102 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 decision J. C. pleaded for so earnestly. So she said : 
 " Shall I marry J. C. De Yere ? " 
 
 " Certainly, if you love him," answered Louis. " He 
 will take you to Rochester away from this lonesome 
 house. I shall live with you more than half the time, 
 and " 
 
 Here Louis was interrupted by the sound of wheels. 
 Mrs. Kelsey and Nellie had returned from the Lake, 
 and bidding her brother say nothing of what he had 
 heard, Maude went down to meet them. Nellie was 
 in the worst of humors. " Her head was aching hor 
 ridly. She had spent an awful day and J. C. was 
 wise in staying at home." 
 
 " How is he ? " she asked, " though of course you 
 have not seen him." 
 
 Maude was about to speak, when Hannah, delighted 
 with a chance to disturb Nellie, answered for her. 
 " It's my opinion that headache was all a sham, for you 
 hadn't been gone an hour afore he was over here in 
 the garden with Maude, where he stayed ever so long. 
 Then he came agen this afternoon, and hasn't but jest 
 gone." 
 
 Nellie had not sufficient discernment to read the truth 
 of this assertion in Maude's crimson cheeks, but Mrs. 
 Kelsey had, and very sarcastically she said : " Miss 
 Remington, I think, might be better employed than in 
 trying to supplant her sister." 
 
 "I have not tried to supplant her, madam," an 
 swered Maude, her look of embarrassment giving way 
 to one of indignation at the unjust accusation. 
 
 " May I ask, then, if Mr. De Yere has visited you 
 twice to-day, and if so, what was the object of those 
 visits ? " continued Mrs. Kelsey, who suddenly remem 
 bered several little incidents which had heretofore
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 103 
 
 passed unheeded, and which, now that she recalled them 
 to mind, proved that J. C. De Yere was interested in 
 Maude. 
 
 " Mr. De Yere can answer for himself, and I refer 
 you to him," was Maude's reply, as she walked away. 
 
 Nellie began to cry. " Maude had done something," 
 she knew, " and it wouldn't be a bit improper for a 
 woman as old as Aunt Kelsey to go over and see how 
 Mr. De Yere was, particularly as by this means she 
 might find out why he had been there so long with 
 Maude." 
 
 Mrs. Kelsey was favorably impressed with this idea, 
 and after changing her dusty dress and drinking a cup 
 of tea, she started for the hotel. J. C. was sitting near 
 the window, watching anxiously for a glimpse of 
 Maude, when his visitor was announced. Seating her 
 self directly opposite him, Mrs. Kelsey inquired after 
 his headache, and then asked how he had passed the 
 day. 
 
 " Oh, in lounging, generally," he answered, while she 
 continued, " Hannah says you spent the morning there, 
 and also a part of the afternoon. Was my brother at 
 home ? " 
 
 " He was not. I went to see Maude," J. C. replied 
 somewhat stiffly, for he began to see the drift of her 
 remarks. 
 
 Mrs. Kelsey hesitated a moment, and then proceeded 
 to say that " J. C. ought not to pay Miss Eemington 
 much attention, as she was very susceptible and might 
 fancy him in earnest." 
 
 " And suppose she does? " said J. C., determining to 
 brave the worst. " Suppose she does ? " 
 
 Mrs. Kelsey was very uncomfortable, and coughing a 
 little she replied, "It is wrong to raise hopes which
 
 104 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 cannot be realized, for of course you have never en 
 tertained a serious thought of a low country girl like 
 Maude Kemington." 
 
 There had been a time when a remark like this from 
 the fashionable Mrs. Kelsey would have banished any 
 girl from J. C.'s mind, for he was rather dependent on 
 the opinion of others, but it made no difference now, 
 and, warming up in Maude's defense, he replied, " I 
 assure you, madam, I have entertained serious thoughts 
 toward Miss Remington, and have this day asked her 
 to be my wife." 
 
 " Your wife ! " almost screamed the high-bred Mrs. 
 Kelsey. " What will your city friends what will 
 Nellie say?" 
 
 " Confound them all, I don't care what they say," 
 and J. C. drove his knife-blade into the pine table, 
 while he gave his reasons for having chosen Maude in 
 preference to Nellie, or any one else he had ever seen. 
 " There's something to her," said he, " and with her 
 for my wife, I shall make a decent man. "What would 
 Nellie and I do together when neither of us know 
 anything about business, I mean," he added, while 
 Mrs. Kelsey rejoined, "I always intended that you 
 would live with me, and I had that handsome suite of 
 rooms arranged expressly for Nellie and her future 
 husband. I have no children, and my niece will in 
 herit my property." 
 
 This, under some circumstances would have strongly 
 tempted the young man, nay, it might perchance have 
 tempted him then, had not the deep tones of the organ 
 at that moment have reached his ear. It was the night 
 when Maude usually rehearsed for the coming Sabbath, 
 and soon after her interview with her sister, she had 
 gone to the church where she sought to soothe her
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 105 
 
 ruffled spirits, by playing a most plaintive air. The 
 music was singularly soft and sweet, and the heart of 
 J. C. De Yere trembled to the sound, for he knew it 
 was Maude who played Maude, who outweighed the 
 tempting bait which Mrs. Kelsey offered, and with 
 a magnanimity quite astonishing to himself, he an 
 swered, " Poverty with Maude, rather than riches 
 with another ! " 
 
 " Be it so, then," was Mrs. Kelsey's curt reply, " but 
 when in the city you blush at your bride's awkward 
 ness, don't expect me to lend a helping hand, for Maude 
 Remington cannot by me be recognized as an equal," 
 and the proud lady swept from the room, wearing a 
 deeply injured look, as if she herself had been refused, 
 instead of her niece. 
 
 " Let me off easier than I supposed," muttered J. C., 
 as he watched her cross the street, and enter Dr. Ken 
 nedy's gate. " It will be mighty mean, though, if she 
 does array herself against my wife, for Madam Kelsey 
 is quoted everywhere, and even Mrs. Lane, who lives 
 just opposite, dare not open her parlor blinds until as 
 sured by ocular demonstration that Mrs. Kelsey's are 
 open too. Oh, fashion, fashion, what fools you make 
 of your votaries ! I am glad that I for one dare break 
 your chain, and marry whom I please," and feeling 
 more amiably disposed toward J. C. De Vere than he 
 had felt for many a day, the young man started for the 
 church, where to his great joy be found Maude alone. 
 
 She was not surprised to see him, nay, she was half 
 expecting him, and the flush which deepened on her 
 cheek as he" came to her side, showed that his presence 
 was not unwelcome. Human nature is the same every 
 where, and though Maude was perhaps as free from its 
 weaknesses as almost any one, the fact that her lover
 
 106 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 was so greatly coveted by others, increased rather than 
 diminished her regard for him, and when he told her 
 what had passed between himself and Mrs. Kelsey, and 
 urged her to give him a right to defend her against 
 that haughty woman's attacks by engaging herself to 
 him at once, she was more willing to tell him Yes, than 
 she had been in the morning. Thoughts of James De 
 Yere did not trouble her now he had ceased to re 
 member her ere this had never been more interested 
 in her than in any ordinary acquaintance, and so, 
 though she knew she could be happier with him than 
 with the one who with his arm around her waist, was 
 pleading for her love, she yielded at last, and in that 
 dim old church, with the summer moonlight stealing 
 up the dusky aisles, she promised to be the wife of 
 J. C. De Yere on her eighteenth birthday. 
 
 Yery pleasant now it seemed sitting there alone with 
 him in the silent church. Yery pleasant walking with 
 him down the quiet street, and when her chamber was 
 reached, and Louis, to whom she told her story, whis 
 pered in her ear, " I am glad that is so," she thought it 
 very nice to be engaged, and was conscious of a happier, 
 more independent feeling than she had ever known 
 before. It seemed so strange that she, an unpretend 
 ing country girl, had won the heart that many a city 
 maiden had tried in vain to win, and then with a pang 
 she thought of Nellie, wondering what excuse she 
 could render her for having stolen J. C. away. 
 
 " But he will stand between us," she said, " he will 
 shield me from her anger," and grateful for so potent a 
 protector, she fell asleep, dreaming alas, not of J. C., 
 but of him who called her Cousin Maude, and whose 
 cousin she really was to be. 
 
 J. C. De Yere, too, had dreams of a dark-eyed girl,
 
 THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS. 107 
 
 who, in the shadowy church, with the music she had 
 made still vibrating on the ear, had promised to be 
 his. Dreams, too, he had of a giddy throng who scoffed 
 at the dark-eyed girl, calling her by the name which 
 he himself had given her. It was not meet, they said, 
 that he should wed the " Milkman's Heiress," but with 
 a nobleness of soul unusual in him, he paid no heed to 
 their remarks, and folded the closer to his heart the 
 bride which he had chosen. 
 Alas ! that dreams so often prove untrue.
 
 108 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ENGAGEMENT, REAL AND PROSPECTIVE. 
 
 To her niece Mrs. Kelsey had communicated the re 
 sult of her interview with J. C., and that young lady 
 had fallen into a violent passion, which merged itself 
 at last into a flood of 1 3ars, and ended finally in strong 
 hysterics. While in this latter condition, Mrs. Kelsey 
 deemed it necessary to summon her brother, to whom 
 she narrated the circumstances of Nellie's illness. To 
 say that the doctor was angry would but feebly ex 
 press the nature of his feelings. He had fully expected 
 that Nellie would be taken off his hands, and he had lat 
 terly a very good reason for wishing that it might be so. 
 
 Grown-up daughters, he knew, were apt to look 
 askance at stepmothers, and if he should wish to bring 
 another there, he would rather that Nellie should be 
 out of the way. So he railed at the innocent Maude, 
 and after exhausting all the maxims which would at 
 all apply to that occasion, he suggested sending for 
 Mr. De Yere, and demanding an explanation. But 
 this Mrs Kelsey would not suffer. 
 
 " It will do no good," she said, " and may make the 
 matter worse by hastening the marriage. I shall re 
 turn home to-morrow, and if you do not object shall 
 take your daughter with me, to stay at least six months, 
 as she needs a change of scene. I can, if necessary, 
 intimate to my friends that she has refused J. C.,. 
 who, in a fit of pique, has offered himself to Maude,
 
 THE ENGAGEMENT. 109 
 
 \ and that will save Nellie from all embarrassment. He 
 will soon tire of his new choice, and then " 
 
 " I won't have him if he does,'- gasped Nellie, inter 
 rupting her aunt ; " I won't have anybody who has 
 first proposed to Maude. I wish she'd never come 
 here, and if pa hadn't brought that woman " 
 
 " Helen ! " and the doctor's voice was very stern, for 
 time had not erased from his heart all love for the blue- 
 eyed Matty, the gentle mother of the offending Maude, 
 and more than all, the mother of his boy " Helen, 
 that woman was my wife, and you must not speak dis 
 respectfully of her." 
 
 Nellie answered by a fresh burst of tears, for her 
 own conscience smote her for having spoken thus 
 lightly of one who had ever been kind to her. 
 
 After a moment, Mrs. Kelsey resumed the conversa 
 tion by suggesting that, as the matter could not now 
 be helped, they had better say nothing, but go off on 
 the morrow as quietly as possible, leaving J. C. to 
 awake from his hallucination, which she was sure he 
 would do soon, and follow them to the city. This 
 arrangement seemed wholly satisfactory to all parties, 
 and though Nellie declared she'd never again speak to 
 Jed Be Yere, she dried her tears, and retiring to rest, 
 slept quite as soundly as she had ever done in her life. 
 
 The next morning when Maude as usual went down 
 to superintend the breakfast, she was surprised to hear 
 from Hannah that Mrs. Kelsey was going that day to 
 Rochester, and that Nellie was to accompany her. 
 
 " Nobody can 'cuse me," said Hannah, " of not 'fillin 
 scriptur' oncet, whar it says ' them as has ears to hear, 
 let 'em hear,' for I did hear 'em a talkin' last night of 
 you and Mr. De Yere, and I tell you they're ravin' mad 
 to think you'd cotched him ; but I'm glad on't. You,
 
 110 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 desarves him if anybody. I suppose that t'other chap 
 ain't none of your marryin' sort," and unconscious of 
 the twinge her last words had inflicted Hannah carried 
 the coffee-urn to the dining-room, followed by Maude, 
 who was greeted with dark faces and frowning looks. 
 
 Scarcely a word was spoken during breakfast, and 
 when after it was over, Maude offered to assist Nellie 
 in packing her trunks, the latter answered decisively, 
 " You've done enough, I think." 
 
 A few moments afterward, J. C.'s voice was heard 
 upon the stairs. He had come over to see the " lioness 
 and her cub," as he styled Mrs. Kelsey and her niece, 
 whose coolness was amply atoned for by the bright, 
 joyous glance of Maude, to whom he whispered softly, 
 " Won't we have glorious times when they are gone ! " 
 
 Their projected departure pleased him greatly, and 
 he was so very polite and attentive that Nellie relented 
 a little, and asked how long he intended remaining at 
 Laurel Hill, while even Mrs. Kelsey gave him her hand 
 at parting, and said, " Whenever you recover from 
 your unaccountable fancy, I shall be glad to see you." 
 
 "You'll wait some time, if you wait for that," 
 muttered J. C., as he returned to the house in quest 
 of Maude, with whom he had a long and most delight 
 ful interview, for old Hannah, in unusually good 
 spirits, expressed her willingness to see to everything, 
 saying to her young mistress, " You go along now, 
 and court a spell. I reckon I hain't done forgot how 
 I and Crockett sot on the fence in old Yirginny and 
 heard the bobolinks a singin'." 
 
 Old Hannah was waxing sentimental, and with a 
 heightened bloom upon her cheeks, Maude left her to 
 her memories of Crockett and the bobolinks, while she 
 went back to her lover. J. C. was well skilled in the
 
 THE ENGAGEMENT. Ill 
 
 little, delicate acts which 'tend to win and keep a 
 woman's heart, and in listening to his protestations of 
 love, Maude forgot all else, and abandoned herself to 
 the belief that she was perfectly happjr. Only once 
 did her pulses quicken as they would not have done 
 had her chosen husband been all that she could wish, 
 and that was when he said to her, " I wrote to James 
 last night, telling him of my engagement. He will 
 congratulate me, I know, for he was greatly pleased 
 with you." 
 
 Much did Maude wonder what James would say, 
 and it was not long ere her curiosity was gratified ; for 
 scarcely four days were passed, when J. C. brought to 
 her an unsealed note, directed to " Cousin Maude." 
 
 " I have heard from Jim," he said, " and he is the 
 best fellow in the world. Hear what he says of you," 
 and from his own letter he read : " I do congratulate 
 you upon your choice. Maude Remington is a noble 
 creature so beautiful, so refined, and withal so pure 
 and good. Cherish her, my cousin, as she ought to be 
 cherished, and bring her some time to my home, which 
 will never boast so fair a mistress." 
 
 " I'm so glad he's pleased," said J. C. " I would 
 rather have his approval than that of the whole world. 
 But what ! Crying, I do believe ! " and turning 
 Maude's face to the light, he continued, " Yes, there 
 are tears on your eyelashes. What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing," answered Maude, " only I am 
 so glad your relatives like me." 
 
 J. C. was easily deceived, so was Maude and 
 mutually believing that nothing was the matter, J. C. 
 drummed on the piano, while Maude tore open the note 
 which James had written to her. It seemed so strange 
 to think he wrote it, and Maude trembled violently,
 
 112 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 while the little red spots came out all over her neck 
 and face, as she glanced at the words, " My dear 
 Cousin Maude" 
 
 It was a kind, affectionate note, and told how the 
 writer would welcome and love her as his cousin, while, 
 at the same time, it chided her for not having answered 
 
 ' O 
 
 the letter sent some weeks before. " Perhaps you did 
 not deem it worthy of an answer," he wrote, " but I 
 was sadly disappointed in receiving none, and now that 
 you are really to be my cousin, I shall expect you to 
 do better, and treat me as if I had an existence. J. C. 
 must not monopolize you wholly, for I shall claim a 
 share of you for myself." 
 
 Poor, poor Maude ! She did not feel the summer 
 air upon her brow did not hear the discordant notes 
 which J. C. made upon the piano, for her whole soul 
 was centered on the words," sadly disappointed," " love 
 you as my cousin," and " claim a share of you for myself." 
 
 Only for a moment, though, and then recovering her 
 composure, she said aloud, " "What does he mean ? I 
 never received a note." 
 
 " I know it, I know it," hastily spoke J. C., and 
 coming to her side, he handed her the soiled missive, 
 saying, " It came a long time ago, and was mislaid 
 among my papers, until this letter recalled it to my 
 mind. There is nothing in it of any consequence, I 
 dare say, and had it not been sealed, I might, perhaps, 
 have read it, for as the doctor says, ' it's a maxim of 
 mine, that a wife should have no secrets from her hus 
 band.' Hey Maude ? " and he caressed her burning 
 cheek as she read the note, which, had it been earlier 
 received, might have changed her whole after life. 
 
 And still it was not one half as affectionate in 
 its tone as was the last, for it began with, " Cousin
 
 THE ENGAGEMENT. 113 
 
 Maude " and ended with " Yours respectfully," but she 
 knew he had been true to his promise, and without a 
 suspicion that J. 0. had deceived her, she placed the 
 letters in her pocket, to be read again when she was 
 alone, and could measure every word and sentiment. 
 
 That afternoon when she went to her chamber to 
 make some changes in her dress, she found herself 
 standing before the mirror much longer than usual, 
 examining minutely the face which James De Yere had 
 called beautiful. 
 
 " He thought so, or he would not have said it, but it 
 is false," she whispered, " even J. C. never called me 
 handsome ; " and taking out the note that day re 
 ceived, she read it again, wondering why the name 
 " Cousin Maude " did not sound as pleasantly as when 
 it first was breathed into her ear. 
 
 That night as she sat with Louis in her room, she 
 showed the letters to him, at the same time explaining 
 the reason why one of them was not received before. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad," said Louis, as he finished read 
 ing them, " for now I know that James De Vere don't 
 like you." 
 
 " Don't like me, Louis ! " and in Maude's voice there 
 Avas a world of sadness. 
 
 "I mean," returned Louis, " that he don't love you 
 for anything but a cousin. I like J. C. very, very 
 much, and I am glad you are to be his wife ; but I've 
 sometimes thought that if you had waited, the other 
 one would have spoken, for I was almost sure he loved 
 you, but he don't, I know ; he couldn't be so pleased 
 with your engagement, nor write you so affectionately 
 if he really cared." 
 
 Maude hardly knew whether she were pleased or not 
 with Louis' reasoning. It was true though, she said,
 
 114 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 and inasmuch as James did not care for her, and she 
 i did not care for James, she was very glad she was en 
 gaged to J. C. ! And with reassured confidence in 
 herself, she sat down and wrote an answer to that note, 
 a frank, impulsive, Maude-like answer, which, never 
 theless, would convey to James De Yere no idea how 
 large a share of that young girl's thoughts were given 
 to himself. 
 
 The next day there came to Maude a letter bearing 
 the Canada postmark, together with the unmistakable 
 handwriting of Janet Hopkins. Maude had not heard 
 of her for some time, and very eagerly she read the 
 letter, laughing immoderately, and giving vent to 
 sudden exclamations of astonishment at its surprising 
 intelligence. Janet was a mother ! " a livin' mother 
 to a child born out of due season," so the delighted 
 creature wrote, " and what was better than all, it was 
 a girl, and the Sunday before was baptized as Maude 
 Matilda Remington Blodgett Hopkins, there being no 
 reason," she said, " why she shouldn't give her child as 
 many names as the Queen of England hitched on to 
 hers, beside that it was not at all likely that she would 
 ever have another, and so she had improved this oppor 
 tunity, and named her daughter in honor of Maude, 
 Matty, Harry and her first husband, Joel. But," she 
 wrote, " I don't know what you'll say when I tell you 
 that my old man and some others have made me believe 
 that seein' I've an heir of my own flesh and blood, I 
 ought to change that will of mine, so I've made 
 another, and if Maude Matilda dies you'll have it yet. 
 T'other five thousand is yours, any way, and if I 
 didn't love the little wudget as I do, I wouldn't have 
 changed my will ; but natur is natur." 
 
 Scarcely had Maude finished reading this letter when
 
 THE ENGAGEMENT. 115 
 
 J. C. came in, and she handed it to him. He did not 
 seem surprised, for he had always regarded the will as 
 a doubtful matter ; but in reality he was a little cha 
 grined, for five thousand was only half as much as ten. 
 Still his love for Maude was, as yet, stronger than his 
 love for money, and he only laughed heartily at the 
 string of names which Janet had given to her offspring, 
 saying, " it was a pity it hadn't been a boy, so she 
 could have called him Jedediah Cleisfibotham" 
 
 " He does not care for my money," Maude thought, 
 and her heart went out toward him more lovingly than 
 it had ever done before, and her dark eyes filled with 
 tears, when he told her, as he ere long did, that he 
 must leave the next day and return to Rochester. 
 
 " The little property left me by my mother needs 
 attention, so my agent writes me," he said, " and now 
 the will has gone up, and we are poorer than we were 
 before by five thousand dollars, it is necessary that I 
 should bestir myself, you know." 
 
 Maude could not tell why it was that his words 
 affected her unpleasantly, for she knew he was not 
 rich, and she felt that she should respect him more if 
 he really did bestir himself, but still she did not like 
 his manner when speaking of the will, and her heart 
 was heavy all the day. He, on the contrary, was in 
 unusually good spirits. He was not tired of Maude, 
 but he was tired of the monotonous life at Laurel Hill, 
 and when his agent's summons came it found him 
 ready to go. That for which he had visited Laurel 
 Hill, had in reality been accomplished. He had secured 
 a wife, not Nellie, but Maude, and determining to do 
 everything honorably, he, on the morning of his 
 departure, went to the doctor, to whom he talked of 
 Maude, expressing his wish to marry her.
 
 116 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 Yery coldly the doctor answered that " Maude could 
 marry whom she pleased. It was a maxim of his never 
 to interfere with matches," and then, as if the subject 
 were suggestive, he questioned the young man to know 
 if in his travels he had ever met the lady Maude Glen- 
 dower. J. C. had met her once at Saratoga, at New 
 port once, and twice at the White Mountains. 
 
 " She was a splendid creature," he said, and he asked 
 if the doctor knew her. 
 
 " I saw her as a child of seventeen, and again as a 
 "woman of twenty-five. She is forty now," was the 
 doctor's answer, as he walked away, wondering if the 
 Maude Glendower of to-day were greatly changed from 
 the Maude of fifteen years ago. 
 
 To J. C.'s active mind a new idea was presented, and 
 seeking out the other Maude his Maude he told her 
 of his suspicion. There was a momentary pang, a 
 thought of the willow-shaded grave where Kate and 
 Matty slept, and then Maude Kemington calmly ques 
 tioned J. C. of Maude Glendower who she was, and 
 where did she live ? 
 
 J. C. knew but little of the lady, but what little he 
 knew, he told. She was of both English and Spanish 
 descent. Her friends, he believed, were nearly all 
 dead, and she was alone in the world. Though forty 
 years of age, she was well preserved, and called a 
 wondrous beauty. She was a belle a flirt a spinster, 
 and was living at present in Troy, at a fashionable 
 boarding-house on Second street, and this was all he 
 knew. 
 
 " She'll never marry the doctor," said Maude, laugh 
 ing, as she thought of an elegant woman leaving the 
 world of fashion, to be mistress of that house. 
 
 Still the idea followed her, and when at last J. C.
 
 THE ENGAGEMENT. 117 
 
 lad bidden her adieu, and gone to his city home, she 
 frequently found herself thinking of the beautiful 
 Maude Glendower, whose name, it seemed to her, she 
 had heard before, though when or where she could not 
 tell. A strange interest was awakened in her bosom 
 for the unknown lady, and she often wondered if they 
 would ever meet. The doctor thought of her, too, 
 thought of her often, and thought of her long, and as 
 his feelings toward her changed, so did his manner 
 soften toward the dark-haired girl who bore her name, 
 and who he began at last to fancy resembled her in 
 more points than one. Maude was ceasing to be an 
 object of perfect indifference to him. She was an en 
 gaged young lady, and, as such, entitled to more respect 
 than he was wont to pay her, and as the days wore on 
 he began to have serious thoughts of making her his 
 confidant and counselor in a matter which he would 
 never have entrusted to Nellie. 
 
 Accordingly, one afternoon, when he found her 
 sitting upon the piazza, he said, first casting an anxious 
 glance around, to make sure no one heard him : " Maude, 
 I wish to see you alone for a few minutes." 
 
 Wonderingly Maude followed him into the parlor, 
 where her astonishment was in no wise diminished by 
 his shutting the blinds, dropping the curtains, and 
 locking the door ! Maude began to tremble, and when 
 he drew his chair close to her side, she started up, 
 asking to what this was a preliminary. 
 
 " Sit down sit down," he whispered ; " I want to 
 tell you something, which you must never mention in 
 the world. You certainly have some sense, or I should 
 not trust you. Maude, I am going that is, I have 
 every reason to believe or rather, I should say perhaps 
 well, anyway, there is a prospect of my being mar-
 
 118 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 ried," and by the time this crisis was reached, the per 
 spiration was dropping fast from his forehead and chin. 
 
 " Married ! to whom ? " asked Maude. 
 
 " You are certain you'll never tell, and that there's 
 no one in the hall," said the doctor, going on tiptoe to 
 the door, and assuring himself there was no one there. 
 Then returning to his seat, he told her a strange story 
 of a marvelously beautiful young girl, with Spanish 
 fire in her lustrous eyes, and a satin gloss on her blue- 
 black curls. Her name was Maude Glendower, and 
 years ago she won his love, leading him on and on until 
 at last he paid her the highest honor a man can pay a 
 woman he offered her his heart, his hand, his name. 
 But she refused him scornfully, contemptuously re 
 fused him, and he learned afterward that she had 
 encouraged him for the sake of bringing another man 
 to terms ! and that man, whose name the doctor never 
 knew, was a college-student not yet twenty-one. 
 
 " I hated her then," said he, " hated this Maude 
 Glendower, for her deception ; but I could not forget 
 her, and after Katy died I sought her again. She was 
 the star of Saratoga, and no match for me. This I had 
 sense enough to see, so I left her in her glory, and three 
 years after married your departed mother. Maude 
 Glendower has never married, and at the age of forty 
 has come to her senses, and signified her willingness 
 to become my wife, or, that is to say, I have been 
 informed by my sister that she probably would not 
 refuse me a second time. Now, Maude Remington, I 
 have told you this, because I must talk with some one, 
 and as I before remarked, you are a girl of sense, and 
 will keep the secret. It is a maxim of mine when any 
 thing is to be done, to do it, so I shall visit Miss Glen 
 dower immediately, and if I like her well enough shall
 
 THE ENGAGEMENT. 119 
 
 marry her at once. Not while I am gone, of course, 
 but very soon. I shall start for Troy one week from 
 to-day, and I wish you would attend a little to my 
 wardrobe ; it's in a most lamentable condition. My 
 shirts are all worn out, my coat is rusty, and last Sun 
 day I discovered a hole in my pantaloons " 
 
 " Dr. Kennedy," exclaimed Maude, interrupting him, 
 " you surely do not intend to present yourself before 
 the fastidious Miss Glendower, with those old shabby 
 clothes. She would say JVo, sooner than she did before. 
 You must have an entire new suit. You can afford it, 
 too, for you have not had one since mother died." 
 
 Dr. Kennedy was never in a condition to be so easily 
 coaxed as now. Maude Glendower had a place in his 
 heart, which no other woman had ever held, and that 
 very afternoon, the village merchant was astonished 
 at the penurious doctor's inquiring the prices of the 
 finest broadcloth in his store. It seemed a great deal 
 of money to pay, but Maude Remington at his elbow, 
 and Maude Glendower in his mind, conquered at last, 
 and the new suit was bought, including vest, hat, boots 
 and all. There is something in handsome clothes very 
 satisfactory to most people, and the doctor, when 
 arrayed in his, was conscious of a feeling of pride quite 
 unusual to him. On one point, however, he was 
 obstinate, " he would not spoil them by wearing them 
 on the road, when he could just as well dress at the 
 hotel." 
 
 So Maude, between whom'and himself there was for 
 the time being quite an amicable understanding, packed 
 them nicely in his trunk, while Hannah and Louis 
 looked on wondering what it could mean. 
 
 " The Millennial is comin', or else he's goin' a 
 courtin'," said Hannah, and satisfied that she was right,
 
 120 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 she went back to the kitchen, while Louis, catching at 
 once at her idea, began to cry, and laying his head on 
 his sister's lap, begged of her to tell him if what 
 Hannah had said were true. 
 
 To him, it seemed like trampling on the little grave 
 beneath the willows, and it required all Maude's powers 
 of persuasion to dry his tears, and soothe the pain 
 which every child must feel, when first they know that 
 the lost mother, whose memory they so fondly cherish, 
 is to be succeeded bv another.
 
 MAUDE GLEKDOWER. 121 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MAUDE GLENDOWER. 
 
 SHE was a most magnificent looking woman, as she 
 sat within her richly furnished room, on that warm 
 September night, now gazing idly down the street, and 
 again bending her head to catch the first sound of 
 footsteps on the stairs. Personal preservation had 
 been the great study of her life, and forty years had 
 not dimmed the luster of her soft, black eyes, or woven 
 one thread of silver among the luxuriant curls which 
 clustered in such profusion around her face and neck. 
 Gray hairs and Maude Glendower had nothing in 
 common, and the fair, round cheek, the pearly teeth, 
 the youthful bloom, and white, uncovered shoulders, 
 seemed to indicate that time had made an exception in 
 her favor, and dropped her from its wheel. 
 
 With a portion of her history the reader is already 
 acquainted. Early orphaned, she was thrown upon 
 the care of an old aunt who, proud of her wondrous 
 beauty, spared no pains to make her what nature 
 seemed to will that she should be, a coquette and a 
 belle. At seventeen, we find her a schoolgirl in New 
 Haven, where she turned the heads of all the college- 
 boys, and then murmured because one, a dark-eyed 
 youth of twenty, withheld from her the homage she 
 claimed as her just due. In a fit of pique she besieged 
 a staid, handsome young M. D., of twenty-seven^ who 
 had just commenced to practise in the city, and who, 
 proud ly keeping himself aloof from the college-students,
 
 122 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 knew nothing of the youth she so much fancied. Per 
 fectly intoxicated with her beauty, he offered her his 
 hand, and was repulsed. Overwhelmed with disap 
 pointment and chagrin, he then left the city, and 
 located himself at Laurel Hill, where now we find him 
 the selfish, overbearing Dr. Kennedy. 
 
 But in after years Maude Glendower was punished 
 for that act. The dark-haired student she so much 
 loved was wedded to another, and with a festering 
 wound within her heart, she plunged at once into the 
 giddy world of fashion, slaying her victims by scores, 
 and exulting as each new trophy of her power was laid 
 at her feet. She had no heart, the people said, and with 
 a mocking laugh she thought of the quiet grave 'mid the 
 New England hills, where, one moonlight night, two 
 weeks after that grave was made, she had wept such 
 tears as were never wept by her again. Maude 
 Glendower had loved, but loved in vain ; and now, at 
 the age of forty, she was unmarried and alone in the 
 wide world. The aunt, who had been to her a mother, 
 had died a few months before, and as her annuity 
 ceased with her death, Maude was almost wholly 
 destitute. The limited means she possessed would only 
 suffice to pay her board for a short time, and in this 
 dilemma she thought of her old lover, and wondered if 
 he could again be won. He was rich, she had always 
 heard, and, as his wife, she could still enjoy the luxuries 
 to which she had been accustomed. She knew his 
 sister they had met in the saloons of Saratoga, and 
 though it hurt her pride to do it, she at last signified 
 her willingness to be again addressed. 
 
 It was many weeks ere Dr. Kennedy conquered 
 wholly his olden grudge, but conquered it he had, and 
 she sat expecting him on the night when first we
 
 MAUDE GLEKDOWER. 123 
 
 introduced her to our readers. He bad arrived in Troy 
 on the western train, and written her a note announcing 
 his intention to visit her that evening. For this visit 
 Maude Glendower had arrayed herself with care, 
 wearing a rich silk dress of crimson and black colors 
 well adapted to her complexion. 
 
 " He saw me at twenty-five. He shall not think me 
 greatly changed since then," she said, as over her 
 bare neck and arms she threw an exquisitely wrought 
 mantilla of lace. 
 
 The Glendower family had once been very wealthy, 
 and the last daughter of the haughty race glittered 
 with diamonds which had come to her from her great- 
 grandmother, and had been but recently reset. And 
 there she sat, beautiful Maude Glendower the votary 
 of fashion the woman of the world sat waiting for 
 the cold, hard, overbearing man, who thought to make 
 her his wife. A ring at the door, a heavy tread upon 
 the winding stairs, and the lady rests her head upon her 
 hand, so that her glossy curls fall over, but do riot con 
 ceal her white, rounded arm, where the diamonds are 
 shining. 
 
 " I could easily mistake him for my father," she 
 thought, as a gray-haired man stepped into the room, 
 where he paused an instant, bewildered with the glare 
 of light and the display of pictures, mirrors, tapestry, 
 rosewood and marble, which met his view. 
 
 " Mrs. Berkley, Maude Glendower's aunt, had 
 stinted herself to gratify her niece's whims, and their 
 surroundings had always been of the most expensive 
 kind, so it was not strange that Dr. Kennedy, accus 
 tomed only to ingrain carpet, and muslin curtains, was 
 dazzled by so much elegance. With a well feigned 
 start the lady arose to her feet, and going to his side
 
 124 COUSIN MAUDE 
 
 offered him her hand, saying : " You are Dr. Kennedy, 
 I am sure. I should have known you anywhere, for 
 you are but little changed." 
 
 She meant to flatter his self-love, though thanks to 
 Maude Remington for having insisted upon the broad 
 cloth suit, he looked remarkably well. 
 
 " She had not changed at all," he said, and the ad 
 miring gaze he fixed upon her argued well for her 
 success. 
 
 It becomes us not to tell how that strange wooing 
 sped. Suffice it to say, that at the expiration of an hour 
 Maude Glendower had promised to be the wife of Dr. 
 Kennedy, when another spring should come. She had 
 humbled herself to say that she regretted her girlish 
 freak, and he had so far unbent his dignity as to say 
 that he could not understand why she should be will 
 ing to leave the luxuries which surrounded her and go 
 with him, a plain, old-fashioned man. Maude Glen- 
 dower scorned to make him think that it was love 
 which actuated her, and she replied, " Now that my 
 aunt is dead, I have no natural protector. I am alone 
 and want a home." 
 
 " But mine is so different," he said : " There are no 
 silk curtains there, no carpets such as this " 
 
 " Is Maude Remington there ? " the lady asked, and 
 in her large black eyes there was a dewy tenderness, 
 as she pronounced that name. 
 
 " Maude Remington ! yes," the doctor answered. 
 " Where did you hear of her ? My sister told you, I 
 suppose. Yes, Maude is there. She has lived with me 
 ever since her mother died. You would have liked 
 Matty, I think," and the doctor felt a glow of satis 
 faction in having thus paid a tribute to the memory of 
 his wife.
 
 MAUDE GLENDOWER. 125 
 
 " Is Maude like her mother ? " the lady asked ; a 
 deeper glow upon her cheek, and the expression of her 
 face evincing the interest she felt in the answer. 
 
 " Not at all," returned the doctor. " Matty was 
 blue-eyed and fair, while Maude is dark, and resembles 
 her father, they say." 
 
 The white jeweled hands were clasped together for 
 a moment, and then Maude Glendower questioned him 
 of the other one, Matty's child and his. Yery tenderly 
 the doctor talked of his unfortunate boy, telling of his 
 soft brown hair, his angel face and dreamy eyes. 
 
 " He is like Matty," the lady said, more to herself 
 than her companion, who proceeded to speak of Nellie, 
 as a paragon of loveliness and virtue. " I shan't like 
 her, I know," the lady thought, " but the other two," 
 how her heart bounded at the thoughts of folding 
 them to her bosom. 
 
 Louis Kennedy, weeping that his mother was for 
 gotten, had nothing to fear from Maude Glendower, 
 for a child of Matty Remington was a sacred trust to 
 her, and when as the doctor bade her good night, he 
 said again, " You will find a great contrast between 
 your home and mine," she answered, "I shall be con 
 tented if Maude and Louis are there." 
 
 " And Nellie, too," the doctor added, unwilling that 
 she should be overlooked. 
 
 " Yes, Nellie too," the lady answered, the expres 
 sion of her mouth indicating that Nellie too, was an 
 object of indifference to her. 
 
 The doctor is gone, his object is accomplished, and 
 at the Mansion House, near by, he sleeps quietly and 
 well. 
 
 But the lady, Maude Glendower, oh, who shall tell
 
 126 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 what bitter tears she wept, or how in her inmost soul 
 she shrank from the man she had chosen. And yet 
 there was nothing repulsive in him, she knew. He was 
 fine-looking, he stood well in the world, he was rich 
 while she was poor. But not for this alone, had she 
 promised to be his wife. To hold Maude Remington 
 within her arms, to look into her eyes, to call his 
 daughter child, this was the strongest reason of them 
 all. And was it strange that when at last she slept, 
 she was a girl again, looking across the college green 
 to catch a glimpse of one whose indifference had made 
 her what she was, a selfish, scheming cold-hearted 
 woman. 
 
 There was another interview next morning, and then 
 the doctor left her, but not until with her soft hand in 
 his, and her shining eyes upon his face, she said to 
 him, " You think your home is not a desirable one for 
 me. Can't you fix it up a little? Are there two 
 parlors, and do the windows come to the floor ? I hope 
 your carriage horses are in good condition, for I am 
 very fond of driving. Have you a flower garden ? I 
 anticipate much pleasure in working among the plants. 
 Oh, it will be so cool and nice in the country. You 
 have an ice-house of course." 
 
 Poor doctor! Double parlors low windows ice 
 house, and flower-garden he had none while the old 
 carryall had long since ceased to do its duty, and its 
 place was supplied by an open buggy, drawn by a 
 sorrel nag. But Maude Glen dower could do with him 
 what Katy and Matty could not have done, and after 
 his return to Laurel Hill, he was more than once 
 closeted with Maude, to whom he confided his plan of 
 improving the place, asking her if she thought the 
 profits of next year's crop of wheat and wool would
 
 MAUDE GLEXDOWER. 127 
 
 meet the whole expense. Maude guessed at random 
 that it would, and, as money in prospect seems not 
 quite so valuable as money in hand, the doctor finally 
 concluded to follow out Maude Glendower's sugges 
 tions, and greatly to the surprise of the neighbors, the 
 repairing process commenced.
 
 128 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW THE ENGAGEMENTS PROSPERED. 
 
 THE October sun had painted the forest trees with 
 the gorgeous tints of autumn, and the November winds 
 had changed them to a more sober hue, ere J. C. De 
 Yere came again to Laurel Hill. Very regularly he 
 wrote to Maude kind, loving letters, which helped to 
 cheer her solitary life. Nellie still remained with Mrs. 
 Kelsey, and though she had so far forgiven her step 
 sister as to write to her occasionally, she still cherished 
 toward her a feeling of animosity for having stolen 
 away her lover. 
 
 On his return to Rochester, J. C. De Vere had fully 
 expected that his engagement would be the theme of 
 every tongue, and he had prepared himself for the 
 attack. How, then, was he surprised to find that no 
 one had the least suspicion of it, though many joked 
 him for having quarreled with Nellie, as they Avere 
 sure he had done, by his not returning when she did. 
 
 Mrs. Kelsey had changed her mind, and resolved to 
 say nothing of an affair which she was sure would 
 never prove to be serious, and the result showed the 
 wisdom of her proceeding. No one spoke of Maude 
 to J. C., for no one knew of her existence, and both 
 Mrs. Kelsey and Nellie, whom he frequently met, 
 scrupulously refrained from mentioning her name. At 
 first he felt annoyed, and more than once was tempted 
 to tell of his engagement, but as time wore on, and he
 
 HOW THE ENGAGEMENTS PROSPERED. 129 
 
 "became more and more interested in city gaieties, he 
 thought less frequently of the dark- eyed Maude, who, 
 with fewer sources of amusement, was each da.y 
 thinking more and more of him. Still, he was sure he 
 loved her, and one morning near the middle of 
 November, when he received a letter from her saying, 
 " I am sometimes very lonely, and wish that you were 
 here," he started up with his usual impetuosity, and 
 ere he was fully aware of his own intentions, he found 
 himself ticketed for Canandaigua, and the next morning 
 Louis Kennedy, looking from his window, and watching 
 the daily stage as it came slowly up the hill, screamed 
 out, " He's come he's come ! " 
 
 A few moments more, and Maude was clasped in 
 J. C.'s arms. Kissing her forehead, her cheek, and 
 her lips, he held her off and looked to see if she had 
 changed. She had, and he knew it. Happiness and 
 contentment are more certain beautifiers than the most 
 powerful cosmetics, and under the combined effects of 
 both Maude was greatly improved. She was happy 
 in her engagement, happy in the increased respect it 
 brought her from her friends, and happy, too, in the 
 unusual kindness of her stepfather. All this was 
 manifest in her face, and for the first time in his life 
 J. C. told her she was beautiful. 
 
 " If you only had more manner, and your clothes 
 were fashionably made, you would far excel the city 
 girls," he said, a compliment which to Maude seemed 
 rather equivocal. 
 
 When he was there before, he had not presumed to 
 criticise her style of dress, but he did so now, quoting 
 the city belles, until, half in earnest, half in jest, 
 Maude said to him, " If you think so much of fashion, 
 you ought not to marry a country girl."
 
 130 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " returned J. C. " I like you all the 
 better for dressing as you please, and still I wish you 
 could acquire a little city polish, for I don't care to 
 have my wife the subject of remark. If Maude 
 Glendower comes in the spring, you can learn a great 
 deal of her before the twentieth of June." 
 
 Maude colored deeply, thinking for the first time in 
 her life that possibly J. C. might be ashamed of her, 
 but his affectionate caresses soon drove all unpleasant 
 impressions from her mind, and the three days that he 
 stayed with her passed rapidly away. He did not 
 mention the will, but he questioned her of the five 
 thousand which was to be hers on her eighteenth 
 birthday, and vaguely hinted that he might need it to 
 set himself up in business. He had made no arrange 
 ments for the future, he said, there was time enough 
 in the spring, and promising to be with her again 
 during the holidays, he left her quite uncertain as to 
 whether she were glad he had visited her or not. 
 
 The next day she was greatly comforted by a long 
 letter from James, who wrote occasionally, evincing so 
 much interest in " Cousin. Maude," that he always 
 succeeded in making her cry, though why she could 
 not tell, for his letters gave her more real satisfaction 
 than did those of J. C., fraught as the latter were with 
 protestations of constancy and love. Slowly dragged 
 the weeks, and the holidays were at hand, when she 
 received a message from J. C., saying he could not 
 possibly come as he had promised. No reason was 
 given for this change in his plan, and with a sigh of 
 disappointment, Maude turned to a letter from Nellie, 
 received by the same mail. After dwelling at length 
 upon the delightful time she was having in the city, 
 Nellie spoke of a fancy ball, to be given by her
 
 HOW THE ENGAGEMENTS PROSPERED. 131 
 
 aunt during Christmas week. Mr. De Yere was to be 
 Ivanhoe, she said, and she to be Rowena. 
 
 "You don't know," she wrote, "how interested J. C. 
 is in the party. He really begins to appear more as he 
 used to do. He has not forgotten you, though, for he 
 said the other day you would make a splendid Rebecca. 
 It takes a dark person for that, I believe ! " 
 
 Maude knew the reason now why J. C. could not 
 possibly come, and the week she had anticipated so 
 much seemed dreary enough, notwithstanding it was 
 enlivened by a box of oranges and figs from her be 
 trothed, and a long, affectionate letter from James 
 De Vere, who spoke of the next Christmas, saying 
 he meant she should spend it at Hampton. 
 
 " You will really be my cousin then," he wrote, 
 " and I intend inviting yourself and husband to pass 
 the holidays with us. I want my mother to know 
 you, Maude. She will like you, I am sure, for she 
 always thinks as I do." 
 
 This letter was far more pleasing to Maude's taste 
 than were the oranges and figs, and Louis was suffered 
 to monopolize the latter a privilege which he ap 
 preciated as children usually do. 
 
 After the holidays, J. C. paid a flying visit to Laurel 
 Hill, where his presence caused quite as much pain as 
 pleasure, so anxious he seemed to return. Rochester 
 could not well exist without him, one would suppose, 
 from hearing him talk of the rides he planned, the sur 
 prise parties he managed, and the private theatricals of 
 which he was the leader. 
 
 "Do they pay you well for your services?" Louis 
 asked him once, when wearying of the same old 
 story. 
 
 J. C. undersood the hit, and during the remainder of
 
 132 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 his stay was far less egotistical than he would other 
 wise have been. After his departure, there ensued an 
 interval of quiet, which, as spring approached, was 
 broken by the doctor's resuming the work of repairs, 
 which had been suspended during the coldest weather. 
 The partition between the parlor and the large square 
 bedroom was removed ; folding-doors were made be 
 tween ; the windows were cut down ; a carpet was 
 bought to match the one which Maude had purchased 
 the summer before ; and then, when all was done, the 
 doctor was seized with a fit of the Hues, because it had 
 cost so much. But he could afford to be extravagant 
 for a wife like Maude Glendower, and trusting much 
 to the wheat-crop and the wool, he started for Troy, 
 about the middle of March, fully expecting to receive 
 from the lady a decisive answer as to when she would 
 make them both perfectly happy! 
 
 With a most winning smile upon her lip and a be 
 witching glance in her black eyes, Maude Glendower 
 took his hand in hers, and begged for a little longer 
 freedom. 
 
 " Wait till next fall," she said ; " I must go to Saratoga 
 one more summer. I shall never be happy if I don't, 
 and you, I dare say, wouldn't enjoy it a bit." 
 
 The doctor was not so sure of that. Her eyes, her 
 voice, and the soft touch of her hand, made him feel 
 very queer, and he was almost willing to go to Sara 
 toga himself, if by these means he could secure her. 
 
 " How much do they charge ? " he asked ; and, with a 
 flash of her bright eyes, the lady answered, " I presume 
 both of us can get along with thirty or forty dollars a 
 week, including everything ; but that isn't much, as I 
 don't care to stay more than two months ! " 
 
 This decided the doctor. He had not three hundred
 
 HOW THE ENGAGEMENTS PROSPERED. 138 
 
 dollars to throw away, and so he tried to persuade his 
 companion to give up Saratoga and go with him to 
 Laurel Hill, telling her, as an inducement, of the 
 improvements he had made. 
 
 " There were two parlors now," he said, " and with 
 her handsome furniture they would look remarkably 
 well." 
 
 She did not tell him that her handsome furniture 
 was mortgaged for board and borrowed money neither 
 did she say that her object in going to Saratoga was 
 to try her powers upon a rich old Southern bachelor, 
 who had returned from Europe, and who she knew 
 was to pass the coming summer at the Springs. If she 
 could secure him, Dr. Kennedy might console himself 
 as best he could, and she begged so hard to defer their 
 marriage until the autumn, that the doctor gave up 
 the contest, and, with a heavy heart, prepared to turn 
 his face homeward. 
 
 " You need not make any more repairs until I come, 
 I'd rather see to them myself," Miss Glendower said at 
 parting ; and wondering what further improvements she 
 could possibly suggest, now that the parlor windows 
 were all right, the doctor bade her adieu, and started 
 for home. 
 
 Hitherto, Maude had been his confidant, keeping her 
 trust so well that no one at Laurel Hill knew exactly 
 what his intentions were, and, as was very natural, 
 immediately after his return, he went to her for sym 
 pathy in his disappointment. He found her weeping 
 bitterly, and ere he could lay before her his own griev 
 ances, she appealed to him for sympathy and aid. 
 The man to whom her money was intrusted, had 
 speculated, largely, loaning some of it out "West, at 
 twenty per cent. investing some in doubtful railroad
 
 134 COUSm MAUDE. 
 
 stocks, and experimenting with the rest, until, by some 
 unlucky chance he lost the whole, and, worse than all, 
 had nothing of his own with which to make amends. 
 In short, Maude was penniless, and J. C. De Yere in 
 despair. She had written to him immediately, and 
 he had come, suggesting nothing, offering no advice, 
 and saying nothing at first, except that " the man 
 was mighty mean, and he had never liked his looks." 
 
 After a little, however, he rallied somewhat, and 
 offered the consolatory remark, that " they were in a 
 mighty bad fix. I'll be honest," said he, " and confess 
 that I depended upon that money to set me up in busi 
 ness. I was going to shave notes, and in order to do 
 so, I must have some ready capital. It cramps me," he 
 continued, " for, as a married man, my expenses will 
 necessarily be more than they now are." 
 
 " We can defer our marriage," sobbed Maude, whose 
 heart throbbed painfully with every word he uttered. 
 " We can defer our marriage awhile, and possibly a 
 part of my fortune may be regained or, if you wish 
 it, I will release } r ou at once. You need not wed a 
 penniless bride," and Maude hid her face in her hands, 
 while she awaited the answer to her suggestion. J. C. 
 De Yere did love Maude Remington better than any 
 one he had ever seen, and though he caught eagerly at 
 the marriage deferred, he was not then willing to give 
 her up, and, with one of his impetuous bursts, he ex 
 claimed, " I will not be released, though it may be 
 wise to postpone our bridal day for a time, say until 
 Christmas next, when I hope to be established in busi 
 ness," and, touched by the suffering expression of her 
 white face, he kissed her tears away, and told her 
 how gladly he would work for her, painting " love in 
 a cottage," with nothing else there, until he really
 
 HOW THE ENGAGEMENTS PROSPERED. 135 
 
 made himself believe that he could live on bread and 
 water with Maude, provided she gave him the lion's 
 share ! 
 
 J. C.'s great faults were selfishness, indolence, and love 
 of money, and Maude's loss affected him deeply ; still, 
 there was no redress, and playfully bidding her " not to 
 cry for the milkman's spilled milk," he left her on the 
 very day when Dr. Kennedy returned. Maude knew 
 J. C. was keenly disappointed ; that he was hardly 
 aware what he was saying, and she wept for him rather 
 than for the money. 
 
 Dr. Kennedy could offer no advice no comfort. It 
 had always been a maxim of his not to make that man 
 her guardian ; but women would do everything wrong, 
 and then, as if his own trials were paramount to hers, 
 he bored her with the story of his troubles, to which 
 she simply answered, " I am sorry ; " and this was all 
 the sympathy either gained from the other ! 
 
 In the course of a few days, Maude received a long 
 letter from James De Yere. He had heard from J. 
 C. of Ms misfortune, and very tenderly he strove to 
 comfort her, touching at once upon the subject which 
 he naturally supposed lay heaviest upon her heart. 
 The marriage need not be postponed, be said : " There 
 was room in his house and a place in his own and his 
 mother's affections for their " Cousin Maude." She 
 could live there as well as not. Hampton was only 
 half an hour's ride from Rochester, and J. C., who had 
 been admitted at the bar, could open an office in the 
 city, until something better presented. 
 
 " Perhaps I may set him up in business myself," he 
 wrote. " At all events, dear Maude, you need not dim 
 the brightness of your eyes by tears, for all will yet be 
 well. Next June shall see you a bride, unless your
 
 136 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 intended husband refuse ray offer, in which case I 
 may divine something better." 
 
 " Noble man," was Maude's exclamation, as she 
 finished reading the letter, and if at that moment the 
 two cousins rose up in contrast before her mind, who 
 can blame her for awarding the preference to him who 
 had penned those lines, and who thus kindly strove to 
 remove from her pathway every obstacle to her hap 
 piness. 
 
 James De Yere was indeed a noble-hearted man. 
 Generous, kind and self-denying, he found his chief 
 pleasure in doing others good, and he had written both 
 to Maude and J. C. just as the great kindness of his 
 heart had prompted him to write. He did not then 
 know that he loved Maude Remington, for he had 
 never fully analyzed the nature of his feelings toward 
 her. He knew he admired her very much, and when 
 he wrote the note J. C. withheld, he said to himself, 
 " If she answers this, I shall write again and again, 
 and maybe " he did not exactly know what lay be 
 yond the maybe, so he added, " we shall be very good 
 friends." 
 
 But the note was not answered, and when his cousin's 
 letter came, telling him of the engagement, a sharp, 
 quick pang shot through his heart, eliciting from him 
 a faint outcry, which caused his mother, who was 
 present, to ask what was the matter. 
 
 " Only a sudden pain," he answered, laying his hand 
 upon his side. 
 
 " Pleurisy, perhaps," the practical mother rejoined, 
 and supposing she was right, he placed the letter in his 
 pocket, and went out into the open air. It had grown 
 uncomfortably warm, he thought, while the noise of 
 the falling fountain in the garden made his head ache
 
 HOW THE ENGAGEMENTS PROSPERED. 137 
 
 as it had never ached before; and returning to the 
 house, he sought his pleasant library. But not a 
 volume in all those crowded shelves had power to in 
 terest him then, and with a strange disquiet, he wan 
 dered from room to room, until at last as the sun went 
 down, he laid his throbbing temples upon his pillow, 
 and in his feverish dreams, saw again the dark-eyed 
 Maude sitting on her mother's grave, her face upturned 
 to him, and on her lip the smile that formed her great 
 est beauty. 
 
 The next morning the headache was gone, and with 
 a steady hand he wrote to his cousin and Maude, con 
 gratulations which he believed sincere. That J. C. 
 was not worthy of the maiden he greatly feared, and 
 he resolved to have a care of the young man, and try 
 to make him what Maude's husband ought to be, and 
 when he heard of her misfortune, he stepped forward 
 with his generous offer, which J. C. instantly refused. 
 
 " He never would take his wife to live upon his rela 
 tives, he had too much pride for that, and the marriage 
 must be deferred. A few months would make no 
 difference. Christmas was not far from June, and by 
 that time he could do something for himself." 
 
 Thus he wrote to James, who mused long upon the 
 words, " A few months will make no difference," think 
 ing within himself, " If I were like other men, and was 
 about to marry Maude, a few months would make 
 a good deal of difference, but every one to their 
 mind." 
 
 Four weeks after this he went one day to Canan- 
 daigua on business, and having an hour's leisure ere the 
 arrival of the train which would take him home, he 
 sauntered into the public parlor of the hotel. Near 
 the window, at the farther extremity of the room,
 
 138 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 a young girl was looking out upon the passers-by. 
 Something in her form and dress attracted his atten 
 tion, and he was approaching the spot where she stood, 
 when the sound of his footsteps caught her ear, and 
 turning round she disclosed to view the features of 
 Maude Remington. 
 
 " Maude ! " he exclaimed, " this is indeed a surprise. 
 I must even claim a cousin's right to kiss yon," and 
 taking both her hands in his, he kissed her blushing 
 cheek coyly timidly for James De Vere was unused 
 to such things, and not quite certain, whether under 
 the circumstances it were perfectly proper for him to 
 do so or not. 
 
 Leading her to the sofa, he soon learned that she had 
 come to the village to trade, and having finished her 
 shopping was waiting for her stepfather, who had ac 
 companied her. 
 
 " And what of J. C. ? " he asked after a moment's 
 silence. " Has he been to visit you more than once since 
 the crisis, as he calls it ? " 
 
 Maude's eyes filled with tears, for J. C.'s conduct 
 was not wholly satisfactory to her. She remembered 
 his loud protestations of utter disregard for her money, 
 and she could not help thinking how little his theory 
 and practise accorded. He had not been to see her 
 since his flying visit in March, and though he had 
 written several times, his letters had contained little 
 else save complaints against their " confounded luck." 
 She could not tell this to James De Yere, and she re 
 plied, " He is very busy now, I believe, in trying to 
 make some business arrangement with the lawyer in 
 whose office he formerly studied." 
 
 " I am glad he has roused himself at last," answered 
 James, " he would not accept my offer, for which I am
 
 HOW THE ENGAGEMENTS PROSPERED. 139 
 
 sorry, as I was anticipating much happiness in having 
 my Cousin Maude at Hampton during the summer. 
 You will remain at home, I suppose." 
 
 " No," said Maude, hesitatingly, u or that is I have 
 serious thoughts of teaching school, as I do not like to 
 be dependent on Dr. Kennedy. 
 
 James De Yere had once taught school for a few 
 weeks, by way of experiment, and now as he recalled 
 the heated room, the stifling atmosphere, the constant 
 care, and more than all, the noisy shout of triumph 
 which greeted his ear on that memorable morning, 
 when he found himself fastened out, and knew his rule 
 was at an end, he shuddered at the thought of Maude's 
 being exposed to similar indignities, and used all his 
 powers of eloquence to dissuade her from her plan. 
 Maude was frank, open-hearted and impulsive, and 
 emboldened by James' kind, brotherly manner, she 
 gave in a most childlike way, her reason for wishing 
 to teach. 
 
 " If I am married next winter," she said, " my ward 
 robe will need replenishing, for J. C. would surely be 
 ashamed to take me as I am, and I have now no means 
 of my own for purchasing anything." 
 
 In an instant James De Yere's hand was on his 
 purse, but ere he drew it forth he reflected that to 
 offer money then might possibly be out of place, so he 
 said, " I have no sister, no girl-cousin, no wife, and 
 more money than I can use, and when the right time 
 comes nothing can please me more than to give you 
 your bridal outfit. May I, Maude ? And if you do 
 not like to stay with Dr. Kennedy, come to Hampton 
 this summer and live with us, will you Maude ? I 
 want you there so much," and in the musical tones of 
 his voice there was a deep pathos which brought the
 
 140 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 tears in torrents from Maude's eyes, while she declined 
 the generous offer she could not accept. 
 
 Just then Dr. Kennedy appeared, he was ready to 
 go, he said, and bidding Mr. De Vere good-by, Maude 
 was soon on her way home, her spirits lighter and her 
 heart happier for that chance meeting at the Hotel. 
 One week later Mr. De Vere wrote to her, saying that 
 if she still wished to teach, she could have the school 
 at Hampton. He had seen the trustees, had agreed 
 upon the price, and had even selected her a boarding 
 place near by. 
 
 " I regret," said he, " that we live so far from the 
 schoolhouse as to render it impossible for you to board 
 with us. You might ride, I suppose, and I would 
 cheerfully carry you every day ; but, on the whole, I 
 think you had better stop with Mrs. Johnson." 
 
 This letter Maude took at once to her brother, from 
 whom she had hitherto withheld her intention to teach, 
 as she did not wish to pain him unnecessarily with the 
 dread of a separation, which might never be. Deeply 
 had he sympathized with her in her misfortune, whisper 
 ing to her that two-thirds of his own inheritance should 
 be hers. 
 
 " I can coax almost anything from father," he said, 
 " and when I am twenty -one, I'll ask him to give me 
 my portion, and then I'll take you to Europe. You 
 won't be old, Maude, only twenty -seven, and I shall be 
 proud when the people say that beautiful woman with 
 eyes like stars is the crippled artist's sister ! " 
 
 In all his plans he made no mention of J. 0., whose 
 conduct he despised, and whose character he began to 
 read aright. 
 
 " Maude will never marry him, I hope," he thought, 
 and when she brought to him the letter from James
 
 HOW THE ENGAGEMENTS PROSPERED. 141 
 
 De Yere, the noble little fellow conquered his own 
 feelings, and with a hopeful heart as to the result of 
 that summer's teaching, he bade her go. So it was all 
 arranged, and the next letter which went from Maude 
 to J. C. carried the intelligence that his betrothed was 
 going " to turn country school-ma'am, and teach the 
 Hampton brats their A B C's," so at last he said to 
 Mrs. Kelsey and her niece, between whom and himself 
 there was a perfectly good understanding, and to whom 
 he talked of his future prospects without reserve. Mrs. 
 Kelsey was secretly delighted, for matters were shaping 
 themselves much as she would wish. Her brother 
 evinced no particular desire to have his daughter at 
 home, and she determined to keep her as long as there 
 was the slightest chance of winning J. C. De Yere. 
 He was now a regular visitor at her house, and, lest he 
 should suspect her design, she spoke often and re 
 spectfully of Maude, whose cause she seemed to have 
 espoused, and when he came to her with the news of 
 her teaching, she sympathized with him at once. 
 
 "It would be very mortifying," she said, "to marry 
 a district schoolmistress, though there was some com 
 fort in knowing that his friends were as yet ignorant 
 of the engagement." 
 
 " Let them remain so a while longer," was the hasty 
 answer of J. C., who, as time passed on, became more 
 and more unwilling that the gay world should know of 
 his engagement with one who was not an heiress after 
 all.
 
 142 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HAMPTON. 
 
 Six happy weeks Maude had been a teacher, and 
 though she knew J. C. did not approve her plan, she 
 was more than repaid for his displeasure by the words 
 of encouragement which James always had in store 
 for her. Many times had she been to the handsome 
 home of the De Veres, and the lady-mother, whom 
 she at first so much dreaded to meet, had more than 
 once stroked her silken curls, calling her " my child," 
 as tenderly as if she did indeed bear that relation to 
 her. James De Yefe was one of the trustees, and in 
 that capacity he visited the school so often, that the 
 wise villagers shook their heads significantly, saying, 
 " if he were any other man they should think the rights 
 of J. C. were in danger." 
 
 The young schoolmistress's engagement with the 
 fashionable Jedediah was generally known, and thus 
 were the public blinded to the true state of affairs. 
 Gradually, James De Yere had learned how dear to 
 him was the dark-eyed girl he called his " Cousin 
 Maude." There was no light like that which shone in 
 her truthful eyes no music so sweet as the sound of 
 her gentle voice no presence which brought him so 
 much joy as hers no being in the world he loved so 
 well. But she belonged to another the time had 
 passed when she might have been won. She could 
 never be his, he said ; and with his love he waged a
 
 HAMPTON. 143 
 
 mighty battle a battle which lasted days and nights, 
 wringing from him more than one bitter moan, as, 
 with his face bowed in his hands, he murmured sadly, 
 the mournful words, " It might have been" 
 
 Yes, it might have been ; it could be still ; but this he 
 did not know. He knew J. C. was fickle in most mat 
 ters, but he did not deem it possible that, having loved 
 Maude Remington once, he could cease from loving her ; 
 neither did he understand why her eyes drooped so oft 
 beneath his gaze, or why the color always deepened on 
 her cheek when he was near. Maude, too, was waking 
 up, and the schoolhouse witnessed more than one fierce 
 struggle between her duty and her inclinations ; for, 
 with woman's tact, she knew that she was not indif 
 ferent to James De Yere ; but she was plighted to 
 another, and if he bade her keep her word, she would 
 do so, even though it broke her heart. 
 
 Matters were in this condition when J. C. came one 
 day to Hampton, accompanied by some city friends, 
 among whom were a few young ladies of the Kelsey 
 order. Maude saw them as they passed the school- 
 house in the village omnibus ; saw, too, how resolutely 
 J. C.'s head was turned away, as if afraid their eyes 
 would meet. 
 
 " He wishes to show his resentment, but of course 
 he'll visit me ere he returns," she thought. And many 
 times that day she cast her eyes in the direction of 
 Hampton Park, as the De Yere residence was often 
 called. 
 
 But she looked in vain, and with a feeling of disap 
 pointment she dismissed her school, and glad to be 
 alone, laid her head upon the desk, falling ere long 
 asleep, for the day was warm, and she was very tired. 
 So quietly she slept that she did not hear the roll of
 
 144 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 wheels, nor the sound of merry voices, as the party 
 from the city rode by on their way to the depot. 
 Neither, half an hour later, did she hear the hasty foot 
 step which crossed the threshold of the door ; but when 
 a hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a well-known 
 voice bade her awake, she started up, and saw before 
 her James De Yere. He had been to her boarding- 
 place, he said, and not finding her there, had sought 
 her in the schoolhouse. 
 
 " I have two letters for you," he continued, " one 
 from your brother, and one from J. C." 
 
 " From J. C. ! " she repeated. " Has he gone back ? 
 "Why didn't he call on me ? " 
 
 " He's a villain," thought James De Yere, but he an 
 swered simply, " he had not time, and so wrote you in 
 stead," and sitting down beside her, he regarded her 
 with a look in which pity, admiration, and love were 
 all blended the former predominating at that moment, 
 and causing him to lay his hand caressingly on her 
 forehead, saying, as he did so, " Your head aches, don't 
 it, Maude 2 " 
 
 Maude's heart was already full, and at this little act of 
 sympathy, she burst into tears, while James, drawing 
 her to his side, and resting her head upon his bosom, 
 soothed her as he would have done had she been his 
 only sister. He fancied that he knew the cause of her 
 grief and his heart swelled with indignation toward 
 J. C., who had that day shown himself unworthy of a 
 girl like Maude. He had come to Hampton without any 
 definite idea as to whether he should see her or not ere 
 his return, but when, as the omnibus drew near the 
 schoolhouse, and Maude was plainly visible through the 
 open window, one of the ladies made some slighting 
 remark concerning school-teachers generally, he de-
 
 HAMPTON. 145 
 
 termined not to hazard an interview, and quieted his 
 conscience by thinking he would come out in a few days 
 and make the matter right. How then was he chagrined 
 when in the presence of his companions, his cousin said : 
 " Shall I send for Miss Remington ? She can dismiss 
 her school earlier than usual, and come up to tea." 
 
 " Dismiss her school ? " cried one of the young ladies, 
 while the other, the proud Miss Thayer, whose grand 
 father was a pedler and whose great-uncle had been hung 
 exclaimed, " Miss Remington ! Pray who is she ? 
 That schoolmistress we saw in passing? Really Mr. 
 De Yere, you have been careful not to tell us of this 
 new acquaintance. Where did you pick her up ? " and 
 the diamonds on her fingers shone brightly in the sun 
 shine as she playfully pulled a lock of J. C.'s hair. 
 
 The disconcerted J. C. was about stammering out 
 some reply, when James, astonished both at the ap 
 parent ignorance of his guests, and the strangeness of 
 his cousin's manner, answered for him, " Miss Reming 
 ton is our teacher, and a splendid girl. J. C. became 
 acquainted with her last summer at Laurel Hill. She 
 is a stepsister of Miss Kennedy, whom you probably 
 know." 
 
 " Nellie Kennedy's stepsister ! I never knew there 
 was such a being," said Miss Thayer, while young 
 Robinson, a lisping, insipid dandy, drawled out, " A 
 sthoolmarm, J. Thee ? It'h really romantic ! Thend 
 for her of courth. A little dithipline won't hurt any of 
 nth." 
 
 J. C. made a faint effort to rally, but they joked him 
 so hard that he remained silent, while James regarded 
 him with a look of cool contempt sufficiently indicative 
 of his opinion. 
 
 At last when Miss Thayer asked, " if the bridal day
 
 146 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 were fixed," he roused himself, and thinking if he told 
 the truth he should effectually deceive them, he an 
 swered, " Yes, next Christinas is the time appointed. 
 We were to have been married in June, but the lady 
 lost her fortune, and the marriage was deferred." 
 
 " Oh, teaching to purchase her bridal trousseau. I'm 
 dying to see it," laughingly replied Miss Thayer, while 
 another rejoined, " Lost her fortune. Was she then an 
 heiress? " 
 
 " Yes, a milkman's heiress," said J. C., with a slightly 
 scornful emphasis on the name which he himself had 
 given to Maude, at a time when a milkman's money 
 seemed as valuable to him as that of any other man. 
 
 There was a dark, stern look on the face of James 
 De Yere, and as Miss Thayer, the ruling spirit of the 
 party, had an eye on him and his broad lands, she 
 deemed it wise to change the conversation from the 
 " Milkman's Heiress " to a topic less displeasing to their 
 handsome host. In the course of the afternoon the 
 cousins were alone for a few moments, when the elder 
 demanded of the other : " Do you pretend to love 
 Maude Kemington, and still make light both of her 
 and your engagement with her." 
 
 " I pretend to nothing which is not real," was J. C.'s 
 haughty answer ; " but I do dislike having my matters 
 canvassed by every silly tongue, and have consequently 
 kept my relation to Miss Kemington a secret. I cannot 
 see her to-day, but with your permission I will pen a 
 few lines by way of explanation," and, glad to escape 
 from the rebuking glance he knew he so much deserved, 
 he stepped into his cousin's library, where he wrote the 
 note James gave to Maude. 
 
 Under some circumstances it would have been a very 
 unsatisfactory message, but with her changed feelings
 
 HAMPTON. 147 
 
 toward the writer, and James De Yere sitting at her 
 side, she scarcely noticed how cold it was, and throw 
 ing it down, tore open Louis's letter which had come in 
 the evening mail. It was very brief, and hastily pe 
 rusing its contents, Maude cast it from her with a cry 
 of horror and disgust then catching it up, she moaned, 
 " Oh, must I go ! I can't ! I can't ! " 
 
 " What is it 1 " asked Mr. De Yere, and pointing to 
 the lines, Maude bade him read. 
 
 He did read, as he read, his own cheek blanched, and 
 he wound his arm closely round the maiden's waist as 
 if to keep her there, and thus save her from danger. 
 Dr. Kennedy had the smallpox, so Louis wrote, and 
 Nellie, Avho had been home for a few days, had fled in 
 fear back to the city. Hannah, too, had gone, and there 
 was no one left to care for the sick man, save John and 
 the almost helpless Louis. 
 
 "Father is so sick," he wrote, "and he says, tell 
 Maude for humanity's sake to come." 
 
 If there was one disease more than another of which 
 Maude stood in mortal fear, it was the smallpox, and 
 her first impulse was, " I will not go." But when she 
 reflected that Louis, too, might take it, and need her 
 care, her resolution changed, and moving away from 
 her companion, she said firmly, " I must go, for if any 
 thing befall my brother, how can I answer to our mo 
 ther for having betrayed my trust. Dr. Kennedy, too, 
 was her husband, and he must not be left to die alone." 
 
 Mr. De Yere was about to expostulate, but she pre 
 vented him by saying, " Do not urge me to stay, but 
 rather help me to go, for I must leave Hampton to 
 morrow. You will get some one to take my place, as 
 1, of course, shall not return, and if I have it " 
 
 Here she paused, while the trembling of her body
 
 - 148 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 showed how terrible to her was the dread of the 
 disease. 
 
 " Maude Remington," said Mr. De Vere struck with 
 admiration by her noble, self-sacrificing spirit, " I 
 will not bid you stay, for I know it would be useless, 
 but if that which you so much fear comes upon you, 
 if the face now so fair to look upon be marred and 
 disfigured until not a lineament is left of the once beau 
 tiful girl, come back to me. I will love you all the 
 same." 
 
 As he spoke, he stretched his arms involuntarily to 
 ward her, and scarce knowing what she did, she went 
 forward to the embrace. Yery lovingly he folded her 
 for a moment to his bosom, then turning her face to 
 the fading sunlight which streamed through the dingy 
 window, he looked at it wistfully and long, as if he 
 would remember every feature. Pushing back the 
 silken curls which clustered around her forehead, he 
 kissed her twice, and then releasing her, said : " Forgive 
 me, Maude, if I have taken more than a cousin's lib 
 erty with you, I could not help it." 
 
 Bewildered at his words and manner, Maude raised 
 her eyes wonderingly to his, and looking into the shin 
 ing orbs, he thought how soft, how beautiful they were, 
 but little, little did he dream their light would e'er be 
 quenched in midnight darkness. Awhile longer they 
 talked together, Mr. De Yere promising to send a ser 
 vant to take her home in the morning. Then, as the 
 sun had set, and the night shadows were deepening in 
 the room, they bade each other good-by, and ere the 
 next day's sun was very high in the heavens, Maude 
 was far on her way to Laurel Hill.
 
 THE DARK HOUR. 149 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 THE DARK HOUR. 
 
 DR. KENNEDY had been to Buffalo, and taken the 
 smallpox, so his attending physician said, and the news 
 spread rapidly, frightening nervous people as they 
 never were frightened before. Nellie had been home 
 for a week or two, but at the first alarm she fled, rush 
 ing headlong through the hall and down the stairs, 
 unmindful of the tremulous voice, which cried implor 
 ingly, " Don't leave me, daughter, to die alone ! " 
 
 Hannah followed next, holding the camphor bottle 
 to her nose, and saying to John when he expostulated 
 with her, " I reckon I'se not gwine to spile what little 
 beauty I've got with that fetched complaint." 
 
 " But, mother," persisted John, " may be it's nothin' 
 but vary-o-lord after all, and that don't mark folks, you 
 know." 
 
 "You needn't talk to me about your very-o-lord" 
 returned Hannah, "/know it's the very very-o-devil 
 himself, and I won't have them pock-ed marks on me 
 for all the niggers in Virginny." 
 
 " Then go," said John, " hold tight to the camphire, 
 and run for your life, or it may cotch you before you 
 git out of the house." 
 
 Hannah needed no second bidding to run, and half 
 an hour later she was domesticated with a colored 
 family, who lived not far from the Hill. Thus left to 
 themselves, Louis and John, together with the physi 
 cian, did what they could for the sick man, who at last
 
 150 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 proposed sending for Maude, feeling intuitively that 
 she would not desert him as his own child had done. 
 Silent, desolate and forsaken the old house looked as 
 Maude approached it, and she involuntarily held her 
 breath as she stepped into the hall, whose close air 
 seemed laden with infection. She experienced no dif 
 ficulty in finding the sick room, where Louis' cry of 
 delight, John's expression of joy, and the sick man's 
 whispered words, " God bless you, Maude," more than 
 recompensed her for the risk she had incurred. Grad 
 ually her fear subsided, particularly when she learned 
 that it was in fact the varioloid. Had it been possible 
 to remove her brother from danger, she would have 
 done so, but it was too late now, and she suffered him 
 to share her vigils, watching carefully for the first 
 symptoms of the disease in him. 
 
 In this manner nearly two weeks passed away, and 
 the panic-striken villagers were beginning to breathe 
 more freely, when it was told them one day that Maude 
 and Louis were both smitten with the disease. Then 
 indeed the more humane said to themselves, " Shall 
 they be left to suffer alone ? " and still no one was 
 found who dared to breathe the air of the sick room. 
 Dr. Kennedy was by this time so much better that 
 Louis was taken to his apartment, where he ministered 
 to him himself, while the heroic Maude was left to the 
 care of John. Everything he could do for her he did, 
 but his heart sunk within him when he saw how fast 
 her fever came on, and heard her, in her sleep, mourn 
 for her mother, to hold her aching head. 
 
 " She mustn't die," he said, and over his dark skin 
 the tears rolled like rain, as raising his eyes to the ceil 
 ing, he cried imploringly, " Will the good Father send 
 some one to help ? "
 
 THE DARK HOUR. 151 
 
 The prayer of the weak African was heard ; and, ere 
 the sun went down, a man of noble mien and noble 
 heart stood at the maiden's bedside, bathing her 
 swollen face, pushing back her silken curls, counting 
 her rapid pulses, and once, when she slept, kissing her 
 parched lips, e'en though he knew that with that kiss 
 he inhaled, perhaps, his death ! James De Yere had 
 never, for a day, lost sight of Maude. Immediately 
 after her return he had written to the physician, re 
 questing a daily report, and when, at last, he learned 
 that she was ill, and all alone, he came unhesitatingly, 
 presenting a striking contrast to the timid J. C., who 
 had heard of her illness, and, at first, dared not open 
 the letter which his cousin wrote, apprising him of 
 Maude's affliction. But when he reflected that he 
 could be re- vaccinated, and thus avert the dreaded evil, 
 he broke the seal, and read, commenting as follows : 
 " Jim is a splendid fellow, though I can't see why he 
 takes so much interest in her. Don't I have con 
 founded luck though ? That will first, the five thou 
 sand dollars next, and now the smallpox, too. Of 
 course she'll be marked, and look like a fright. Poor 
 girl! I'd help her if I could," and, as the better 
 nature of J. C. came over him, he added, mournfully : 
 " What if she should die ? " 
 
 But Maude did not die ; and at the expiration of ten 
 days she was so far out of danger that James De Yere 
 yielded to the importunity of his mother, who, in an 
 agony of terror, besought him to return. When first 
 he came to her bedside, Maude had begged of him to 
 leave her, and not risk his life in her behalf ; but he 
 silenced her objections then, and now when he bade 
 her adieu, he would not listen to her protestations of 
 gratitude.
 
 152 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 " I would do even more for you if I could," he said. 
 " I am not afraid of the varioloid, and henceforth I 
 shall think gratefully of it for having dealt so lightly 
 with you." 
 
 So saying, he turned away, feeling happier than he 
 could well express, that Maude had not only escaped 
 from death, but that there would be no marks left to 
 tell how near the ravager had been. Scarcely had the 
 door closed on him, when, emboldened by his last 
 words to ask a question she greatly wished, yet 
 dreaded to ask, Maude turned to John and said, " Am 
 I much pitted ? " 
 
 Rolling up his eyes, and wholly mistaking her mean 
 ing, John replied, " I ain't no great of a physiognomer, 
 but when a thing is as plain as day, I can discern it as 
 well as the next one, and if that ar' chap hain't pitied 
 you, and done a heap more'n that, I'm mistaken." 
 
 " But," continued Maude, smiling at his simplicity, 
 " I mean shall I probably be scarred ? " 
 
 " Oh, bless you, not a scar," answered John, " for 
 don't you mind how he kep' the iled silk and wet rags 
 on yer face, and how that night when you was sickest, 
 he held yer hands so you couldn't tache that little 
 feller between yer eyes. That was the spunkiest var 
 mint of 'em all, and may leave a mark like the one 
 under yer ear, but it won't spile yer looks an atom." 
 
 " And Louis ? " said Maude, " is he disfigured ? " 
 
 " Not a disfigurement," returned John, " but the ole 
 governor, he's a right smart sprinklin' of 'em, one 
 squar' on the tip of his nose, and five or six more on 
 his face." 
 
 Thus relieved of her immediate fears, Maude asked 
 many questions concerning Louis, who she learned had 
 not been very sick.
 
 THE DARK HOUR. 153 
 
 " You can see him afore long I reckon," said John, 
 and in a few days she was able to join him in the sit 
 ting-room below. 
 
 After a little Hannah returned to her post of duty, 
 her beauty unimpaired and herself thoroughly ashamed 
 of having thus heartlessly deserted her master's family 
 in their affliction. As if to make amends for this she 
 exerted herself to cleanse the house from everything 
 which could possibly inspire fear on the villagers, and 
 by the last of August there was scarce a trace left of 
 the recent scourge, save the deep scar on the end of 
 the doctor's nose, one or two marks on Louis's face, 
 and a weakness of Maude's eyes, which became at last 
 a cause of serious alarm. 
 
 It was in vain that Louis implored his father to seek 
 medical aid in Rochester, where the physicians were 
 supposed to have more experience in such matters. 
 The doctor refused, saying, " 'twas a maxim of his not 
 to counsel with any one, and he guessed he knew how 
 to manage sore eyes." 
 
 But Maude's eyes were not sore they were merely 
 weak, while the pain in the eyeball was sometimes so 
 intense as to wring from her a cry of suffering. 
 Gradually there crept into her heart a horrid fear that 
 her sight was growing dim, and often in the darkness 
 of the night she wept most bitterly, praying that she 
 might not be blind. 
 
 u Oh, Louis," she said to her brother one day, " I 
 would so much rather die than to be blind, and never 
 see you any more never see the beautiful world I love 
 so much. Oh, must it be ? Is there no help? " 
 
 " James De Yere could help us if he were here," an 
 swered Louis, his own tears mingling with his sister's. 
 
 But James De Yere had left Hampton for New
 
 154 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 Orleans, where be would probably remain until the 
 winter, and there could be no aid expected from him. 
 The doctor too, was wholly absorbed in thoughts of 
 his approaching nuptials, for Maude Glendower, fail 
 ing to secure the wealthy bachelor, and overhearing 
 several times the remark that she was really getting 
 old, had consented to name the 20th of October for 
 their marriage. And so the other Maude was left to 
 battle with the terrible fear which was strengthened 
 every day. 
 
 At length J. C., roused not so much by the touching 
 letter which she wrote him, as by the uncertain hand 
 writing, came himself, bringing with him a physician, 
 who carefully examined the soft black eyes, which 
 could not now endure the light, then shaking his head, 
 he said gravely, " There is still some hope, but she 
 must go to the city, where I can see her every day." 
 
 J. C. looked at Dr. Kennedy, and Dr. Kennedy 
 looked at J. C., and then both their hands sought their 
 pockets, but came out again empty ! J. C. really had 
 not the ready means with which to meet the expense, 
 while Dr. Kennedy had not the inclination. But one 
 there was, the faithful John, who could not stand by 
 unmoved, and darting from the room, he mounted the 
 woodshed stairs, and from beneath the rafters drew 
 out an old leathern wallet, where, from time to time, 
 he had deposited money for " the wet day." That wet 
 day had come at last not to him but to another and 
 without a moment's hesitation, he counted out the ten 
 golden eagles which his purse contained, and, going 
 back to Maude, placed them in her hand, saying : " Go 
 to Rochester, Miss Maude. I saved 'em for you, for I 
 wouldn't have the light squenched in them shinin' eyes 
 for all the land in old Yirginny."
 
 THE DARK HOUR. 155 
 
 It was a noble act, and it shamed the paler faces 
 who witnessed it, but they offered no remonstrance, 
 though Maude did, refusing to accept it, until Louis 
 said : " Take it, sister take it, and when I'm twenty- 
 one I'll give to him ten times ten golden eagles." 
 
 The necessary arrangements were quickly made, and 
 ere a week was passed, Maude found herself in Roch 
 ester, and an inmate of Mrs. Kelsey's family ; for, 
 touched with pity, that lady had offered to receive 
 her, and during her brief stay, treated her with every 
 possible attention. Nellie, too, was very kind, minis 
 tering carefully to the comfort of her stepsister, who 
 had ceased to be a rival, for well she knew J. C. De 
 Yere would never wed a penniless bride and Hind !
 
 156 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 THE NEW MISTKESS AT LAUREL HILL. 
 
 THE 20th of October came, and with a firm hand 
 Maude Glendower arrayed herself for the bridal, 
 which was to take place at an early hour. The scar 
 on the end of the doctor's nose had shaken her pur 
 pose for an instant, but when she thought again of the 
 unpaid Mils lying in her private drawer, and when, 
 more than all, the doctor said, "We greatly fear 
 Maude Eemington will be blind," her resolution was 
 fixed, and with a steady voice she took upon herself 
 the marriage vows. They were to go to Laurel Hill 
 that day, and when the doctor saw that the handsome 
 furniture of her rooms was still untouched, he ventured 
 to ask " if she had left orders to have it sent." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't tell you, did I, that my furniture was 
 all mortgaged to Mrs. Raymond for board and bor 
 rowed money, too ; but of course you don't care ; you 
 did not marry my furniture," and the little soft, white 
 hands were laid upon those of the bridegroom, while 
 the lustrous eyes sought his face, to witness the effect 
 of her words. 
 
 The dent on the nose grew red a moment, and then 
 the doctor, perfectly intoxicated with the beauty of 
 his bride, answered, " No, Maude, I married you." 
 
 A rap at the door, and a note from Messrs. Barnabas 
 Muggins and Brown, " hoped Miss Glendower would 
 not forget to settle her bill."
 
 THE NEW MISTRESS AT LAUREL HILL. 157 
 
 " It's really quite provoking to trouble you with my 
 debts so soon," said the lady, " but I dare say it's a 
 maxim of yours that we should have no secrets from 
 each other, and so I may as well show you these at 
 once," and she turned into his lap a handful of bills, 
 amounting in all to four hundred dollars, due to the 
 different tradesmen of Troy. 
 
 The spot on the nose was decidedly purple, and had 
 Katy or Matty been there, they would surely -have 
 recognized the voice which began, " Really, Mrs. Ken 
 nedy, I did not expect this, and 'tis a max " 
 
 "Never mind the maxim," and the mouth of the 
 speaker was covered by a dimpled hand, as Maude 
 Glendower continued, " It's mean, I know, but as true 
 as I live, I don't owe another cent. Four hundred dol 
 lars is not much, after all, and you ought to be willing 
 to pay even more for me, don't you think so, dearest f " 
 
 " Ye-es," faintly answered the doctor, who, know 
 ing there was no alternative, gave a check for the 
 whole amount on a Rochester bank, where he had 
 funds deposited. 
 
 Maude Glendower was a charming traveling com 
 panion, and in listening to her lively sallies, and notic 
 ing the admiration she received, the doctor forgot his 
 lost four hundred dollars, and by the time they reached 
 Canandaigua, he believed himself supremely happy in 
 having such a wife. John was waiting for them, just 
 as thirteen years before he had waited for blue-eyed 
 Matty, and the moment her eye fell upon the carriage 
 he had borrowed from a neighbor, the new wife ex 
 claimed, " Oh, I hope that lumbering old thing is not 
 ours. It would . give me the rickets to ride in it 
 long." 
 
 " It's borrowed," the doctor said, and she continued,
 
 158 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 " I'll pick out mine, and my horses, too. I'm quite a 
 connoisseur in those matters." 
 
 John rolled his intelligent eyes toward his master, 
 whose face wore a submissive look, never seen there 
 before. 
 
 "Henpecked! " was the negro's mental comment, as 
 he prepared to start. 
 
 When about three miles from the village, the lady 
 started up, saying, " she had left her shawl, and must 
 go back immediately." 
 
 " There is not time," said the doctor, " for the sun 
 is already nearly set. It will be perfectly safe until 
 we send for it." 
 
 " But it's my India shawl. I must have it," and the 
 lady's hand was laid upon the reins to turn the horses' 
 heads. 
 
 Of course they went back, finding the shawl, not at 
 the hotel, but under the carriage cushions, where the 
 lady herself had placed it. 
 
 " It's a maxim of mine to know what I'm about," 
 the doctor ventured to say, while a silvery voice re 
 turned, " So do I ordinarily, but it is not strange that 
 I forget myself on my wedding day." 
 
 This was well timed, and wrapping the garment care 
 fully round her to shelter her from the night air, the 
 doctor bade the highly amused John drive on. They 
 were more than half way home when some luscious 
 oranges, in a small grocery window, caught the bride's 
 eye and " she must have some, she always kept them 
 in her room," she said, and to the grocer's inquiry, 
 " How many, madam ? " she answered, " Two dozen, 
 at least, and a box of fresh figs, if you have them. I 
 dote on figs." 
 
 It was the doctor's wedding day. He could not say
 
 THE NEW MISTRESS AT LAUREL HILL. 159 
 
 no, and with a mental groan he parted company with 
 another bill, while John, on the platform without, 
 danced the " double shuffle " in token of his delight. 
 There was a second grocery to be passed, but by taking 
 a more circuitous route it could be avoided, and the 
 discomfited bridegroom bade John " go through the 
 Hollow." 
 
 " Yes, sar," answered the knowing negro, turning 
 the heads of the unwilling horses in a direction which 
 would not bring them home so soon, by one whole hour. 
 
 But the grocery was shunned, and so the doctor did 
 not care even if the clock did strike nine just as they 
 stopped at their own gate. The night was dark and 
 the bride could not distinguish the exterior of the house, 
 neither was the interior plainly discernible, lighted as 
 it was with an oil lamp and a single tallow candle. But 
 she scarcely thought of this, so intent was she upon the 
 beautiful face of the crippled boy, who sat in his arm 
 chair, eagerly awaiting her arrival. 
 
 " This is Louis," the father said, and the scornful 
 eyes which with one rapid glance had scanned the 
 whole apartment, filled with tears as they turned to 
 ward the boy. 
 
 Dropping on one knee before him, the lady parted 
 the silken hair from his forehead, saying very gently, 
 " You must be like your mother, save that your eyes 
 are brown, and hers were blue. May I be your mother, 
 Louis ? Will you call me so ? " 
 
 Very wonderingly the child gazed into her face. It 
 was radiantly beautiful, while the dreamy eyes rested 
 upon him with such a yearning look that his heart went 
 out toward her at once, and winding his arms around 
 her neck, he murmured, " I shall love you very much, 
 my mother."
 
 160 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 For a moment Maude Glendower held him to her 
 bosom, while her thoughts went back to the long ago 
 when another face much like his had rested there, and 
 another voice had whispered in her ear, " I love you, 
 Maude Glendower." That voice was hushed in death, 
 but through the child it spoke to her again, and with a 
 throbbing heart she vowed to be to the crippled boy 
 what Matty herself would well approve, could she 
 speak from her low bed beneath the willows. 
 
 " "What of your sister ? " the lady said at last, rising 
 to her feet. " Is she recovering her sight ? " 
 
 "' Nellie writes there is hope," said Louis, " though 
 she did not receive attention soon enough, the physician 
 says." 
 
 There was reproach, contempt, and anger in the 
 large black eyes which sought the doctor's face, but 
 the tallow candle burned but dim, and so he did not 
 see it. 
 
 " It will be a great misfortune to her, and very hard 
 on me if she is blind, for of course I must take care of 
 her," he said at last, while his wife indignantly replied, 
 " Take care of her ! Yes, I'd sell my diamonds rather 
 than see her suffer ! " 
 
 Supper was now announced, and in examining the 
 arrangement of the table, and inspecting the furniture 
 of the dining-room, the bride forgot everything save 
 the novelty of her situation. Mentally styling the 
 house "an old rookery," she forced back the bitter 
 feelings which would rise up when she thought how 
 unlike was all this to what she had been accustomed. 
 It needed but one glance of her keen eyes to read the 
 whole, and ere the close of the next day, she under 
 stood her position perfectly, and summoning to her aid 
 her iron will, she determined to make the most of
 
 THE NEW MISTRESS AT LAUREL HILL, lol 
 
 everything. She knew the doctor had money, aye, 
 and she knew, too, how to get it from him, but she was 
 too wary to undertake it in any of the ordinary ways. 
 She did not tell him how desolate the old house seemed, 
 or that she was homesick because of its desolation ; 
 but after she had been there a few days, she sat down 
 by his side, and told him that with a few improvements 
 it could be made the most delightful spot in all the 
 country, and she was glad she had come there to help 
 him fix it up. She knew he had exquisite taste, and, as 
 he was now at leisure, they would contrive together 
 how their parlors could be improved. She didn't quite 
 like them as they were, the window lights were too 
 small, and they must have the large panes of glass. 
 Then satin paper on the walls would look so much 
 better, and the carpets, though really very nice, were 
 hardly good enough for a man of Dr. Kennedy's stand 
 ing in society. 
 
 " But," gasped the doctor, " the one in the back 
 parlor is brand new has scarcely been used at all, and 
 it is a maxim of mine " 
 
 " Your maxim is good, undoubtedly," interrupted 
 the lady, " but the chambers all need recarpeting, and 
 this will exactly fit Maude's room, which I intend fix 
 ing beautifully before she returns." 
 
 The doctor looked aghast, and his wife continued : 
 " The season is so far advanced that it is hardly worth 
 while to make any changes now, but next spring I 
 shall coax you into all manner of repairs. I do won 
 der what makes that spot on your nose so red at times. 
 You are really very fine-looking when it is not there. 
 It is gone," she continued, and, smoothing away a 
 wrinkle in his forehead, she said, " We won't talk of 
 the future now, but seriously, we must have some new
 
 162 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 Brussels carpets, and a furnace to warm the whole 
 house." 
 
 Here she shivered and coughed quite naturally, after 
 which she returned to the charge, saying, " her family 
 were consumptive, and she could not endure the cold." 
 
 " But, my dear," said the doctor, " it will cost a 
 great deal of money to carry out your plans." 
 
 " Oh, no, not much," she answered, " give me five 
 hundred dollars and I will do everything that is nec 
 essary to make us comfortable through the winter." 
 
 " Five hundred dollars, Mrs. Kennedy ! " and the 
 doctor's gray eyes looked as they used to look when 
 Katy and Matty asked him for five. " Five hundred 
 dollars ! Preposterous ! Why, during the seven years 
 I lived with your predecessor, she did not cost me 
 that ! " 
 
 From old Hannah, Mrs. Kennedy had learned how 
 her predecessor had been stinted by the doctor, and 
 could he that moment have looked into her heart, he 
 would have seen there a fierce determination to avenge 
 the wrongs so meekly borne. But she did not embody 
 her thoughts in words, neither did she deem it advis 
 able to press the subject further at that time, so she 
 waited for nearly a week, and then resumed the attack 
 with redoubled zeal. 
 
 " We must have another servant," she said. " Old 
 Hannah is wholly inefficient, and so I have engaged a 
 colored woman from the hotel ; and did 1 tell you, I 
 have spoken to a man about the furnace we are going 
 to have, and I also told Mr. Jenks to buy me one hun 
 dred yards of Brussels carpeting, in New York. He's 
 gone for goods, you know." 
 
 " Keally, Mrs. Kennedy, this exceeds all. My former 
 companions saw fit to consult me always. Keally, one
 
 THE NEW MISTRESS OF LAUREL HILL. 163 
 
 hundred yards of carpeting, and a black cook ! Astonish 
 ing, Mrs. Kennedy astonishing ! " 
 
 The doctor was quite too much confounded to think 
 of a single maxim, for his wife's effrontery took him 
 wholly by surprise. She was a most energetic woman, 
 and her proceedings were already the theme of many 
 a tea-table gossip, in which the delighted villagers 
 exulted that Dr. Kennedy had at last found his match. 
 Yes, he had found his match, and when next day the 
 black cook, Rose, came, and Mr. Brown asked when he 
 would have the furnace put in his cellar, there was 
 that in the eye of his better half which prompted a 
 meek submission. When the bill for the new carpets 
 was handed him he again rebelled, but all to no 
 purpose. He paid the requisite amount, and tried to 
 swallow his wrath with his wife's consolatory remark, 
 that " they were the handsomest couple hi town, and 
 ought to have the handsomest carpets ! " 
 
 One day he found her giving directions to two or 
 three men who were papering, painting, and white 
 washing Maude's room, and then, as John remarked, 
 he seemed more like himself than he had done before 
 since his last marriage. 
 
 " If Maude is going to be blind," he said, " it can 
 make no difference with her how her chamber looks, 
 and 'tis a maxim of mine to let well enough alone." 
 
 " I wish you would cure yourself of those disagree 
 able maxims," was the lady's cool reply, as, stepping 
 to the head of the stairs, she bade John " bring up the 
 carpet, if it were whipped enough." 
 
 " Allow me to ask what you are going to do with 
 it ? " said the doctor, as from the windows he saw the 
 back parlor carpet swinging on the line. 
 
 " Why, I told you I was going to fit up Maude's
 
 1G4 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 room. She is coming home in a week, you know, and 
 I am preparing a surprise. I have ordered a few pieces 
 of light furniture from the cabinet-maker, and I think 
 her chamber would look nicely if the walls were only a 
 little higher. They can't be raised, I suppose ? " 
 
 She was perfectly collected, and no queen on her 
 throne ever issued her orders with greater confidence 
 in their being obeyed ; and when, that night, she said 
 to her husband, " These men must have their pay," he 
 had no alternative but to open his purse and give her 
 what she asked. Thus it was with everything. Hers 
 was the ruling spirit, and struggle as he would, the 
 doctor was always compelled to submit. 
 
 " Ki, ain't him cotchin' it good ? " was John's men 
 tal comment, as he daily watched the proceedings, and 
 while Hannah pronounced him "the hen-peck-ed-est 
 man she had ever seen," the amused villagers knew that 
 will had met will, and been conquered !
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 
 
 MAUDE'S chamber was ready at last, and very in 
 viting it looked with its coat of fresh paint, its cheer 
 ful paper, bright carpet, handsome bedstead, marble 
 washstand, and mahogany bureau, on which were 
 arranged various little articles for the toilet. The few 
 pieces of furniture which Mrs. Kennedy had ordered 
 from the cabinet-maker's had amounted, in all, to 
 nearly one hundred dollars, but the bill was not yet 
 sent in, and, in blissful ignorance of the surprise await 
 ing him, the doctor rubbed his hands and tried to seem 
 pleased, when his wife, passing her arm in his, led him 
 to the room, which she compelled him to admire. 
 
 " It was all very nice," he said, " but wholly un 
 necessary for a blind girl. What was the price of 
 this ? " he asked, laying his hand upon the bedstead. 
 
 " Only twenty-five dollars. Wasn't it cheap ? " and 
 the wicked black eyes danced with merriment at the 
 loud groan which succeeded the answer. 
 
 " Twenty- five dollars ! " he exclaimed. " Why, the 
 bedstead Matty and I slept on for seven years only 
 cost three, and it is now as good as new." 
 
 " But times have changed," said the lady. " Every 
 body has nicer things ; besides, do you know people 
 used to talk dreadfully about a man of your standing 
 being so stingy. But I have done considerable toward.
 
 166 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 correcting that impression. You ain't stingy, and in 
 proof of it, you'll give me fifty cents to buy cologne for 
 this." And she took up a beautiful bottle which stood 
 upon the bureau. 
 
 The doctor had not fifty cents in change, but a dollar 
 bill would suit her exactly as well, she said, and 
 secretly exulting in her mastery over the self-willed 
 tyrant, she suffered him to depart, saying to himself, 
 as he descended the stair, " Twenty-five dollars for one 
 bedstead. I won't stand it ! I'll do something ! " 
 
 " What are you saying, dear ? " a melodious voice 
 called after him, and so accelerated his movements 
 that the extremity of his coat disappeared from view, 
 just as the lady Maude reached the head of the stairs. 
 
 " Oh ! " was the involuntary exclamation of Louis, 
 who had been a spectator of the scene, and who felt 
 intuitively that his father had found his mistress. 
 
 During her few weeks' residence at Laurel Hill, 
 Maude Glendower had bound the crippled boy to her 
 self by many a deed of love, and whatever she did was 
 sure of meeting his approval. With him she had con 
 sulted concerning his sister's room, yielding often to 
 his artist taste in the arrangement of the furniture, 
 and now that the chamber was ready, they both 
 awaited impatiently the arrival of its occupant. Nellie's 
 last letter had been rather encouraging, and Maude 
 herself had appended her name at its close. The writing 
 was tremulous and uncertain, but it brought hope to 
 the heart of the brother, who had never really believed 
 it possible for his sister to be blind. Very restless he 
 seemed on the day when she was expected, and when, 
 just as the sun was setting, the carriage drove to the 
 gate, a faint sickness crept over him, and wheeling his 
 chair to the window of her room, he looked anxiously
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 167 
 
 at her, as with John's assistance, she alighted from the 
 carriage. 
 
 " If she walks alone, I shall know she is not very 
 blind," he said, and with clasped hands he watched 
 her intently as she came slowly toward the house 
 with Nellie a little in advance. 
 
 Nearer and nearer she came closer and closer the 
 burning forehead was pressed against the window-pane, 
 and hope beat high in Louis' heart, w r hen suddenly she 
 turned aside her foot rested on the withered violets 
 which grew outside the walk, and her hand groped in 
 the empty air. 
 
 " She's blind she's blind," said Louis, and with a 
 moaning cry, he laid his head upon the broad arm of 
 his chair, sobbing most bitterly. 
 
 Meantime below there was a strange interview 
 between the new mother and her children, Maude 
 Glendower clasping her namesake in her arms, and 
 weeping over her as she had never wept before but 
 once, and that when the moonlight shone upon her 
 sitting by a distant grave. Pushing back the clustering 
 curls, she kissed the open brow and looked into the 
 soft black eyes with a burning gaze, which penetrated 
 the shadowy darkness and brought a flush to the 
 cheek of the young girl. 
 
 " Maude Eemington ! Maude Remington ! " she 
 said, dwelling long upon the latter name, " the sight 
 of you affects me painfully, you are so like one I have 
 lost. I shall love you, Maude Remington, for the sake 
 of the dead, and you, too, must love me, and call me 
 mother will you ? " and her lips again touched those 
 of the astonished maiden. 
 
 Though fading fast, the light was not yet quenched 
 in Maude's eyes, and very wistfully she scanned the
 
 168 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 face of the speaker, while her hands moved caressingly 
 over each feature, as she said, " I will love you, beautiful 
 lady, though you can never be to me what my gentle 
 mother was." 
 
 At the sound of that voice, Maude Glendower 
 started suddenly, and turning aside, so her words 
 could not be heard, she murmured sadly, " Both 
 father and child prefer her to me" then recollecting 
 herself, she offered her hand to the wondering Nellie, 
 saying, " Your sister's misfortune must be my excuse 
 for devoting so much time to her, when you, as my 
 eldest daughter, were entitled to my first attention." 
 
 Her stepmother's evident preference for Maude had 
 greatly offended the selfish Nellie, who coldly answered, 
 " Don't trouble yourself, madam. It's not of the least 
 consequence. But where is my father ? He will wel 
 come me, I am sure." 
 
 The feeling too often existing between stepmothers 
 and stepdaughters had sprung into life, and hence 
 forth the intercourse of Maude Glendower and Nellie 
 Kennedy would be marked with studied politeness, 
 and nothing more. But the former did not care. So 
 long as her eye could feast itself upon the face and 
 form of Maude Remington, she was content, and as 
 Nellie left the room, she wound her arm around the 
 comparatively helpless girl, saying, " Let me take you 
 to your brother." 
 
 Although unwilling, usually, to be led, Maude yielded 
 now, and suffered herself to be conducted to the 
 chamber where Louis watched for her coming. She 
 could see enough to know there was a change, and 
 clasping her companion's hand, she said, " I am surely 
 indebted to you for this surprise." 
 
 " Maude, Maude ! " and the tones of Louis' voice
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 169 
 
 trembled with joy, as stretching his arms toward her, 
 he cried, " You can see." 
 
 Guided more by the sound than by actual vision, 
 Maude flew like lightning to his side, and kneeling' 
 before him, hid her face in his lap, while he bent fondly 
 over her, beseeching her to say if she could see. It 
 was a most touching sight, and drawing near, Maude, 
 Glendower mingled her tears with those of the un 
 fortunate children, on whom affliction had laid her 
 heavy hand. 
 
 Maude Remington was naturally of a hopeful nature, 
 and though she had passed through many an hour of 
 anguish, and had rebelled against the fearful doom 
 Avhich seemed to be approaching, she did not yet 
 despair. She still saw a little could discern colors 
 and forms, and could tell one person from another. 
 
 " I shall be better by and by," she said, when assured 
 by the sound of retreating footsteps that they were 
 alone. " I am following implicitly the doctor's direc 
 tions, and I hope to see by Christmas but if I do 
 not " 
 
 Here she broke down entirely, and wringing her 
 hands she cried, " Oh, brother. brother, must I be 
 blind ? I can't I can't, for who will care for poor, 
 blind, helpless Maude ? " 
 
 "I, sister, I," and hushing his own great sorrow, 
 the crippled boy comforted the weeping girl just as 
 she had once comforted him, when in the quiet grave 
 yard he had lain him down in the long, rank grass, 
 and wished that he might die. " Pa's new wife will 
 care for you, too," he said. " She's a beautiful woman, 
 Maude, and a good one, I am sure, for she cried so 
 hard over mother's grave, and her voice was so gentle 
 when, just as though she had known our mother, she
 
 170 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 said, " Darling Matty, I will be kind to your chil 
 dren." 
 
 " Ah, that I will I will," came faintly from the hall 
 Avithout, where Maude Glendower stood, her eyes 
 riveted upon the upturned face of Maude, and her 
 whole body swelling with emotion. 
 
 A sad heritage had been bequeathed to her a 
 crippled boy and a weak, blind girl but in some 
 respects she was a noble woman, and as she gazed upon 
 the two, she resolved that so long as she should live, 
 so long should the helpless children of Matty Kemington 
 have a steadfast friend. Hearing her husband's voice 
 below, she glided down the stairs, leaving Louis and 
 Maude really alone. 
 
 " Sister," said Louis, after a moment, " what of 
 Mr. De Yere ? Is he true to the last ? " 
 
 " I have released him," answered Maude. " I am 
 nothing to him now," and very calmly she proceeded 
 to tell him of the night when she had said to Mr. De 
 Yere, " My money is gone my sight is going too, and 
 1 give you back your troth, making you free to marry 
 another, Nellie, if you choose. She is better suited to 
 you than I have ever been." 
 
 Though secretly pleased at her offering to give him 
 up, J. C. made a show of resistance, but she had 
 prevailed at last, and with the assurance that he should 
 always esteem her highly, he consented to the breaking 
 of the engagement, and the very next afternoon rode 
 out with Nellie Kennedy. 
 
 " He will marry her, I think," Maude said, as she 
 finished narrating the circumstances, and looking into 
 her calm, unruffled face, Louis felt sure that she had 
 outlived her love for one who had proved himself as 
 fickle as J. C. De Yere.
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 171 
 
 " And what of James ? " be asked. " Is he still in 
 New Orleans ? " 
 
 " He is," answered Maude. " He has a large whole 
 sale establishment there, and as one of the partners is 
 sick, he has taken his place for the winter. He wrote 
 to his cousin often, bidding him spare no expense for 
 me, and offering to pay the bills if J. C. was not 
 able." 
 
 Awhile longer they conversed, and then they were 
 summoned to supper, Mrs. Kennedy coming herself for 
 Maude, who did not refuse to be assisted by her. 
 
 " The wind hurt my eyes they will be better to 
 morrow," she said, and, with her old sunny smile, she 
 greeted her stepfather, and then turned to Hannah and 
 John, who had come in to see her. 
 
 But alas for the delusion ! The morrow brought no 
 improvement, neither the next day, nor the next, and 
 as the world grew dim, there crept into her heart a 
 sense of utter desolation, which neither the tender love 
 of Maude Glendower, nor yet the untiring devotion of 
 Louis, could in any degree dispel. All day would she 
 sit opposite the window, her eyes fixed on the light 
 with a longing, eager gaze, as if she feared that the 
 next moment it might leave her forever. Whatever he 
 could do for her Louis did, going to her room each 
 morning, and arranging her dress and hair just as he 
 knew she used to wear it. She would not suffer any 
 one else to do this for her, and in performing these 
 little offices, Louis felt that he was only repaying her 
 in part for all she had done for him. 
 
 Christmas eve came at last, and if she thought of 
 what was once to have been on the morrow, she gave 
 no outward token, and, with her accustomed smile, 
 bade the family good night. The next morning Louis
 
 172 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 went often to her door, and, hearing no sound within, 
 fancied she was sleeping, until at last, as the clock 
 struck nine, he ventured to go in. Maude was awake, 
 and advancing to her side, he bade her a " Merry Christ 
 mas," playfully chiding her the while for having slept 
 so late. A wild, startled expression flashed over her 
 face, as she said : " Late, Louis ! Is it morning, then ? 
 I've watched so long to see the light ? " 
 
 Louis did not understand her, and he answered, 
 " Morning, yes. The sunshine is streaming into the 
 room. Don't you see it ? " 
 
 " Sunshine ! " and Maude's lips quivered with fear, 
 as springing from her pillow, she whispered faintly, 
 " Lead me to the window." 
 
 He complied with her request, watching her curi 
 ously as she laid both hands in the warm sunshine, 
 which bathed her fair, round arms, and shone upon her 
 raven hair. She felt what she could not see, and Louis 
 Kennedy never forgot the agonized expression of the 
 white, beautiful face, which turned toward him, as the 
 wretched Maude moaned piteously, " Yes, brother, 'tis 
 morning to you, but dark, dark night to me. Pm 
 blind! oh, I'm Mind f " 
 
 She did not faint, she did not shriek, but she stood 
 there rigid and immovable, her countenance giving 
 fearful token of the terrible storm within. She was 
 battling fiercely with her fate, and until twice re 
 peated, she did not hear the childish voice which said 
 to her pleadingly, " Don't look so, sister. You frighten 
 me, and there may be some hope yet." 
 
 " Hope," she repeated bitterly, turning her sightless 
 eyes toward him, " there is no hope but death." 
 
 " Maude," and Louis's voice was like a plaintive 
 harp, so mournful was its tone, " Maude, once in the
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 173 
 
 very spot where mother is lying now, you said, be 
 cause I was a cripple, you would love me all the more. 
 You have kept that promise well, my sister. You have 
 been all the world to me, and now that you are blind, 
 I, too, will love you more. I will be your light your 
 eyes, and when James De Yere comes back- " 
 
 " No, no, no," moaned Maude, sinking upon the 
 floor. " Nobody will care for me. Nobody will love 
 a blind girl ; oh, is it Avicked to wish that I could die, 
 lying here in the sunshine, which I shall never see 
 again ? " 
 
 There was a movement at the door, and Mrs. 
 Kennedy appeared, starting back as her eye fell upon 
 the face of the prostrate girl, who recognized her step, 
 and murmured sadly, " Mother, I'm blind, wholly blind.'* 
 
 Louis's grief had been too great for tears, but Maude 
 Glendower's flowed at once, and bending over the 
 white-faced girl, she strove to comfort her, te'lling her 
 how she would always love her, that every wish should 
 be gratified. 
 
 " Then give me back my sight, oh, give me back my 
 sight," and Maude clasped her mother's hands implor 
 ingly. 
 
 Ere long she grew more calm, and suffered herself to 
 be dressed as usual, but she would not admit any one to 
 her room, neither on that day nor for many, succeed 
 ing days. At length, however, this feeling wore 
 away, and in the heartfelt sympathy of her family and 
 friends, she found a slight balm for her grief. Even 
 the doctor was softened, and when Messrs. Beebe <fer 
 Co. sent in a bill of ninety-live dollars for various 
 articles of furniture, the frown upon his face gave way 
 when his wife said to him, " It was for Maude, you 
 know, poor Maude ! "
 
 174 COUSIN" MAUDE. 
 
 " Poor Maude ! " seemed to be the sentiment of the 
 whole household, and Nellie herself said it many a 
 time, as with unwonted tenderness she caressed the 
 unfortunate girl, fearing, the while lest she had done 
 her a wrong, for she did not then understand the 
 nature of Maude's feeling for J. C. De Yere, to whom 
 Nellie was now engaged. 
 
 Urged on by Mrs. Kelsey, and a fast diminishing in- 
 come, J. C. had written to Nellie soon after her return 
 to Laurel Hill, asking her to be his wife. He did not 
 disguise his former love for Maude, neither did he pre 
 tend to have outlived it, but he said he could not wed 
 a blind girl. And Nellie, forgetting her assertion that 
 she would never marry one who had first proposed to 
 Maude, was only too much pleased to answer Yes. And 
 when J. C. insisted upon an early day, she named the 
 fifth of March, her twentieth birthday. She was to be 
 married at home, and as the preparations for the wed 
 ding would cause a great amount of bustle and confu 
 sion in the house, it seemed necessary that Maude 
 should know the cause, and with a beating heart Nellie 
 went to her one day to tell the news. Very com 
 posedly Maude listened to the story, and then as com 
 posedly replied, " I am truly glad, and trust you will 
 be happy." 
 
 " So I should be," answered Nellie, " if I were sure 
 you did not care." 
 
 " Care ! for whom ? " returned Maude. " For J. C. 
 De ^iere? Every particle of love for him has died out, 
 and I am now inclined to think I never entertained for 
 him more than a girlish fancy, while he certainly did 
 not truly care for me." 
 
 This answer was very quieting to Nellie's conscience, 
 and in unusually good spirits she abandoned herself to
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 175 
 
 the excitement which usually precedes a wedding. 
 Mrs. Kennedy, too, entered heart and soul into the 
 matter, and arming herself with the plea, that " it was 
 his only daughter, who would probably never be mar 
 ried again," she coaxed her husband into all manner of 
 extravagances, and by the first of March, few would 
 have recognized the interior of the house, so changed 
 was it by furniture and repairs. Handsome damask 
 curtains shaded the parlor windows, which were 
 further improved by large heavy panes of glass. 
 Matty's piano had been removed to Maude's chamber, 
 and its place supplied by a new and costly instrument, 
 which the crafty woman made her husband believe was 
 intended by Mrs. Kelsey who selected it as a bridal 
 present for her niece". The furnace was in splendid 
 order, keeping the whole house, as Hannah said, 
 " hotter than an oven," while the disturbed doctor 
 lamented daily over the amount of fuel it consumed, 
 and nightly counted the contents of his purse, or reck 
 oned up how much he was probably worth. But 
 neither his remonstrances nor yet his frequent groans, 
 had any effect upon his wife. Although she had no 
 love for Nellie, she was determined upon a splendid 
 wedding, one which would make folks talk for months, 
 and when her liege lord complained of the confusion, 
 she suggested to him a furnished room in the garret, 
 where it would be very quiet for him to reckon up the 
 bills, which from time to time she brought him. 
 
 " Might as well gin in at oncet," John said to him 
 one day, when he borrowed ten dollars for the pay 
 ment of an oyster bill. " I tell you she's got more 
 besom in her than both them t'other ones." 
 
 The doctor probably thought so too, for he became 
 comparatively submissive, though he visited often the
 
 176 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 sunken graves, where he found a mournful solace in 
 reading " Katy, wife of Dr. Kennedy, aged twenty- 
 nine," " Matty, second wife of Dr. Kennedy, aged 
 thirty," and once he was absolutely guilty of wonder 
 ing how the words " Maude, third wife of Dr. Kennedy, 
 aged 41," would look. But he repented him of the 
 wicked thought, and when on his return from his 
 " graveyard musings," Maude, aged 41, asked him for 
 the twenty dollars which she saw a man pay to him 
 that morning, he gave it to her without a word. 
 
 Meanwhile the fickle J. C., in Eochester, was one 
 moment regretting the step he was about to take, and 
 the next wishing the day would hasten, so he could 
 " have it over with." Maude Kemington had secured 
 a place in his affections which Nellie could not fill, and 
 though he had no wish to marry her now, he tried to 
 make himself believe that but for her misfortune, she 
 should still have become his wife. 
 
 " Jim would marry her, I dare say, even if she were 
 blind as a bat," he said, " but then he is able to support 
 her," and reminded by this of an unanswered letter 
 from his cousin, who was still in ISTew Orleans, he sat 
 down and wrote, telling him of Maude's total blind 
 ness, and then, almost in the next sentence saying 
 that his wedding was fixed for the fifth of March. 
 " There," he exclaimed, as he read over the letter, " I 
 believe I must be crazy, for I never told him that the 
 bride was Nellie, but no matter, I'd like to have him 
 think me magnanimous for awhile, and I want to hear 
 what he says." 
 
 Two weeks or more went by, and then there came 
 an answer, fraught with sympathy for Maude, and full 
 of commendation for J. C., who " had shown himself a 
 man"
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. ITT 
 
 Accompanying the letter was a box containing a 
 most exquisite set of pearls for the bride, together with 
 a diamond ring, on which was inscribed, " Cousin. 
 Maude." 
 
 " Ain't I in a deuced scrape," said J. C., as he ex 
 amined the beautiful ornaments, " Nellie would be de 
 lighted with them, but she shan't have them, they are 
 not hers. I'll write to Jim at once, and tell him the 
 mistake," and seizing his pen, he dashed off a few lines, 
 little guessing how much happiness they would carry 
 to the far-off city, where daily and nightly James De 
 Yere fought manfully with the love that clung with a 
 deathlike grasp to the girl J. C. had forsaken, the poor, 
 blind, helpless Maude.
 
 178 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 NELLIE'S BRIDAL NIGHT. 
 
 THE blind girl sat alone in her chamber, listening to 
 the sound of merry voices in the hall without, or the 
 patter of feet, as the fast arriving guests tripped up and 
 down the stairs. She had heard the voice of J. C. De 
 Vere as he passed her door, but it awoke within her 
 bosom no lingering regret, and when an hour later, 
 Nellie stood before her, arrayed in her bridal robes, she 
 passed her hand caressingly over the flowing curls, the 
 fair, round face, the satin dress, and streaming veil, 
 saying as she did so, " I know you are beautiful, my 
 sister, and if a blind girl's blessing can be of any avail, 
 you have it most cordially." 
 
 Both Mrs. Kennedy and Nellie had urged Maude to 
 be present at the ceremony, but she shrank from the 
 gaze of strangers, and preferred remaining in her room, 
 an arrangement quite satisfactory to J. C., who did not 
 care to meet her then. It seemed probable that some 
 of the guests would go up to see her, and knowing this, 
 Mrs. Kennedy had arranged her curls and dress with 
 unusual care, saying to her as she kissed her pale cheek, 
 " You are far more beautiful than the bride." 
 
 And Maude was beautiful. Recent suffering and 
 non-exposure to the open air had imparted a delicacy 
 to her complexion, which harmonized well with tho 
 mournful expression of her face, and the idea of touch 
 ing helplessness which her presence inspired. Her
 
 NELLIE'S BRIDAL NIGHT. 179 
 
 long, fringed eyelashes rested upon her cheek, and her 
 short, glossy curls were never more becomingly ar 
 ranged than now, when stepping backward a pace or 
 two, Mrs. Kennedy stopped a moment to admire her 
 again, ere going below where her presence was already 
 needed. 
 
 The din of voices grew louder in the hall, there was 
 a tread of many feet upon the stairs, succeeded by a 
 solemn hush, and Maude, listening to every sound, 
 knew that the man to whom she had been plighted, 
 was giving to another his marriage vow. She had no 
 love for J. C. De Yere, but as she sat there alone in her 
 desolation, and thoughts of her sister's happiness rose 
 up in contrast to her own dark, hopeless lot, who shall 
 blame her if she covered her face with her hands, and 
 wept most bitterly. Poor Maude ! It was dark, dark 
 night within, and dark, dark night without ; and her 
 dim eye could not penetrate the gloom, nor see the 
 star which hung o'er the brow of the distant hill, 
 where a way-worn man was toiling on. Days and 
 nights had he traveled, unmindful of fatigue, while 
 his throbbing heart outstript the steam-god by many a 
 mile. 
 
 The letter had fulfilled its mission, and with one 
 wild burst of joy when he read that she was free, he 
 started for the north. He was not expected at the 
 wedding, but it would be a glad surprise, he knew, and 
 he pressed untiringly on, thinking but one thought, and 
 that, how he would comfort the poor, blind Maude. 
 He did not know that even then her love belonged to 
 him, but he could win it, perhaps, and then away to
 
 180 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 sunny France, where many a wonderful cure had been 
 wrought, and might be wrought again. 
 
 The bridal was over, and the congratulations nearly 
 so when a stranger was announced, an uninvited guest, 
 and from his armchair in the corner, Louis saw that it 
 was the same kind face which had bent so fearlessly 
 over his pillow little more than six months before. 
 James De Vere the name was echoed from lip to lip, 
 but did not penetrate the silent chamber where Maude 
 sat weeping yet. 
 
 A rapid glance through the rooms assured the young 
 man that she was not there : and when the summons 
 to supper was given, he went to Louis and asked him 
 for his sister. 
 
 " She is up-stairs," said Louis, adding impulsively, 
 " She will be glad you have come, for she has talked of 
 you so much." 
 
 " Talked of me ! " and the eyes of James De Yere 
 looked earnestly into Louis's face. " And does she talk 
 of me still ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Louis, " I heard her once when she was 
 asleep, though I ought not to have mentioned it," he 
 continued, suddenly recollecting himself, " for when I 
 told her, she blushed so red, and bade me not to 
 tell." 
 
 " Take me to her, will you ? " said Mr. De Yere, and 
 following his guide, he was soon opposite the door of 
 Maude's room. 
 
 " "Wait a moment," he exclaimed, passing his fingers 
 through his hair, and trying in vain to brush from his 
 coat the dust which had settled there. 
 
 " It don't matter, for she can't see," said Louis,
 
 NELLIE'S BRIDAL NIGHT. 181 
 
 who comprehended at once the feelings of his com 
 panion. 
 
 By this time they stood within the chamber, but so 
 absorbed was Maude in her own grief, that she did not 
 hear her brother, until he bent over her and whispered 
 in her ear, "Wake, sister, if you're sleeping. He's 
 come. Hds here ! " 
 
 She had no need to ask of him who had come. She 
 knew intuitively, and starting up, her unclosed eyes 
 flashed eagerly around the room, turning at last toward 
 the door where she felt he was standing. James De 
 Vere remained motionless, watching intently the fair, 
 troubled face, which had never seemed so fair to him 
 before. 
 
 " Brother, have you deceived me ? "Where is he ? " 
 she said at last, as her listening ear caught no new 
 sound. 
 
 " Here, Maude, here," and gliding to her side, Mr. 
 De Yere wound his arm around her, and kissing her 
 lips, called her by the name to which she was getting 
 accustomed, and which never sounded so soothingly as 
 when breathed by his melodious voice. " My poor, 
 blind Maude," was all he said, but by the clasp of his 
 warm hand, by the tear she felt upon her cheek, and 
 by his very silence she knew how deeply he sympa 
 thized with her. 
 
 Knowing that they would rather be alone, Louis 
 went below, where many inquiries were making for the 
 guest who had so suddenly disappeared. The inter 
 view between the two was short, for some of Maude's 
 acquaintance came up to see her, but it sufficed for Mr. 
 De Yere to learn all that he cared particularly to know 
 then. Maude did not love J. C. whose marriage with 
 another caused her no regret, and this knowledge made
 
 182 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 the future seem hopeful and bright. It was not the 
 time to speak of that future to her, but he bade her 
 take courage, hinting that his purse should never be 
 closed until every possible means had been used for the 
 restoration of her sight. What wonder then, if she 
 dreamed that night that she could see again, and that 
 the good angel by whose agency this blessing had been 
 restored to her, was none other than James De Vere.
 
 COUSIN MAUDE. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 THREE days had passed since the bridal, and James 
 still lingered at Laurel Hill, while not very many miles 
 away his mother waited and wondered why he did not 
 come. J. C. and Nellie were gone, but ere they had 
 left, the former sought an interview with Maude, whose 
 placid brow he kissed tenderly, as he whispered in her 
 ear : " Fate decreed that you should not be my wife, 
 but I have made you my sister, and, if I mistake not, 
 another wishes to make you my cousin." 
 
 To James he had given back the ornaments intended 
 for another bride than Nellie, saying, as he did so, 
 " Maude De Vere may wear them yet." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked James, and J. C. re 
 plied : " I mean that /and not you will have a Cousin 
 Maude. 
 
 " Who might have been your wife ? " queried James. 
 
 " No," J. C. answered mournfully, " not my wife, 
 even if she were not blind. I never satisfied her, and 
 she did not love me as I know she can love you, who 
 are far more worthy of her. God bless you both," and 
 with a sigh to the memory of what he once hoped 
 would be, J. C. went from his cousin to his bride, who 
 petulantly chided him for having stayed so long away. 
 
 Two days had elapsed since then, and it was night 
 again but to the blind girl, drinking in the words of 
 love, which fell like music on her ear, it was nigh noon 
 day, and the sky undimmed by a single cloud.
 
 184 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 " I once called you my cousin, Maude," the deep- 
 toned voice said, " and I thought it the sweetest name 
 I had ever heard, but there is a nearer, dearer name 
 which I would give to you, even my wife Maude 
 shall it be ? " and he looked into her sightless eyes to 
 read her answer. 
 
 She had listened eagerly to the story of his love born 
 so long ago had held her breath lest she should lose 
 a single word when he told her how he had battled 
 with that love, and how his heart had thrilled with joy 
 when he heard that she was free but when he asked 
 her to be his wife, the bright vision faded, and she an 
 swered mournfully, " You know not what you say. 
 You would not take a blind girl in her helplessness." 
 
 " A thousand-fold dearer to me for that very help 
 lessness," he said, and then he told her of the land be 
 yond the sea, where the physicians were well skilled in 
 everything pertaining to the eye. " Hither they would 
 go," he said, " when the April winds were blowing, 
 and should the experiment not succeed he would love 
 and cherish her all the more." 
 
 Maude knew he was in earnest, and was about to 
 answer him, when along the hall there came the sound 
 of little crutches, and over her face there flitted a 
 shadow of pain. It was the sister-love warring with 
 the love of self, but James De Yere understood it all, 
 and he hastened to say, " Louis will go, too, my dar 
 ling. I have never had a thought of separating you. 
 In Europe he will have a rare opportunity for develop 
 ing his taste. Shall it not be so ? " 
 
 "Let him decide," was Maude's answer, as the 
 crutches struck the soft carpet of the room. 
 
 " Louis," said Mr. De Yere, " shall Maude go with 
 me to Europe as my wife ? "
 
 COUSIN MAUDE. 185 
 
 "Yes, yes yes, yes," was Louis's hasty answer, his 
 brown eyes filling with tears of joy, when he heard 
 that he, too, \vas to accompany them. 
 
 Maude could no longer refuse, and she half fancied 
 she saw the flashing of the diamonds, when James 
 placed upon her finger the ring, which bore the in 
 scription of " Cousin Maude." Before coming there 
 that night, Mr. De Yere had consulted a New York 
 paper, and found that a steamship would sail for Liver 
 pool on the 20th of April, about six weeks from that 
 day. 
 
 " "We will go in it," he said, " my blind bird, Louis 
 and I," and he parted lovingly the silken tresses of her 
 to whom this new appellation Avas given. 
 
 There was much in the future to anticipate, and 
 much in the past which he wished to talk over ; so he 
 stayed with her late that night, and on passing through 
 the lower hall was greatly surprised to see Mrs. Ken 
 nedy still sitting in the parlor. She had divined the 
 object and result of his visit, and the moment he was 
 gone, she glided up the stairs to the room where Maude 
 was quietly weeping for very joy. The story of the 
 engagement was soon told, and winding her arm 
 around Maude's neck Mrs. Kennedy said, " I rejoice 
 with you, daughter, in your happiness, but I shall be 
 left so desolate when you and Louis are both gone." 
 
 Just then her eye caught the ring upon Maude's 
 finger, and taking it in her hand, she admired its chaste 
 beauty, and was calculating its probable cost, when 
 glancing at the inside, she started suddenly, exclaim 
 ing, " Cousin Maude '' that is my name the one by 
 which he always called me. Has it been given to you, 
 too?" and as the throng of memories -that name 
 awakened came rushing over her, the impulsive woman.
 
 186 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 folded the blind girl to her bosom, saying to her, " My 
 child, my child, you should have been ! " 
 
 " I do not understand you," said Maude, and Mrs. 
 Kennedy replied, " It is not meet that we should part 
 ere I tell you who and what I am. Is the name of 
 Maude Glendower strange to you ? Did you never hear 
 it in your Vernon home ? " 
 
 " It seemed familiar to me when J. C. De Yere first 
 told me of you," answered Maude, but I cannot recall 
 any particular time when I heard it spoken. Did you 
 know my mother ? " 
 
 " Yes, father and mother both, and loved them, too. 
 Listen to me, Maude, while I tell you of the past. 
 Though it seems so long ago, I was a schoolgirl once, 
 and nightly in my arms there slept a fair-haired, blue- 
 eyed maiden, four years my junior, over whom I exer 
 cised an elder sister's care. She loved me this little 
 blue-eyed girl and when your brother first spoke to 
 me, I seemed again to hear her voice whispering 
 in my ear, 'I love you, beautiful Maude.'" 
 
 4< It was mother it was mother ! " and Maude Rem 
 ington drew nearer to the excited woman, who an 
 swered, 
 
 " Yes, it was your mother, then little Matty Reed ; 
 we were at school together in New Haven, and she was 
 my roommate. We were not at all alike, for I was 
 wholly selfish, while she found her greatest pleasure in 
 ministering to others' happiness ; but she crossed my 
 path at last, and then I thought I hated her." 
 
 " Not my mother, lady. You could not hate my 
 mother ; " and the blind eyes flashed as if they would 
 tear away the veil of darkness in which they were 
 enshrouded, and gaze upon a woman who could hate 
 sweet Matty Remington.
 
 COUSIN MAUDE. 187 
 
 " Hush, child, don't look so fiercely at me," said 
 Maude Glendower. " Upon your mother's grave I 
 have wept that sin away, and I know I am forgiven 
 as well as if her own soft voice had told me so. I 
 loved your father, Maude, and this was my great error. 
 He was a distant relative of your mother, whom he 
 always called his cousin. He visited her often, for he 
 was a college student, and ere I was aware of it, I 
 loved him, oh, so madly, vainly fancying my affection 
 was returned. He was bashful, I thought, for he was 
 not then twenty -one, and by way of rousing him to 
 action, I trifled with another with Dr. Kennedy" 
 and she uttered the name spitefully, as if it were even 
 now hateful to her. 
 
 " I know it I know it," returned Maude, "he told 
 me that when he first talked with me of you, but I 
 did not suppose the dark-eyed student was my father." 
 
 " It was none other," said Mrs. Kennedy, " and you 
 can form some conception of my love for him, when 
 I tell you that it has never died away, but is as fresh 
 within my heart this night, as when I walked with 
 him upon the College Green, and he called me " Cousin 
 Maude," for lie gave me that name because of my 
 fondness for Matty and he sealed it with a kiss. 
 Matty was present at that time, and had I not 
 been blind, I should have seen how his whole soul 
 was bound up in her, even while kissing me. I 
 regarded her as a child, and so she was, but men 
 sometimes love children, you know. "When she was 
 fifteen, she left New Haven. I, too, had ceased to be 
 a school-girl, but I still remained in the city and wrote 
 to her regularly, until at last, your father came to me, 
 and with the light of a great joy shining all over his 
 face, told me she was to be his bride on her sixteenth
 
 188 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 birthday. She would have written it herself, he said, 
 only she was a bashful little creature, and would rather 
 he should tell me. I know not what I did for the 
 blow was sudden, and took my senses away. He had 
 been so kind to me of late had visited me so often 
 that my heart was full of hope. But it was all gone 
 now. Matty Reed was preferred to me, and while my 
 Spanish blood boiled at the fancied indignity, I said 
 many a harsh thing of her I called her designing, 
 deceitful, and false ; and then in my frenzy quitted the 
 room. I never saw Harry again, for he left the city 
 next morning ; but to my dying hour, I shall not forget 
 the expression of his face, when I talked to him of 
 Matty. Turn away, Maude, turn away ! for there is 
 the same look now upon your face. But I have 
 repented of that act, though not till years after. I 
 tore up Matty's letters. I said I would burn the soft 
 brown tress 
 
 " Oh, woman, woman ! you did not burn my mother's 
 hair ! " and with a shudder Maude unwound the arm 
 which so closely encircled her. 
 
 " No, Maude, no. I couldn't. It would not leave 
 my fingers, but coiled around them with a loving grasp. 
 I have it now, and esteem it my choicest treasure. 
 When I heard that you were born, my heart softened 
 toward the young girl. Mother and I wrote, asking 
 that Harry's child might be called for me. I did not 
 disguise my love for him, and I said it would be some 
 consolation to know that his daughter bore my name. 
 My letter did not reach them until you had been bap 
 tized Mathilda, which was the name of your mother 
 and grandmother, but, to prove their goodness, they 
 ever after called you Maude." 
 
 " Then I was named foryow; " and Maude Remington
 
 COUSIN MAUDE. 189 
 
 came back to the embrace of Maude Glendower, who, 
 kissing her white brow, continued : " Two years after 
 ward I found myself in Vernon, stopping for a night 
 at the hotel. " I will see them in the morning," I said 
 " Harry, Matty, and the little child ; " and I asked 
 the landlord where you lived. I was standing upon 
 the stairs, and in the partial darkness he could not see 
 my anguish, when he replied, " Bless you, miss. Harry 
 Remington died a fortnight ago." 
 
 " How I reached my room I never knew, but reach 
 it I did, and half an hour later I knelt by his grave, 
 where I wept away every womanly feeling of my 
 heart, and then went back to the giddy world, the 
 gayest of the gay. I did not seek an interview with 
 your mother, though I have often regretted it since. 
 Did she never speak of me ? Think. Did you never 
 hear my name ? " 
 
 " In Yernon, I am sure I did," answered Maude, 
 " but I was then too young to receive a very vivid 
 impression, and after we came here, mother, I fear, was 
 too unhappy to talk much of the past." 
 
 " I understand it," answered Maude Glendower, and 
 over her fine features there stole a hard, dark look, as 
 she continued, " I can see how one of her gentle nature 
 would wither and die in this atmosphere, and forgive 
 me, Maude, she never loved your father as I loved him, 
 for had he called me wife, I should never have been 
 here. 
 
 " "What made you come ? " asked Maude ; and the 
 lady answered, " For Louis's sake and yours I came. I 
 never lost sight of your mother. I knew she married 
 the man I rejected, and from my inmost soul I pitied 
 her. But I am redressing her wrongs and those of 
 that other woman, who wore her life away within these
 
 190 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 gloomy walls. Money is his idol, and when you touch 
 his purse you touch his tenderest point. But I have 
 opened it, and, struggle as he may, it shall not be 
 closed again." 
 
 She spoke bitterly, and Maude knew that Dr. Ken 
 nedy had more than met his equal in that woman of 
 iron will. 
 
 " I should have made a splendid carpenter," the lady 
 continued, " for nothing pleases me more than the 
 sound of the hammer and saw, and when you are gone, 
 I shall solace myself with fixing the entire house. 1 
 must have excitement, or die as the others did." 
 
 " Maude Mrs. Kennedy, do you know what time it 
 is ? " came from the foot of the stairs, and Mrs. Ken 
 nedy answered, " It is one o'clock, I believe." 
 
 " Then why are you sitting up so late, and why is 
 that lamp left burning in the parlor, with four tubes 
 going off at once ? It's a maxim of mine " 
 
 " Spare your maxims, do. I'm coming directly," 
 and kissing the blind girl affectionately, Mrs. Kennedy 
 went down to her liege lord, whom she found extin 
 guishing the light, and gently shaking the lamp to see 
 how much fluid had been uselessly wasted. 
 
 He might have made some conjugal remark, but the 
 expression of her face forbade anything like reproof, 
 and he soon found use for his powers of speech in the 
 invectives he heaped upon the long rocker of the chair 
 over which he stumbled as he groped his way back to 
 the bedroom, where his wife rather enjoyed, than 
 otherwise, the lamentations which he made over his 
 " bruised shin." The story she had been telling, had 
 awakened many bitter memories in Maude Glendower's 
 bosom, and for hours she turned uneasily from side to 
 side, trying in vain to sleep. Maude E-emington, too,
 
 COUSIN MAUDE. 191 
 
 was wakeful, thinking over the strange tale she had 
 heard, and marveling that her life should be so closely 
 interwoven with that of the woman whom she called 
 her mother. 
 
 " I love her all the more," she said, " I shall pity her 
 so, staying here alone, when I am gone." 
 
 Then her thoughts turned upon the future, when she 
 would be the wife of James De Yere, and while won 
 dering if she should really ever see again, she fell 
 asleep just as the morning was dimly breaking in the 
 east.
 
 192 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A SECOND BRIDAL. 
 
 AFTER the night of which we have written, the tie 
 of affection between Mrs. Kennedy and the blind girl 
 was stronger than before, and when the former said 
 to her husband, " Maude must have an outfit worthy of 
 a rich man's step-daughter," he knew by the tone of 
 her voice that remonstrance was useless, and answered 
 meekly, " I will do what is right, but don't be too 
 extravagant, for Nellie's clothes almost ruined me, and 
 I had to pay for that piano yesterday. Will fifty 
 dollars do ? " 
 
 " Fifty dollars ! " repeated the lady. " Are you 
 crazy ? " Then, touched perhaps by the submissive 
 expression of his face, she added, u As Maude is blind, 
 she will not need as much as if she were going at once 
 into society. I'll try and make two hundred dollars 
 answer, though that will purchase but a meagre trous 
 seau" 
 
 Mrs. Kennedy's pronunciation of French was not al 
 ways correct, and John, who chanced to be within 
 hearing, caught eagerly at the last word, exclaiming, 
 "Ki! dem trouses must cost a heap sight mor'n mine! 
 What dis nigger spec' 'em can be?" and he glanced 
 ruefully at his own glazed pants of corduroy, which had 
 done him service for two or three years. 
 
 Maude was a great favorite with John, and when he 
 heard that she was going away forever, he went up to
 
 A SECOND BRIDAL. 193 
 
 the woodshed chamber where no one could see him, 
 and seating himself upon a pile of old shingles, which 
 had been put there for kindling, he cried like a child. 
 
 " It'll be mighty lonesome, knowin' she's gone for 
 good," he said, " for, though she'll come back agin, 
 she'll be married, and when a gal is married, that's the 
 last on 'em. I wish I could give her somethin', to 
 show her my feelin's." 
 
 He examined his hands, they were hard, rough, and 
 black. He drew from his pocket a bit of looking-glass, 
 and examined his face that was blacker yet; and 
 shaking his head, he whispered : " It might do for a 
 mulatto gal, but not for her." Then, as a new idea 
 crossed his mind, he brightened up, exclaiming, " My 
 heart is white, and if I have a tip- top case, mebby she 
 Avon't 'spise a poor old nigger's picter ! " 
 
 In short, John contemplated having his daguerreo 
 type taken as a bridal present for Maude. Accordingly, 
 that very afternoon, he arrayed himself in his best, and, 
 entering the yellow car of a traveling artist, who had 
 recently come to the village, he was soon in possession 
 of a splendid case, and a picture which he pronounced 
 " oncommon good-lookin' for him." 
 
 This he laid carefully away, until the wedding-day, 
 which was fixed for the 15th of April. When Mr. De 
 Yere heard of John's generosity to Maude in giving 
 her the golden eagles, he promptly paid them back, 
 adding five more as interest, and at the same time 
 asking him if he would not like to accompany them to 
 Europe. 
 
 " You can be of great assistance to us," he said, " and 
 I will gladly take you." 
 
 This was a strong temptation, and for a moment the 
 negro hesitated, but when his eye fell upon his master
 
 194 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 who was just then entering the gate, his decision was 
 taken, and he answered, " No, I'm 'bleeged to you. I'd 
 rather stay and see the fun." 
 
 " What fun ? " asked Mr. De Vere ; and John re 
 plied, " The fun of seem' him cotch it ; " and he pointed 
 to the doctor coming slowly up the walk, his hands 
 behind him and his head bent forward in a musing 
 attitude. 
 
 Dr. Kennedy was at that moment in an unenviable 
 frame of mind, for he was trying to decide whether he 
 could part for a year or more with his crippled boy, 
 who grew each day more dear to him. 
 
 " It will do him good, I know," he said, " and I 
 might, perhaps, consent, if I could spare the money, 
 but I can't for I haven't got it. That woman keeps me 
 penniless, and will wheedle me out of two hundred 
 dollars more. Oh, Mat " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, for by this time he 
 had reached the hall, where he met Mr. De Vere, who 
 asked if Louis was to go. 
 
 " He can't," answered the doctor. " I have not the 
 means. Mrs. Kennedy says Maude's wardrobe will 
 cost two hundred dollars." 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," interrupted Mr. De Yere. " I shall 
 attend to Maude's wants myself, and if you are not able 
 to bear Louis's expenses, I will willingly do it for the 
 sake of having him with his sister. They ought not to 
 be separated, and who knows but Louis's deformity 
 may be in a measure relieved ? " 
 
 This last decided the matter. Louis should go, 
 even though, his father mortgaged his farm to pay the 
 bill, and during the few weeks which elapsed before the 
 15th, the house presented an air of bustle and confusion, 
 equal to that which preceded Nellie's bridal. Mr. De
 
 A SECOND BRIDAL. 195 
 
 Yere remained firm in his intention to defray all 
 Maude's expenses, and he delegated to Mrs. Kennedy 
 the privilege of purchasing whatever she thought was 
 needful. Her selections were usually in good taste, 
 and in listening to her enthusiastic praises, Maude en 
 joyed her new dresses almost as much as if she had 
 really seen them. A handsome plain silk of blue and 
 brown was decided upon for a traveling dress, and very 
 sweetly the blind girl looked when, arrayed in her 
 simple attire, she stood before the man of God, whose 
 words were to make her a happy bride. She could not 
 see the sunlight of Spring streaming into the room, 
 neither could she see the sunlight of love shining over 
 the face of James De Vere, nor yet the earnest gaze of 
 those who thought her so beautiful in her helplessness, 
 but she could feel it all, and the long eyelashes resting 
 on her cheek were wet with tears, when a warm kiss 
 was pressed upon her lips, and a voice murmured in her 
 ear, " My wife my darling Maude." 
 
 There were bitter tears shed at that parting ; Maude 
 Glendower weeping passionately over the child of 
 Harry Remington, and Doctor Kennedy hugging to 
 his bosom the little hunchback boy, Matty's boy and 
 his. They might never meet again, and the father's 
 heart clung fondly to his only son. He could not even 
 summon to his aid a maxim with which to season his 
 farewell, and bidding a kind good-by to Maude, he 
 sought the privacy of his chamber, where he could 
 weep alone in his desolation. 
 
 Hannah and John grieved to part with the travelers, 
 but the latter was somewhat consoled by the gracious 
 manner with which Maude had accepted his gift. 
 
 " I cannot see it," she said, " but when I open the 
 casing I shall know your kind, honest face is there,
 
 196 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 and it will bring me many pleasant memories of 
 you." 
 
 "Heaven bless you, Miss Maude," answered John, 
 struggling hard to keep back the tears he deemed it 
 unmanly to shed. " Heaven bless you, but if you keep 
 talking so book-like and good, I'll bust out a cryin', I 
 know, for I'm not hi n' but an old fool anyhow," and 
 wringing her hand, he hurried off into the woodshed 
 chamber, where he could give free vent to his grief. 
 
 Through the harbor, down the bay, and out upon the 
 sea, a noble vessel rides ; and as the evening wind 
 comes dancing over the wave, it sweeps across the deck, 
 kissing the cheek of a brown-eyed boy, and lifting the 
 curls from the brow of one, whose face, upturned to the 
 tall man at her side, seems almost angelic, so calm, so 
 peaceful is its expression of perfect bliss. Many have 
 gazed curiously upon that group, and the voices were 
 very low which said, " The little boy is deformed," 
 while there was a world of sadness in the whisper, 
 which told to the wondering passengers that " the 
 beautiful bride was blind." 
 
 They knew it by the constant drooping of her eyelids, 
 by the graceful motion of her hand as it groped in the 
 air, and more than all, by the untiring watchfulness of 
 the husband and brother who constantly hovered near. 
 It seemed terrible that so fair a creature should be 
 blind ; and like the throb of one great heart did the 
 sympathy of that vessel's crew go out toward the gentle 
 Maude, who, in her new-born happiness, forgot almost 
 the darkness of the world without, or if she thought 
 of it, looked for ward to a time when hope said that she 
 should see again. So, leaving her upon the sea, speed-
 
 A SECOND BRIDAL. 197 
 
 ing away to sunny France, we glance backward for a 
 moment to the lonely house where Maude Glendower 
 mourns for Harry's child, and where the father thinks 
 often of his boy, listening in vain for the sound which 
 once was hateful to his ear, the sound of Louis's 
 crutches. 
 
 Neither does John forget the absent ones, but in the 
 garden, in the barn, in the fields, and the woodshed 
 chamber, he prays in his mongrel dialect, that He 
 who holds the wind in the hollow of His hand, will 
 give to the treacherous deep charge concerning the 
 precious freight it bears. He does not say it in those 
 words, but his untutored language, coming from a 
 pure heart, is heard by the Most High. And so the 
 breeze blows gently o'er the bark thus followed by 
 black John's prayers the skies look brightly down, 
 upon it the blue waves ripple at its side, until at last 
 it sails into its destined port ; and when the apple- 
 blossoms are dropping from the trees, and old Hannah 
 lays upon the grass to bleach the fanciful white-spread 
 which her own hands have knit for Maude, there 
 comes a letter to the lonely household, telling them 
 that the feet of those they love have reached the shores 
 of the old world.
 
 198 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 OHAPTEE XX. 
 
 THE SEXTON. 
 
 THE Methodist Society of Laurel Hill had built 
 them a new church upon the corner of the common, 
 and as a mark of respect, had made Black John their 
 sexton. Perfectly delighted with the office, he dis 
 charged his duties faithfully, particularly the ringing 
 of the bell, in which accomplishment he greatly ex 
 celled his Episcopal rival, who tried to imitate his 
 peculiar style in vain. No one could make such music 
 as the negro, or ring so many changes. In short, it 
 was conceded that on great occasions he actually made 
 the old bell talk; and one day, toward the last of 
 September, and five months after the events of the 
 preceding chapter, an opportunity was presented for 
 a display of his skill. 
 
 The afternoon was warm and sultry, and, overcome 
 by the heat, the village loungers had disposed of them 
 selves, some on the long piazza of the hotel, and others 
 in front of the principal store, where, with elevated 
 heels and busy jackknives, they whittled out shapeless 
 things, or made remarks concerning any luckless 
 female who chanced to pass. While thus engaged, 
 they were startled by a loud, sharp ring from the 
 belfry of the Methodist church, succeeded by a merry 
 peal, which seemed to proclaim some joyful event. It 
 was a musical, rollicking ring, consisting of three rapid 
 strokes, the last prolonged a little, as if to give it 
 emphasis.
 
 THE SEXTOK 199 
 
 " What's up now ? " the loungers said to each 
 other, as the three strokes were repeated in rapid 
 succession. " What's got into John ? " and those who 
 were fortunate enough to own houses in the village, 
 went into the street to assure themselves there was 
 no fire. 
 
 " It can't be a toll," they said. " It's too much like 
 a dancing tune for that," and as the sound continued 
 they walked rapidly to the church, where they found 
 the African bending himself with might and main to 
 his task, the perspiration dripping from his sable face, 
 which was all aglow with happiness. 
 
 It was no common occasion which had thus affected 
 John, and to the eager questioning of his audience he 
 replied, " Can't you hear the ding dong de-el. Don't 
 you know what it says ? Listen now," and the bell 
 again rang forth the three short sounds. But the crowd 
 still professed their ignorance, and, pausing a moment, 
 John said, with a deprecating manner : " I'll tell you 
 the first word, and you'll surely guess the rest : it's 
 1 MAUDE.' Kow try 'em," and wiping the sweat from 
 his brow he turned again to his labor of love, nodding 
 his head with every stroke. 
 
 " No ear at all for music," he muttered, as he saw 
 they were as mystified as ever, and in a loud, clear 
 voice, he sang, ; ' MAUDE CAN-SEE-E ! MAUDE CAN-SEE-E ! ! " 
 
 It was enough. Most of that group had known and 
 respected the blind girl, and joining at once in the 
 negro's enthusiasm, they sent up a deafening shout for 
 " Maude De Vere, restored to sight." 
 
 John's face at that moment was a curiosity, so divided 
 was it between smiles and tears, the latter of which 
 won the mastery, as with the last hurrah the bell gave 
 one tremendous crash, and he sank exhausted upon the
 
 200 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 floor, saying to those who gathered round, " Will 'em 
 hear that, think, in France ? " 
 
 "How do you know it is true?" asked one, and 
 John replied, " she writ her own self to tell it, and 
 sent her love to me think of dat sent her love to an 
 old nigger ! " and John glanced at the bell, as if he 
 intended a repetition of the rejoicings. 
 
 Surely Maude De Yere, across the sea, never re 
 ceived a greater tribute of respect than was paid to 
 her that day by the warm-hearted John, who, the 
 moment he heard the glad news, sped away to pro 
 claim it from the church-tower. The letter had come 
 that afternoon, and, as John said, was written by 
 Maude herself. The experiment had been performed 
 weeks before, but she would wait until assurance was 
 doubly sure, ere she sent home the joyful tidings. It 
 was a wonderful cure, for the chance of success was 
 small, but the efforts used in her behalf had succeeded, 
 and she could see again. 
 
 " But what of Louis ? " asked Dr. Kennedy, who 
 was listening while his wife read to him the letter. 
 "What of Louis? Have they done anything for 
 him?" 
 
 "They had tried, but his deformity could not be 
 helped," and with a pang of disappointment the father 
 was turning away, when something caught his ear, 
 which caused him to listen again. 
 
 " You don't know," Maude wrote, " how great a 
 lion Louis is getting to be. He painted a picture of 
 me just as I looked that dreadful morning when I 
 stood in the sunshine and felt that I was blind. It is 
 a strange, wild thing, but its wildness is relieved by 
 the angel-faced boy who looks up at me so pityingly. 
 Louis is perfect, but Maude oh ! I can scarce believe
 
 THE SEXTOK 201 
 
 that she ever wore that expression of fierce despair. 
 Strange as it may seem, this picture took the fancy of 
 the excitable French, and ere Louis was aware of it, he 
 found himself famous. They come to our rooms daily 
 to see le petit artist, and many ask for pictures or 
 sketches, for which they pay an exorbitant price. One 
 wealthy American gentleman brought him a daguerreo 
 type of his dead child, with the request that he would 
 paint from it a life-sized portrait, and if he succeed in 
 getting a natural face, he is to receive five hundred 
 dollars. Think of little Louis Kennedy earning five 
 hundred dollars, for he will succeed. The daguerreotype 
 is much like Nellie, which will make it easier for Louis." 
 
 This was very gratifying to Dr. Kennedy, who that 
 day more than once repeated to himself, " Five hundred 
 dollars : it's a great deal of money for him to earn ; 
 maybe he'll soon be able to help me, and mercy knows 
 I shall soon need it if that woman continues her un 
 heard of extravagances. More city company to-mor 
 row, and I heard her this morning tell that Jezebel in 
 the kitchen to put the whites of sixteen eggs into one 
 loaf of cake. What am I coming to ? " and Dr. Ken 
 nedy groaned in spirit as he walked through the hand 
 some apartments, seeking in vain for a place where he 
 could sit and have it seem as it used to do, when the 
 rocking-chair which Matty had brought stood invit 
 ingly in the middle of the room, where now a center- 
 table was standing, covered with books and ornaments 
 of the most expensive kind. 
 
 Since last we looked in upon her Maude Glendower 
 had ruled with a high hand. She could not live with 
 out excitement, and rallying from her grief at parting 
 with her child, she plunged at once into repairs, tear 
 ing down and building up, while her husband looked
 
 202 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 on in dismay. When they were about it, she said, they 
 might as well have all the modern improvements, and 
 water, both hot and cold, was accordingly carried to 
 all the sleeping apartments, the fountain-head being a 
 large spring, distant from the house nearly half a mile. 
 Gas she could not have, though the doctor would 
 hardly have been surprised had she ordered the laying 
 of pipes from Rochester to Z,aurel Hill, so utterly reck 
 less did she seem. She was fond of company, and as 
 she had visited everybody, so everybody in return 
 must visit her, she said, and toward the last of summer 
 she filled the house with city people, who vastly en 
 joyed the good cheer with which her table was always 
 spread. 
 
 John's desire to see the fun was more than satisfied, 
 as was also Hannah's, and after the receipt of Maude's 
 letter, the latter determined to write herself, " and let 
 Miss De Yere know just how things was managed." 
 In order to do this, it was necessary to employ an 
 amanuensis, and she enlisted the services of the 
 gardener, who wrote her exact language, a mixture 
 of negro, Southern, and Yankee. A portion of this 
 letter we give to the reader. 
 
 After expressing her pleasure that Maude could see, 
 and saying that she believed the new Miss to be a 
 good woman, but a mighty queer one, she continued : 
 
 " The doin's here is wonderful, and you'd hardly 
 know the old place. Thar's a big dining-room run out 
 to the South, with an expansion-table mighty nigh a 
 rod long, and what's more, it's allus full, too, of city 
 stuck-ups and the way they do eat ! I haint churned 
 nary pound of butter since you went away. Why, 
 bless yer soul, we has to buy. Do you mind that patch 
 of land what the Doctor used to plant with corn ?
 
 THE SEXTOK 203 
 
 Well, the garden sass grows there now, and t'other 
 garden raises nothin' but flowers and strabries, and 
 thar's a man hired on purpose to tend 'em. He's writ- 
 in' this for me. Thar's a tower run up in the North 
 east eend, and when it's complete, she's goin' to have 
 a what you call 'em somethin' that blows up the 
 water oh, a fountain. Thar's one in the yard, and, if 
 you'll believe it, she's got one of Gary's rotary pumpin' 
 things, that folks are runnin' crazy about, and ever} r 
 hot day she keeps John a turnin' the injin' to squirt 
 the Avater all over the yard, and make it seem like a 
 thunder-shower ! Thar's a bath-room, and when them 
 city folks is here some on 'em is a washin' in thar all 
 the time. I don't do nothin' now but wash and iron, 
 and if I have fifty towels I have one ! But what 
 pesters me most is the wide skirts I has to do up ; Miss 
 Canady wears a hoop bigger than an amberell. They 
 say Miss Empress, who makes these things, lives in 
 Paris, and I wish you'd put yourself out a little to see 
 her, and ask her, for me, to quit sendin' over them 
 fetched hoops. Thar ain't no sense in it ! "We've got 
 jiggers in every chamber where the water spirts out. 
 Besides turnin' the injin, John drives the horses in the 
 new carriage. Dr. Canady looks poorly, and yet 
 madam purrs round him like a kitten, but I knows the 
 claws is thar. She's about broke him of usin' them 
 maxims of his, and your poor marm would enjoy it a 
 spell seein' him paid off, but she'd pity him after a 
 while. I do, and if things continners to grow wus, I 
 shall just ask pra'rs for him in my meetin'. Elder 
 Blossom is powerful at that. My health is consider 
 able good, but I find I grow old. 
 
 " Yours, with respect and regrets, 
 
 " HANNAH."
 
 204 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 " P. S. I don't believe that t'other beau of yourn is 
 none the happiest. They live with Miss Kelsey yet, 
 but thar's a story round that she's a gwine to marry 
 again, and the man don't like De Yere, and won't have 
 him thar, so if the doctor should run out, as I'm afraid 
 he will, what'll them lazy critters do ? Nellie's got to 
 be kinder sozzlin' in her dress, and he has took to 
 chawin' tobacker by the pound. They was here a spell 
 ago, and deaf as I be, I hearn 'em have one right 
 smart quarrel. He said she was slatterly, or somethin' 
 like that, and she called him a fool, and said she 'most 
 knew he wished he'd took you, blind as you was, and 
 he said, kinder sorroy-like, " Maude would never of 
 called me a fool, nor wore such holes in the heels of 
 her stockin's." I couldn't hear no more, but I knew 
 by her voice that she was cryin', and when I went be 
 low and seen the doctor out behind the wood-shed a 
 figgerin' up, says I to myself, " ef I was a Univarselar, 
 I should b'lieve they was all on 'em a gittin thar pay," 
 but bein' I'm a Methodis', I don't believe nothin'." 
 
 This letter, which conveyed to Maude a tolerably 
 correct idea of matters at home, will also show to the 
 reader the state of feeling existing between J. C. and 
 Nellie. They were not suited to each other, and 
 though married but seven months, there had been 
 many a quarrel besides the one which Hannah over 
 heard. Nellie demanded of her husband more love 
 than he had to bestow, and the consequence was, a 
 feeling of bitter jealousy on her part and an increas 
 ing coldness on his. They were an ill-assorted couple, 
 utterly incapable of taking care of themselves, and 
 when they heard from Mrs. Kelsey that she really con 
 templated a second marriage, they looked forward to
 
 THE SEXTON. 205 
 
 the future with a kind of hopeless apathy, wholly at 
 variance with the feelings of the beautiful, dark-eyed 
 Maude, and the noble James De Yere. 
 
 Their love for each other had increased each day, and 
 their happiness seemed almost greater than they could 
 bear on that memorable morn when the husband bent 
 fondly over his young girl-wife, who laid a hand on 
 each side of his face, and while the great tears rolled 
 down her cheeks, whispered joyfully, " I can see you, 
 darling ; I can see ! "
 
 206 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXI. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 LITTLE more than two years have passed away since 
 the September afternoon when the deep-toned bell 
 rang out the merry tidings, " Maude can see Maude 
 can see," and again upon the billow another vessel 
 rides. But this time to the -westward ; and the beauti 
 ful lady, whose soft, dark eyes look eagerly over the 
 wave, says to her companion, " It is very pleasant go 
 ing home." 
 
 They had tarried for a long time in Italy, both for 
 Louis' sake, and because, after the recovery of her 
 sight, Maude's health had been delicate, and her hus 
 band would stay until it was fully re-established. She 
 was better now ; roses were blooming on her cheek 
 joy was sparkling in her eye while her bounding step, 
 her ringing laugh, and finely rounded form, told of 
 youthful vigor and perfect health. And they were go 
 ing home at last James, Louis, and Maude going to 
 Hampton, where Mrs. De Vere waited so anxiously 
 their coming. She did not, however, expect them so 
 soon, for they had left England earlier than they antici 
 pated, and they surprised her one day, as she sat by 
 her pleasant window, gazing out upon the western sky, 
 and wondering how many more suns would set ere her 
 children would be with her. It was a happy meeting : 
 and after the first joy of it was over, Maude inquired 
 after the people at Laurel Hill.
 
 HOME AGAIN. 207 
 
 " It is more than four months since we heard from 
 them," she said, " and then Mrs. Kennedy's letter was 
 very unsatisfactory. The doctor, she hinted, had lost 
 his senses, but she made no explanation. "What did she 
 mean ? " 
 
 Why," returned Mrs. De Yere, " he had a paralytic 
 shock more than six months ago." 
 
 " Oh, poor father," cried Louis, while Mrs. De Vere 
 continued, " It was not a severe attack, but it has im 
 paired his health somewhat. You knew of course, that 
 his house and farm were to be sold in a few days." 
 
 " Our house our old home it shall not be ; " and 
 the tears glittered in Louis's eyes, while, turning to 
 Mrs. De Yere, Maude whispered softly, " His wife has 
 ruined him, but don't let us talk of it before Louis." 
 
 The lady nodded, and when at last they were alone, 
 told all she knew of the affair. Maude Glendowerhad 
 persisted in her folly, until her husband's property was 
 reduced to a mere pittance. There w r as a heavy mort 
 gage upon the farm, and even a chattel-mortgage upon 
 the furniture, and as the man who held them was stern 
 and unrelenting, he had foreclosed, and the house was 
 to be sold at auction. 
 
 " "Why has mother kept it from us ? " said Maude, 
 and Mrs. De Yere replied, " Pride and a dread of what 
 you might say, prevented her writing it, I think. I 
 was there myself a few weeks since, and she said it 
 could do no good to trouble you. The doctor is com 
 pletely broken down, and seems like an old man. He 
 cannot endure the handsome rooms below, but stays all 
 day in that small garret chamber, which is furnished 
 with your carpet, your mother's chair, and the high- 
 post bedstead which his first wife owned. It made me 
 cry when he pointed them out to me, saying so mourn-
 
 208 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 fully, ' This is Maude's, this was Matty's, and that was 
 Katy's once.' " 
 
 Maude's sympathies were roused, and fatigued as she 
 was, she started the next morning with her husband 
 and brother for Laurel Hill. Louis seemed very sad, 
 and not even the familiar waymarks, as he drew near 
 his home, had power to dissipate that sadness. He 
 could not endure the thought that the house where he 
 was born and where his mother had died, should pass 
 into the hands of strangers. He had been fortunate 
 with his paintings, and of his own money had nearly 
 two thousand dollars ; but this could do but little toward 
 canceling the mortgage, and he continued in the same 
 dejected mood until the tall poplars of Laurel Hill ap 
 peared in view. Then, indeed, he brightened up, for 
 there is something in the sight of home which brings 
 joy to every human heart. 
 
 It was a hazy October day. The leaves were drop 
 ping one by one, and lay in little hillocks upon the 
 faded grass. The blue hills which embosomed the lake 
 were encircled with a misty veil, while the sunshine 
 seemed to fall with a sombre light upon the fields of yel 
 low corn. Every thing, even the gossamer thistle-top 
 which floated upon the autumnal air, conspired to make 
 the day one of those indescribable days, when all hearts 
 are pervaded with a feeling of pleasurable sadness a 
 sense of beauty mingled with decay. 
 
 " Is this home ? " cried Maude, as they stopped 
 before the gate. " I should hardly have recognized 
 it." 
 
 It was indeed greatly changed, for Maude Glen- 
 dower had perfect taste, and if she had expended thou 
 sands upon the place, she had greatly increased its 
 value.
 
 HOME AGAIN. 209 
 
 " Beautiful home, beautiful home it must not be 
 sold," was Louis's exclamation as he gazed upon it. 
 
 " No, it must not be sold," returned Maude, while 
 her husband smiled quietly upon them both, and said 
 nothing. 
 
 Maude Giendower had gone to an adjoining town, 
 but Hannah and John greeted the strangers with noisy 
 demonstrations, the latter making frequent use of his 
 coat skirts to wipe away his tears. 
 
 " Can you see, marm see me as true as you live ? " 
 he said, bowing with great humility to Maude, of whom 
 he stood a little in awe, so polished were her manners, 
 and so elegant her appearance. 
 
 Maude assured him that she could, and then observ 
 ing how impatient Louis appeared, she asked for Dr. 
 Kennedy. Assuming a mysterious air, old Hannah 
 whispered, " He's up in de ruff, at de top of de house, 
 in dat little charmber, where he stays mostly, to get 
 shet of de music and dancin' and raisin' ob Cain gener 
 ally. He's mighty broke down, but the sight of you 
 will peart him up right smart. You'd better go up 
 alone he'll bar it better one at a time." 
 
 " Yes, go, sister," said Louis, who heard the last part 
 of Hannah's remarks, and felt that he could not take 
 his father by surprise. 
 
 So, leaving her husband and brother below, Maude 
 glided noiselessly up-stairs to the low attic room, where, 
 by an open window, gazing sorrowfully out upon the 
 broad harvest-fields, soon to be no longer his, a seem 
 ingly old man sat. And Dr. Kennedy was old, not in 
 years, perhaps, but in appearance. His hair had 
 bleached as white as snow, his form was bent, his 
 face was furrowed with many a line of care, while 
 the tremulous motion of his head told of the palsy's
 
 210 COUSIN MAUDE. , 
 
 blighting power. And he sat there alone, that hazy 
 autumnal day, shrinking from the future, and musing 
 sadly of the past. From his arm-chair the top of a 
 willow-tree was just discernible, and as he thought 
 of the two graves beneath that tree, he moaned, " Oh, 
 Katy, Matty, darlings. You would pity me, I know, 
 could you see me now so lonesome. My only boy is 
 over the sea my only daughter is selfish and cold, 
 and all the day I'm listening in vain for some one to 
 call me father." 
 
 " Father ! " The name dropped involuntarily from 
 the lips of Maude De Yere, standing without the door. 
 
 But he did not hear it, and she could not say it again, 
 for he was not her father ; but her heart was moved 
 with sympathy, and going to his side, she laid her 
 hands upon his snowy hair, and looked into his face. 
 
 " Maude Matty's Maude my Maude ! " And the 
 poor head shook with a palsied tremor, as he wound 
 his arms around her, and asked her when she came. 
 
 Her sudden coming unmanned him wholly, and 
 bending over her he wept like a little child. It would 
 seem that her presence inspired in him a sense of pro 
 tection, a longing to detail his grievances, and with 
 quivering lips he said, " I am broken in body and mind. 
 I've nothing to call my own, nothing but a lock of 
 Matty's hair and Louis's little crutches the crutches 
 that you cushioned so that I should not hear their 
 sound. I was a hard-hearted monster then. I ain't 
 much better now, but I love my child. What of Louis, 
 Maude ? Tell me of my boy," and over the wrinkled 
 face of the old man broke beautifully the father-love, 
 giving place to the father-pride, as Maude told of 
 Louis's success, of the fame lie won, and the money he 
 had earned.
 
 HOME AGAIN. 211 
 
 " Money ! " Dr. Kennedy started quickly at that 
 word, but ere he could repeat it, his ear caught a com 
 ing sound, and his eyes flashed eagerly as, grasping the 
 arm of Maude, he whispered, " It's music, Maude it's 
 music don't you hear it? Louis's crutches on the 
 stairs. He comes, he comes ! Matty's boy and mine ! 
 Thank heaven, I have something left in which that 
 woman has no part." 
 
 In his excitement he had risen, and, with lips apart, 
 and eyes bent on the open door, he waited for his crip 
 pled boy, nor waited long ere Louis came in sight, 
 when, with a wild, glad cry, which made the very 
 rafters ring, he caught him to his bosom. Silently 
 Maude stole from the room, leaving them thus together, 
 the father and his son. Nor is it for us to intrude upon 
 the sanctity of that interview, which lasted more than 
 an hour, and was finally terminated by the arrival of 
 Maude Glendower. She had returned sooner than was 
 anticipated, and, after joyfully greeting Maude, started 
 in quest of Louis. 
 
 " Don't let her in here," whispered the doctor, as he 
 heard her on the stairs. Don't let her in here ; she'd 
 be seized with a fit of repairs. Go to her ; she loves 
 you, at least." 
 
 Louis obeyed, and in a moment was in the arms of 
 his stepmother. She had changed since last they met. 
 Much of her soft, voluptuous beauty was gone, and in 
 its place was a look of desperation, as if she did not 
 care for what she had done, and meant to brave it 
 through. Still, when alone with Mr. De Yere and 
 Maude, she conversed freely of their misfortunes, and 
 ere the day was over, they thoroughly understood the 
 matter. The doctor was ruined ; and when his wife 
 was questioned of the future, she professed to have
 
 212 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 formed no plan, unless, indeed, her husband lived with 
 Nellie, who was how housekeeping, while she went 
 whither she could find a place. To this arrangement 
 Mr. De Yere made no comment. He did not seem 
 disposed to talk, but when the day of sale came, he 
 acted ; and it was soon understood that the house to 
 gether with fifty acres of land would pass into his 
 hands. Louis, too, was busy. Singling out every 
 article of furniture which had been his mother's, he 
 bought it with his own money, while John, determining 
 that " t'other one," as he called Katy, should not be 
 entirely overlooked, bid off the high-post bedstead and 
 chest of drawers, which once were hers. Many of the 
 more elegant pieces of furniture were sold, but Mr. De 
 Vere kept enough to furnish the house handsomely ; 
 and when the sale was over and the family once more 
 reassembled in the pleasant parlor, Dr. Kennedy wept 
 like a child as he blessed the noble young man who 
 had kept for him his home. Maude Glendower, too, 
 was softened ; and going up to Mr. De Vere, she said, 
 " If I know how to spend lavishly, I know also how to 
 economize, and henceforth none shall accuse me of ex 
 travagance." 
 
 These were no idle words, for, as well as she could, 
 she kept her promise ; and though she often committed 
 errors, she usually tried to do the thing which her 
 children would approve. After a day or two, Mr. De 
 Vere and Maude returned to Hampton, leaving Louis 
 with his father, who, in his society, grew better and 
 happier each day. Hannah, who was growing old, 
 went, from choice, to live with Maude, but John would 
 not forsake his master. Nobody knew the kinks of the 
 old place like himself, he said, and he accordingly staid, 
 superintending the whole, and coming ere long to
 
 HOME AGAIN. 213 
 
 speak of it all as his. It was his farm, his oxen, his 
 everything, except the pump, which Hannah, in her 
 letter to Maude, had designated as an injin. Upon 
 this he looked a little askance. 
 
 " 'Twas a mighty good thing in its place," he said, 
 *' and at a fire it couldn't be beat, but he'd be hanged 
 if he didn't b'lieve a nigger was made for somethin' 
 harder and more sweaty-like than turnin' that crank to 
 make b'lieve rain when it didn't. He reckoned the 
 Lord knew what he was about, and if He was a mind 
 to dry up the grass and the arbs, it wasn't for Gary 
 nor nary other chap to take the matter into their own 
 hands, and invent a patent thunder-shower. 
 
 John reasoned clearly upon some subjects, and 
 though his reasoning was not always correct, he proved 
 a most invaluable servant. Old Hannah's place was 
 filled by another colored woman, Sylvia, and though 
 John greatly admired her complexion, as being one 
 which would not fade, he lamented her inefficiency, 
 and often expressed a wish that the services of Janet 
 Hopkins could be again secured. 
 
 But Janet was otherwise engaged ; and here, near 
 the close of our story, it may not be amiss to glance 
 for a moment at one who in the commencement of the 
 narrative occupied a conspicuous place. About the 
 time of Maude's blindness, she had removed to a town 
 in the southern part of New York, and though she 
 wrote apprising her young mistress of the change, she 
 forgot entirely to say where she was going, conse 
 quently the family were ignorant of her place of resi 
 dence, until accident revealed it to J. C. De Yere. It 
 was but a few weeks preceding Maude's return from 
 Europe that he found himself compelled to spend a 
 Sabbath in the quiet town of Fayette. Not far from
 
 214 COUSIN MATJDE. 
 
 his hotel, an Episcopal church reared its slender tower, 
 and thither, at the usual hour for service, he wended 
 his way. There was to be a baptism that morning, 
 and many a smile flitted over the face of matron and 
 maid, as a meek-looking man came slowly up the aisle, 
 followed by a short, thick, resolute Scotchwoman, in 
 whom we recognize our old friend Janet Hopkins. 
 Notwithstanding her firm conviction that MAUDE MA 
 TILDA REMINGTON BLODGETT was her last and only one, 
 she was now tho mother of a sturdy boy, which the 
 meek man carried in his arms. Hot disputes there had 
 been between the twain concerning a name, Mr. Hop 
 kins advocating simply John, as having been borne by 
 his sire, while Janet, a little proud of the notoriety 
 which her daughter's cognomen had brought to her, 
 determined to honor her boy with a name which should 
 astonish every one. 
 
 At the time of Maude's engagement with J. C. De 
 Yere, she had written to know what J. C. was for, and 
 Jedediah Cleishbotham pleased her fancy as being un 
 usual and odd. Indirectly she had heard that Maude 
 was married to Mr. De Vere, and gone to Europe, and 
 supposing it was of course J. C. she, on this occasion, 
 startled her better half by declaring that her son should 
 be baptized " John Joel Jedediah Cleishbotham " or 
 nothing! It was in vain that he remonstrated. Janet 
 was firm, and hunting up Maude's letter, written more 
 than three years before, she bade him write down the 
 name, so as not to make a blunder. But this he re 
 fused to do, "He guessed he could remember that 
 horrid name ; there was not another like it in Chris 
 tendom," he said, and on the Sunday morning of which 
 we write, he took his baby in his arms, and in a state 
 of great nervous irritability, started for church, repeat-
 
 HOME AGAIN. 215 
 
 ing to himself the names, particularly the last, which 
 troubled him the most. Many a change he rang upon 
 it, and by the time he stood before the altar the per 
 spiration was starting from every pore, so anxious was 
 he to acquit himself creditably, and thus avoid the 
 Caudle lecture which was sure to follow a mistake, 
 " But, he should not make a mistake, he knew exactly 
 what the name was, he'd said it over a hundred times," 
 and when the minister, taking the baby in his arms, 
 said, " Name this child," he spoke up loud and prompt 
 ly, jerking out the last word with a vengeance, as if 
 relieved to have it off his mind, " JOHN JOEL JEDEDIAH 
 LEUSEBOTTOM. ' ' 
 
 " That's for me," was J. C.'s involuntary exclama 
 tion, which however, was lost amid the general titter 
 and half suppressed laugh which ran through the 
 house. 
 
 In an agony of anxiety Janet strove to rectify the 
 mistake, while her elbow sought the ribs of her con 
 jugal lord ; but the minister paid no heed, and when 
 the screaming infant was given back to its frightened 
 father's arms, it bore the name of " John Joel" and 
 nothing more. 
 
 To this catastrophe, Janet was in a measure recon 
 ciled, when after church J. C. sought her out, and in 
 troducing himself, informed her of the true state of 
 affairs. 
 
 " Then you ain't married to Maude after all," said 
 the astonished Janet, as she proceeded to question him 
 of the doctor's family. " It beats all, I never heard 
 on't, but no wonder, livin' as we do in this out o' the 
 way place, no cars, no stage, no post office but 
 twice a week no nothin." 
 
 This was indeed the reason why Janet had remained
 
 216 COUSIN MATJDE. 
 
 so long in ignorance of the people with whom she 
 formerly lived. Fayette, as she said, was an out of the 
 way place, and after hearing from a man who met 
 them in New York, that Maude and Louis were both 
 gone to Europe, she gave Laurel Hill no further 
 thought, and settled quietly down among the hills un 
 til her monotonous life was broken by the birth of a 
 son, the John Joel, who, as she talked with J. C., 
 slept calmly in his crib. 
 
 " So you ain't merried to her," she kept repeating, 
 her anger at her husband's treacherous memory fast 
 decreasing. " I kinder thought her losin' my money 
 might make a difference, but you're jest as happy with 
 Nellie, ain't you ? " 
 
 The question was abrupt, and J. C. colored crimson, 
 as he tried to stammer out an answer. 
 
 " Never you mind," returned Janet, noticing his em 
 barrassment. " Married life is just like a checker- board, 
 and all on us has as much as we can do to swaller it at 
 times, but you would of been happy with Maude, I 
 know." 
 
 J. C. knew so, too, and long after he parted with 
 Janet her last words were ringing in his ears, while 
 mingled with them was the bitter memory, " It might 
 perhaps have been." 
 
 " But there was no hope now, and with an increased 
 air of dejection, he went back to his cheerless home. 
 Thry were housekeeping, Nellie and himself, for Mrs. 
 Kelsey had married again, and as the new husband 
 did not fancy the young people, they had set up an es 
 tablishment of their own, and J. C. was fast learning 
 how utterly valueless are soft, white hands, when their 
 owner knows not how to use them. Though keeping 
 up an outside show he was really very poor, and when
 
 HOME AGAIN. 217 
 
 tie heard of the doctor's misfortune, he went to his 
 chamber and wept as few men ever weep. As Hannah 
 well expressed it, " he was shiftless," and did not know 
 how to take care of himself. This James De Yere un 
 derstood, and after the sale at Laurel Hill, he turned 
 his attention to his unfortunate cousin, and succeeded 
 at last in securing for him the situation of book-keeper 
 in a large establishment in New York, with which he 
 was himself remotely connected. Thither, about 
 Christmas, J. C. and Nellie went, and from her small 
 back-room in the fifth story of a New York boarding- 
 house, Nellie writes to Louis glowing descriptions of 
 high life in the city, and Louis, glancing at his crutches 
 and withered feet, smiles as he thinks how weary he 
 should be climbing the four flights of stairs which lead 
 to that high life. 
 
 And now, with one more glance at Maude, we bring 
 our story to a close. It is Easter, and over the earth 
 the April sun shines brightly, just as it shone on the 
 Judean hills eighteen hundred years ago. The Sabbath 
 bells are ringing, and the merry peal which comes from 
 the Methodist tower bespeaks in John a frame of mind 
 unsuited to the occasion. Since forsaking the Epis 
 copalians, he had seldom attended their service, but 
 this morning, after his task is done, he will steal 
 quietly across the common to the old stone church, 
 where James De Yere and Maude sing together the 
 glorious Easter Anthem. Maude formerly sang the 
 alto, but in the old world her voice was trained to the 
 higher notes, and to-day it will be heard in the choir 
 where it has so long been missed. 
 
 The bells have ceased to toll, and a family group 
 come slowly up the aisle. Dr. Kennedy slightly bent, 
 his white hair shading a brow from which much of his
 
 218 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 
 former sternness has gone, and his hand shaking 
 but slightly as he opens the pew door and then steps 
 back for the lady to enter, the lady Maude Glendower, 
 who walks not as proudly as of old. She, too, has 
 been made better by adversity, and though she will 
 never love the palsied man, her husband, she will be to 
 him a faithful wife, and a devoted mother to his boy, 
 who in the square, old fashioned pew, sits where his 
 eye can rest upon his beautiful sister, as her snowy 
 lingers sweep once more the organ keys, which tremble 
 joyfully as it were to the familiar touch. Low, deep- 
 toned and heavy is the prelude to the song, and they 
 who listen feel the floor tremble beneath their feet. 
 Then a strain of richest melody echoes through the 
 house, and the congregation held their breath, as 
 Maude De Vere sings to them of the Passover once 
 sacrificed for us. 
 
 The Anthem is finished. There is a heightened 
 bloom upon Maude's cheek, a softer luster in her eye, 
 while throughout the church there is a solemn hush, 
 which the man of God seems loth to break. And now, 
 shall we not leave them thus with the holy Easter light 
 streaming up the narrow aisles, and the sweet music of 
 the Easter song dying on the air. 
 
 THE E2STD.
 
 ROSAMOND, 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE YOUTHFUL ERROR.
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Owner of Riverside 3 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Rosamond Leyton 8 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 Ben's Visit 17 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Rosamond's Education 26 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Brother and Sister * 31 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Marie Porter 39 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Making Love 50 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 News 62 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Guest at Riverside 68 
 
 1
 
 2 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Story 76 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 The End.. 89
 
 ROSAMOND, 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE YOUTHFUL ERROR. 
 A TALE OF RIVERSIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE OWNER OF RIVERSIDE. 
 
 ALL the day long the September rain had fallen, 
 and when the night closed in it showed no sign of 
 weariness, but with the same monotonous patter 
 dropped upon the roof, or beat against the windows 
 of the pleasantly lighted room where a young man sat 
 gazing at the glowing grate, and listening apparently 
 to the noise of the storm without. But neither the 
 winds, nor yet the rain, had a part of that young man's 
 thoughts, for they were with the past, and the chain 
 which linked them to that past was the open letter 
 which lay on the table beside him. For that letter he 
 had waited long and anxiously, wondering what it 
 would contain, and if his overtures for reconciliation 
 with one who had erred far more than himself, would 
 be accepted. It had come at last, and with a gathering 
 
 coldness at his heart he had read the decision, " she 
 
 3
 
 4 ROSAMOND. 
 
 would not be reconciled," and she bade him " go 
 his way alone and leave her to herself." 
 
 " It is well," he said ; " I shall never trouble her 
 again," and with a feeling of relief, as if a heavy load, 
 a dread of coming evil, had been taken from his mind, 
 he threw the letter upon the table, and leaning back in 
 his cushioned chair, tried to fancy that the last few 
 years of his life were blotted out. 
 
 " Could it be so, Ralph Browning would be a different 
 man," he said aloud ; then, as he glanced round the 
 richly furnished room, he continued " People call me 
 happy, and so perhaps I might be, but for this haunting 
 memory. Why was it suffered to be, and must I 
 make a life-long atonement for that early sin ? " 
 
 In his excitement he arose, and crushing the letter 
 for a moment in his hand, hurled it into the fire ; 
 then, going to his private drawer, he took out and 
 opened a neatly folded package, containing a long tress 
 of jet black hair. Shudderingly he wound it around 
 his fingers, laid it over the back of his hand, held it 
 up to the light, and then with a hard, dark look upon 
 his face, threw it, too, upon the grate, saying aloud, 
 " Thus perisheth every memento of the past, and I am 
 free again free as air ! " 
 
 He walked to the window, and pressing his burning 
 forehead against the cool, damp pane, looked out 
 upon the night. He could not see through the dark 
 ness, but had it been day, his eye would have rested 
 on broad acres all his own ; for Ralph Browning was 
 a wealthy man, and the house in which he lived was 
 his by right of inheritance from a bachelor uncle for 
 whom he had been named and who, two years before 
 our story opens, had died, leaving to his nephew the 
 grand old place, called Riverside, from its nearness to
 
 THE OWNER OF RIVERSIDE. 5 
 
 the river. It was a most beautiful spot ; and when its 
 new master first took possession of it, the maids and 
 matrons of Granby, who had mourned for the elder 
 Browning as people mourn for a good man, felt 
 themselves somewhat consoled from the fact that his 
 successor was young and handsome, and would doubt 
 less prove an invaluable acquisition to their fireside 
 circles, and furnish a theme for gossip, without which 
 no village can well exist. But in the first of their 
 expectations they were mistaken, for Mr. Browning 
 shunned rather than sought society, and spent the most 
 of his leisure hours in the seclusion of his library, 
 where, as Mrs. Peters, his housekeeper, said, he did 
 nothing but mope over books and walk the floor. 
 " He was melancholy," she said ; " there was some 
 thing workin' on his mind, and what it was she didn't 
 know more'n the dead though she knew as well as 
 she wanted to, that he had been crossed in love for 
 what else would make so many of his hairs gray, and 
 he not yet twenty -five ! " 
 
 That there was a mystery connected with him, was 
 conceded by most of the villagers, and many a curious 
 gaze they bent upon the grave, dignified young man, 
 who seldom joined in their pastime or intruded him 
 self upon their company. Much sympathy was ex 
 pressed for him in his loneliness, by the people of 
 Granby, and more than one young girl would gladly 
 have imposed upon herself the task of cheering that 
 loneliness ; but he seemed perfectly invulnerable to 
 maiden charms; and when Mrs Peters, as she often 
 did, urged him " to take a wife and be somebody," he 
 answered quietly, " I am con tent to follow the example 
 of my uncle. I shall probably never marry." 
 
 Still he was lonely in his great house so lonely that,
 
 6 ROSAMOND. 
 
 though it hurt his pride to do it, he wrote the letter, 
 the answer to which excited him so terribly, and awoke 
 within his mind a train of thought so absorbing and 
 intense, that he did not hear the summons to supper 
 until Mrs. Peters put her head into the room, asking 
 " if he were deaf or what." 
 
 Mrs Peters had been in the elder Browning's house 
 hold for years, and when the new owner came, she still 
 continued at her post, and exercised over her young 
 master a kind of motherly care, which he permitted 
 because he knew her real worth, and that without 
 her his home would be uncomfortable indeed. On the 
 occasion of which w r e write, Mrs. Peters was unusually 
 attentive, and to a person at all skilled in female tactics, 
 it was evident that she was about to ask a favor, and 
 had made preparations accordingly. His favorite waf 
 fles had been buttered exactly right the peaches 
 and cream were delicious the fragrant black tea was 
 neither too strong nor too weak the fire blazed 
 brightly in the grate the light from the chandelier 
 fell softly upon the massive silver service and damask 
 cloth; and with all these creature comforts around 
 him, it is not strange that he forgot the letter and the 
 tress of hair which so lately had blackened on the 
 coals. The moment was propitious, and by the time 
 he had finished his second cup, Mrs. Peters said, "I 
 have something to propose." 
 
 Leaning back in his chair, he looked inquiringly at her 
 and she continued: "You remember Mrs. Leyton, the 
 poor woman who had seen better days, and lived in East 
 Granby ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You know she has been sick, and you gave me leave 
 to carry her anything I chose ? "
 
 THE OWNER OF RIVERSIDE. 7 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " "Well, she's dead, poor thing, and what is worse, she 
 hain't no connection, nor never had, and her little 
 daughter Rosamond hain't a place to lay her head." 
 
 " Let her come and sleep with you then," said Mr. 
 Browning, rattling his spoon upon the edge of his cup. 
 
 "Yes, and what'll she do days?" continued Mrs 
 Peters. " She can't run the streets, that's so ; now, I 
 don't believe no great in children, and you certainly 
 don't b'lieve in 'em at all nor your poor uncle before 
 you ; but Rosamond ain't a child , she's thirteen most 
 a woman and if you don't mind the expense, I shan't 
 mind the trouble, and she can live here till she finds a 
 place. Her mother, you know, took up millinering to 
 get a living." 
 
 " Certainly, let her come," answered Mr. Browning, 
 who was noted for his benevolence. 
 
 This matter being thus satisfactorily settled, Mrs. 
 Peters arose from the table, while Mr. Browning went 
 back to the olden memories which had haunted him so 
 much that day, and with which there was not mingled 
 a single thought of the little Rosamond, who was to 
 exert so strong an influence upon his future life.
 
 ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 KOSAMOND LEYTON. 
 
 ROSAMOND had been some weeks at Riverside, and 
 during all that time Mr. Browning had scarcely no 
 ticed her at all. On the first day of her arrival he 
 had spoken kindly to her, asking her how old she was, 
 and how long her mother had been dead, and this was 
 all the attention he had paid to her. He did not even 
 yet know the color of her eyes, or texture of her hair. 
 whether it were curly or straight, black or brown ; 
 but he knew in various ways that she was there knew 
 it by the sound of dancing feet upon the stairs, which 
 were wont to echo only to Mrs. Peters' heavy tread 
 knew it by the tasteful air his room suddenly assumed 
 by the ringing laugh and musical songs which came 
 often from the kitchen, and by the thousand changes 
 which the presence of a merry-hearted girl of thirteen 
 brings to a hitherto silent house. Of him Rosamond 
 stood considerably in awe, and though she could will 
 ingly have worshipped him for giving her so pleasant 
 a home, she felt afraid of him and kept out of his way, 
 watching him with childish curiosity at a distance, 
 admiring his noble figure, and wondering if she would 
 ever dare speak to him as fearlessly as Mrs. Peters 
 did. 
 
 From this woman Rosamond received all a mother's 
 care, and though the name of her lost parent was often 
 on her lips, she was beginning to be very happy in her
 
 ROSAMOND LEYTOK 9 
 
 new home, when one day toward the middle of October 
 Mrs. Peters told her that Mr. Browning's only sister, 
 a Mrs. Yan Yechten, who lived South, was coming to 
 Riverside, together with her son Ben. The lady Mrs. 
 Peters had never seen, but Ben, who was at school in 
 Albany, had spent a vacation there, and she described 
 him as a " great, good-natured fool," who cared for 
 nothing but dogs, cigars, fast horses and pretty girls. 
 
 Rosamond pushed back the stray curls which had 
 fallen over her face, glanced at the cracked mirror 
 which gave her two noses instead of one, and thinking 
 to herself, " I wonder if he'll care for me," listened 
 attentively while Mrs. Peters continued, " This Miss 
 Yan Yechten is a mighty fine lady, they say, and has 
 heaps of niggers to wait on her at home, but she can't 
 bring 'em here, for / should set 'em free that's so. 
 I don't b'lieve in't. "What was I sayin' ? Oh, I know, 
 she can't wait on herself, and wrote to have her 
 brother get some one. He asked me if you'd be 
 willin' to put on her clothes, wash her face, and chaw 
 her victuals like enough." 
 
 " Mr. Browning never said that," interrupted Rosa 
 mond, and Mrs. Peters replied " Well, not that ex 
 actly, but he wants you to wait on her generally." 
 
 " I'll do any thing reasonable," answered Rosamond. 
 When will she be here ? " 
 
 " In two or three days," said Mrs. Peters, " and I 
 must hurry, or I shan't have them north chambers 
 ready for her. Ben ain't coming quite so soon." 
 
 The two or three days passed rapidly, and at the 
 close of the third a carriage laden with trunks stopped 
 before the gate at Riverside, and Mrs. Yan Yechten 
 had come. She was a thin, sallow-faced, proud-looking 
 woman, wholly unlike her brother, whose senior she
 
 10 ROSAMOND. 
 
 was by many years. She had seen much of the world, 
 and that she was conscious of her own fancied supe 
 riority was perceptible in every movement. She was 
 Mrs. Richard Yan Yechten, of Alabama one of the 
 oldest families in the state. Her deceased husband 
 had been United States Senator she had been to 
 Europe had seen the Queen on horseback had passed 
 the residence of the Duchess of Sutherland, and when 
 Rosamond Leyton appeared before her in her neatly- 
 fitting dress of black and asked what she could do for 
 her, she elevated her eyebrows, and coolly surve} T ing 
 the little girl, answered haughtily, " Comb out my 
 hair." 
 
 "Yes, I will," thought Rosamond, who had taken 
 a dislike to the grand lady, and suiting the action to 
 the thought, she did comb out her hair, pulling it so 
 unmercifully that Mrs. Yan Yechten angrily bade her 
 stop. 
 
 " Look at me, girl," said she ; " did you ever assist 
 at any one's toilet before ? " 
 
 " I've hooked Mrs. Peter's dress and pinned on Brid 
 get's collar," answered Rosamond, her great brown 
 eyes brimming with mischief. 
 
 " Disgusting ! " returned Mrs. Yan Yechten " I 
 should suppose Ralph would know better than to get 
 me such an ignoramus. "Were you hired on purpose 
 to wait on me ? " 
 
 " "Why, no, ma'am I live here," answered Rosa 
 mond. 
 
 " Live here ! " repeated Mrs. Yan Yechten, " and 
 pray, what do you do ? " 
 
 " Nothing much, unless I choose," said Rosamond, 
 who, being a great pet with Mrs Peters and the other 
 servants, really led a very easy life at Riverside.
 
 ROSAMOND LEYTOX. 11 
 
 Looking curiously into the frank, open face of the 
 young girl, Mrs. Yan Yechten concluded she was never 
 intended to take a negro's place, and with a wave of 
 her hand she said, " You may go ; I can dress myself 
 alone." 
 
 That evening, as the brother and sister sat together 
 in the parlor, the latter suddenly asked, " Who is that 
 Rosamond Leyton, and what is she doing here ? " 
 
 Mr. Browning told her all he knew of the girl, and 
 she continued, " Do you intend to educate her? " 
 
 " Educate her ! " said he " what made you think of 
 that ? " 
 
 " Because," she answered, with a sarcastic smile, " as 
 you expect to do penance the rest of your lifetime, I 
 did not know but you would deem it your duty to 
 educate every beggar who came along." 
 
 The idea of educating Rosamond Leyton was new to 
 Mr. Browning, but he did not tell his sister so he 
 merely said, " And suppose I do educate her ? " 
 
 " In that case," answered the lady, " Ben will not 
 pass his college vacations here, as I had intended that 
 he should do." 
 
 " And why not ? " asked Mr. Browning. 
 
 " Why not ? " repeated Mrs. Yan Yechten. " Just as 
 though you did not know how susceptible he is to 
 female beauty, and if you treat this Rosamond as an 
 equal, it will be like him to fall in love with her at 
 once. She is very pretty, you know." 
 
 Mr. Browning did not know any such thing. In 
 fact, he scarcely knew how the young girl looked, but 
 his sister's remark had awakened in him an interest, 
 and after she had retired, which she did early, he rang 
 the bell for Mrs. Peters, who soon appeared in answer 
 to his call.
 
 12 ROSAMOND. 
 
 " Is Rosamond Leyton up," he asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Mrs. Peters, wondering at the 
 question. 
 
 " Send her to me," he said, and with redoubled 
 amazement Mrs. Peters carried the message to Rosa 
 mond, who was sitting before the fire, trying in vain 
 to undo an obstinate knot in her boot-string. 
 
 "Mr. Browning sent for me!" she exclamed, her 
 cheeks flushing up. " Wants to scold me, I suppose, 
 for pulling his sister's hair. I only did what she told 
 me to," and with a beating heart she started for the 
 parlor. 
 
 Rosamond was afraid of Mr. Browning, and feeling 
 sure that he intended to reprove her, she took the chair 
 nearest to the door, and covering her face with her 
 hands, began to cry, saying " It was ugly in me, I 
 know, to pull Mrs. Yan Yechten's hair, and I did it on 
 purpose, too; but I won't do so again, I certainly 
 wont." 
 
 Mr. Browning was confounded. This was the first 
 intimation he had received of the barbaric performance, 
 and for a moment he remained silent, gazing at the 
 little girl. Her figure was very slight, her feet and 
 hands were very small, and her hair, though disordered 
 now and rough, was of a beautiful brown, and fell in 
 heavy curls around her neck. He saw all this at a 
 glance, but her face, the point to which his attention 
 was chiefly directed, he could not see until those little 
 hands were removed, and as a means of accomplishing 
 this he at last said, kindly " I do not understand you, 
 Rosamond. My sister has entered no complaint, and 
 I did not send for you to censure you. I wish to talk 
 with you to get acquainted. "Will you come and sit 
 by me upon the sofa ? "
 
 ROSAMOND LEYTON. 13 
 
 Rosamond's hands came down from her face, bufc 
 she did not leave her seat ; neither did Mr. Browning 
 now wish to have her, for the light of the chandelier 
 fell full upon her, giving him a much better view of 
 her features than if she had been nearer to him. If, as 
 Mrs. Peters had said, Ben Yan Yechten was fond of 
 pretty girls, he in a measure inherited the feeling from 
 his uncle, who was an ardent admirer of the beautiful, 
 and who now felt a glow of satisfaction in knowing 
 that Rosamond Leyton was pretty. It was a merry, 
 sparkling, little face which he looked upon, and though 
 the nose did turn up a trifle, and the mouth was 
 rather wide, the soft, brown eyes, and exquisitely fair 
 complexion made ample amends for all. She was 
 never intended for a menial she would make a beau 
 tiful woman and with thoughts similar to these, Mr. 
 Browning, after completing his survey of her person, 
 said " Have you been to school much ? " 
 
 "Always, until I came here," was her answer; and 
 he continued " And since then you have not looked 
 in a book, I suppose ? " 
 
 The brown eyes opened wide as Rosamond re 
 plied, " Why, yes I have. I've read ever so much in 
 your library when you were gone. Mrs. Peters told 
 me I might," she added hastily, as she saw his look of 
 surprise, and mistook it for displeasure. 
 
 "I am perfectly willing," he said; "but what have 
 you read ? Tell me." 
 
 Rosamond was interested at once, and while her 
 cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled she replied " Oh, 
 I've read Shakspeare's Historical Plays, every one of 
 them and Childe Harold, and "Watts on the Mind, and 
 Kenilworth, and now I'm right in the middle of the 
 Lady of the Lake. "Wasn't Fitz-James the King ? I
 
 14 ROSAMOND. 
 
 believe he was. "When I a m older I mean to write a 
 book just like that." 
 
 Mr. Browning could not forbear a smile at her en 
 thusiasm, but without answering her question, he 
 said, " What do you intend to do until you are old 
 enough ? " 
 
 Rosamond's countenance fell, and after tapping her 
 foot upon the carpet awhile, she said, " Mrs. Peters 
 will get me a place by-and-by, and I s'pose I'll have to 
 be a milliner." 
 
 " Do you wish to be one ? " 
 
 " Why, no ; nor mother didn't either, but after 
 father died she had to do something. Father was a 
 kind of a lawyer, and left us poor." 
 
 " Do you wish to go away from here, Rosamond ? " 
 
 There were tears on the long-fringed eyelashes as 
 the young girl replied, " No, sir ; I'd like to live here 
 always, but there's nothing for me to do." 
 
 "Unless you go to school. How would you like 
 that?" 
 
 " I have no one to pay the bills," and the curly head 
 shook mournfully. 
 
 " I have money, Rosamond, and suppose I say that 
 you shall stay here and go to school ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir, will you say so ? May I live with you 
 always ? " and forgetting her fear of him in her great 
 joy, Rosamond Leyton crossed over to where he sat, 
 and laying both her hands upon his shoulder continued 
 " Are you in earnest, Mr. Browning ? May I stay ? 
 Oh, I'll be so good to you when you are old and 
 sick!" 
 
 It seemed to her that he was old enough to be her 
 father, then, and it almost seemed so to him. Giving 
 her a very paternal look, he answered, " Yes, child, you
 
 ROSAMOND LEYTOK 15 
 
 shall stay as long as you like ; and now go, or Mrs. 
 Peters will be wondering what keeps you." 
 
 Rosamond started to leave the room, but ere she 
 reached the door she paused, and turning to Mr. 
 Browning, said, " You have made me so happy, and I 
 like you so much, 1 wish you'd let me kiss your hand 
 may I ? " 
 
 It was a strange question, and it sent the blood tin 
 gling to the very tips of Mr. Browning's fingers. 
 
 " Why, ye-es, I don't know. What made you 
 think of that \ " he said, and Rosamond replied, " I 
 always kissed father when he made me very happy. 
 It was all I could do." 
 
 " But I am not your father," stammered Mr. Brown 
 ing ; " I shall not be twenty-five until November. Still 
 you can do as you please." 
 
 " Not twenty-five yet," repeated Rosamond ; " why, 
 I thought you were near forty. I don't believe I'd 
 better, though I like you just as well. Good night." 
 
 He heard her go through the hall, up the stairs, 
 through the upper hall, and then all was still again. 
 
 " What a strange little creature she is," he thought ; 
 "so childlike and frank, but how queer that she should 
 a.$ktokissme ! Wouldn't Susan be shocked ifsheknew 
 it, and won't she be horrified when I tell her I a/in go 
 ing to educate the girl. I shouldn't have thought of it 
 but for her. And suppose Ben does fall in love with her. 
 If he knew a little more, it would not be a bad match. 
 Somebody must keep up our family, or it will become 
 extinct. Susan and I are the only ones left, and /" 
 
 here he paused, and starting to his feet, he paced 
 
 the floor hurriedly, nervously, as if seeking to escape 
 from some pursuing evil. " It is terrible," he whispered, 
 " but I can bear it and will," and going to his room he
 
 16 ROSAMOND. 
 
 sought his pillow to dream strange dreams of tresses 
 black and ringlets brown, of fierce, dark eyes, and 
 shining orbs, whose owner had asked to kiss his hand, 
 and mistaken him for her sire.
 
 BEN'S VISIT. 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BEN'S VISIT. 
 
 THE next morning, as Mrs. Van Vechten was slowly 
 making her toilet alone, there came a gentle rap at 
 her door, and Rosamond Leyton appeared, her face 
 fresh and blooming as a rosebud, her curls brushed 
 back from her forehead, and her voice very respectful, 
 as she said " I have come to ask your pardon for my 
 roughness yesterday. I can do better, and if you will 
 let me wait on you while you stay, I am sure I shall 
 please you." 
 
 Mrs. Van Vechten could not resist that appeal, and 
 she graciously accepted the girl's offer, asking her the 
 while what had made the change in her behavior. 
 Always frank and truthful, Rosamond explained to the 
 lady that Mr. Browning's kindness had filled her with, 
 gratitude and determined her to do as she had done. 
 To her Mrs. Van Vechten said nothing, but when she 
 met her brother at the breakfast table, there was an. 
 ominous frown upon her face, and the moment they 
 were alone she gave him her opinion without reserve. 
 But Mr. Browning was firm. " He should have some 
 thing to live for," he said, " and Heaven only knew the 
 lonely hours he passed with no object in which to be 
 interested. Her family, though unfortunate, are highly 
 respectable," he added, " and if I can make her a useful 
 ornament in society, it is my duty to do so." 
 
 Mrs. Van Vechten knew how useless it would be to
 
 la ROSAMOND. 
 
 remonstrate with him, and she gave up the contest, 
 mentally resolving that " Ben should not pass his 
 College vacations there." 
 
 When the villagers learned that Mr. Brownin^ in- 
 
 O O 
 
 tended to educate Rosamond and treat her as his equal, 
 they ascribed it wholly to the influence of his sister, 
 who, of course, had suggested to him an act which 
 seemed every way right and proper. They did not 
 know how the lady opposed it, nor how, for many 
 days, she maintained a cold reserve toward the young 
 girl, who strove in various ways to conciliate her, and 
 at last succeeded so far that she not only accepted her 
 services at her toilet, but even asked of her sometimes 
 to read her to sleep in the afternoon, a process neither 
 long nor tedious, for Mrs. Yan Vechten was not literary, 
 and by the time the second page was reached she 
 usually nodded her full acquiescence to the author's 
 opinions, and Rosamond was free to do as she pleased. 
 One afternoon, when Mrs. Yan Yechten was fast 
 asleep, and Rosamond deep in the "Rhyme of the 
 Ancient Mariner," (the former having selected that 
 poem as an opiate because of its musical jingle,) there 
 was the sound of a bounding step upon the stairs, 
 accompanied by the stirring notes of Yankee Doodle, 
 which some one whistled at the top of his voice. Rosa 
 mond was about going to see who it was, when the 
 door opened and disclosed to view a long lank, light- 
 haired, good-natured looking youth, dressed in the 
 extreme of fashion, with a huge gold chain dangling 
 across his vest, and an immense diamond ring upon his 
 little finger. This last he managed to show frequently 
 by caressing his chin, where, by the aid of a micro 
 scope, a very little down might possibly have been 
 found ! This was Ben ! He had just arrived, and
 
 BEN'S VISIT. 19 
 
 learning that his mother was in her room, had entered 
 it unceremoniously. The unexpected apparition of a 
 beautiful young girl startled him, and he introduced 
 himself to her good graces by the very expressive 
 exclamation, "Thunder! I beg your pardon. Miss," 
 he continued, as he met her surprised and reproving 
 glance. "You scared me so I didn't know what else 
 to say. It's a favorite expression of mine, but I'll quit 
 it, if you say so. Do you live here ? " 
 
 " I wait upon your mother," was the quiet answer, 
 which came near wringing from the young man a rep 
 etition of the offensive word. 
 
 But he remembered himself in time, and then con 
 tinued, " How do you know she's my mother ? You are 
 right, though. I'm Ben Yan Vechten the veriest 
 dolt in school, they say. But, as an offset, I've got a 
 heart as big as an ox ; and now, who are you ? I know 
 you are not a waiting-maid ! " 
 
 Rosamond explained who she was, and then, rather 
 pleased with his off-hand manner, began to question 
 him concerning his journey, and so forth. Ben was 
 delighted. It was not every girl who would of her 
 own accord talk to him, and sitting down beside her, 
 he told her twice that she was handsome, was cautiously 
 winding his arm around her waist, when from the 
 rosewood bedstead there came the sharp, quick word, 
 " Benjamin ! " and, unmindful of Rosamond's presence, 
 Ben leaped into the middle of the room, ejaculating, 
 " Thunder ! mother what do you want ? " 
 
 " I want her to leave the room," said Mrs. Yan 
 Yechten, pointing toward Rosamond, who, wholly 
 ignorant of the nature of her offence, retreated hastily, 
 wondering how she had displeased the capricious lady. 
 
 Although Ben Yan Yechten would not have dared
 
 20 ROSAMOKD. 
 
 to do a thing in direct opposition to his mother's com 
 mands, he was not ordinarily afraid of her, and he now 
 listened impatiently, while she told him that Rosamond 
 Leyton was not a fit associate for a young man like 
 himself, " She was a sort of nobody, whom her brother 
 had undertaken to educate," she said, " and though she 
 might be rather pretty, she was low-born and vulgar, 
 as any one could see." 
 
 Ben confessed to a deficiency of eyesight on that 
 point, and then, as his mother showed no signs of 
 changing the conversation, he left her abruptly, and 
 sauntered off into the garden, where he came suddenly 
 upon Rosamond, who was finishing the Ancient Mari 
 ner in the summer-house, her favorite resort. 
 
 " So we've met again," said he, " and a pretty lecture 
 I've had on your account." 
 
 " Why on my account," asked Rosamond ; and Ben, 
 who never kept a thing to himself, told her in substance 
 all his mother had said. 
 
 " She always wakes in the wrong time," said he, 
 " and she saw me just as I was about to give you a 
 little bit of a hug so " and he proceeded to demon 
 strate. 
 
 Rosamond's temper was up, and equally indignant at 
 mother and son, she started to her feet, exclaiming, 
 " I'd thank you, sir, to let me alone." 
 
 " "Whew-ew," whistled Ben. " Spunky, ain't you. 
 ]N"ow I rather like that. But pray don't burst a blood 
 vessel. I've no notion of making love to you, if mother 
 does think so. You are too small a girl." 
 
 " Too small a girl," repeated Rosamond, scornfully. 
 " I'm fourteen to-morrow quite too old to be in 
 sulted," and she darted away, followed by the merry 
 laugh of the good-humored Ben.
 
 BEN'S VISIT. 21 
 
 Two hours before Eosamond would not have been 
 so excited, for though nearly fourteen she was in 
 thought and feeling a very child, as was proved by her 
 asking to kiss her benefactor's hand; but Mrs. Van 
 Vechten's remarks, repeated to her by Ben, had 
 wrought in her a change, and, in some respects, trans 
 formed her into a woman at once. She did not care 
 so much for the liberties Ben had attempted to take, 
 but his mother's words rankled in her bosom, awaken 
 ing within her a feeling of bitter resentment ; and 
 when, next day, the lady's bell rang out its summons 
 for her to come, she sat still upon the door-steps and 
 gave no heed. 
 
 " Eosamond," said Mrs. Peters, " Mrs. Van Vechten 
 is ringing for you." 
 
 " Let her ring, I'm not going to wait on her any 
 more," and Eosamond returned to the book she was 
 reading. 
 
 Meantime, flurried and impatient, the lady above 
 stairs pulled at the bell-rope, growing more nervous 
 and angry with every pull, until at last, as she heard 
 her brother's step in the hall, she went out to him and 
 said, " I wish you'd send that girl to me. I've rung at 
 least fifty times ; and dare say she's enticing Ben 
 again. I knew it would be so." 
 
 Going hurriedly clown the stairs, Mr. Browning 
 sought out Eosamond and said to her, " My sister is 
 ringing for you." 
 
 " I know it, sir ; " and the brown eyes, which here 
 tofore had seemed so soft and gentle, flashed upon him 
 an expression which puzzled him. 
 
 " Then why do you not go ? " he asked ; and the 
 young girl replied, " I shall not wait upon her any 
 more."
 
 22 ROSAMO:NT>. 
 
 "Rosamond ! " said Mr. Browning. There was sever 
 ity in the tone of his voice, and Rosamond roused at once. 
 
 " She says I am vulgar, and low-lorn, and have 
 designs upon Ben," said she, "and it's a falsehood. 
 My mother was as much a lady as she. I am not vul 
 gar, and I hate Ben, and I won't stay here if I must 
 wait on her. Shall I go away ? " 
 
 If Rosamond Jeft the life of the house went with 
 her. This Mr. Browning knew ; but man-like, he did 
 not wish to be conquered by a woman, and after 
 questioning her as to the nature of Mrs. Yan Yechten's 
 offence, he answered, " My sister says some foolish 
 things. I know, but it is my request that you attend to 
 her while she stays, and I expect to be obeyed." 
 
 That last word was unfortunate, for Rosamond had 
 a strong will of her own, and tapping her little foot 
 upon the ground, she said saucily, " And suppose you 
 are not obeyed ? " 
 
 He did not tell her she must leave Riverside, but he 
 said, " You must answer for } T our disobedience to me, 
 who have certainly some right to control you ; " then, 
 fearing that his own high temper might be tried more 
 than he chose to have it, he walked away just in time 
 to avoid hearing her say, " she cared less for him than 
 for his sister ! " 
 
 Rosamond was too impulsive not to repent bitterly 
 of her conduct ; and though she persisted in leaving 
 Mrs. Yan Yechten to herself, and refused to speak 
 to Ben, whose face, in consequence, wore a most 
 melancholy expression, she almost cried herself sick, 
 and at last startled Mrs. Peters, just as that lady was 
 stepping into bed, by declaring that she must see Mr. 
 Browning before she slept.
 
 BEX'S VISIT. 23 
 
 Mr. Browning sat in his library, alone. He did not 
 usually retire early, but this night he had cause for 
 wakefulness. The burst of passion he had witnessed 
 in his protegee had carried him back to a time when 
 another than little Rosamond Leyton had laughed his 
 wishes to scorn. 
 
 " And is it ever thus with them ? " he said. " Are 
 all women furies in disguise ? and Rosamond seemed 
 so gentle, so good." 
 
 He did not hear the low knock on his door, for his 
 thoughts were far away in the south-land, where he 
 had learned his first lesson of womankind. Neither 
 did he hear the light footfall upon the floor, but 
 when a sweet, tearful voice said to him, " Mr. Brown 
 ing, are you feeling so badly for me ? " he started, and 
 on a hassock at his feet saw Rosamond Leyton. The 
 sight of her was unexpected, and it startled him for 
 a moment, but soon recovering his composure, he said 
 gently : " "Why are you here ? I supposed you were in 
 bed." 
 
 Rosamond began to cry, and with her usual im 
 petuosity replied, " I came to tell you how sorry I am 
 for behaving so rudely to you. I do try to govern my 
 temper so hard, but it sometimes gets the mastery. 
 "Won't you forgive me, sir ? It wasn't Rosamond that 
 acted so it was a vile, wicked somebody else. Will 
 you forgive me ? " and in her dread that the coveted 
 forgiveness might be withheld, she forgot that he was 
 only twenty-four, and laid her head upon his knee, 
 sobbing like a little child. 
 
 " Had she done like this, how different would my 
 life have been," thought Mr. Browning, and involun 
 tarily caressing the curly head, he was about to speak, 
 when Rosamond interrupted him, saying,
 
 24 ROSAMOND. 
 
 " I won't deceive you, Mr. Browning, and make you 
 think I'm better than I am. I am sorry I acted so to 
 you, but I don't believe I'm sorry about Mrs. Yan 
 Yechten. I don't like her, for she always treats me 
 as though I were not near as good as she, and I can't 
 wait on her any more. Must I ? Oh, don't make me," 
 and she looked beseechingly into his face. 
 
 He could not help respecting her for that inborn 
 feeling, which would not permit herself to be trampled 
 down, and though he felt intuitively that she was 
 having her own way after all, he assured her of his for- 
 giveness, and then added : " Mrs. Yan Yechten will 
 not require your services, for she received a letter to 
 night, saying her presence was needed at home, and 
 she leaves us to-morrow. 
 
 " And Ben ? " she asked" does he go, too ? " 
 
 " He accompanies his mother to New York," Mr. 
 Erowning said, " and I believe she intends leaving him 
 there with a friend, until his school commences 
 again." 
 
 In spite of herself, Rosamond rather liked Ben, and 
 feeling that she was the cause of his banishment from 
 Riverside, her sympathy was enlisted for him, and she 
 said, " If I were not here, Ben would stay. Hadn't 
 you rather send me away ? " 
 
 " No, Rosamond, no ; I need you here," was Mr. 
 Browning's reply, and then as the clock struck eleven, 
 he bade her leave him, saying it was time children like 
 her were in bed. 
 
 As he had said, Mrs. Yan Yechten was going away, 
 and she came down to breakfast next morning in her 
 traveling dress, appearing very unamiable, and looking 
 very cross at Rosamond, with whom she finally parted 
 without a word of reconciliation. Ben on the contrary
 
 BEN'S VISIT. "25 
 
 was all affability, and managed slyly to kiss her, telling 
 her he should come there again in spite of his mother. 
 
 After their departure the household settled back into 
 its usual monotonous way of living, with the exception 
 that Kosamond, being promoted to the position of an. 
 equal, became, in many respects, the real mistress of 
 Riverside, though Mrs. Peters nominally held the reins, 
 and aside from superintending her work, built many 
 castles of the future when her protegee would be a full 
 grown woman and her master still young and hand 
 some !
 
 26 ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 KOSAMOND'S EDUCATION. 
 
 ONE year has passed away since Mrs. Van Vechten 
 departed for the South, and up the locust lined avenue 
 which leads to Riverside, the owner of the place is 
 slowly riding. It is not pleasant going home to-night, 
 and so he lingers by the way, wondering why it is 
 that the absence of a child should make so much 
 difference in one's feelings ! During the year Rosa 
 mond had recited her lessons to him, but with many 
 others he fancied no girl's education could be finished 
 unless she were sent away and two weeks before the 
 night of which we write he had taken her himself to 
 Atwater Seminary, a distance of more than two hun 
 dred miles, and then, with a sense of desolation for 
 which he could not account, he had returned to his 
 home, which was never so lonely before. There was 
 no merry voice within the walls, no tripping feet upon 
 the stairs, no soft, white hand to bathe his forehead 
 when suffering from real or fancied headaches, no 
 slippers waiting by his chair, no flowers on the 
 mantle, no bright face at the window, no Rosamond 
 at the door. 
 
 Of all this was he thinking that November afternoon 
 and when at last he reached his house, he went straight 
 to his library, hoping to find a letter there, telling him 
 of her welfare. But letter there was none, and with 
 a feeling of disappointment he started to the parlor.
 
 ROSAMOND'S EDUCATION. 27 
 
 The door was ajar and he caught glimpses of a cheer 
 fully blazing fire within the grate. The shutters, too, 
 were open and the curtains were put back just as they 
 used to be when she was there. It seemed like the 
 olden time, and with spirits somewhat enlivened he 
 advanced into the room. His favorite chair stood be 
 fore the fire, and so near to it that her head was lean 
 ing on its arm, sat a young girl. Her back was turned 
 toward him, but he knew that form full well, and joy 
 fully he cried, " Rosamond, how came you here ? " 
 
 Amid her smiles and tears, Rosamond attempted to 
 tell him the story of her grievances. She was home 
 sick, and she could not learn half so much at the At- 
 water Seminary as at home then, too, she hated the 
 strait-jacket rules, and hated the lady-boarder, who 
 pretended to be sick, and wouldn't let the school-girls 
 breathe, especially Rosamond Leyton, for whom she 
 seemed to have conceived a particular aversion. 
 
 Pleased as Mr. Browning was to have Rosamond with 
 him again, he did not quite like her reasons for coming 
 back, and he questioned her closely as to the cause of 
 her sudden return. 
 
 " I shouldn't have come, perhaps," said Rosamond, 
 " if that sick woman hadn't been so nervous and dis 
 agreeable. She paid enormous sums for her board, 
 and so Mrs. Lindsey would hardly let us breathe for 
 fear of disturbing her. My room was over hers, and I 
 had to take off my shoes and walk on tip-toe, and even 
 then she complained of me, saying I was rude and 
 noisy, when I tried so hard to be still. I made some 
 hateful remark about her in the hall, which she over 
 heard, and when Mrs. Lindsey scolded me for it, say 
 ing she was a very wealthy lady from Florida, and 
 accustomed to every attention at home, I said back
 
 28 ROSAMOND. 
 
 some pert things, I suppose, for she threatened to write 
 and tell you, and so I thought I'd come and tell you 
 myself." 
 
 There was a dizzy whirl in Mr. Browning's brain a 
 pallor about his lips for a terrible suspicion had flashed 
 upon him, and leaning forward, he said in a voice al 
 most a whisper, " What was the Florida lady's name ? " 
 
 " Potter, or Porter yes, Miss Porter, that was it. 
 But what is the matter ? Are you sick ? " Rosamond 
 asked, as she saw how white he was. 
 
 " Only a sudden faintness. It will soon pass off," he 
 said. "Tell me more of her. Did she see you? 
 Were you near her ? " 
 
 " No," answered Rosamond. " She was sick all the 
 time I was there, and did not leave her room. The 
 girls said, though, that she was rather pretty, but had 
 big, black, evil-looking eyes. I don't know why it was, 
 but I felt afraid of her felt just as though she was 
 my evil genius. I couldn't help it but you are sick, 
 Mr. Browning you are pale as a ghost. Lie down 
 upon the sofa, and let me bring the pillows, as I used 
 to do." 
 
 She darted off in the direction of his sleeping-room, 
 unconscious of the voice which called after her, asking 
 if it were not dark in the hall, and bidding her take a 
 light. 
 
 " But what does it matter ? " he said, as he tottered 
 to the sofa. She is not here. Atwater Seminary is 
 two hundred miles away. She can't harm Rosamond 
 now." 
 
 By this time Rosamond came with the pillows, which 
 she arranged upon the sofa, making him lie down 
 while she sat by, and laid her hand soothingly upon his 
 burning forehead.
 
 ROSAMOND'S EDUCATION". 29 
 
 " We will have tea in here to-night," she said, " I 
 told Mrs. Peters so, and I will make it myself. Do 
 you feel any better ? " and she brought her rosy face so 
 near to his that he felt her warm breath upon his cheek. 
 
 " Yes, I am better," he replied, " but keep your 
 hand upon my forehead. It assures me of your presence, 
 when my eyes are shut." 
 
 So Rosamond sat beside him, and when Mrs. Peters 
 came in to lay the cloth, she found them thus together. 
 Smiling knowingly, she whispered to herself, " Nater 
 is the same everywhere," and the good lady bustled 
 in and out, bringing her choicest bits and richest cake 
 in honor of her pet's return. That night, freed 
 from boarding-school restraint, Rosamond slept soundly 
 in her own pleasant chamber, but to Ralph Browning, 
 pacing up and down his room, there came not a 
 moment of unconsciousness. He could not forget how 
 near he had been to one who had embittered his 
 whole life nor yet how near to her young Rosamond 
 had been, and he shuddered as if the latter had 
 escaped an unseen danger. Occasionally, too, the 
 dread thought stole over him, " suppose she should 
 come here, and with her eagle eyes discover what, if 
 it exist at all, is hidden in the inmost recesses of my 
 heart." 
 
 But of this he had little fear, and when the morning 
 came he was himself again, and, save that it was 
 haggard and pale, his face gave no token of the terrible 
 night he had passed. But what should he do with 
 Rosamond? This was the question which now per 
 plexed him. He had no desire to send her from him 
 again, neither would she have gone if he had and 
 he at last came to the very sensible conclusion that 
 the school in his own village was quite as good as any,
 
 80 ROSAMOND. 
 
 and she accordingly became an attendant at the 
 Granby Female Seminary. Here she remained for 
 two years and a half, over which time we will 
 pass silently and introduce her again to our readers, 
 when she is nearly eighteen a graduate a belle 
 and the sunshine of Riverside.
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 31 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 
 
 DURING the time which had elapsed since Ben Van 
 Yechten first made the acquaintance of Rosamond, he 
 had not once been to Riverside, for failing to enter 
 college, and overwhelmed with mortification at his 
 failure, he had returned to Alabama, from which place 
 he wrote to her occasionally, always addressing her as 
 a little girl, and speaking of himself as a very ancient 
 personage in comparison with herself. But that Rosa 
 mond was now no longer a little girl, was proved by 
 her finely rounded figure, her intelligent face, her 
 polished manners and self-reliant air. And Rosamond 
 was beautiful, too so beautiful that strangers in 
 variably asked who she was, turning always for a 
 second look, when told she was the adopted sister or 
 daughter the villagers hardly knew which of the 
 wealthy Mr. Browning. But whether she were the 
 daughter or the sister of the man with whom she 
 lived, she was in reality the mistress of his household, 
 and those who at first slighted her as the child of a 
 milliner, now gladly paid her homage as one who was 
 to be the heir of Mr. Browning's wealth. He would 
 never marry her, the wise ones thought would never 
 marry anybody and so, with this understanding, he 
 was free to talk, walk, and ride with her as often as 
 he chose. He liked her, the people said, but did not 
 love her, while Rosamond herself believed he almost
 
 32 ROSAMOND. 
 
 hated her, so strangely cold and harsh was his manner 
 toward her at times. 
 
 This coldness had increased of late, and when the 
 Lawries, who, next to Mr. Browning, were the most 
 aristocratic people in the place, suggested that she 
 should accompany them for a few weeks to the Springs, 
 she was delighted with the plan, and nothing doubting 
 that Mr. Browning would be glad to have her out of 
 the way, she went to him for his consent. She found 
 him in his library, apparently so absorbed in reading 
 that he did not observe her approach until she stood 
 between him and the light. Then he looked up 
 quickly, and, as she fancied, an expression of dis 
 pleasure passed over his face. 
 
 " Excuse me for disturbing you," she said, rather 
 petulantly ; " I have to break in upon your privacy 
 if I would see you at all." 
 
 He gave her a searching glance, and then laying 
 aside his book and folding his arms, said pleasantly, 
 " I am at your service now, Miss Leyton. What is it 
 you wish ? " 
 
 Yery briefly she stated her request, and then sitting 
 down in the window, awaited his answer. It was 
 not given immediately, and when he did speak, he 
 said " Rosamond, do you wish to go ? " 
 
 " Of course I do," she replied, " I want to go where 
 it is not as lonesome as I find it here." 
 
 " Lonesome, Rosamond, lonesome," he repeated, 
 
 " Riverside has never been lonesome since " he 
 
 paused a moment and then added, " since you came 
 here." 
 
 The shadow disappeared from Rosamond's face, as 
 she replied " I did not suppose you cared to have me 
 here. I thought you did not like me."
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 33 
 
 " Not like you, Rosamond ? " and over his fine 
 features there came a look of pain, which increased as 
 Rosamond continued : " You are so cold at times, 
 and shun me as it were ; inventing excuses to drive 
 me from you when you know I would rather stay." 
 
 " Oh, Rosamond," he groaned, " how mistaken you 
 are. The world would be to me a blank were it 
 not for you ; and if my manner is sometimes cold and 
 cruel, it is because stern duty demands it should be so. 
 I cannot lay bare my secret heart to you of all others, 
 but could you know me as I am, you would censure 
 much, but pity more." He paused a moment, then, 
 scarcely knowing what he said he continued " Rosa 
 mond, we will understand each other. / shall never 
 marry never can marry. In your intercourse with 
 me, will you always remember that?" 
 
 " Why, yes," answered Rosamond, puzzled to com 
 prehend him. " I'll remember that you say so, but it 
 is not likely you'll keep your word." 
 
 " I am not trifling with you," he said. " Marriage is 
 not for me. There is a dreadful reason why I cannot 
 marry, and if at times I am cold toAvard you, it is be 
 cause because ' ' 
 
 Rosamond's eyes were riveted upon his face ; darker 
 and darker they grew, becoming at last almost black 
 in their intensity. She was beginning to understand 
 him, and coloring crimson, she answered bitterly, " I 
 know what you would say, but you need have no fears, 
 for I never aspired to that honor. Rosamond Leyton 
 has yet to see the man she could love." 
 
 " Rosamond," and Mr. Browning's voice was so low, 
 so mournful in its tone that it quelled the angry feel 
 ings in the young girl's bosom, and she offered no re 
 sistance when he came to her side and took her hand
 
 34 ROSAMOND. 
 
 in his, saying as he did so " Listen to me. You came 
 here a little girl, and at first I did not heed you, but 
 you made your presence felt in various ways, until at 
 last I thought I could not live without you. You are 
 a young lady now the world calls you beautiful. To 
 me you are beautiful. Oh, so beautiful," and he laid 
 one hand upon her shining hair, softly, tenderly, nay, 
 proudly, as if she had been his child. " I am not old 
 yet, and it would be natural that we should love each 
 other, but we must not we cannot." 
 
 "And lest I should love you too well, you have 
 tried to make me hate you," interrupted Rosamond, 
 trying in vain to release herself from his powerful 
 grasp, and adding, " but you can spare yourself the 
 trouble. I like you too well to hate you ; but as I 
 live, I would not marry you if I could. I mean what 
 I say ! " 
 
 He released her hand, and returning to his chair, 
 laid his head upon the table, while she continued " I 
 know just about how well you like me how necessary 
 I am to your comfort, and since fate has decreed that 
 we should be thrown together, let us contribute to each 
 other's happiness as far as in us lies. I will think of 
 you as a brother, if you like, and you shall treat me as 
 a sister, until somebody takes me off your hands. 
 !N"o\v, I can't say /shall never marry, for I verily be 
 lieve I shall. Meantime, you must think of me just as 
 you would if you had a wife. Is it a bargain, Mr. 
 Browning ? " 
 
 She spoke playfully, but he knew she was in earnest, 
 and from his inmost soul he blessed her for having 
 thus brought the conversation to a close. He could 
 not tell her why he had said to her what he had it 
 was not what he intended to say, and he knew she was
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 35 
 
 in a measure deceived, but he could not explain to her 
 now ; he could not tell her that he trembled for him 
 self far more than for her, and it was not for her then, 
 to know how much he loved her, nor how that love 
 was wearing his life away because of its great sin. 
 He was growing old now very fast. The shadows of 
 years were on his brow, and Rosamond almost fancied 
 she saw his brown locks turning white. She was a 
 warm-hearted, impulsive girl, and going toward him, 
 she parted from his forehead the hair streaked with 
 gray, saying softly to him, " Shall it not be so ? May 
 I be your sister ? " 
 
 "Yes, Rosamond, yes," was his answer; and then, 
 wishing to bring him back to the point from which 
 they started, Rosamond said abruptly " And what of 
 the^Springs ? Can I go ? " 
 
 The descent was a rapid one, but it was what he 
 needed, and lifting up his head, he replied, just as he 
 had done before, " Do you want to go ? " 
 
 " Not as much as I did when I thought you were 
 angry, and if you would rather, I had quite as lief stay 
 with you." 
 
 " Then stay," he said, " and we will have no more 
 misunderstandings." 
 
 The next evening, as he sat alone in the parlor, a 
 servant brought him a letter, the superscription of 
 which made him reel, as if he would have fallen to the 
 floor. It was nearly four years since he had seen that 
 handwriting he had hoped never to look upon it again 
 but it was there before his eyes, and she who wrote 
 that letter was coming to Riverside " would be there 
 in a few days, Providence permitting. Do not commit 
 suicide on my account," she wrote, " for I care as little 
 as yourself to have our secret divulged, and unless I
 
 36 ROSAMOND. 
 
 find that you are after other prey, I shall keep my own 
 counsel." 
 
 The letter dropped from his nerveless fingers the 
 objects in the room swam before his eyes, and like one 
 on whom a crushing weight has fallen, he sat bewil 
 dered, until the voice of Rosamond aroused him, and 
 fleeing to his chamber he locked the door, and then sat 
 down to think. She was coming to Riverside, and 
 wherefore? He did not wish for a reconciliation now 
 he would rather live there just as he was, with Rosa 
 mond. 
 
 " Nothing will escape her," he said ; " those basilisk 
 eyes will see everything will ferret out my love for 
 that fair young girl. Oh, Heaven, is there no es 
 cape ! " 
 
 He heard the voice of Anna Lawrie in the yard. She 
 was coming for Rosamond's decision, and quick as 
 thought he rang the bell, bidding the servant who ap 
 peared to send Miss Leyton to him. 
 
 " Rosamond," he said, when she came to the door, 
 "I have changed my mind. You must go to the 
 Springs." 
 
 " But I'd rather stay at home I do not wish to go," 
 she said. 
 
 " I say you 'must. So tell Miss Lawrie you will," he 
 answered, and his eyes flashed almost savagely upon 
 her. 
 
 Rosamond waited for no more. She had discovered 
 the impediment to his marrying. It was hereditary in 
 sanity, and she had seen the first signs of it in him her 
 self ! Magnanimously resolving never to tell a human 
 being, nor let him be chained if she could help it, how 
 ever furious he might become, she went down to Miss 
 Lawrie, telling her she would go.
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 37 
 
 One week from that day was fixed upon for their 
 departure, and during that time Rosamond was too 
 much absorbed in dresses and finery to pay much heed 
 to Mr. Browning. Of one thing she was sure, though 
 he was crazy for what else made him stalk up and 
 down the gravel-walk, his head bent forward, and his 
 hands behind him, as if intently thinking. Once, when 
 she saw him thus, she longed to go out to him, to tell 
 him she knew his secret, and that she would never 
 leave him, however unmanageable he should become ! 
 But his manner toward her now was so strange that 
 she dared not, and she was almost as glad as himself 
 when at last the morning came for her to go. 
 
 " Promise me one thing," he said, as they stood to 
 gether a moment alone. " Don't write until you hear 
 from me, and don't come home until I send for you." 
 
 " And suppose the Lawries come, what then ? " she 
 asked, and he replied, " No matter ; stay until I write. 
 Here are five hundred dollars in case of an emergency," 
 and he thrust a check into her hand. " Stop," he con 
 tinued, as the carriage came round " did you put your 
 clothes away where no one can see them, or are you 
 taking them all with you ? " 
 
 " Why no, why should I ? " she answered. " Ain't I 
 coming back ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes Heaven only knows," he said. " Oh, 
 Rosamond, it may be I am parting with you forever, 
 and at such a moment, is it a sin for you to kiss me ? 
 You asked to do so once. Will you do it now ? " 
 
 " I will," she replied, and she kissed, unhesitatingly, 
 his quivering lips. 
 
 The Lawries were at the door Mrs. Peters also 
 and forcing down his emotion, he bade her a calm 
 good-by. The carriage rolled away, but ere its oc*
 
 38 ROSAMOND. 
 
 cupants were six miles from Riverside, every article of 
 dress which had belonged to Rosamond had disap 
 peared from her room, which presented the appearance 
 of any ordinary bed-chamber, and when Mrs. Peters, 
 in great alarm, came to Mr. Browning, asking what 
 he supposed had become of them, he answered quietly 
 " I have put them in my private closet and locked 
 them up 1 "
 
 MARIE PORTER. 39 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MAKIE POETEB. 
 
 THE Hotels were crowded with visitors. Every 
 
 apartment at Hall, from basement to attic, was 
 
 full, save two small rooms, eight by ten, so dingy and 
 uncomfortable, that only in cases of emergency were 
 they offered to guests. These, from necessity, were 
 taken by the Lawries, but for Rosamond there was 
 scarcely found a standing point, unless she were will 
 ing to share the apartment of a sick lady, who had 
 graciously consented to receive any genteel, well-bred 
 person, who looked as though they would be quiet and 
 not rummage her things more than once a day ! 
 
 " She was a very high-bred woman," the obsequious 
 attendant said, " and her room the best in the house ; 
 she would not remain much longer, and when she was 
 gone the young lady could have it alone, or share it 
 with her companions. It contained two beds, of 
 course, besides a few nails for dresses." 
 
 *' Oh, do take it," whispered the younger Miss 
 Lawrie, who was not yet thoroughly versed in the 
 pleasures of a watering place, and who cast rueful 
 glances at her cheerless pen, so different from her airy 
 chamber at home. 
 
 So Rosamond's trunks were taken to No. 20, whither 
 she herself followed them. The first occupant, it 
 would seem, was quite an invalid, for though it was 
 four in the afternoon, she was still in bed. Great
 
 40 ROSAMOND. 
 
 pains, however, had evidently been taken with her 
 toilet, and nothing could have been more perfect than 
 the arrangement of her pillows her hair her wrapper, 
 and the crimson shawl she wore about her shoulders. 
 Rosamond bowed to her politely, and then, without 
 noticing her particularly, went over to the side of the 
 room she supposed was to be hers. She had just lain 
 aside her hat when the lady said, " That open blind 
 lets in too much light. Will you please shut it Miss 
 I don't know what to call you." 
 
 "Miss Leyton," answered Rosamond, "and you 
 are ' : 
 
 " Miss Porter," returned the speaker. 
 
 " Rosamond started quickly, for she remembered the 
 name, and looking for the first time directly at the 
 lady, she met a pair of large black eyes fixed inquir 
 ingly upon her. 
 
 " Leyton Leyton," repeated the lady, " where have 
 I heard of you before ? " 
 
 " At Atwater Seminary, perhaps," suggested Rosa 
 mond, a little doubtful as to the manner in which her 
 intelligence would be received. 
 
 A shadow flitted over the lady's face, but it was 
 soon succeeded by a smile, and she said graciously, 
 " Oh, yes, I know. You annoyed me and I annoyed 
 you. It was an even thing, and since we are thrown 
 together again, we will not quarrel about the past. 
 Ain't you going to close that blind ? The light shines 
 full in my face, and, as 1 did not sleep one wink last 
 night, I am looking horridly to-day." 
 
 " Excuse me, madam," said Rosamond, " I was so 
 taken by surprise that I forgot your request," and she 
 proceeded to shut the blind. 
 
 This being done, she divested herself of her soiled 
 
 \
 
 MARIE PORTER. 41 
 
 garments, washed her face, brushed her curls, and was 
 about going in quest of her companions, when the lady- 
 asked if she had friends there. Rosamond replied that 
 she had, at the same time explaining how uncomfort 
 able they were. 
 
 " The hotel is full," said the lady, " and they all 
 envy me my room ; but if I pay for the best, I am 
 surely entitled to the best. I shall not remain here 
 long, however. Indeed, I did not expect to be here 
 no\v, but sickness overtook me. I dare say I am the 
 subject of many anxious thoughts to the person I am 
 going to visit." 
 
 There was a half-exultant expression upon the lady's 
 face as she uttered these last words, but in the darkened 
 room, Rosamond did not observe it. She was sorry 
 for one thus detained against her will, and leaning 
 against the foot-board, she said, " You suffer a great 
 deal from ill health, do you not? Have you always 
 been an invalid ? " 
 
 " Not always. I was very healthy once, but a great 
 trouble came upon me, shocking my nervous system 
 terribly, and since then I have never seen a well day. 
 I was young when it occurred about your age, I think. 
 How old are you, Miss Leyton ? " 
 
 "I am eighteen next October," was Rosamond's 
 reply, and the lady continued, " I was older than that. 
 Most nineteen. I am twenty-eight now." 
 
 Rosamond did not know why she said it, but she re 
 joined quickly, " Twenty-eight. So is Mr. Browning ! " 
 
 " Who f exclaimed the lady, the tone of her voice 
 so sharp so loud and earnest, that Rosamond was 
 startled, and did not answer for an instant. 
 
 When she did, she said, " I beg your pardon ; it is 
 Mr. Browning who is twenty-eight."
 
 42 ROSAMOND. 
 
 " Ah, yes, I did not quite understand you. I'm a 
 little hard of hearing. Who is Mr. Browning ? " 
 
 The voice had assumed its usually soft, smooth tone, 
 and Rosamond could not see the rapid beatings of the 
 heart, nor the eager curiosity lurking in the glittering 
 black e} r es. The lady seemed indifferent, and smoothed 
 carelessly the rich Valenciennes lace, which edged the 
 sleeve of her cambric wrapper. 
 
 " Did you tell me who Mr. Browning was, dear ? " 
 and the black eyes wandered over the counterpane, 
 looking everywhere but at Rosamond, so fearful was 
 their owner lest they should betray the interest she felt 
 in the answer. 
 
 " Mr. Browning," said Rosamond, " is is I hardly 
 know what he is to me. I went to his house to live 
 when I was a little, friendless orphan, and he very 
 kindly educated me, and made me what I am. I live 
 with him still at Riverside." 
 
 " Ye-es Riverside beau-ti-ful name his country- 
 seat I sup-pose," the words dropped syllable by 
 syllable from the white lips, but there was no quiver 
 in the voice no ruffle upon her face. 
 
 Raising herself upon her elbow, the lady continued, 
 " Pray don't think me fidgety, but won't you please 
 open that shutter. I did not think it would be so dark. 
 There, that's a good girl. Now, come and sit by me 
 on the bed, and tell me of Riverside. Put your feet in 
 the chair, or take this pillow. There, turn a little more 
 to the light. I like to see people when they talk to me." 
 
 Rosamond complied with each request, and then, 
 never dreaming of the close examination to which her 
 face was subjected, she began to speak of her beautiful 
 home describing it minutely, and dwelling some 
 what at length upon the virtues of its owner.
 
 MARIE PORTER. 43 
 
 " You like him very much," the lady said, nodding a 
 little affirmative nod to her own question. 
 
 " Yes, very very much," was Rosamond's answer ; 
 and the lady continued, " And Mrs. Browning ? Do 
 you like her, too ? " 
 
 " There is no Mrs. Browning," returned Rosamond, 
 adding quickly, as she saw in her auditor's face an ex 
 pression she did not understand, " but it is perfectly 
 proper I should live there, for Mrs. Peters, the house 
 keeper, has charge of me." 
 
 " Perhaps, then, he will marry you," and the jeweled 
 hands worked nervously under the crimson shawl. 
 
 " Oh, no, he won't," said Rosamond, decidedly, 
 "he's too old for me. Why, his hair is turning 
 gray ! " 
 
 " That's nothing," answered the lady, a little sharply. 
 " Everybody's hair turns early now-a-days. Sarah 
 found three or four silver threads in mine, this morn 
 ing. Miss Ley ton, don't you love Mr. Browning ? " 
 
 " Why, yes," Rosamond began, and the face upon 
 the pillow assumed a dark and almost fiendish expres 
 sion. " Why, yes, I love him as a brother, but nothing 
 else. I respect him for his goodness, but it would be 
 impossible to love him with a marrying love." 
 
 The fierce expression passed away, and Miss Porter 
 was about to speak when Anna Lawrie sent for Rosa 
 mond, who excused herself and left the room, thinking 
 that, after all, she should like her old enemy of At- 
 water Seminary very much. 
 
 Meantime " the enemy " had buried her face in her 
 pillows, and clenching her blue veined fists, struck at 
 the empty air, just as she would have struck at the 
 owner of Riverside had he been standing there. 
 
 " Fine time he has of it," she muttered, " living there
 
 44 ROSAMOND. 
 
 with her, and she so young and beautiful. I could 
 have strangled her the jade ! when she sat here 
 talking so enthusiastically to me, of him f And she 
 loves him, too. I know she does, though she don't 
 know it herself. But I must be wary. I must seem 
 to like this girl must win her confidence so I can 
 probe her heart to its core, and if I find they love 
 each other ! " she paused a moment, then grinding 
 her teeth together, added slowly, as if the sound of 
 her voice were musical and sweet, " Marie Porter will 
 be avenged ! " 
 
 That strange woman could be a demon or an angel, 
 and as the latter character suited her just now, Rosa 
 mond, on her return to her room, found her all gentle 
 ness and love. 
 
 That night, when all around the house was still, the 
 full moon shone down upon a scene which would have 
 chilled the blood of Ralph Browning and made his 
 heart stand still. Upon a single bedstead near the 
 window Rosamond Leyton lay calmly sleeping her 
 brown curls floating o'er the pillow her cheeks flushed 
 with health and beauty her lips slightly apart and 
 her slender hands folded gracefully upon her bosom. 
 Over her a fierce woman bent her long, black hair 
 streaming down her back her eyes blazing with pas 
 sion her face the impersonation of malignity and hate ; 
 and there she stood, a vulture watching a harmless 
 dove. Rosamond was dreaming of her home, and the 
 ogress, standing near heard her murmur, " dear Mr. 
 Browning." 
 
 For a moment Marie Porter stood immovable then 
 gliding back to her own couch, she whispered, " It is 
 as I believed, and now if he loves her, the time I've 
 waited for so long has come."
 
 MARIE PORTER. 45 
 
 All that night she lay awake, burning with excite 
 ment and thirsting for revenge, and when the morn 
 ing came, the illness was not feigned which kept her 
 in her bed and wrung from her cries of pain. She was 
 really suffering now, and during the next few days, 
 Rosamond stayed almost constanly at her side; adminis 
 tering to her wants, and caring for her so tenderly that 
 hatred died out of the woman's heart, and she pitied 
 the fair young girl, for in those few days she had 
 learned what Rosamond did not know herself, though 
 she was gradually waking up to it now. It was a long 
 time since she had been separated from Mr. Browning, 
 and she missed him so much, following him in fancy 
 through the day, and at night wondering if he were 
 thinking of her, and wishing he could hear the sound 
 of her voice singing to him as she was wont to do when 
 the twilight was over the earth. Anon there crept 
 into her heart a feeling she could not define a fe 
 verish longing to be where he was a sense of desolation 
 and terrible pain when she thought of his insanity, and 
 the long, dreary years which might ensue when he 
 would lose all knowledge of her. She did not care to 
 talk so much of him now, but Miss Porter cared to 
 have her, and caressingly winning the girl's confidence, 
 learned almost every thing learned that there was 
 an impediment to his marrying, and that Rosamond 
 believed that impediment to be hereditary insanity 
 learned that he was often fitful and gloomy, treating 
 his ward sometimes with coldness, and again with the 
 utmost tenderness. Of the interview in the library 
 Rosamond did not tell, but she told of everything else 
 of his refusing to let her come to the Springs and 
 then compelling her, against her will, to go ; and 
 Marie Porter, holding the little hands in hers, and
 
 46 ROSAMOND. 
 
 listening to the story, read it all, and read it aright, 
 gloating over the anguish she knew it cost Ralph 
 Browning to see that beautiful girl each day and know 
 lie must not win her. 
 
 " But I pity her" she said, " for there is coming to 
 her a terrible awakening." 
 
 Then, for no other reason than a thirst for excite 
 ment, she longed to see that awakening, and one day 
 when they sat together alone, she took Rosamond's 
 hand in hers, and examining its scarcely legible lines, 
 said, half playfully, half seriously, " Rosamond, people 
 have called me a fortune-teller. I inherited the gift 
 from my grandmother, and though I do not pretend to 
 much skill, I can surely read your destiny. You love 
 Mr. Browning. I have known that all along. You 
 think of him by day you dream of him by night, and 
 no thought is half so sweet as the thought of going 
 home to him. But, Rosamond, you will not marry 
 him. There is an impediment, as you say, but not in 
 sanity. I cannot tell you what it is, but I can see," 
 and she bent nearer to the hand which trembled in her 
 own. " I can see that for you to marry him, or mark 
 me, Rosamond for you even to love him, is a most 
 wicked thing a dreadful sin in the sight of Heaven, 
 and you must forget him will you ?" 
 
 Rosamond had laid her face upon the bed and was 
 sobbing hysterically, for Miss Porter's manner fright 
 ened her even more than her words. In reply to the 
 question, "Will you?" she at last answered passion 
 ately, " N<>) 1 won't ! " It is not wicked to love him 
 as I do. I am his sister, nothing more." 
 
 Miss Porter's lip curled scornfully a moment, and 
 then she said, " Let me tell you the story of my life, 
 shall 1 2 "
 
 MARIE PORTER. 47 
 
 No answer from Rosamond, and the lady continued : 
 " When I was about your age I fancied I loved a man 
 who, I think, must have been much like Mr. Brown- 
 ing- 
 
 " No, no," interrupted Rosamond. " Nobody was 
 ever like Mr. Browning. I don't want to hear the 
 story. I don't want anything but to go home." 
 
 I will not tell her until it's more necessary, thought 
 Miss Porter, but if I mistake not she will go home 
 much sooner than she anticipates. And she was right, 
 for on that very night Mr. Browning sat reading a 
 letter which ran as follows : 
 
 " I find myself so happy with your little Rosamond, 
 who chances to be my room-mate, that I have post 
 poned my visit to Riverside until some future time, 
 which, if you continue neutral, may never come but 
 the moment you trespass on forbidden ground, or 
 breathe a word of love into her ear beware ! She 
 loves you. I have found that out, and I tell it because 
 I know it will not make your life more happy, or your 
 punishment easier to bear ! " 
 
 He did not shriek he did not faint he did not 
 move but from between his teeth two words came like 
 a burning hiss, " Curse her ! " Then, seizing his pen, 
 he dashed off a few lines, bidding Rosamond "not to 
 delay a single moment, but to come home at once." 
 
 " She knows it all," he said, " and now, if she comes 
 here, it will not be much worse. I can but die, let 
 what will happen." 
 
 This letter took Rosamond and the Lawries by sur 
 prise but not so Miss Porter. She expected it, and when 
 she saw how eager Rosamond was to go, she smiled a 
 hard bitter smile, and said, " I've a half a mind to go 
 with you."
 
 48 ROSAMOND. 
 
 " WJiat ! where ? To Riverside f " asked Rosa 
 mond, suspending her preparations for a moment, and 
 hardly knowing whether she were pleased or not. 
 
 " Yes, to Riverside," returned Miss Porter, " though 
 on the whole, I think I'd better not. Mr. Browning 
 may not care to see me. If he does, you can write and 
 let me know. Give him my love, and say that if you 
 had not described him as so incorrigible an old bach, 
 I might be coming there to try my powers upon him. 
 I am irresistible in my diamonds. Be sure and tell 
 him that ; and stay, Rosamond, I must give you some 
 little token of my affection. What shall it be ? " and 
 she feigned to be thinking. 
 
 Most cruel must her thoughts have been, and even 
 she hesitated a moment ere she could bring herself to 
 such an act. Then with a contemptuous " Pshaw ! " 
 she arose and opening her jewel box took from a 
 private drawer a plain gold ring, bearing date nine 
 years back, and having inscribed upon it simply her 
 name " Marie." This she brought to Rosamond, say 
 ing, " I can't wear it now ; my hands are too thin and 
 bony, but it just fits you, see " and she placed it 
 upon the third finger of Rosamond's left hand ! 
 
 Rosamond thanked her, admired the chaste beauty 
 of the ring and then went on with her packing, while 
 the wicked woman seated herself by the window and 
 leaning her head upon her hands tried to quiet the 
 voice of conscience which cried out against the deed 
 she had done. 
 
 " It does not matter," she thought. " That tie was 
 severed years ago, by his own act, too. The ring 
 shall go. But will he see it ! Men do not always ob 
 serve such things," and then, lest he should not quaff 
 the cup of bitterness prepared for him, she wrote on a
 
 MARIE PORTER. 49 
 
 tiny sheet of gilt-edged paper, " Look on Rosamond's 
 third finger ! " 
 
 This she carefully sealed and gave to Rosamond, 
 bidding her hand it to Mr. Browning, and saying in 
 answer to her look of inquiry, " It is about a little 
 matter concerning yourself. He can show it to you, 
 if he thinks proper ! " 
 
 " The omnibus, Miss, for the cars," cried a servant 
 at the door, and with a hurried good-bye to her friends, 
 Rosamond departed and was soon on her way to River- 
 aide.
 
 60 ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MAKING LOVE. 
 
 AN accident had occurred to the downward train, 
 and Rosamond was detained upon the road for a long 
 time, so that it was already dark when she reached the 
 Granby depot. Wishing to surprise Mr. Browning 
 she started for home on foot, leaving her trunks in 
 charge of the baggage master. All around the house 
 was still, and stepping into the hall she was about 
 passing up the stairs, when the parlor door suddenly 
 opened, throwing a glare of light upon her face. The 
 same instant some one caught her round the neck, and 
 kissing her twice, only released her when she exclaimed, 
 " Mr. Browning, I am surprised at you ! " 
 
 " Mr. Browning ! Thunder ! Just as though I was 
 my uncle ! " cried a familiar voice, and looking at the 
 speaker, Rosamond recognized Ben Van Vechten! 
 He had come to Riverside the day previous, he said, 
 and hearing she was expected, had waited at the depot 
 four mortal hours, and then returned in disgust. 
 
 " But how did you know me ? " she asked, and he 
 replied, " By your daguerreotype, of course. There is 
 but one such beautiful face in the whole world." 
 
 He was disposed to be complimentary, and Rosa 
 mond was not sorry when his mother appeared, for in 
 her presence he was tolerably reserved. Mrs. Van 
 Vechten greeted Rosamond politely, but the old 
 hauteur was there, and her manner seemed to say, " If
 
 MAKING LOVE. 51 
 
 you are educated and refined, I can't forget that you 
 were once my waiting-maid." 
 
 " Where is Mr. Browning ? " asked Rosamond, and 
 Ben replied, " Oh, up in his den having the shakes. 
 He mopes there all the time. Can't you break him of 
 the blues?" 
 
 " I'll go and try," answered Rosamond, and she 
 started up the stairs, followed by Ben, whose mother 
 called him back, bidding him, in a low voice, stay 
 where he was, and not make a fool of himself. 
 
 She could trust her brot/ier, but not her son, and she 
 thus did the former the greatest favor she could have 
 done she let him meet young Rosamond Leyton alone. 
 The evening was quite chilly for July, and as, since 
 the receipt of Miss Porter's note, Mr. Browning had 
 seemed rather agueish, there was a fire burning in 
 the grate, and it cast its shadows upon him as he sat 
 in his accustomed chair. His back was toward the 
 door, and he knew nothing of Rosamond's return 
 until two soft, white hands were placed before his 
 eyes, and a voice which tried to be unnatural, said, 
 " Guess who I am." 
 
 " Rosamond darling have you come back to me 
 again ? " he exclaimed, and starting up, he wound his 
 arm about her, and looked into her face, expecting, 
 momentarily, to hear her say, " Yes, I know it all." 
 
 But Rosamond did not say so. She merely told him 
 how glad she was to be at home once more, in her 
 delight forgetting that Marie Porter had said she loved 
 the man who held her closely to his side and smoothed 
 her wavy hair even while his heart throbbed pain 
 fully with memories of the past and trembled for the 
 future. He longed to speak of her room-mate, but 
 he dared not betray his knowledge of her existence,
 
 52 ROSAMOND. 
 
 and he sat there waiting, yet dreading- to hear the 
 hated name. 
 
 " Did you room alone ? " he asked at last, and now 
 remembering the words, " You do love him," Rosa 
 mond moved quickly from his side. " She does know," 
 he thought, and a silent moan of anguish died upon his 
 lips. But Rosamond did not know the movement 
 was actuated by mere maidenly reserve, and sitting 
 down directly opposite him, she told him of Miss Porter, 
 whom she said she liked so well. 
 
 " How much of an invalid is she ? " asked Mr. 
 Browning, when he could trust his voice to speak. 
 
 " Her health is miserable," returned Rosamond. 
 She has heart disease, and her waiting-maid told 
 me she was liable to die at any time if unusually 
 excited." 
 
 It might have been because Rosamond was there 
 that Mr. Browning thought the room was brighter 
 than it had been before, and quite calmly he listened 
 while she told him more of her new friend. 
 
 " She seemed so interested in you, and in Riverside,'' 
 said Rosamond, " and even proposed coming home 
 with me " 
 
 Mr. Browning started suddenly, and as suddenly a 
 coal snapped out upon the carpet. This was an excuse 
 for his movement, and Rosamond continued, " She 
 thought, though, you might not care to see her, being 
 
 a stranger, but she sent you her love, and . You 
 
 are cold, ain't you, Mr. Browning ? You shiver like a 
 leaf. Ben said you'd had the ague." 
 
 Rosamond closed the door and commenced again. 
 " Where was I ? Oh, I know. She said if you were 
 not a confirmed bachelor she would try her powers on 
 you. '/She was irresistible in her diamonds,' she bade
 
 MAKING LOVE. 53 
 
 me tell you. But have you an ague chill, really ? or 
 what makes your teeth chatter so ? Shall I ring for 
 more coal ? " 
 
 " No, Eosamond, no. Fire does not warm me ; I 
 shall be better soon." 
 
 Kosamond pitied him, he looked so white and seemed 
 to be suffering so much, and she remained silent for a 
 time. Then remembering the note, she handed it to 
 him, and turning toward the fire, stooped down to fix 
 a bit of coal which was in danger of dropping from the 
 grate. While in this attitude a cry between a howl of 
 rage and a moan of anguish fell upon her ear her 
 shoulders were grasped by powerful hands, and looking 
 up she saw Mr. Browning, his face distorted with 
 passion and his flashing eyes riveted upon the ring 
 glittering in the firelight. Seizing her hand he 
 wrenched it from her finger, and glanced at the 
 name then, swift as thought, placed it upon the marble 
 hearth, and crushed it with his heel. 
 
 " It's mine you've broken it," cried Eosamond, but 
 he did not heed her, and gathering up the pieces, he 
 hurled them into the grate then, pale as ashes, sank 
 panting into the nearest chair. 
 
 Eosamond was thunder-struck. She did not suppose 
 he had had time to read the note, and never dreaming 
 there was any connection between that and his strange 
 conduct, she believed him to be raving mad, and her 
 first impulse was to fly. Her second thought, however, 
 was, " I will not leave him. He has these fits often, 
 now, I know, and that is why he sent for me. He 
 knew I could quiet him, and I will." 
 
 So Eosamond stayed, succeeding so far in soothing 
 him, that his eyes lost their savage gleam, and were 
 suffused with a look of unnatural tenderness when they
 
 54 ROSAMOND. 
 
 rested on her face. He did not ask her how she came 
 by the ring for he knew it had been sent as an insult 
 to him, and he felt a gloAV of satisfaction in knowing 
 that it was blackening on the grate. Ben's voice was 
 now heard in the hall, asking if they intended staying 
 there all night, and in a whisper Mr. Browning bade 
 Rosamond go down and apologize for him. She accord 
 ingly descended to the parlor, telling Mrs. Van Yechten 
 that her brother was too much indisposed to come 
 down, and wished to be excused. Mrs. Yan Yechten 
 bowed coolly, and taking a book of prints, busied her 
 self for awhile in examining them ; then the book 
 dropped from her hand her head fell back her mouth 
 fell open, and Ben, who was anxiously watching her, 
 knew by unmistakable sounds that she was fast asleep. 
 It was now his time, and faithfully did he improve it, 
 devoting himself so assiduously to Rosamond, that she 
 was glad when a snore, louder and more prolonged 
 than any which had preceded it started the lady her 
 self, and produced symptoms of returning conscious 
 ness. 
 
 The next day, and the next, it was the same, and at 
 the expiration of a week, Ben had determined either to 
 marry Rosamond Leyton, or go to the Crimean War, 
 this last being the bugbear with which he intended 
 frightening his mother into a consent. He hardly 
 dared disobey her openly for fear of disinheritance, and 
 he would rather she should express her willingness to 
 receive Miss Leyton as her daughter. He accordingly 
 startled her one day by asking her to sanction his in 
 tended proposal to the young girl. Nothing could 
 exceed Mrs. Yan Yechten's amazement and contempt. 
 She would never consent, and if Ben persisted in mak 
 ing so disgraceful an alliance, she would disinherit him
 
 MAKING LOVE. 55 
 
 at once. Ben knew she was in earnest, and so fell back 
 upon the Crimean war as a last resort. " He would go 
 immediately would start that very day for New York 
 he had money enough to carry him there," and he 
 painted so vividly "death on a distant battle-field, with 
 a ferocious Russian rifling his trousers' pocket," that 
 his mother began to cry, though she still refused to 
 relent. 
 
 " Choose, mother, choose," said he. " It's almost car 
 time Rosamond or the war," and he drew on his heavy 
 boots. 
 
 " Oh, Benjamin, you will kill me dead." 
 
 " I know it. I mean to. Rosamond or the war ! " 
 and he buttoned up his coat preparatory to a start. 
 
 " Do, Ben, listen to reason." 
 
 " I won't I won't ; Rosamond or the war ! I 
 shall rush into the thickest of the fight, and be killed 
 the first fire, of course, and black is so unbecoming to 
 you." 
 
 " Stop, I entreat. You know you are afraid of can 
 nons ; " this was said beseechingly. 
 
 " Thunder, mother ! No, I ain't ! Rosamond or 
 the war choose quick. I hear the whistle at East 
 Granby." 
 
 He left the room went down the stairs, out at the 
 door, through the yard, and out into the avenue, while 
 his distracted mother looked after him through blind 
 ing tears. She knew how determined he was when 
 once his mind was made up, and she feared his present 
 excitement would last until he was fairly shipped, and 
 it was too late to return. He would never fight, she 
 was sure, and at the first battle-sound he would fly, and 
 be hung as a deserter, no doubt ! This touched her 
 pride. She would rather people should say of her boy
 
 56 ROSAMOND. 
 
 that he married a milliner's daughter than that he was 
 hung, and hurrying to the window just as Ben looked 
 back, hoping for a signal, she waved her hand for him 
 to return, calling out at the top of her voice, " I relent 
 I relent." 
 
 " I knew the Crimea would fetch her," said Ben ; 
 " lucky I thought of that," and without going to his 
 mother at all, he sought out Rosamond. Half an hour 
 later he astonished the former by rushing into her 
 presence, and exclaiming, " She's refused me, mother ; 
 and she meant it, too. Oh, I shall die I know I shall. 
 Oh, oh, oh ! " and Ben rolled on the floor in his frantic 
 grief. As nearly as she could, Mrs. Yan Yechten 
 learned the particulars of his interview with Rosamond, 
 and, though at first secretly pleased that he had been 
 refused, she felt a very little piqued that her son should 
 thus be dishonored, and when she saw how wretched 
 it had made him, her feelings were enlisted in his behalf, 
 and she tried to soothe him by saying that her brother 
 had a great deal of influence with Rosamond, and they 
 would refer the matter to him. 
 
 " Go now, mother. Don't wait a minute," pleaded 
 Ben, and Mrs. Yan Yechten started for her brother's 
 library. 
 
 She found him alone, and disclosed the object of her 
 visit at once. Rosamond had refused her son, who, in 
 consequence, was nearly distracted, and threatened 
 going to the Crimean war a threat she knew he would 
 execute unless her brother persuaded Rosamond to 
 revoke her decision, and think again. 
 
 Mr. Browning turned as white as marble, but his 
 sister was too much absorbed in her own matters to 
 heed his emotions, and she continued 
 
 " Of course it will be mortifying to us all to have
 
 MAKING LOVE. 57 
 
 her in the family, and maybe Ben will get over it ; but 
 they must be engaged somehow, or he'll go away. I'll 
 send her up to you immediately," and she hurriedly 
 left the room in quest of Rosamond. For a moment 
 Mr. Browning sat like one stupefied ; then, covering his 
 face with his hands, he moaned, " Must this come upon 
 me, too ? Must I, who love her so madly, bid her marry 
 another? And yet what does it matter? She can 
 never be mine and if she marries Ben I can keep them 
 with me always, and that vile woman will have no 
 cause for annoying me. She said Rosamond loved me, 
 but I pray Heaven that may not be so." 
 
 A light tread echoed in the hall, and with each fall 
 of those little feet, Ralph Browning's heart throbbed 
 painfully. Another moment and Rosamond was there 
 with him her cheeks flushed her eyelashes wet with 
 tears, and her whole manner betrayed an unusual de 
 gree of excitement. 
 
 " I understand from your sister," said she, " that you 
 wish me to marry Ben, or leave your house. I will do 
 the latter, but the former never ! Shall I consider 
 our interview at an end ? " 
 
 She turned to leave the room, but Mr. Browning 
 caught her dress, exclaiming, " Stay, Rosamond, and 
 hear me. I never uttered such words to Mrs. Yan 
 Yechten. I do not wish you to marry Ben, unless you 
 love him. Do you love him, Rosamond ? Do you love 
 anybody ? " 
 
 This was not what he intended to say but he had 
 said it, and now he waited for her answer. To the 
 first question it came in a decided " No, I do not love 
 him," and to the last it came in burning blushes, steal 
 ing over her cheek her forehead her neck, and speak 
 ing in her downcast eye. She had never believed that
 
 58 ROSAMOND. 
 
 she did love her guardian, until told that he wished her 
 to marry another, when it burst upon her in all its 
 force, and she could no more conceal it now than she 
 could stop the rapid beatings of her heart. He saw it 
 all in her tell-tale face, and forgetting everything, he 
 wound his arms around her, and drawing her to his 
 side, whispered in her ear, " Darling Rosamond, say 
 that you love me. Let me hear that assurance once, 
 and I shall be almost willing to die." 
 
 " Ladies do not often confess an attachment until 
 sure it is returned," was Rosamond's answer, and 
 doubly forgetful now of all the dreary past, Ralph 
 Browning poured into her ear hot, burning words of 
 love hugging her closer and closer to him until through 
 the open window came the sound of Mr. Peters's voice 
 calling to the stranger girl who had that morning en 
 tered service at Riverside as a waiting-maid in general. 
 Maria was the name, and as the ominous word fell 
 upon Mr. Browning's ear, he started, and pushing 
 Rosamond from him, turned his face away so she could 
 not see the expression of mute despair settling down 
 upon it. Sinking upon the lounge he buried his face 
 in its cushions while Rosamond looked curiously upon 
 him, feeling sure that she knew what it was that so 
 affected him. He had told her of his love had said 
 that she was dearer to him than his life, and in confess 
 ing this he had forgotten the dark shadow upon his life, 
 and it was the dread of telling it to her the pain of 
 saying " I love you, but you cannot be my wife," which 
 affected him so strangely. But she knew it all, and she 
 longed to assure him of her sympathy. At last when 
 he seemed to be more calm, she stole up to him, and 
 kneeling at his side bent over him so that her bright 
 hair mingled with his own.
 
 MAKING LOVE. 59 
 
 " Mr. Browning," she whispered softly, " / ~know 
 your secret, and I do not love you less." 
 
 " You, jRosamond, you know it ! " he exclaimed, gaz 
 ing fixedly at her. " It cannot be. You would never 
 do as you have done." 
 
 " But I do know it," she continued, taking both his 
 hands in hers, and looking him steadily in the eye, by 
 way of controlling him, should he be seized with a 
 sudden attack, " I know exactly what it is, and though 
 it will prevent me from being your wife, it will not 
 prevent me from loving you just the same, or from 
 living with you either. I shall stay here always and 
 and pardon me, Mr. Browning, but when you get 
 furious, as you sometimes do, I can quiet you better 
 than any one else, and it may be, the world will never 
 need to know you are a madman ! " 
 
 Mr. Browning looked searchingly into her innocent 
 eyes, and then, in spite of himself, he laughed aloud. 
 He understood why she should think him a madman, 
 and though he repented of it afterward, he hastened to 
 undeceive her now. " As I hope to see another day, 
 it is not that," he said. " It is far worse than insanity ; 
 and, Eosamond, though it breaks my heart to say it, 
 it is wicked for me to talk of love to you, and you must 
 not remember what I said. You must crush every 
 tender thought of me. You must forget me nay, more 
 you must hate me. Will you, Rosamond ? " 
 
 " No no no," she cried, and laying her face in his 
 lap, she burst into a passionate flood of tears. 
 
 "Leave me," he whispered, "or I shall go mad, for I 
 know I am the cause of this distress." 
 
 There was decision in the tones of his voice, and it 
 stilled the tumult in Rosamond's bosom. Rising to her 
 feet, she said calmly, " I will go, but I cannot forget
 
 60 ROSAMOND. 
 
 that you deceived me. You have wrung from me a 
 confession of my love, only to throw it back upon me 
 as a priceless thing." 
 
 Not thus would he part with her, and grasping her 
 arm, he began, " Heaven knows how much more than 
 my very life I love you " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, for through the air a 
 small, dark object came, and, missing its aim, dropped 
 upon the hearth, where it was broken in a hundred 
 pieces. It was a vase which stood upon the table in 
 the hall, and Ben Van Vechten's was the hand that 
 threw it ! Impatient at the delay, he had come up in 
 time to hear his uncle's last words, which aroused his 
 Southern blood at once, and seizing the vase, he hurled 
 it at the offender's head then, rushing down the stairs, 
 he burst upon his mother with " Great thunder I 
 mother ; Uncle Ralph is making love to Rosamond 
 himself, and she likes it too. I saw it with my own 
 eyes ! I'll hang myself in the barn, or go to the Cri 
 mean war ! " and Ben bounded up and down like an 
 India-rubber ball. Suddenly remembering that an 
 other train was due ere long, he darted out of the 
 house, followed by his distracted mother, who, divin 
 ing his intention, ran swiftly after him, imploring him 
 to return. Pausing for a moment, as he struck 
 into the highway, he called out, " Good-by, mother. 
 I've only one choice left WAR! Give my love 
 to Rosamond, and tell her I shall die like a hero. 
 You needn't wear black, if you don't want to. 
 Good-by'.' 
 
 He turned the corner he had started for the war 
 and mentally resolving to follow him in the next train, 
 Mrs. Van Vechten returned to the house, and sought 
 her brother.
 
 MAKING LOVE. 61 
 
 "Ralph," she began sternly, "have you talked of 
 love to Rosamond ? " 
 
 Mr. Browning had borne so much that nothing 
 startled him now, and returning her glance unflinch 
 ingly, he replied, " I have." 
 
 " How, then is Marie dead ? " the lady asked. 
 
 " Not to my knowledge but hist," was the reply, as 
 Mr. Browning nodded toward the hall, where a rus 
 tling movement was heard. 
 
 It was the new girL coming with dust-pan and brush 
 to remove the fragments of the vase, though how she 
 knew they were there, was a question she alone could 
 answer. For a single instant her dull, gray eye shot a 
 gleam of intelligence at the occupants of the room, and 
 then assuming her usual appearance, she did what she 
 came to do, and departed. When they were again 
 alone, Mrs. Yan Yechten demanded an explanation of 
 her brother, who gave it unhesitatingly. Cold-hearted 
 as she always seemed, Mrs. Yan Yechten had some 
 kind feelings left, and, touched by her brother's tale of 
 suffering, she gave him no word of reproach, and even 
 unbent herself to say that a brighter day might come 
 to him yet. Then she spoke of Ben, announcing her 
 determination of following him that night. To this 
 plan Mr. Browning offered no remonstrance, and when 
 the night express left the Granby station, it carried 
 with it Mrs. Yan Yechten, in pursuit of the runaway 
 Ben.
 
 62 ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 NEWS. 
 
 NEARLY two weeks had passed away since the excit 
 ing scene in Mr. Browning's library, and during that 
 time Rosamond had kept herself aloof from her 
 guardian, meeting him only at the table, where she 
 maintained toward him a perfectly respectful but 
 rather freezing manner. She was deeply mortified to 
 think he had won from her a confession of her love, 
 and then told her how useless nay, worse how 
 wicked it was for her to think of him. She knew that 
 he suffered intensely, but she resolutely left him to 
 suffer alone, and he would rather it should be so. Life 
 was growing more and more a wearisome burden, and 
 when, just one week after the library interview, he re 
 ceived a note in the well-remembered handwriting, he 
 asked that he might die and forget his grief. The 
 letter was dated at the Springs, where Miss Porter was 
 still staying, though she said she intended starting the 
 next day for Guy ler, a little out-of-the-way place on the 
 lake, where there was but little company, and she could 
 be quiet and recruit her nervous S3 r stem. The latter 
 had been terribly shocked, she said, by hearing of his 
 recent attempt at making love to Rosamond Leyton I 
 " Indeed," she wrote, " it is to this very love-making 
 that you owe this letter from me, as I deem it my duty 
 to keep continually before your mind the fact that 1 
 am still alive."
 
 NEWS. 63 
 
 "With a blanched cheek Mr. Browning read this letter 
 through then tore it into fragments, wondering much 
 who gave her the information. There were no spies 
 about his premises. Rosamond would not do it, and it 
 must have been his sister, though why she should thus 
 wish to annoy him he did not know, when she, more 
 than any one else, had been instrumental in placing him 
 where he was. Once he thought of telling Rosamond 
 all, but he shrank from this, for she would leave his 
 house, he knew, and, though she might never again 
 speak kindly to him, he would rather feel that she was 
 there. 
 
 And so another dreary week went by, and then one 
 morning there came to him tidings which stopped for 
 an instant the pulsations of his heart, and sent through 
 his frame a thrill so benumbing and intense that at 
 first pity and horror were the only emotions of which 
 he seemed capable. It came to him in a newspaper 
 paragraph, which in substance was as follows : 
 
 " A sad catastrophe occurred on Thursday afternoon 
 at Cuyler, a little place upon the lake, which of late 
 has been somewhat frequented during the summer 
 months. Three ladies and one gentleman went out in 
 a small pleasure-boat which is kept for the accommoda 
 tion of the guests. They had not been gone very long 
 when a sudden thunder-gust came on, accompanied by 
 a violent wind, and the owner of the skiff, feeling some 
 alarm for the safety of the party, went down to the 
 landing just in time to see the boat make a few mad 
 plunges with the waves, and then capsize at the dis 
 tance of nearly half a mile from the shore. 
 
 " Every possible effort was made to save the unfor 
 tunate pleasure-seekers, but in vain ; they disappeared 
 from view long before a boat could reach them. One
 
 64 ROSAMOND. 
 
 of the bodies has not yet been recovered. It is that of 
 a Miss Porter, from Florida. She had reached Cuyler 
 only the day previous, and was unaccompanied by a 
 single friend, save a waiting-maid, who seems over 
 whelmed with grief at the loss of her mistress." 
 
 This, then, was the announcement which so affected 
 Ralph Browning, blotting out for a moment the 
 wretched past, and taking him back to the long ago 
 when he first knew Marie Porter and fancied that he 
 loved her. She was dead now dead. Many a time 
 he whispered that word to himself, and with each rep 
 etition the wish grew strong within him not that 
 she were living, but that while living he had not hated 
 her so bitterly, and with the softened feeling which 
 death will always bring, he blamed himself far more 
 than he did her. There had been wrong on both sides, 
 but he would rather now that she had been reconciled 
 to him ere she found that watery grave. Hand in 
 hand with these reflections came another thought ; a 
 bewildering, intoxicating thought. He was free at 
 last free to love to worship to marry Rosamond. 
 
 " And I will go to her at once," he said, after the 
 first hour had been given to the dead ; " I will tell her 
 all the truth." 
 
 He arose to leave the room, but something stayed 
 him there, and whispered in his ear, " There may be 
 some mistake. Cuyler is not far away. Go there 
 first and investigate." 
 
 For him to will was to do, and telling Mrs. Peters he 
 should be absent from home for a time, he started im 
 mediately for Cuyler, which he reached near the close 
 of the day. Calm and beautiful looked the waters of 
 the lake on that summer afternoon, and if within their 
 caverns the ill-fated Marie slept, they kept over her an
 
 NEWS. 65 
 
 unruffled watch and told no tales of her last dying 
 wail to the careworn, haggard man who stood upon the 
 sandy beach, where they said that she embarked, and 
 listened attentively while they told him how gay she 
 seemed that day, and how jestingly she spoke of the 
 dark thunder-head which even then was mounting the 
 western horizon. They had tried in vain to find her, 
 and it was probable she had sunk into one of the un 
 fathomable holes with which the lake was said by 
 some to abound. Sarah, the waiting-maid, wept pas 
 sionately, showing that the deceased must have had 
 some good qualities, or she could not thus have at 
 tached a servant to her. 
 
 Looking upon Mr. Browning as a friend of her late 
 mistress, she relied on him for counsel, and when he 
 advised her immediate return to Florida, she readily 
 consented, and started on the same day that he turned 
 his face toward Kiverside. They had said to him, " If 
 we find her, shall we send her to your place ? " and with 
 an involuntary shudder he had answered, " No oh, no. 
 You must apprise me of it by letter, as also her Florida 
 friends but bury her quietly here." 
 
 They promised compliance with his wishes, and feel 
 ing that a load was off his mind, he started at once for 
 home. Certainty now was doubly sure. Marie was 
 dead, and as this conviction became more and more 
 fixed upon his mind, he began to experience a dread of 
 telling Rosamond all. Why need she know of it, when 
 the telling it would throw much censure on himself. 
 She was not a great newspaper reader she had not 
 seen the paragraph, and would not see it. He could 
 tell her that the obstacle to his happiness had been re 
 moved that 'twas no longer a sin for him to think of
 
 66 ROSAMOND. 
 
 her or seek to make her his wife. All this he would 
 say to her. but nothing more. 
 
 And all this he did say to her in the summer-house at 
 the foot of the garden, where he found her just as the 
 sun was setting. And Rosamond listened eagerly 
 never questioning him of the past, or caring to hear of 
 it. She was satisfied to know that she might love him 
 now, and with his arm around her, she sat there alone 
 with him until the August moon was high up in the 
 heavens. He called her his "sunshine" his "light" 
 his " life," and pushing the silken curls from off her 
 childish brow, kissed her again and again, telling her 
 she should be his wife when the twentieth day of 
 November came. That was his twenty -ninth birthday 
 and looking into her girlish face, he asked her if he 
 were not too old. He knew she would tell him no, and 
 she did, lovingly caressing his grayish hair. 
 
 " He had grown young since he sat there," she said, 
 and so, indeed, he had, and the rejuvenating process 
 continued day after day, until the villagers laughingly 
 said that his approaching marriage had put him back 
 ten years. It was known to all the town's folks now, 
 and unlike most other matches, was pronounced a 
 suitable one. Even Mrs. Yan Yechten, who had found 
 Ben at Lovejoy's Hotel, and still remained with him in 
 New York, wrote to her brother a kind of congratu 
 latory letter, mingled with sickly sentimental regrets 
 for the " heart-broken, deserted and now departed 
 Marie." It was doubtful whether she came up to the 
 wedding or not, she said, as Ben had positively refused 
 to come, or to leave the city either, and kept her con 
 stantly on the watch lest he should elope with a second- 
 rate actress at Laura Keene's theater. 
 
 Rosamond laughed heartily when Mr. Browning told
 
 NEWS. 67 
 
 her of this sudden change in Ben, and then with a sigh 
 as she thought how many times his soft, good- 
 natured heart would probably be wrung, she went 
 back to the preparations for her bridal, w^ich were on 
 a magnificent scale. They were going to Europe they 
 would spend the winter in Paris, and as Mr. Browning 
 had several influential acquaintances there, they would 
 of course see some society, and he resolved that his 
 bride should be inferior to none in point of dress, as 
 she was to none in point of beauty. Everything which 
 love could devise or money procure was purchased for 
 her, and the elegance of her outfit was for a long time 
 the only theme of village gossip. 
 
 Among the members of the household none seemed 
 more interested in the preparations than the girl Maria, 
 who has before been incidentally mentioned. Her dull 
 eyes lighted up with each new article of dress, and she 
 suddenly displayed so much taste in everything per 
 taining to a lady's toilet, that Rosamond was delighted 
 and kept her constantly with her, devising this new 
 thing and that, all of which were invariably tried on 
 and submitted to the inspection of Mr. Browning, who 
 was sure to approve whatever his Rosamond wore. 
 And thus gaily sped the halcyon hours, bringing at 
 last the fading leaf and the wailing October winds; 
 but to Rosamond, basking in the sunlight of love, there 
 came no warning note to tell her of the dark November 
 days which were hurrying swiftly on.
 
 68 ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE GUEST AT KIVEESIDE. 
 
 THE November days had come. The satin dress was 
 made the bridal veil sent home the wreath of orange, 
 too ; and then, one morning when the summer, it would 
 seem, had come to revisit the scenes of its brief reign, 
 Mr. Browning kissed his bride elect, and wiped away 
 the two big tears which dropped from her eyelashes 
 when he told her that he was going away for that day 
 and the next. 
 
 " But when to-morrow's sun is setting, I shall be with 
 you again," he said, and he bade her quiet the flutter 
 ing of her little heart, which throbbed so painfully at 
 parting with him. 
 
 " I don't know why it is," she said, " I'm not one bit 
 superstitious, but Bruno howled so dismally under my 
 window all night, and when he ceased, a horrid owl 
 set up a screech. I told Maria, and she said, in her 
 country the cry of an owl was a sign that the grave 
 was about to give up its dead, and she looked so 
 mysterious that she frightened me all the more " 
 
 " That Maria is too superstitious, and I don't like her 
 to be with you so much," said Mr. Browning, his own 
 cheek turning slightly pale as he thought of the grave 
 giving up his dead. Thrice he turned back to kiss the 
 little maiden, who followed him down the avenue, and 
 then climbed into a box-like seat, which had been built 
 on the top of the gate-post, and was sheltered by a 
 sycamore. " Here," said she, " shall I wait for you to-
 
 THE GUEST AT RIVERSIDE. 69 
 
 morrow night, when the sun is away over there. Oh, 
 I wish it would hurry." 
 
 He wished so, too, and with another fond good-by 
 they parted. The day seemed long to Rosamond, and, 
 though she varied the time by trying on each and 
 every one of her new dresses, she was glad when it 
 was night, so she could go to bed and sleep the time 
 away. The next morning the depression of spirits was 
 gone ; he was coming she should wait for him be 
 neath the sycamore possibly she would hide to make 
 him believe she was not there, and the bright blushes 
 stole ever her dimpled cheeks as she thought what he 
 would do when he found that she was there. 
 
 " Ten o'clock," she said to herself, as she heard the 
 whistle of the upward train. " Seven hours more and 
 he will come." 
 
 Going to her room, she took a book, in which she 
 tried to be interested, succeeding so well that, though 
 her windows commanded a view of the avenue, she did 
 not see the lady who came slowly up the walk, cast 
 ing about her eager, curious glances, and pausing more 
 than once to note the exceeding beauty of the place. 
 Once she stopped for a long time, and, leaning against 
 a tree, seemed to be debating whether to turn back or 
 go on. Deciding upon the latter, she arose, and quicken, 
 ing her movements, soon stood upon the threshold. 
 Her ring was answered by Maria, who betrayed no 
 surprise, for from the upper hall Mrs. Peters herself 
 was closely inspecting the visitor. 
 
 " Is Mr. Browning at home ? " the lady asked. 
 
 " Gone to Buffalo," was the laconic reply, and a 
 gleam of satisfaction flitted over the face of the ques 
 tioner, who continued : " And the young lady, Miss 
 Leyton ? Has she gone, too 2 "
 
 70 ROSAMOND. 
 
 " She is here," said Maria, still keeping her eye 
 upon the shadow bending over the balustrade. 
 " What name shall I give her? " 
 
 " No name. I wish to surprise her," and passing on 
 into the parlor, the stranger laid aside her hat and 
 shawl with the air of one perfectly at home ; then seat 
 ing herself upon a sofa, she examined the room as curi 
 ously as she had examined the grounds of Riverside. 
 
 " It seems a pity to mar all this," she said, " and 
 were it not that I hate him so much, I would go away 
 forever, though that would be a greater injury to her 
 than my coming to life will be. Of course he's told 
 her all, and spite of her professed liking for me, she 
 is glad that I am dead. I long, yet dread, to see her 
 amazement ; but hist she comes." 
 
 There was the sound of little, high-heeled slippers on 
 the stairs, the flutter of a pink morning gown, and then 
 Rosamond Leyton stood face with Marie Porter? 
 The grave had given up its dead, and without any vis 
 ible marks of the world prepared for such as she, save, 
 indeed, the in creased fire which burned in her black 
 eyes, the risen woman sat there much as living people 
 sit her head bent forward her lips apart and a look 
 of expectation upon her face. But she was doomed to 
 disappointment. Rosamond knew nothing of the past, 
 and with a cry of pleasurable surprise she started for 
 ward, exclaiming, " Oh, Miss Porter, I felt so cross 
 when told a visitor was here, but now I know who 
 'tis, I am so glad, for I am very lonely to-day." 
 
 The hard woman swept her hand a moment before 
 her eyes, and with that movement swept away the 
 kindly spirit, which whispered, " Don't undeceive her. 
 Don't quench the light of that bright face, nor break 
 that girl's heart."
 
 THE GUEST AT RIVERSIDE. 71 
 
 But it was necessary ; Marie Porter knew that, and 
 though she repented of what she had done, it was now 
 too late to retreat, and all she could do was to break 
 the heart of the unsuspecting girl as tenderly as pos 
 sible. 
 
 " Why are you so lonely ? " she said, " This is a most 
 beautiful spot. I believe I'd like to live here myself." 
 
 " Oh, yes, 'tis a lovely place," answered Rosamond, 
 " but but Mr. Browning is not here," and she avert 
 ed her crimson face. 
 
 " Is Mr. Browning so necessary to your happiness ? '' 
 Miss Porter asked, and bringing an ottoman, Rosa 
 mond sat down at her visitor's feet and thus replied : 
 " We talked so much of him at the Springs that it 
 surely is not foolish in me to tell you what everybody 
 knows. Now, you won't laugh at me, will you ? Mr. 
 Browning and I are going to oh, I can't tell it ; but, 
 any way, your fortune-telling is not true." 
 
 " Mr. Browning and you are going to be married. Is 
 that it ? " the woman asked ; and with a quick, upward 
 glance of her soft, brown eyes, Rosamond replied, 
 " Yes, that's it that's it ; and oh, you can't begin to 
 guess how happy I am. He is not crazy either. It 
 was something else, though I don't know what, for he 
 never told me, and I do not care to know. The ob 
 stacle has been removed, whatever it was, and it has 
 wrought such a change in him. He's so much younger 
 handsomer, now, and so kind to me. I'm glad you've 
 come, Miss Porter, and you'll stay till after the wed 
 ding. It's the twentieth, and he has bought me so 
 many new things. We are going to Europe. Just 
 think of a winter in Paris, with Mr. Browning ! But, 
 what ! Are you crying f " and Rosamond started as a 
 burning tear fell upon her forehead.
 
 72 ROSAMOND. 
 
 "Rosamond Ley ton," said Miss Porter, in a voice 
 husky with emotion, " I have not wept in eight long 
 years, but the sight of you, so innocent, so happy, 
 wrings the tears from my stony heart, as agony will 
 sometimes force out the drops of perspiration when the 
 body is shivering with cold. I was young like you 
 once, and my bridal was fixed " She paused, and 
 stealing an arm around her waist, Rosamond said 
 pleadingly, " Tell me about it, Miss Porter, I always 
 knew you had a history. Did the man die ? " 
 
 " No no. Better for me if he had aye, and better, 
 too, for you." 
 
 This last was a whisper, and Rosamond did not hear 
 it. Her thoughts were bent upon the story, and she 
 continued, "will it pain you too much to tell it 
 now ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, wait," Miss Porter said, " Wait until after 
 dinner, and meantime, as I cannot possibly stay until 
 the twentieth, perhaps you will let me see your 
 dresses.'' 
 
 Nothing could please Rosamond more, and gay as a 
 little child, she led the way to a large upper room, 
 which contained her wedding outfit. Proudly she dis 
 played her treasures, flitting like a bird from one pile 
 of finery to another, and reserving the most important 
 until the very last. 
 
 " There's the dinner-bell," she suddenly exclaimed, 
 " I did not think it could be one. Only four hours 
 more but come, let us go down and after dinner, if 
 you'll never tell Mrs. Peters, nor anybody, I'll try on 
 my bridal dress and let you see if it is becoming. I 
 want so much to know how it looks, since Maria put 
 the rosebuds in the berthe. And then your story. I 
 must hear that."
 
 THE GUEST AT RIVERSIDE. 73 
 
 As they were going down the stairs Miss Porter 
 took Rosamond's hand and said, "How is this?- 
 "Where is my ring ? " 
 
 Rosamond could not tell her of an act which now 
 that it no longer had insanity for an excuse, puzzled 
 her not a little. So she made some trivial excuse, 
 which, however, did not deceive her auditor. But the 
 latter deemed it wise to say no more just then, and 
 silently followed her young friend into the dining- 
 room. Dinner being over they went up to Rosamond's 
 chamber, the closet of which contained the bridal 
 robes. 
 
 " Two o* clock" said Rosamond, consulting her 
 watch, then bringing out the rich white satin and ex 
 quisite overskirt of lace, she continued, " I shall have 
 just time to try this on, hear your story and get 
 dressed before Mr. Browning comes. How short the 
 day seems, with you here ! I told him I'd be sitting 
 in that little box which you possibly noticed, built on 
 the gate-post against the tree. And he'll be so disap 
 pointed not to find me there, that maybe you won't 
 mind my leaving you awhile when the sun is right 
 over the woods." 
 
 "Certainly not," answered Miss Porter, and the 
 dressing-up process began, Rosamond chatting gayly 
 all the while and asking if it were very foolish for her 
 to try on the dress. " I should not do it," she said, 
 " if you would stay. Can't you ? " 
 
 The answer was a decided negative, and adjusting 
 her little slipper, Rosamond stood up while her com 
 panion put over her head the satin dress. It fitted ad 
 mirably, and nothing could have been fairer than the 
 round chubby arms and plump, well-shaped shoulders 
 which the shortcomings of the dress showed to good
 
 74 ROSAMOND. 
 
 advantage. Now the lace over-skirt now the berthe 
 and then the veil, with the orange-wreath twined 
 among the flowing curls, and Rosamond was dressed at 
 last. 
 
 " How do I look ? " she asked, but Marie Porter 
 made no immediate reply, and as she gazed upon the 
 young girl, so beautiful, so innocent and unsuspecting, 
 who can tell of the keen anguish at her heart, or how 
 she shrank from the bitter task which she must do, 
 and quickly, too, for the clock pointed to three, and her 
 plan was now to strike the dove and then flee ere the 
 eagle came. She would thus wound him more deeply, 
 for the very uncertainty would add fresh poison to 
 his cup of agony. 
 
 " How do I look ? " Rosamond asked again, and after 
 duly complimenting the dress, Miss Porter added, " I 
 promised you my story, and if I tell it at all to-day, I 
 must begin it now, for it is long, and I would finish it 
 ere Mr. Browning comes." 
 
 " Yery well, I'm all attention," said Rosamond, and 
 like a lamb before its slaughterer she knelt before the 
 woman, bending low her graceful head to have the 
 wreath removed. 
 
 This done, Miss Porter said, " Have you any cam 
 phor handy, or hartshorn ? I am sometimes faint and 
 may want them." 
 
 " Yes, both, here, in the bathing-room," said Rosa 
 mond, and she brought them to the lady, who placed 
 them upon the table not for herself, but for one 
 who would need them more for poor, poor Rosamond. 
 The disrobing proceeded slowly, for the little girl was 
 well pleased with the figure reflected by the mirror. 
 But Miss Porter could not wait, and when the wreath, 
 the veil, and berthe were removed, she seated herself
 
 THE GUEST AT RIVERSIDE. 75 
 
 by the window in a position which commanded a full 
 view of her victim's face ; and forcing down the throb- 
 bings of her heart, which it seemed to her were audible 
 in that silent room, she commenced the storv.
 
 76 ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE STORY. 
 
 "My home," began Miss Porter, "is, as you know, 
 in Florida. I am an only child, as were both my par- 
 ents, so that I have now living no nearer relative than 
 a great uncle a superannuated clergyman, who super 
 intends my affairs, and who, in case I die before he 
 does, which is very probable, will be heir to my pos 
 sessions. 
 
 " It is now nearly ten years since my father started 
 for Europe, and I went to an adjoining state to visit a 
 widow Jady, whom I had met in New Orleans the 
 winter previous. It is not necessary that I should use 
 real names, consequently I will call her Mrs. Le Vert. 
 She was spending the summer on her plantation, at 
 what she called her country-seat. It was a large, old- 
 fashioned, wooden building, many miles from any 
 neighbors, and here she lived alone for her only son, 
 a lad twelve years of age, was at some northern school. 
 At first I was very lonely, for the secluded life we led 
 at Holly Grove was hardly in accordance with the 
 taste of a young girl. Still, I did not mind it as much 
 as some, for I cared but little for gentlemen's society, 
 and had frequently declared that I should never marry. 
 
 " Toward the last of July, Mrs. Le Yert's brother 
 came to visit her. He was a handsome, boyish-look 
 ing youth, six months older than myself just out of 
 college full of life and very fond of pretty girls, par- 
 ticularly, if they chanced to be wealthy."
 
 THE STORY. 77 
 
 " That's a little like Ben," said Rosamond, and Miss 
 Porter continued : 
 
 " From the first, Mrs. Le Yert seemed determined to 
 make a match between us, for her brother was poor, 
 and she fancied it would be a fine idea to have the 
 Porter estate come into the Dunlap family. So she 
 threw us constantly together talked of me to him and 
 of him to me, until I really began to believe I liked 
 him. He, on the contrary, cared for nothing but my 
 money. Still he deemed it advisable to assume a show 
 of affection, and one night talked to me of love quite 
 eloquently. I had been to a dinner party that day, and 
 had worn all my diamonds. He had never seen them 
 before, and they must have inflamed his avarice, for I 
 afterward heard him tell his sister that he never should 
 have proposed if I had not looked so beautiful that 
 night. ' I was irresistible in my diamonds? he said." 
 
 Miss Porter paused a moment to witness the effect of 
 her last words, but Rosamond was looking over her 
 shoulder at a wrinkle she had just discovered in the 
 waist, and did not heed them. Still she was listening, 
 and she said, " Yes go on. You were looking beauti 
 fully that night. Did you consent to marry him ? " 
 
 " Unhappily, I did," returned Miss Porter, " for I 
 had made myself believe that I loved him. I wished 
 that he was older, to be sure, but he said we would 
 wait until he was of age. This plan, however, did not 
 suit his ambitious sister. She knew I intended asking 
 my father's approval, and from what she heard of him 
 she feared he would never consent to my marrying a 
 poor student, and she urged an immediate union. 
 But I persisted in writing to my father, who answered 
 immediately, forbidding me to think of } 7 oung Dunlap, 
 ordering me to go home, and saying he always intended
 
 78 ROSAMOND. 
 
 me for John Castlewell, a neighbor of ours a million 
 aire a booby &fool whom I hated as I did poison. 
 
 " Not long after the receipt of this letter I was sur 
 prised by the sudden appearance of Uncle Bertram, 
 who had come at my father's request to take me home. 
 This roused me at once. My father was a tyrant, I 
 said, and I would let him know I could do as I pleased. 
 In my excitement, I fancied I could not exist a moment 
 without Richard Dunlap, while he declared that life 
 would be a blank for him if passed away from me. At 
 this opportune moment Mrs. Le Vert suggested that we 
 be married immediately that very night. Uncle Ber 
 tram fortunately was a clergyman, and could officiate 
 as well as any other. In justice to Richard, I will say 
 that he hesitated longer than I did but he was per 
 suaded at last, as was Uncle Bertram, and with no 
 other witness than Mrs. Le Vert and a white woman 
 who lived with her as half waiting-maid and half com 
 panion, we were married." 
 
 Rosamond was interested now, and forgetting to 
 remove her dress, she threw a crimson shawl around 
 her shoulders, and sitting down upon the bed, exclaimed, 
 " Married ! You married ! Why, then, are you called 
 Porter ? " 
 
 " Listen and you shall know," returned the lady, a 
 dark look settling down upon her face. 
 
 " Scarcely was the ceremony over, when I began to 
 regret it not because I disliked Richard, but because 
 I dreaded my father's displeasure, for he had a most 
 savage, revengeful temper, and his daughter possesses 
 the same." This was bitterly spoken, and she con 
 tinued " Hardly an hour after we were married, a 
 negro brought a letter to Richard from an eccentric 
 old man for whom he had been named. In it the old
 
 THE STORY. 79 
 
 man said he had made his namesake his heir, provided 
 he did not marry until he was twenty-five. 
 
 " ' I know just how frillickin? you are,' he wrote, 
 ' and I know, too, how unsuitable and how unhappy 
 most early marriages are so my boy, if you want 
 Sunnyside, wait till you are twenty-five before you take 
 an extra rib. I hate to be bothered with letters, and 
 if you don't answer this, I shall conclude that you 
 accept my terms.' 
 
 " Mrs. Le Yert at once suggested that, as the old 
 gentleman had already had two fits of apoplexy, and 
 would undoubtedly soon have the third, our marriage 
 should for a time be kept a secret." 
 
 " But he didn't consent," cried Rosamond. 
 
 " Yes, he did," answered Miss Porter, " and though 
 I, too, said it would be best, I began to distrust him 
 from that moment to think that he preferred money 
 to myself. Uncle Bertram promised secrecy and went 
 back alone, and then commenced a life of wretchedness, 
 which makes me shudder even to recall it. With the 
 exception of my own servant, who dared not tell if I 
 bade her be silent, the blacks knew nothing of our 
 marriage, and though we lived together as man and 
 wife, so skilfully did Mrs. Le Yert and Esther, her 
 white domestic, manage the matter, that for a time 
 our secret was safely kept. A few of the negroes 
 discovered it ere I left ; but as they always lived in 
 that out-of-the-way place, it never followed me, and to 
 this day no human being in Florida, save Uncle Ber 
 tram, knows of the marriage. 
 
 " I am very impulsive, and the excitement being 
 over, my affection began to cool. Richard could have 
 kept it alive had lie tried, but he did not. On the con 
 trary he was much alone, and when with me was
 
 80 ROSAMOND. 
 
 always tormenting me with conscientious scruples 
 about deceiving ' the old man.' " 
 
 " Oh, I like him for that," cried Eosamond, " I like 
 him for that. Why didn't you let him tell ? " 
 
 " Because," returned Miss Porter, " I had fears that 
 father would disinherit me, and if Richard lost Sunny, 
 side, we should be poor indeed." 
 
 A shadow passed over Rosamond's face, and she said 
 involuntarily, " I could be happy with Mr. Browning 
 if we were poor." 
 
 Marie started and answered quickly, "What has 
 Mr. Browning to do with my story ? " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing," returned Rosamond, " only I 
 was thinking that if you loved Richard as well as I do 
 Mr. Browning, you would not have cared for money." 
 
 " But I didn't," returned Marie. " I was mistaken. 
 'Twas a mere childish fancy. I never loved him. / 
 hate him now" 
 
 She spoke vehemently, and when Rosamond said 
 mournfully. " Hate your husband ! " she replied, 
 " Yes, more than hate, or I had never come to tell you 
 this ; but listen from indifference we came to coldness 
 from coldness to recrimination from that to harsh 
 words from harsh words to quarrels and from quar 
 rels to blows ! " 
 
 She uttered the last word slowly, while Rosamond 
 exclaimed, " Not Hows, Miss Porter ! No man would 
 strike a woman. / almost hate him, no\v." 
 
 The proud lip curled scornfully a gleam of satisfac 
 tion shot from the keen black eyes, and Marie went on. 
 " He would say nay does say 1 was the most to blame 
 that I aggravated him beyond human endurance 
 but he provoked me to it. Think of his swearing at 
 me, Rosamond calling me a she-devil and all that.
 
 THE STORY. 81 
 
 Think, too, of his telling me to my face that he was 
 driven into the marriage wholly by his sister that he 
 regretted it more than I, and to crown all, think of his 
 boxing my ears! he, a poor, insignificant Northern 
 puppy ) boxing me a Porter, and a Southern heiress ! " 
 
 She was terribly excited, and Rosamond, gazing at 
 her face, distorted with malignant passion, began to 
 fancy that the greater wrong might perhaps have lain 
 with her. 
 
 After a moment's pause, Marie began again. 
 " When we had been three months man and wife, he 
 wrote to the old man, confessing his marriage, and say 
 ing sundry things not wholly complimentary to his 
 bride ; but I intercepted it, read it, tore it up, and 
 taunted him with it. I believe I called him a low 
 lived Yankee, or something like that, and then it 
 was he struck me. The blow sunk deep into my soul. 
 It was an insult, an unpardonable insult, and could not 
 "be forgiven. My Southern blood was all on fire, and 
 had I been a man, he should have paid for that blow. 
 I feel it yet ; the smart has never for a moment left 
 me, but burns upon my face just as hatred for him burns 
 upon my heart ! " 
 
 " Oh, Miss Porter," cried Rosamond, as the former 
 ground her teeth together, "don't look so terribly. 
 You frighten me. He struck you, but he asked your 
 pardon, sure ? " 
 
 " Yes, he pretended to, but I spat at him and bade 
 him leave me forever. His sister tried to interfere, 
 but she made the matter worse, and as my father was 
 on the eve of embarking for America, I determined to 
 go home, and when he came, tell him the whole and 
 ask him to seek satisfaction from one who had dared 
 to strike his daughter. Richard made a show of try-
 
 82 ROSAMOND. 
 
 ing to keep me said we had better live together, and 
 all that, while his sister called us two silly children 
 Avho needed whipping. But I did not heed it. I went 
 home to Uncle Bertram and waited for my father, 
 who never came. He died upon the sea, and I was heir 
 of all his vast possessions. Then Richard made over 
 tures for reconciliation, but I spurned them all. You've 
 heard of woman-haters, Rosamond I am a man-hater. 
 I loathe the whole sex, Uncle Bertram excepted. 
 My marriage was of course a secret in Florida. My serv 
 ant, who knew of it, died soon after my father, and 
 as Uncle Bertram kept his own counsel, more than one 
 sought my hand, but I turned my back upon them 
 all. 
 
 " Four or five years ago he wrote me a letter. He 
 was then master of Sunnyside, for the old man left it 
 to him after all. He was lonely there, he said, and he 
 asked a reconciliation. Had he never struck me, I 
 might have gone, for his letter was kindly enough, but 
 the blow was a barrier between us, so I refused to 
 listen, and exulted over the thought of his living 
 there alone all his days with the secret on his mind. 
 
 " The sweetest morsel of all in the cup of revenge 
 was, however, for a time withheld, but it came at last, 
 Rosamond. It came at last. He loved a beautiful 
 young girl, loved her all the more that he could not 
 marry her." 
 
 She drew nearer to Rosamond, who, though still 
 unsuspecting, trembled from head to foot with an un- 
 definable emotion of coming evil. 
 
 " I saw her, Rosamond ; saw this young girl with his 
 name upon her lips when waking saw her, too, with 
 his name upon her lips when sleeping, and all this 
 while she did not dream that I, the so-called Marie
 
 THE STORY. 83 
 
 Porter, was his wife, the barrier which kept him from 
 saying the words her little heart longed so to hear." 
 
 There were livid spots on Rosamond's neck -livid 
 spots upon her face, and still she did not move from 
 her seat, though her clammy hand clutched nervously 
 her bridal dress. A horrid suspicion had flashed upon 
 her, but with a mighty effort she threw it off as injustice 
 to Mr. Browning, and mentally crying, " It cannot be," 
 she faintly whispered, " Go on." 
 
 " The summer I met her," said Miss Porter, I was at 
 Cartersville, a little out-of-the-way place on a lake " 
 
 " You're telling me true ? " interrupted Rosamond, 
 joy thrilling in her tones. 
 
 " Yes, true," returned Miss Porter. 
 
 " Then bless you bless you for those last words," 
 rejoined Rosamond, burying her face in her compan 
 ion's lap. " A terrible fear for a moment came over 
 me, that it might be I. But it isn't, /met you at 
 the Springs. Oh, if it had been me. I should most 
 surely die." 
 
 " But she did not the young girl," resumed Miss 
 Porter. " She had a brave, strong heart, and she bore 
 up wonclrously. She felt that he had cruelly deceived 
 her, and that helped her to bear the blow. Besides, 
 she was glad she knew of it in time, for, had he mar 
 ried her, she would not have been his wife, you know." 
 Rosamond shuddered and replied, " I know, but my 
 heart would have broken all the same. It aches so 
 now for her. But go on, how did she find it out ? 
 Who could have strength to tell her ? " 
 
 There was a pause, and each could hear the beating 
 of the other's heart. The November wind had risen 
 within the last half hour, and now howled dismally past 
 the window, seeming to Rosamond like the wail that
 
 84 ROSAMOND. 
 
 young girl must have uttered when she first learned 
 ho\v her trust had been betrayed. The clock struck 
 four ! Kosamond counted each stroke, and thought, 
 " One hour more, and he will be here." Marie counted 
 each stroke, and thought, " One hour more, and I 
 must be gone." 
 
 " Kosamond," she began again, " what I now have 
 to confess is an act of which I have repented bitterly, 
 and never more than since I sat within this room. 
 But it was not premeditated, and believe me, Kosamond, 
 it was not done for any malice I bore to that young 
 girl, for I pitied her so much oh, so much," and her 
 hand wandered caressingly over the bright hair lying 
 on her lap. 
 
 " We went out one afternoon two ladies, a gentle 
 man, and myself in a small sail-boat upon the lake. 
 I planned the excursion and thought I should enjoy it, 
 but we had not been out long when my old affection 
 of the heart began to trouble me. I grew faint, and 
 begged of them to put me on the land. They complied 
 with my request, and set me down upon a point higher 
 up than that from which we had embarked, and near 
 to a dilapidated cabin where lived a weird old hag, 
 who earned a scanty livelihood by fortune-telling. I 
 told her I was sick, and sat down by her door where 
 I could watch the movements of the party. Suddenly a 
 terrific thunder-storm arose, the wind blew a hurri 
 cane, and though the boat rode the billows bravely for a 
 time, it capsized at length, and its precious freight dis 
 appeared beneath the foaming waves. For a moment 
 horror chilled my blood ; then, swift as the lightning 
 which leaped from the cloud overhanging the graves 
 of my late companions, a maddening thought flashed 
 upon my mind."
 
 THE STORY. 85 
 
 " But the girl hasten to that part," said Rosamond, 
 lifting up her head, while Miss Porter went back to her 
 chair. 
 
 " I shall come to her soon enough," returned Miss 
 Porter, continuing her story. " No living being, save 
 the old woman at my side, knew of my escape, and I 
 could bribe her easily. Fortunately I carried the most 
 of my money about my person, and I said to her, 
 * There are reasons why, for a time at least, I wish to 
 be considered dead. Here are twenty dollars now, and 
 the same shall be paid you every month that you are 
 silent. No human creature must know that I am 
 living.' I saw by the kindling of her eye at the sight 
 of the gold that I was safe, and when the night shadows 
 were falling I stole from, her cabin, and taking a cir 
 cuitous route to avoid observation, I reached the midway 
 station in time for the evening train. 
 
 " Three days later in a distant city I read of the sad 
 catastrophe read that all had been found but one, a 
 Miss Porter, from Florida, and as I read I thought ' he 
 will see that, too.' He did see it. Before going to 
 Carterville I sent to Sunnyside a girl who was under 
 peculiar obligations to me, and one whom I could trust. 
 She secured the place. She was employed at last about 
 the person of that young girl, who had lived at Sunny- 
 side since she was a child a friendless orphan" 
 
 There was a quick, gasping moan as if the soul were 
 parting from the body, and Rosamond fell upon her 
 face which the pillows concealed from view, while Miss 
 Porter hurriedly proceeded : 
 
 " There is but little more to tell. I wrote to the girl 
 who took her own letters from the office. I told her 
 all, and from her heard that the bridal day was fixed.
 
 86 ROSAMOND. 
 
 The obstacle was removed not insanity, but a living 
 wife. Need I say more ? " 
 
 She paused, but from the bed where the crushed, 
 motionless figure lay, there came no sound, and she 
 said again, " Speak, Rosamond. Curse me, if you will, 
 for saving you from an unlawful marriage." 
 
 Still there was no sound, save the low sighing of the 
 wind, which seemed to have taken a fresh note of 
 sadness as if bewailing the unutterable desolation of 
 the young girl, who lay so still and lifeless that Marie 
 Porter's heart quickened with fear, and drawing near, 
 she touched the little hand resting on the pillow. It 
 was cold rigid as was also the face which she turned 
 to the light. 
 
 " It is death ! " she cried, and a wild shriek rang 
 through the house, bringing at once the servants, 
 headed by Mrs. Peters. 
 
 " What is it ? " cried the latter, as she saw the help, 
 less figure and beautiful upturned face. 
 
 " Iff s death, madam death, and it's coming on me, 
 too," answered Miss Porter, clasping her hands over 
 her heart, which throbbed as it never had done before, 
 and which at last prostrated her upon the lounge. 
 
 But no one heeded her, save the girl Maria. The 
 rest gave their attention to Rosamond, who lay so long 
 in the death-like stupor that others than Miss Porter 
 believed her dead. 
 
 The clock struck jive ! and echoing from the Granby 
 hills the engine-whistle came. Then a slight tremor 
 ran through her frame, and Mrs. Peters whispered 
 joyfully, " There's life there's hope." 
 
 Along the highway the returning traveler came with 
 rapid tread, but 'neath the sycamore no Rosamond was 
 waiting.
 
 THE STORY. 87 
 
 " She is biding from me," he said, but his search for 
 her was vain, and he rapidly hastened on. 
 
 All about the house was still. There was no Rosa 
 mond at the door nor in the hall nor in the parlor 
 nor on the stairs ; but from her chamber came the 
 buzz of voices, and he entered unannounced, recoiling 
 backward when he saw the face upon the pillow, and 
 knew that it was Rosamond's. Every particle of color 
 had left it ; there were dark circles beneath the eyes, 
 and a look about the mouth as if the concentrated 
 agony of years had fallen suddenly upon her. 
 
 " What is it ? " he asked, and at the sound of his 
 voice, the brown eyes he had been wont to call so 
 beautiful unclosed, but their sunny brightness was all 
 gone, and he shuddered at their dim, meaningless ex 
 pression. 
 
 She seemed to know him, and stretching her arm 
 toward him as a child does toward its mother when 
 danger threatens, she laid her head upon his bosom 
 with a piteous wail the only really audible sound she 
 had yet uttered. 
 
 " Rosamond, darling what has come upon you ? " 
 he said, " and why are you in your bridal dress ? " 
 
 At that word she started, and moving away from 
 him, moaned sadly, " It was cruel oh, so cruel to de 
 ceive me, when I loved and trusted him so much." 
 
 " Won't somebody tell me what this means ? " he 
 demanded, and Mrs. Peters replied, " We do not know. 
 There's been a strange woman here, and she was with 
 Rosamond when it happened." 
 
 " Woman ? What woman ? And where is she 
 now ? " he asked, and Mrs. Peters replied, " She was 
 faint dying, she said, and Maria took her into another 
 chamber.""
 
 88 ROSAMOND. 
 
 Mechanically he started for that chamber hearing 
 nothing seeing nothing thinking nothing for the 
 nameless terror which had fallen upon him. He did 
 not suspect the real truth. He merely had a vague 
 presentiment that some one who knew, nothing of the 
 drowning had come there to save his Rosamond from 
 what they supposed to be an unlawful marriage, and 
 when at last he stood face to face with his living wife, 
 when he knew the grave had given up its dead, he 
 dropped to the floor as drops the giant oak when felled 
 by the lightning's power ! 
 
 Marie Porter, even had she been cruelly wronged, 
 was avenged fully, amply avenged, and covering her 
 face with her hands, she moaned, " I have killed them 
 both, and there's nothing left for me now but to die ! "
 
 THE END. 89 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 OVER the horrid awakening which came to the 
 wretched man, we need not linger ; neither is it neces 
 sary to dwell upon the first few days of mystery and 
 dread, when death seemed brooding over Riverside, 
 and rumor was busy with surmises and suspicions con 
 cerning the stranger, and the relation, if any, which 
 she bore to Rosamond Ley ton. We will rather hasten, 
 on to the morning when to Mr. Browning the joyful 
 tidings came that Rosamond was better so much 
 better, indeed, that he could see and talk with her if 
 he chose. 
 
 Only once since the fearful night when he found her 
 moaning in her bridal dress, had he stood by her bed 
 side for though he longed to be there, he could not 
 endure to see her turn away from him, whispering as 
 she did so, " It was cruel oh, so cruel to deceive me 
 so." Neither had he been near Marie Porter, conse 
 quently he knew nothing of the means by which she 
 had imposed upon him the story of her death. But 
 Rosamond knew Rosamond could tell him, and from 
 no other lips would he hear it. So, when he learned 
 that she was better, he asked to see her alone, and 
 Mrs. Peters, to whom he had necessarily confided the 
 story of his marriage, carried his message to Rosa 
 mond. 
 
 For a moment Rosamond did not seem to hear, but
 
 90 ROSAMOND. 
 
 when the message was repeated,, the great tears forced 
 themselves from beneath her long eyelashes, and rolling 
 down her cheeks, dropped upon the pillow. 
 
 " He might have spared me this," she said, " but if 
 it is his wish, I can see him." 
 
 With a mighty effort she stilled the violent throb- 
 bings of her heart, forced an unnatural calm upon her 
 face and whispered " Let him come now ; I am ready." 
 
 He was standing without the door, so near that he 
 heard the words, and in a moment he was at her side. 
 Falling upon his knees before her, he clasped her hands 
 in his, imploring her forgiveness for the great wrong 
 he had done her in not telling her the truth at first. 
 " But I am innocent of the last," he said ; " believe me, 
 Rosamond, I thought her dead, or I had never asked 
 you to be my wife. I know not how she deceived me 
 so terribly, but you know, and I have sought this in 
 terview to hear the story from your own lips. Will 
 you tell it to me, darling Miss Leyton, I mean," he 
 added hastily, as he saw a shadow of pain flit over her 
 face. 
 
 " I will if I can," she faintly answered, and sum 
 moning all her strength, she repeated to him what 
 Miss Porter had told her, except, indeed, the parts with 
 which she knew he was familiar. 
 
 " The plot was worthy of her who planned it," he 
 said bitterly ; then, as Rosamond made no reply, he 
 continued " she told you, I suppose, of our married 
 life, and painted me the blackest villain that ever trod 
 the earth. This may in part be true, but, Rosamond, 
 though I may never know the bliss of calling } T OU my 
 wife, I cannot be thus degraded in your sight and offer 
 no apology. I was a boy a self-willed, high- tempered 
 boy, nineteen years of age, and she aggravated me be-
 
 THE END. 91 
 
 yond all human endurance, seeking ways and means by 
 which she could provoke me. I loved her at first 
 nay, do not turn away incredulously. Heaven is my 
 witness that I loved her, or thought I did, but 'twas a 
 boyish love, and not such as I feel for you." 
 
 " You swore at her," said Rosamond, unable to rec 
 oncile love with an oath. 
 
 " Once only once," he replied. " I blush to own it, 
 for it was not a manly act." 
 
 " You struck her," and for the first time since he had 
 been in that room the brown eyes rested full upon his 
 face. 
 
 "Yes, Rosamond," he answered ; " I own that, too, 
 but she goaded me to madness, and even raised her 
 voice against my sainted mother, who had borne so 
 dastardly a son as // " 
 
 " And Riverside ? " said Rosamond. " Did your 
 uncle die deceived ? " 
 
 " Never never," Mr. Browning exclaimed, starting 
 to his feet. " I told the whole truth, or I would not 
 have lived here a day. Rosamond, I have greatly 
 sinned, but she has not been blameless. She insulted 
 me in every possible way, even to giving you her wed 
 ding ring, and then, lest I should not see it, wrote to 
 me ' to look upon your finger.' No wonder you 
 thought me mad ! " 
 
 "Her wedding ring! Could she do that?" said 
 Rosamond. 
 
 " Yes, her wedding ring. It first belonged to Susan, 
 who gave it to me for the occasion, and two weeks 
 after I had it marked with Marie's name and the date 
 of our marriage. It is broken now, and I would to 
 Heaven I could thus easily break the tie which binds 
 me to her, and keeps me from you ! Oh, Rosamond^
 
 92 ROSAMOND. 
 
 Kosaraond, must it be ? Must I live my life without 
 you, when I need you so much when my heart longs 
 so to claim you for its own \ " 
 
 He covered his face with his hands, and Rosamond 
 could see the tears dropping slowly through his fingers. 
 Terribly was he expatiating the sin of his boyhood, and 
 what wonder is it, if, in his agony, he cried, " My pun 
 ishment is greater than I can bear ! " 
 
 Rosamond alone was calm. She seemed to have 
 Avept her tears away, and the blow which had fallen so 
 crushingly upon her, had benumbed her heart, so that 
 she now did not feel as acutely as the weeping man 
 before her. Yery soothingly, she spoke to him, but 
 she offered no word of cheer no hope that all would 
 yet be well. " They would bear it with brave hearts," 
 she said, " And he must be reconciled to his wife." 
 
 "Never never," he exclaimed. "The same roof 
 cannot shelter us both, and if she chooses to stay when 
 she is better, she is welcome to Riverside, but I cannot 
 share it with her." 
 
 Neither said to the other, " It may be she will die," 
 for such a thought had never intruded itself upon their 
 minds, and yet Marie Porter's life was numbered now 
 by days. The heart disease, from which she had long 
 been suffering, was greatly aggravated by the strong 
 nervous excitement through which she had recently 
 been passing. Stimulants of a most powerful kind had 
 created a kind of artificial strength, which had enabled 
 her to come to Riverside, but this was fast subsiding ; 
 and when she bent over the motionless form of Rosa 
 mond, and feared that she was dead, she felt, indeed, 
 that death would ere long claim her as his own. The 
 sight of her husband, too, had well-nigh been more 
 than she could bear. For nearly nine long years she
 
 THE END. 93 
 
 had not looked upon his face, but she remembered it 
 well a handsome, boyish face. His hair she remem 
 bered, too his soft, dark, wavy hair, through which 
 her fingers had sometimes strayed, in the far back days 
 at Holly "Wood, before she was his bride. He would 
 not be greatly changed, she thought ; and when, on 
 that fatal night, she heard his coming footsteps, she 
 pictured him in her mind much as he was that winter- 
 day, when, standing in his sister's door, he bade her a 
 long good-by. Nearer and nearer he had come 
 faster and louder had beaten her heart, while a cold, 
 faint sickness crept over her. 
 
 " Open the window I cannot breathe," she gasped ; 
 but ere her request was obeyed, Ralph Browning had 
 fainted on the threshold, and she had asked that she 
 might die. 
 
 She had seen him only for an instant, but that 
 sufficed to tell her he was changed from the dark-haired, 
 handsome boy, into the gray-haired suffering man. 
 His eyes had met hers, but the fierce hatred she ex 
 pected, was not there ; and the look of utter hopeless 
 despair which she saw in its place, touched her as 
 reproach and resentment could not have done. 
 
 " Oh, I hope I shall die," she said, as she hid her 
 face in the pillow. " 1 hope I shall die." 
 
 This wish she uttered every hour ; and when, at last, 
 the physician said to her, " Madam, you will die," she 
 answered, " It is well ! " 
 
 She did not ask for Mr. Browning, for she knew he 
 would not come, but she inquired anxiously each day 
 for Rosamond ; and when, at last, she heard they were 
 together, she laid her hand upon her heart, and watch 
 ing its rise and fall, smiled to think how fast her life 
 was going out.
 
 94 ROSAMOND. 
 
 " Listen, Maria," she said, " Listen to what they say, 
 and hear if they talk of me." 
 
 Noiselessly Maria glided to the door of Rosamond's 
 chamber stood there for a moment and then as noise 
 lessly came repeating to her mistress the substance of 
 what she had heard, together with sundry little embel 
 lishments of her own. 
 
 " He will give you Riverside and go away himself," 
 she said, and Miss Porter quickly rejoined, " Go where ? 
 Go with whom ? " 
 
 " "With Miss Ley ton of course," returned Maria. 
 " He said he would not live without her." 
 
 " The wretch ! " ejaculated the angry woman, all her 
 softer emotions giving way to this fancied insult. " He 
 might at least wait now until I'm dead. I'll go to him 
 myself, and see if in my presence he dare talk thus to 
 her." 
 
 She was greatly excited, and spite of the painful 
 throbbings of her heart and the dizzy sensation she felt 
 stealing over her, she stepped upon the floor, and hur 
 riedly crossed the room. The effort was too much for 
 her feeble strength, and she sank fainting upon a chair. 
 The girl Maria had seen her faint before, but never be 
 fore had she seen so fearful a look upon her face, and 
 she ran in terror to Mr. Browning, beseeching him to 
 come " for her mistress was dying sure, and would 
 trouble nobody much more." 
 
 For a moment he hesitated, but when Rosamond said 
 "Go," he went. Taking the fainting woman in his 
 arms he laid her upon the bed as gently, though not 
 as tenderly as he would have lain his Rosamond there. 
 
 " Call Mrs. Peters," he said, and when that matron 
 came, he bade her give to the invalid every possible 
 care.
 
 THE END. 95 
 
 Slowly Miss Porter caine back to life, but it was 
 only to faint again, and with each fainting fit it became 
 more and more apparent that life was ebbing fast. 
 They did not say to Rosamond that she would die, but 
 they told it to Mr. Browning, who heard as one who 
 hears not. Every other sensation seemed to have given 
 place to a feeling of horror, and when at the close of 
 the second day word came to him that she was dying, 
 and had asked to see him, he arose mechanically and 
 walked to her sick room as calmly as he had visited it 
 the previous night, when he knew she was asleep. One 
 glance, however, at her white face and wild bright eyes 
 roused him to the reality, and bending over her pillow, 
 he forced himself to take her hand in his, saying kindly, 
 " Marie, do you know me ? " 
 
 " Know you ? " " Yes," she answered. " You are 
 my husband my husband." She lingered upon that 
 name as if its sound recalled to life some olden feeling 
 some memory of Holly Wood, where they first had 
 met. 
 
 " Marie, you are dying," he continued. " Shall we 
 part in anger, or in peace ? " 
 
 " In peace, if you will," she answered. " I have had 
 my revenge but it is not sweet as some say it is. I 
 would rather, Ralph, that I had never known you, for 
 then I should not have been the wicked wretch I am." 
 
 Mr. Browning* did not reply to this, and for a few 
 moments there was silence, during which she seemed 
 to sleep. Rousing up ere long, she gasped for breath, 
 and grasping nervously her husband's hand, she whis 
 pered, " I am going now there's no sham this time 
 five minutes more, and you are free to marry Rosa 
 mond. Be kind to her, Ralph. Deal with her not as 
 you dealt with me, and and come closer to me,
 
 96 ROSAMOND 
 
 Ralph. Let me whisper this last so as so one can 
 hear." 
 
 He bent him down to listen, and summoning all her 
 strength, she said, not in a whisper, but in tones which 
 echoed through the silent room " NEVER, NEVER STRIKE 
 
 ROSAMOND, WILL YOU ? " 
 
 #*#**### 
 
 Rapidly the story circulated that the strange woman 
 who lay dead at Riverside had been Ralph Browning's 
 wife, and hundreds flocked to the funeral, hoping to 
 gain a view of the deceased. But in this they were 
 disappointed, for there was nothing visible, save the 
 handsome coffin, on whose silver plate was inscribed 
 the word " MARIE." 
 
 Some said that " Browning " might have been added 
 to the name, and while others marveled that the hus 
 band wore no badge of mourning, a few said wisely 
 that the mourning was visible in other than the usual 
 signs in the hair gray before its time, and in the deep- 
 cut lines which a living sorrow alone had made. And 
 so, amid surmises of the past and foretellings of the 
 future, the ill-fated Marie was laid in the village vault, 
 until word could be received from her old uncle, who 
 might wish to have her rest among the balmy groves 
 and fragrant flowers of her beautiful Florida home. 
 
 And now our story winds to its close. Ralph Brown 
 ing was free indeed, but death had been at Riverside, 
 and the shadow it had left must disappear ere he took 
 to himself a second bride. Rosamond, too, must recover 
 from the blow which had fallen so crushingly on her 
 must learn to confide again in the man she loved to 
 think of the great wrong he had done her as the result 
 of an early, boyish error, which he regretted even more 
 bitterly than herself.
 
 THE END. 97 
 
 And so the warm spring rains had fallen and the 
 April blossoms were bursting from the dark, moist 
 earth ere the wedding morning came. At the bridal 
 there was no satin dress no orange wreath no flow 
 ing veil but there was perfect love shining in the 
 beautiful brown eyes of the girlish bride, while the fine 
 face of the bridegroom wore a look of perfect happi 
 ness, as if the past were all forgotten, and the world 
 was bright and new. Europe was still their destination, 
 and among those who accompanied them to New York, 
 going with them even to the vessel's deck, none bade 
 them a more affectionate adieu than Mrs. Van Yechten 
 herself. She had spent a part of the winter at River 
 side, and had learned to appreciate the gentle girl who 
 she knew was to be her brother's wife. 
 
 Ben, too, was of the party. He had listened in 
 amazement to the story of his uncle's first marriage, 
 wondering how it could have been kept from him, and 
 remembering several little incidents, the meaning of 
 which he now understood. He had given up the Cri 
 mean war, as well as the dancing girl, and now he had 
 given up Rosamond, too, but he bore it quite heroically, 
 and ever after took especial pains to speak of her as 
 " My Aunt Rosamond" For more than a year the 
 bridal pair remained abroad, and then returned again 
 to Riverside, where now the patter of tiny feet, and the 
 voice of childhood is heard, for children have gathered 
 around the hearthstone, and in all the world there is 
 not a prouder, happier wife and mother than the little 
 Rosamond who once on a dreary November day lis 
 tened, with a breaking heart, to the story of Ralph 
 Browning's Youthful Error.
 
 DIAMONDS. 
 
 BAD SPELLING. 
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 THE ANSWERED PRAYER.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DIAMONDS 7 
 
 BAD SPELLING 22 
 
 MAGGIE LEE 33 
 
 THE ANSWERED PBAYER 47
 
 DIAMONDS. 
 
 " THE boys mustn't look at the girls, and the girls 
 must look on their books," was said at least a dozen 
 times by the village schoolmaster, on that stormy 
 morning when Cora Blanch ard and I she in her 
 brother's boots, and I in my father's socks waded 
 through drift after drift of snow to the old brown 
 schoolhouse at the foot of the long, steep hill. 
 
 We were the only girls who had dared to brave that 
 wintry storm, and we felt amply repaid for our trouble, 
 when we saw how much attention we received from the 
 ten tall boys who had come some for fun some be 
 cause they saw Cora Blanchard go by and/me, "Walter 
 Beaumont, because he did not wish to lose the lesson 
 of the day. Our teacher, Mr. Grannis, was fitting him 
 for college, and every moment was precious to the 
 white-browed, intellectual student, who was quite a 
 lion among us girls, partly because he was older, and 
 partly because he never noticed us as much as did the 
 other boys. On this occasion, however, he was quite 
 attentive to Cora, at least, pulling off her boots, re 
 moving her hood, and brushing the large snow-flakes 
 from her soft wavy hair, while her dark brown eyes 
 smiled gratefully upon him, as he gave her his warm 
 seat by the stove. 
 
 That morning Cora wrote to me slily on her slate : 
 
 1
 
 8 DIAMONDS. 
 
 " I don't care if mother does say "Walter Beaumont 
 is poor as poverty}, like him best of anybody in the 
 world don't you ? " 
 
 I thought of the big red apple in my pocket, and of 
 the boy who had so carefully shaken the snow from off 
 my father's socks, and answered, " No " thinking, the 
 while, that I should say yes, if Walter had ever treated 
 me as he did my playmate and friend Cora Blanchard. 
 She was a beautiful young girl, a favorite with all, and 
 possessing, as it seemed, but one glaring fault a prone- 
 ness to estimate people for their wealth rather than 
 their worth. This in a measure was the result of her 
 home-training, for her family, though far from being 
 rich, were very aristocratic, and strove to keep their 
 children as much as possible from associating with the 
 " vulgar herd," as they styled the laboring class of the 
 community. In her secret heart Cora had long cher 
 ished a preference for Walter, though never, until the 
 morning of which I write, had it been so openly 
 avowed. And Walter, too, while knowing how far 
 above him she was in point of position, had dared to 
 dream of a time when a bright-haired woman, with a 
 face much like that of the girlish Cora, would gladden 
 his home, wherever it might be. 
 
 That noon, as we sat around the glowing stove, we 
 played as children will, and it came my turn to " answer 
 truly whom I intended to marry." Without a thought 
 of the big apple, the snowy socks, or of any one in 
 particular, I replied unhesitatingly " The one I love 
 best," and the question passed on to Cora, who was 
 sitting by the side of Walter Beaumont. He had not 
 joined in our sport, but now his eye left his book and 
 rested upon Cora with an expression half fearful, half 
 expectant. She, too, glanced at him, and as if the
 
 DIAMONDS. 9 
 
 spirit of prophecy were upon her, she said " I shall 
 not marry the one I love the best, but the one who has 
 the most money, and can give me the handsomest 
 diamonds. Sister Fanny has a magnificent set, and 
 she looks so beautifully when she wears them." 
 
 Instantly there fell a shadow on "Walter Beaumont's 
 face, and his eye returned again to the Latin lettered 
 page. But his thoughts were not of what was written 
 there ; he was thinking of the humble cottage on the 
 borders of the wood, of the rag-carpet on the oaken 
 floor, of the plain old-fashioned furniture, and of the 
 gentle, loving woman who called him " her boy," and 
 that spot her home. There were no diamonds there 
 no money and Cora, if for these she married, would 
 never be his wife. Early and late he toiled and studied, 
 wearing his threadbare coat and coarse brown pants 
 for an education, such as he must have, admitted of no 
 useless expenditure, and the costly gems which Cora 
 craved were not his to give. In the pure, unselfish love 
 springing up for her within his heart, there were 
 diamonds of imperishable value, and these, together 
 with the name he would make for himself, he would 
 offer her, but nothing more, and for many weeks there 
 was a shadow on his brow, though he was kind and 
 considerate to her as of old. 
 
 As the spring and summer glided by, however, there 
 came a change, and when, in the autumn, he left our 
 village for New Haven, there was a happy, joyous look 
 upon his face, while a tress of Cora's silken hair was 
 lying next his heart. Every week he wrote to her, and 
 Cora answered, always showing to me what she had 
 written, but never a word of his. "There was too 
 much love," she said, " too much good advice in his 
 letters for me to see," and thus the time passed on,
 
 10 DIAMONDS. 
 
 until "Walter, who had entered the junior class, was 
 graduated with honor, and was about to commence a 
 theological course at Andover, for he had made the 
 ministry his choice. He was twenty-one now, and 
 Cora was sixteen. "Wondrously beautiful she was to 
 look upon, with her fair young face, her soft brown 
 eyes, and wavy hair. And Walter Beaumont loved 
 her devotedly, believing too, that she in turn loved him, 
 for one summer afternoon, in the green old woods 
 which skirted the little village, she had sat by his side, 
 and with the sunbeams glancing down upon her through 
 the overhanging boughs, she had told him so, and 
 promised some day to be his wife. Still, she would 
 not hear of a positive engagement both should be free 
 to change their mind if they wished, she said, and with 
 this Walter was satisfied. 
 
 " I have no diamonds to give you, darling," he said, 
 drawing her close to him ; and Cora, knowing to what 
 he referred, answered that " his love was dearer to her 
 than all the world besides." Alas, that woman should 
 be so fickle ! 
 
 The same train which carried Walter away, brought 
 Mrs. Blanchard a letter from her daughter, a dashing, 
 fashionable woman, who lived in the city, and who 
 wished to bring her sister Cora "out" the coming 
 winter. " She is old enough now," she wrote, " to be 
 looking for a husband, and of course she'll never do 
 anything in that by-place." 
 
 This proposition, which accorded exactly with Mrs. 
 Blanchard's wishes, was joyfully acceded to by Cora, 
 who, while anticipating the pleasure which awaited her, 
 had yet no thought of proving false to Walter, and in 
 the letter which she wrote informing him of her plan, 
 she assured him of her unchanging fidelity, little
 
 DIAMONDS. 11 
 
 dreaming that the promise thus made would so soon be 
 broken ! Petted, caressed, flattered and admired, as 
 she was in the circle of her sister's friends, how could 
 she help growing worldly and vain, or avoid contrast 
 ing the plain, unassuming Walter, with the polished 
 and gayly-dressed butterflies who thronged Mrs. Bur 
 ton's drawing-room. When the summer came again, 
 she did not return to us as we had expected, but we 
 heard of her at Saratoga, and Newport, the admired of 
 all admirers; while one, it was said, a man of high 
 position and untold wealth, bid fair to win the beau 
 teous belle. Meantime, her letters to Walter grew short 
 and far between, ceasing at length altogether ; and one 
 day, during the second winter of her residence in the 
 city, I received from her a package containing his 
 miniature, the books he had given her, and the letters 
 he had written. These she wished me to give him 
 when next I saw him, bidding me tell him to think no 
 more of one who was not worthy of him. 
 
 " To be plain, Lottie," she wrote, " I'm engaged, and 
 though Mr. Douglass is not a bit like Walter, he has a 
 great deal of money, drives splendid horses, and I 
 reckon we shall get on well enough. I wish, though, 
 he was not quite so old. You'll be shocked to hear 
 that he is almoBtj$^$r, though he looks about forty ! 
 I know I don't like him as well as I did Walter, but 
 after seeing as much of the world as I have, I could 
 not settle down into the wife of a poor minister. I 
 am not good enough, and you must tell him so. I 
 hope he won't feel badly poor Walter. I've kept the 
 lock of his hair. I couldn't part with that ; but, of 
 course, Mr. Douglass will never see it. His hair is 
 gray ! Good-by." 
 
 This was what she wrote, and when I heard from
 
 12 DIAMONDS. 
 
 her again, she was Cora Douglass, and her feet were 
 treading the shores of the old world, whither she has 
 gone on a bridal tour. 
 
 In the solitude of his chamber, the young student 
 learned the sad news from a paragraph in a city paper, 
 and bowing his head upon the table, he strove to artic 
 ulate, " It is well," but the flesh was weak, warring 
 with the spirit, and the heart which Cora Blanchard 
 had cruelly trampled down, clung to her still with a 
 death-like fondness, and following her even across the 
 waste of waters, cried out " How can I give her up ! " 
 But when he remembered, as he ere long did, that 
 'twas a sin to love her now, he buried his face in his 
 hands, and, calling on God to help him in this his hour 
 of need, wept such tears as never again would fall 
 for Cora Blanchard. 
 
 The roses in our garden were faded, and the leaves 
 of autumn were piled upon the ground, ere he came to 
 his home again, and I had an opportunity of present 
 ing him with the package which many months before 
 had been committed to my care. His face was very 
 pale, and his voice trembled as he asked me " Where 
 is she now ? " 
 
 " In Italy," I answered, adding that " her husband 
 was said to be very wealthy." 
 
 Bowing mechanically, he walked away, and a year 
 and a half went by ere I saw him again. Then he 
 came among us as our minister. The old, white-haired 
 pastor who for so long had told us of the Good Shep 
 herd and the better land, was sleeping at last in the 
 quiet grave-yard, and the people had chosen young
 
 DIAMONDS. 13 
 
 Walter Beaumont to fill his place. He was a splen 
 did-looking man tall, erect, and finely formed, with a 
 most winning manner, and a face which betokened in 
 tellect of the highest order. We were proud of him, 
 all us proud of our clergyman, who, on the third 
 Sabbath in June, was to be ordained in the old brick 
 church, before whose altar he had years ago been bap 
 tized, a smiling infant. 
 
 On the Thursday afternoon preceding the ordination, 
 a large traveling carriage, covered with dust and laden 
 with trunks, passed slowly through our village, attract 
 ing much attention. Seated within it was a portly, 
 gray-haired man, resting his chin upon a gold-headed 
 cane, and looking curiously out at the people in the 
 street, who stared as curiously at him. Directly op 
 posite him, and languidly reclining upon the soft cush 
 ions, was a white, proud-faced lady, who evidently felt 
 no interest in what was passing around her, for her 
 eyes were cast down, and her thoughts seemed busy 
 elsewhere. I was sitting at my chamber window, gaz 
 ing out upon them, and just as they drew near the 
 gate, the lady raised her eyes the soft, brown eyes, 
 which once had won the love of Walter Beaumont, and 
 in which there was now an unmistakable look of an 
 guish, as if the long eyelashes, drooping so wearily 
 upon the colorless cheek, were constantly forcing back 
 the hidden tears. And this was Cora Douglass, come 
 back to us again from her travels in a foreign land. 
 She knew me in a moment, and in her face there was 
 much of her olden look as, bending forward, she smiled 
 a greeting, and waved toward me her white, jeweled 
 hand, on which the diamonds flashed brightly in the 
 sunlight. 
 
 The next morning we met, but not in the presence
 
 14 DIAMONDS. 
 
 of the old man, her husband. Down in the leafy 
 woods, about a quarter of a mile from Mrs. Beaumont's 
 cottage, was a running brook and mossy bank, over 
 shadowed by the sycamore and elm. This, in the days 
 gone by, had been our favorite resort. Here had we 
 built our playhouse, washing our bits of broken china 
 in the rippling stream here had we watched the little 
 fishes as they darted in and out of the deeper eddies 
 here had we conned our daily tasks here had she lis 
 tened to a tale of love, the memory of which seemed 
 but a mocking dream, and here, as I faintly hoped, I 
 found her. With a half-joyful, half-moaning cry, she 
 threw her arms around my neck, and I could feel her 
 tears dropping upon my face as she whispered, " Oh, 
 Lottie, Lottie, we have met again by the dear old 
 brook." 
 
 For a few moments she sobbed as if her heart would 
 break, then suddenly drying her tears, she assumed a 
 calm, cold, dignified manner, such as I Lad never seen 
 in Cora Blanchard. Yery composedly she questioned 
 me of what I had done during her absence, telling me, 
 too, of her travels, of the people she had seen and the 
 places she had visited, but never a word said she of him 
 she called her husband. From the bank where we sat, 
 the village grave-yard was discernible, with its marble 
 gleaming through the trees, and at last, as her eye 
 wandered in that direction, shesaid, " Have any of our 
 villagers died ? Mother's letters were never very defi 
 nite." 
 
 " Yes," I answered, " Our minister, Mr. Suraner, 
 died two months ago." 
 
 " "Who takes his place ? " she asked ; and, as if a sus 
 picion of the truth were flashing upon her, her eyes 
 turned toward me with an eager, startled glance.
 
 DIAMONDS. 15 
 
 " "Walter Beaumont. He is to be ordained next Sab 
 bath, and you are just in time," I replied, regretting 
 my words the next instant, for never saw I so fearful 
 a look of anguish as that which swept over her face, 
 and was succeeded by a cold, Hard, defiant expression, 
 scarcely less painful to witness. 
 
 She would have questioned me of him, I think, had 
 not an approaching footstep caught our' ear, sending a 
 crimson flush to Cora's hitherto marble cheek, and 
 producing on me a most unpleasant sensation, for I 
 knew that the gray-haired man now within a few 
 paces of us, was he who called that young creature Ms 
 wife. Golden was the chain by which he had bound 
 her, and every link was set with diamonds and costly 
 stones, but it had rusted and eaten to her very heart's 
 core, for the most precious gem of all was missing 
 from that chain love for her husband, who, fortu 
 nately for his own peace of mind, was too conceited to 
 dream how little she cared for him. He was not hand 
 some, and still many would have called him a fine 
 looking, middle-aged man, though there was something 
 disagreeable in his thin, compressed lips and intensely 
 black eyes the one betokening a violent temper, and 
 the other an indomitable will. To me he was exceed 
 ingly polite rather too much so for my perfect ease, 
 while toward Cora he tried to be very affectionate. 
 
 Seating himself at her side, and throwing his arm 
 around her, he called her a " little truant," and asked 
 " why she had run away from him." 
 
 Half pettishly she answered, " Because I like some 
 times to be alone," then, rising up and turning toward 
 me she asked if " the water still ran over the old mill 
 dam in the west woods just as it used to do," saying if 
 it did, she wished to see it. " You can't go," she con-
 
 16 DIAMONDS. 
 
 tinued, addressing her husband, " for it is more than a 
 mile, over fences and plowed fields." 
 
 This was sufficient^, for Mr. Douglass was very fas 
 tidious in all matters pertaining to his dress, and had 
 no fancy for soiling his white pants, or patent leathers. 
 So Cora and I set off together, while he walked slow 
 ly back to the village. Scarcely was he out of sight, 
 however, when, seating herself beneath a tree, and 
 throwing her flat upon the ground, Cora announced 
 her intention of not going any further. 
 
 " I only wished to be alone. I breathe so much 
 better," she said, and when I looked inquiringly at her, 
 she continued, " Never marry a man for his wealth, 
 Lottie, unless you wish to become as hard, as wicked 
 and unhappy as I am. John Douglass is worth more 
 than half a million, and yet I would give it all if I were 
 the same little girl who, six years ago, waded with you 
 through the snowdrifts to school on that stormy day. 
 Do you remember what we played that noon and my 
 foolish remark that I would marry for money and 
 diamonds ! Woe is me, I've won them both ! " and 
 her tears fell fast on the sparkling gems which covered 
 her slender fingers. 
 
 Just then I saw in the distance a young man whom 
 I knew to be Walter Beaumont. He seemed to be ap 
 proaching us, and when Cora became aware of that, 
 she started up and grasping my arm, hurried away, 
 saying, as she cast backward a fearful glance, " I would 
 rather die than meet him now. I am not prepared." 
 
 For the remainder of the way we walked on in si 
 lence, until we reached her mother's gate, where we 
 found her husband waiting for her. Bidding me good 
 morning she followed him slowly up the graveled walk 
 and I saw her no more until the following Sabbath.
 
 DIAMONDS. IT 
 
 It was a gloriously beautiful morning, and at an early 
 hour the old brick church was filled to overflowing, 
 for Walter had many friends, and they came together 
 gladly to see him made a minister of God. During 
 the first part of the service he was very pale, and his 
 eye wandered often toward the large, square pew where 
 sat a portly man and a beautiful young woman, richly 
 attired in satin and jewels. It had cost her a struggle 
 to be there, but she felt that she must look again on. 
 one whom she had loved so much and so deeply 
 wronged. So she came, and the sight of him stand 
 ing there in his early manhood, his soft brown hair 
 clustering about his brow, and his calm, pale face wear 
 ing an expression almost angelic, was more than she 
 could bear, and leaning forward she kept her counte 
 nance concealed from view until the ceremony was 
 ended, and Walter's clear, musical voice announced the 
 closing hymn. Then she raised her head, and her face, 
 seen through the folds of her costly veil, looked hag 
 gard and ghastly, as if a fierce storm of passion had 
 swept over her. By the door she paused, and when 
 the newly-ordained clergyman passed out, she offered 
 him her hand, the hand which, when he held it last, 
 was pledged to him. There were diamonds on it now 
 diamonds of value rare, but their brightness was 
 hateful to that wretched woman, for she knew at what 
 a fearful price they had been bought. 
 
 They did not meet again, and only once more did 
 Walter see her ; then, from our door, he looked out 
 upon her as with her husband she dashed by on horse 
 back, her long cloth skirt almost sweeping the ground, 
 and the plumes of her velvet cap waving in the air. 
 
 " Mrs. Douglass is a fine rider," was all Walter said, 
 and the tone of his voice indicated that she was becom-
 
 18 DIAMONDS. 
 
 ing to him an object of indifference. Desperately had 
 he fought with his affection for her, winning the vic 
 tory at last, and now the love he once had felt for her 
 was slowly and surely dying out. The next week, tiring 
 of our dull village life, Cora left us, going to Nahant, 
 where she spent most of the summer, and when in the 
 winter we heard from her again, she was a widow 
 the sole heir of her husband who had died suddenly, 
 and generously left her that for which she married 
 him his money. 
 
 " "Will Walter Beaumont marry Cora now ? " I had 
 asked myself many a time, without, however, arriving 
 at any definite conclusion, when a little more than a 
 year succeeding Mr. Douglass's death, she wrote, beg 
 ging me to come to her, as she was very lonely, and 
 the presence of an old friend would do her good. I 
 complied with her request, and within a few days was 
 an inmate of her luxurious home, where everything 
 indicated the wealth of its possessor. And Cora, 
 though robed in deepest black, was more like herself, 
 more like the Cora of other days, than I had seen her 
 before since her marriage. Of her husband she spoke 
 freely and always with respect, saying he had been 
 kinder far to her than she had deserved. Of Walter, 
 too, she talked, appearing much gratified when I told 
 her how he was loved and appreciated by his people. 
 
 One morning when we sat together in her little 
 sewing room, she said, "I have done what you per 
 haps, will consider a very unwomanly act. I have 
 written to Walter Beaumont. Look," and she placed 
 in my hand a letter, which she bade me read. It was 
 a wild, strange thing, telling him of the anguish she 
 had endured, of the tears she had shed, of the love 
 which through all she had cherished for him, and beg-
 
 DIAMONDS. 19 
 
 ging of him to forgive her if possible, and be to her 
 again what he had been years ago. She was not 
 worthy of him, she said, but he could make her better, 
 aud in language the most touching, she besought of 
 him not to cast her off, or despise her because she had 
 stepped so far aside from womanly delicacy as to write 
 to him this letter. " I will not insult you," she wrote 
 in conclusion, " by telling you of the money for which 
 I sold myself, but it is mine now, lawfully mine, and 
 most gladly would I share it with you." 
 
 " You will not send him this ? " I said. " You can 
 not be in earnest ? " 
 
 But she was determined, and lest her resolution 
 should give way, she rang the bell, ordering the serv 
 ant who appeared to take it at once to the office. He 
 obeyed, and during the day she was unusually gay, 
 singing snatches of old songs, and playing several 
 lively airs upon her piano, which for months had stood 
 unopened and untouched. That evening, as the sun 
 went down, and the full moon rose over the city, she 
 asked me to walk with her, and we, ere long, found 
 ourselves several streets distant from that in which she 
 lived. Groups of people were entering a church near 
 by, and from a remark which we overheard, we learned 
 that there was to be a wedding. 
 
 " Let us go in," she said, " it may be some one I 
 know," and entering together, we took our seats just 
 in front of the altar. 
 
 Scarcely were we seated when a rustling of satin an 
 nounced the approach of the bridal party, and in a mo 
 ment they appeared moving slowly up the aisle. My 
 first attention was directed toward the bride, a beauti 
 ful young creature, with a fair sweet face, and curls of 
 golden hair falling over her white, uncovered neck.
 
 20 DIAMONDS. 
 
 " Isn't she lovely ? " I whispered ; but Cora did not 
 hear me. 
 
 With her hands locked tightly together, her lips 
 firmly compressed, and her cheeks of an ashen hue, she 
 was gazing fixedly at the bridegroom, on whom I, too, 
 now looked, starting quickly, for it was our minister, 
 Walter Beaumont ! The words were few which made 
 them one, Walter and the young girl at his side, and 
 when the ceremony was over, Cora arose, and leaning 
 heavily upon my arm, went out into the open air, and 
 on through street after street, until her home was 
 reached. Then, without a word, we parted I going 
 to my room, while she, through the live-long night, 
 paced up and down the long parlors where no eye 
 could witness the working of the mighty sorrow which 
 had come upon her. 
 
 The next morning she was calm, but very, very pale, 
 saying not a word of last night's adventure. Neither 
 did she speak of it for several days, and then she said, 
 rather abruptly, " I would give all I possess if I had 
 never sent that letter. The mortification is harder to 
 bear even than Walter's loss. But he will not tell of 
 it, I'm sure. He is too good too noble," and tears, 
 the first she had shed since that night, rained through 
 her thin, white fingers. It came at last a letter bear 
 ing Walter's superscription, and with trembling hands 
 she opened it, finding, as she expected, his wedding 
 card, while on a tiny sheet was written, " God pity 
 you, Cora, even as I do WALTER." 
 
 " Walter ! Walter ! " she whispered, and her quivering 
 lips touched once the loved name which she was never 
 heard to breathe again. 
 
 From that day Cora Douglass faded, and when the 
 autumnal days were come, and the distant hills were
 
 DIAMONDS. 21 
 
 bathed in the hazy October light, she died. But not 
 in the noisy city, for she had asked to be taken home, 
 and in the pleasant room where we had often sat to 
 gether, she bade me her last good-by. They buried 
 her on the Sabbath, and Walter's voice was sad and 
 low as with Cora's coffin at his feet he preached from 
 the words, " I am the Eesurrection and the Life." 
 His young wife, too, wept over the early dead, who 
 had well-nigh been her rival, and whose beautiful face 
 wore a calm, peaceful smile, as if she were at rest. 
 
 There was a will, they said, and in it Walter was 
 generously remembered, while to his wife was given 
 an ivory box, containing Cora's diamonds necklace, 
 bracelets, pin and ear-rings all were there; and 
 Walter, as he looked upon them, drew nearer to him 
 his fair girl wife, who but for these, might not, per 
 chance, have been to him what she was his dearest 
 earthly treasure. 

 
 3 BAD SPELLING. 
 
 BAD SPELLING- 
 
 THE last notes of the bell which duly summoned to 
 their task the pupils of Madame Duvant's fashionable 
 seminary had ceased, and in the school-room, recently 
 so silent, was heard the low hum of voices, inter 
 spersed occasionally with a suppressed titter from 
 some girl more mischievous than her companions. 
 Very complacently Madame Duvant looked over the 
 group of young faces, mentally estimating the probable 
 gain she should receive from each, for this was the 
 first day of the term, then with a few low-spoken 
 words to the row of careivorn, pale-faced teachers, she 
 smoothed down the folds of her heavy gray satin and 
 left the room, just as a handsome traveling-carriage 
 stopped before the door. 
 
 The new arrival proved to be a fashionably-dressed 
 woman, who, with an air of extreme hauteur, swept 
 into the parlor, followed by two young girls, one 
 apparently sixteen and the other fourteen years of age. 
 The younger and, as some would call her, the plainer 
 looking of the two, was unmistakably a " poor relation," 
 for her face bore the meek, patient look of a dependent, 
 while the proud black eyes and scornfully curved lip 
 of the other, marked her as the daughter of the lady, 
 who after glancing about the room and satisfying 
 herself that the chairs, tables, and so forth, were
 
 BAD SPELLING. 23 
 
 refined, gave her name as " Mrs. Greenleaf, wife of 
 the Hon. Mr. Greenleaf, of Herkimer Co., N. Y." 
 
 " I have coine," said she, apparently speaking to 
 Madame Duvant, but looking straight at the window, 
 " I've come to place my daughter Arabella under your 
 charge, and if she is pleased with your discipline, she 
 will finish her education here graduate though I care 
 but little for that, except that it sounds well. She is 
 our only child, and, of course, a thorough education in 
 the lower English branches is not at all necessary. I 
 wish her to be highly accomplished in French, Italian, 
 music, drawing, painting, dancing, and, perhaps, learn 
 something of the old poets, so as to be able to talk 
 about them a little, if necessary, but as for the other 
 branches, such as geography, history, arithmetic, 
 grammar, and the like, she can learn them by herself, 
 and it is not my wish that she should waste her time 
 over anything so common. These will do for Mildred," 
 and she glanced toward the poor relation, whose eyes 
 were bent upon the carpet. 
 
 " She is the child of my husband's sister, and we 
 have concluded to educate her for a teacher, so I wish 
 you to be very thorough with her in all those stupid 
 things which Arabella is not to study." 
 
 Madame Duvant bowed, and Mrs. Greenleaf con 
 tinued, " Last term they were at Bloomington Semin 
 ary, and, if you'll believe it, the principal insisted upon 
 putting Arabella into the spelling-class, just because 
 she didn't chance to spell every word of her first com 
 position correctly ! I dare say it was more Mildred's 
 fault than hers, for she acknowledged to me that 'twas 
 one of Mildred's old pieces that she found and copied." 
 
 An angry flash of Arabella's large black eyes, and 
 a bright red spot on Mildred's cheek, were the only
 
 24 BAD SPELLING. 
 
 emotions manifested by the young girls, and Mrs. 
 Greenleaf proceeded : " Of course, I wouldn't submit 
 to it my daughter spelling baker, and all that non 
 sense, so I took her away at once. It was my wish 
 that Mildred should remain, but husband, who is 
 peculiar, wouldn't hear of it, and said she should go 
 where Arabella did, so I've brought them both." 
 
 After little further conversation, it was arranged 
 that Miss Arabella should go through a course of 
 merely fashionable accomplishments, Madame Duvant 
 assuring her mother that neither spelling-book nor 
 dictionary should in any way annoy her. Mildred, on 
 the contrary, was to be thoroughly drilled in every 
 thing necessary for a teacher to know, Mrs. Greenleaf 
 hinting that the sooner her education was completed 
 the better she would be pleased, for it cost a great deal 
 to clothe, feed and school her. Madame Duvant prom 
 ised to execute the wishes of her patron, who gath 
 ered up her flowing robes, and with a dozen or more 
 kisses for her daughter, and a nod of her head for 
 Mildred, stepped into her carriage and was driven 
 
 rapidly away. 
 
 * # * # * * * 
 
 Just across the spacious grounds of the Duvant 
 Seminary, and divided from them by a wall which it 
 seemed almost impossible to scale, stood a huge stone 
 building, whose hacked walls, bare floors and dingy 
 windows from which were frequently suspended a 
 cap, a pair of trousers, or a boy's leg stamped it at 
 once as " The College," the veriest pest in the world, 
 as Madame Duvant called it, when, with all the vigi 
 lance both of herself and Argus-eyed teachers, she 
 failed to keep her young ladies from making the 
 acquaintance of the students, who winked at them in
 
 BAD SPELLING. 25 
 
 church, bowed to them in the streets, tied notes to 
 stones and threw them over the ponderous wall, while 
 the girls waved their handkerchiefs from their windows, 
 and in various other ways eluded the watchfulness of 
 their teachers. A great acquisition to the fun-loving 
 members of the seminary was Arabella Greenleaf, and 
 she had scarcely been there six weeks ere she was per 
 fectly well acquainted with every student whom she 
 considered at all worth knowing. But upon only one 
 were her brightest glances and her most winsome 
 smiles lavished, and that was George Clayton, a young 
 man from South Carolina, who was said to be very 
 wealthy. He was too honorable to join in the in 
 trigues of his companions, and when at last he be 
 came attracted by the witching eyes and dashing man 
 ners of Arabella Greenleaf, he went boldly to Madame 
 Duvant and asked permission to see the young lady 
 in the parlor. 
 
 His request was granted, and during the two years 
 he remained at college, he continued occasionally to 
 call upon Arabella, who, each time that he saw her, 
 seemed more pleasing, for she was beautiful, and when 
 she chose to be so was very courteous and agreeable. 
 One evening when George called as usual and asked to 
 see her, he waited a long time, and was about making 
 up his mind to leave, when a fair, delicate looking girl, 
 with deep blue eyes and auburn hair, entered the room, 
 introducing herself as Miss Graham, the cousin of 
 Arabella, who, she said, was indisposed and unable to 
 come down. 
 
 " She bade me say that she was very sorry not to 
 see you," added Mildred, for she it was, blushing deeply 
 as she met the eager, admiring eye of George Clayton. 
 
 Gladly would he have detained her, but with a po-
 
 26 BAD SPELLING. 
 
 lite good evening, she left him in a perfect state of 
 bewilderment. " Strange that I never observed her 
 before, for I must have seen her often," he thought, as 
 he slowly wended his way back to his rooms, " and 
 stranger still that Arabella never told ine she had a 
 cousin here." 
 
 The next time he met Arabella his first inquiry was 
 for her cousin, and why she had never mentioned her. 
 "With a heightened color Arabella answered, " Oh, she's 
 a little body, who never cares to be known a perfect 
 bookworm and man-hater." 
 
 The words bookworm and man-hater produced upon 
 George Clayton a far different effect from what Ara 
 bella had intended, and he often found himself think 
 ing of the soft blue eyes of Mildred Graham. Unlike 
 some men, there was nothing terrible to him in a bookish 
 woman, and he might, perhaps, have sought another 
 interview with Mildred, but for a circumstance which 
 threw her entirely in the shade. 
 
 The annual examination of Madame Duvant's semi 
 nary was drawing near. Arabella was to graduate, 
 while both she and Mildred were competitors for a 
 prize offered for the best composition. There was a 
 look of wonder on Mildred's face, when she saw her 
 cousin's name among the list, for composition was 
 something in which Arabella did not excel. Greatly 
 then did Mildred marvel when day after day she found 
 her, pencil in hand, and apparently lost in thought, as 
 she filled one sheet after another, until at last it was 
 done. 
 
 " Now, Milly," said Arabella, " You correct the 
 spelling and copy it for me that's a good girl." 
 
 Mildred had acted in this capacity too often to refuse, 
 and with a martyr's patience, she corrected and copied
 
 BAD SPELLING. 27 
 
 the manuscript, wondering the while from whence 
 came the sudden inspiration which had so brightened 
 Arabella's ideas. But if she had any suspicions of the 
 truth she kept them to herself, handing her own com 
 position in with that of her cousin, and calmly waiting 
 
 the result. 
 
 * ****** 
 
 The examination was over. Arabella, who knew 
 exactly what questions would be put to her, had ac 
 quitted herself with great credit, and her proud lady 
 mother, who was one of the numerous visitors, fanned 
 herself complacently as she heard on all sides the 
 praises of her daughter. 
 
 And now nothing remained but the evening exhibi 
 tion, at which music and the prize compositions formed 
 the chief entertainment. At an early hour the large 
 schoolrooms were densely crowded. Among the first 
 who came was George Clayton securing a seat as 
 near as possible to the stage, so that he should not lose 
 a single word. He himself had graduated but two 
 weeks previously, and was now about to make the tour 
 of Europe together with his father, who was present. 
 They were to sail the next night, and at nine o'clock 
 this evening they were to leave for New York. During 
 the examination Arabella had risen greatly in George's 
 estimation, and if she had seemed beautiful to him 
 then, she was tenfold more so now, when, with flowing 
 curls and simple white muslin dress, she tripped grace 
 fully across the stage, and seating herself at the piano, 
 played and sang with exquisite skill the well known 
 song entitled, " No More, Never More." 
 
 Then followed the reading of the compositions, Mil 
 dred being called upon first. In a clear and peculiarly 
 sweet voice she read, chaining to perfect silence her
 
 28 BAD SPELLING. 
 
 audience, which, when she was done, greeted her with 
 noisy cheers, whispering one to another that she was 
 sure to win. Arabella, at her own request, was the 
 last. With proud, flashing eyes and queenly air, she 
 coolly surveyed the mass of heads before her, caught an 
 admiring glance from George Clayton, and then, with 
 a steady hand unrolled her manuscript and read. Her 
 subject was " The Outward and the Inward Life," and 
 no gray-haired sage ever handled it more skilfully than 
 she. When she finished one universal burst of applause 
 shook the building to its center, while her name was 
 on every lip as she triumphantly left the room. Just 
 then a distant bell struck the hour of nine, and George 
 Clayton arose to go. He was sure of Arabella's success, 
 and in the hall below, whither she had gone to bid him 
 adieu, he shook her hand warmly, telling her how 
 happy it made him to see her thus victorious, and win 
 ning from her a promise to write to him when he 
 should be over the sea. 
 
 Half an hour later and the night express was bearing 
 him far away. Half an hour later, and with flushed 
 brow Arabella stood up and received the prize, which 
 consisted of two elegantly bound volumes of Words 
 worth and Coleridge. 
 
 Forty minutes later, and from the seat by the door, a 
 little bent, weird-looking woman arose, and making 
 her way though the crowd, advanced until she stood 
 upon the stage, than stretching her long, bony finger 
 toward Arabella, who had returned, she said, " I am 
 a lover of justice, and should I hold my peace, the 
 very stones would cry out against me. Yonder young 
 lady has no right to the prize, for the piece which she 
 has palmed off as her own appeared in the Woodland 
 Gazette, a paper published in an obscure New Hamp-
 
 BAD SPELLING. 29 
 
 shire village . How she came by it, she can, perhaps, 
 explain, but I cannot." 
 
 At the commencement of this strange speech, Ara 
 bella arose as if to defy the woman, who was thus 
 blasting her good name, but at the mention of the 
 ^Woodland Gazette she fainted and was carried from 
 the room. Madame Duvant now came forward and 
 addressed a few low-spoken words to the woman, who 
 answered aloud, " I have the best of reasons for what 
 I have said. My son, who lives in New Hampshire, 
 occasionally sends me the Gazette, and in one number, 
 which came nearly a year ago, appeared this very arti 
 cle, taken originally from an old English paper." 
 
 " Prove it ! Produce the paper ! " fiercely ejaculated 
 Mrs. Greenleaf, as she left the room in quest of her 
 daughter. 
 
 " I can do so," answered the woman ; " I never tore 
 up a newspaper in my life, and if the audience will wait 
 for the space of ten minutes, I can show them the very 
 article " saying which she glided noiselessly from the 
 room. 
 
 She was a strange, half-crazy old creature, of wonder 
 ful memory, who occupied a small cottage in the sub 
 urbs of the village, and many doubts were expressed 
 as to the veracity of her statement. But these were 
 soon put to flight by her reappearance. Unfolding the 
 the dingy yellow paper, she read aloud to her aston 
 ished hearers the article which proved to have been 
 taken from the London Examiner. There was now 
 no longer a shadow of doubt and the prize was with 
 drawn from the treacherous Arabella, and as Mildred's 
 composition was pronounced the next in order, it was 
 bestowed upon her. 
 
 Mortified, indignant and almost frantic at this public
 
 SO BAB SPELLING. 
 
 disgrace, Arabella finally confessed to having stolen 
 the piece from a paper sent her some months before by 
 a former schoolmate. The next morning she left the 
 village, heaping her pent-up wrath upon the head of 
 her innocent cousin, who was destined in more ways 
 
 than one to rival her. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Three months had passed away since the night of 
 the exhibition, and in a private parlor at a London 
 hotel sat George Clayton, rather impatiently awaiting 
 the return of his servant from the post-office. As yet he 
 had received no letter from Arabella, for though she 
 had written it had failed to reach him, and while he in 
 the Old World was marveling at her long delay, she 
 in the New was wondering why he did not answer. 
 The mortification which she had endured affected her 
 deeply, bringing on at last a slow fever, which con fined 
 her to her bed, where for weeks she lay, carefully at 
 tended by Mildred, who once, when she complained of 
 George's neglect, suggested the possibility of his not 
 having received the letter. This was a new idea to 
 Arabella, and as she was herself unable to write, he 
 persuaded Mildred to do it for her, and strange to say, 
 the two letters reached their destination at the same 
 time. 
 
 With eager haste George took them from his servant, 
 who went out leaving him alone. The handwriting 
 of both was not alike, and in some trepidation the 
 young man broke the seal of the one bearing the more 
 recent date. It was beautifully written, and mentally 
 complimenting the fair writer, George opened the 
 other, uttering an exclamation of surprise ere he had 
 read a dozen lines. It was a sickly, sentimental affair, 
 taken partly from an old letter-writer, and containing
 
 BAD SPELLING. 31 
 
 many highflown sentences concerning the "pearling 
 rill" the " silverey starlite " and the " rozy morn," 
 which, being spelled as they were, presented a most 
 formidable aspect to the fastidious young man. 
 
 Although Arabella had taken much pains with her let 
 ter, at least one-fourth of the words were misspelt, and 
 by the time George had finished reading, he enter 
 tained no other feeling toward the writer than one of 
 disgust, to think that, with all her showy accomplish 
 ments, she had neglected what to him was the most 
 important of all, for in nothing is the ignorance of a 
 young lady more apparent than in a badly-spelled 
 letter. It was a long time ere he answered it, and 
 then the few lines which he wrote were so cold, so 
 different from his first, that in a fit of anger Arabella 
 tossed it into the fire, repenting the act the moment 
 after, and, as if to make amends, writing in return a long 
 letter, to which there came no response, and thus the 
 correspondence ended. 
 
 Eighteen months later, and again Madame Duvant's 
 rooms were crowded to overflowing, but this time Ara 
 bella Greenleaf was not there, though George Clayton, 
 was, eagerly watching each word and movement of 
 Mildred Graham, whose uncle had insisted upon her 
 remaining at school until she, too, should graduate, and 
 who now, justly, received the highest honors of her 
 class. Yery beautifully looked the young girl, and as she 
 modestly received the compliments of her friends 
 George Clayton's was not the only admiring eye which 
 rested upon her, for many now paid her homage. 
 
 That night George asked to see her alone. His re 
 quest was granted, and when next she parted from him 
 it was as his betrothed. Immediately after George's 
 return from Europe, he had heard the story of Ara-
 
 32 BAD SPELLING. 
 
 bella's perfidy, and if no other circumstances had inter 
 posed to wean him from her entirely, this alone would 
 have done it, for he could not respect a woman who 
 would thus meanly stoop to deception. He had lin 
 gered in G for the purpose of renewing his 
 former acquaintance with Mildred, the result of which 
 we have seen. 
 
 Mortified beyond measure Arabella heard of her cou 
 sin's engagement, and when George came at last to 
 claim his bride, she refused to see him, wilfully absent 
 ing herself from home that she should not witness the 
 bridal, which took place one bright October morning, 
 when the forest-trees, as if in honor of the occasion, were 
 dressed in their most gorgeous robes, and the birds 
 were singing their farewell songs. 
 
 New misfortunes, however, awaited poor Arabella, 
 for scarcely was Mildred gone to her southern home 
 when the red flag of the auctioneer waved from the 
 windows of Mr. Greenleaf's luxurious house, which, 
 with its costly furniture, was sold to the highest bid 
 der, and the family were left dependent upon their 
 own exertions for support. When the first shock was 
 over, Mr. Greenleaf proposed that his daughter should 
 teach, and thus bring into use her boasted accomplish 
 ments. For a time Arabella refused, but hearing at 
 last of a situation which she thought might please her, 
 she applied for it by letter. But alas, the mistake she 
 made when she abandoned the spelling-book for the 
 piano, again stood in the way, for no one would employ 
 a teacher so lamentably ignorant of orthography. Nor 
 is it at all probable she will ever rise higher than her 
 present position that of a. plain sewer until she goes 
 back to first principles, and commences again the de 
 spised column beginning with " laker ! "
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 83 
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 THE usually quiet little village of Ellerton was, one 
 June morning, thrown into a state of great excitement 
 by the news that the large stone building on the hill, 
 which, for several years had been shut up, was at last 
 to have an occupant, and that said occupant was no 
 less a personage than its owner, Graham Thornton, 
 who, at the early age of twenty-eight, had been chosen 
 to fill the responsible office of judge of the county. 
 "Weary of city life, and knowing that a home in the 
 country would not materially interfere with the dis 
 charge of his new duties, particularly as Ellerton was 
 within half an hour's ride of the city, 3 r oung Thornton 
 had conceived the idea of fitting up the old stone house, 
 bequeathed to him by his grandfather, in a style suited 
 to his abundant means and luxurious taste. Accord 
 ingly, for several weeks, the people of Ellerton were 
 kept in a constant state of anxiety, watching, wonder 
 ing and guessing, especially Miss Olivia Macey, who 
 kept a small store in the outskirts of the village, and 
 whose fertile imagination supplied whatever her neigh 
 bors lacked in actual knowledge of the proceedings at 
 " Greystone Hall," as Judge Thornton called his place 
 of residence. 
 
 At last, everything was completed, and the day ap 
 pointed for the arrival of the Judge, who, disliking con,-
 
 ?A MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 fusion, had never once been near his house, but, after 
 a few general directions, had left the entire arrange 
 ment of the building and grounds to the management 
 of one whom he knew to be a connoisseur in such 
 matters. As was very natural, a great deal of curi 
 osity was felt concerning the arrival of the distin 
 guished stranger, and as his mother, a proud, stately 
 woman, was to accompany him, Miss Olivia Macey, 
 who boasted of having once been a schoolmate of the 
 haughty lady, resolved upon meeting them at the 
 depot, thinking she should thereby show them proper 
 respect. 
 
 " So Maggie," said she to her niece, a dark-haired, 
 white-browed girl of fifteen, who, at noon, came 
 bounding in from school, " so Maggie, you must watch 
 the store, for there's no knowing how long I shall be 
 gone. Mrs. Thornton may ask me home with her, and 
 it would not be polite to refuse." 
 
 For an instant Maggie's dark brown eyes danced 
 with mischief as she thought how improbable it was 
 that the lofty Mrs. Thornton would seek to renew her 
 acquaintance with one in Miss Macey's humble position, 
 but the next moment they filled with tears, and she 
 said, " Oh, aunt; must I stay from school again ? It is 
 the third time within a week. I never shall know 
 anything ! " 
 
 u Never mind, Mag," shouted little Ben, tossing his 
 cap across the room and helping himself to the largest 
 piece of pie upon the dinner-table. " Never mind. I'll 
 stay with you, for I don't like to go to school any way. 
 And we'll get our lessons at home." 
 
 Maggie knew how useless it would be to argue the 
 point, so with a dejected air she seated herself at the 
 open window and silently watched her aunt until she
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 35 
 
 disappeared in the distance then taking up her book, 
 she tried to study, but could not, for the heavy pain at 
 her heart which kept whispering of injustice done to 
 her, unconsciously, perhaps, by the only mother she 
 had ever known. Very dear to Miss Macey were the 
 orphan children of her only sister, and faithfully did 
 she strive to fulfil her trust, but she could not conceal 
 her partiality for fun-loving, curly -haired Ben, nor the 
 fact that the sensitive and ambitious Maggie, who 
 thirsted for knowledge, was wholly unappreciated and 
 misunderstood. Learning learning was what Maggie 
 craved, and she sat there alone that bright June after 
 noon, holding upon her lap the head of her sleeping 
 brother, and watching the summer shadows as they 
 chased each other over the velvety grass in the meadow 
 beyond, she wondered if it would ever be thus with 
 her would there never come a time when she could 
 pursue her studies undisturbed, and then, as she thought 
 that this day made her fifteen years of age, her mind 
 went forward to the future, and she said aloud " Yes 
 three years from to-day and I shall be free free as 
 the air I breathe ! " 
 
 But why that start, sweet Maggie Lee ? "Why that 
 involuntary shudder as you think of the long three 
 years from now? She cannot tell, but the shadows 
 deepen on her fair, girlish face, and leaning her brow 
 upon her hand, she thinks long and earnestly of what 
 the three years may bring. A footstep on the floor 
 the first which has fallen there that afternoon and 
 Maggie looks up to see before her a tall, fine-looking 
 man, who, the moment his eye fell upon her, checked 
 the whistle, intended for his dog, which was trembling 
 on his lip, and lifting his hat deferentially, he asked if 
 " this were Miss Macey's store ? "
 
 36 MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered Maggie, and laying Bennie 
 gently down, she went round behind the counter, while 
 the young man, gazing curiously at her, continued, 
 " You surely are not Miss Macey ? " 
 
 There was a most comical expression in the brown 
 eyes which met the black ones of the stranger, as Maggie 
 answered, " N"o sir, I am nobody but Maggie Lee. " 
 
 There must have been something attractive either 
 in the name or the little maiden who bore it, for long 
 after the gentleman had received the articles for which 
 he came, he lingered, asking the young girl numberless 
 questions and playing with little Ben, who, now wide 
 awake, met his advances more than half way, and was 
 on perfectly familiar terms both with the stranger and 
 the dog Ponto, who had stretched his shaggy length 
 before the door. 
 
 " Mag cries, she does, when Aunt Livy makes her 
 stay home from school, " said Ben, at last, beginning 
 to feel neglected and wishing to attract attention. 
 
 Showing his white, handsome teeth, the gentleman 
 playfully smoothed the silken curls of little Ben, and 
 turning to the blushing Maggie, asked " if she were 
 fond of books ? " 
 
 " Oh, I love them so much," was the frank, impulsive 
 answer, and ere ten minutes had passed away, Judge 
 Thornton, for he it was, understood Maggie's character 
 as well as if he had known her a lifetime. 
 
 Books, poetry, music, paintings, flowers, she wor 
 shiped them all, and without the slightest means either 
 of gratifying her taste. 
 
 " I have in my library many choice books, to which 
 you are welcome at any time when you will call at 
 Greystone Hall," the stranger said at last. 
 
 " Greystone Hall ! " gasped Maggie, the little red
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 37 
 
 spots coming out all over her neck and face " Grey- 
 stone Hall ! then you must be 
 
 " Judge Thornton, and your friend hereafter," an 
 swered the gentleman, offering his hand and bidding 
 her good-by. 
 
 There are moments which leave their impress upon 
 one's lifetime, changing instantaneously, as it were, 
 our thoughts and feelings, and such an one had come 
 to Maggie Lee, who was roused from a deep reverie 
 by the shrill voice of her aunt, exclaiming, " Well, I've 
 been on a Torn-fool's errand once in my life. Here 
 I've waited in that hot depot over two trains, and 
 heard at the last minute that Mrs. Thornton and her 
 son came up last night, and I hain't seen them after 
 all. It's too bad." 
 
 Very quietly Maggie told of the judge's call, repeat 
 ing all the particulars of the interview ; then stealing 
 away to her chamber, she thought again, wondering 
 where and what she would be three years from that 
 day. 
 
 A year has passed away, and Graham Thornton, 
 grown weary of his duties, has resigned the office of 
 judge, and turned school-teacher, so the gossiping 
 villagers say, and with some degree of truth, for regu 
 larly each day Maggie Lee and Ben go up to Grey- 
 stone Hall, where they recite their lessons to its owner, 
 though always in the presence of its lady mistress, 
 who has taken a strange fancy to Maggie Lee, and 
 whose white hand has more than once rested caress 
 ingly on the dark, glossy hair of the young girl. To a 
 casual observer, the Maggie of sixteen is little changed 
 from the Maggie of fifteen years ; but to him, her
 
 38 MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 teacher, she is not the same, for while in some respects 
 she is more a woman and less a child, in every thing- 
 pertaining to himself she is far more a child than 
 when first he met her one short }^ear ago. Then there 
 was about her a certain self-reliance, which is now all 
 gone, and he who has looked so often into the thoughts 
 and feelings of that childish heart knows he can sway 
 her at his will. 
 
 " But 'tis only a girlish friendship she feels for him," 
 he says ; " only a brotherly interest he entertains for 
 her ; " and so clay after day she comes to his library, 
 and on a low stool, her accustomed seat at his side, she 
 drinks in new inspirations with which to feed that 
 girlish friendship, while he, gazing down into her soft, 
 brown, dreamy eyes, feels more and more how neces 
 sary to his happiness is her daily presence there. And 
 if sometimes the man of the world asks himself " where 
 all this will end?" his conscience is quieted by the 
 answer that Maggie Lee merely feels toward him 
 as she would toward any person who had done her a 
 like favor. So all through the bright summer days 
 and through the hazy autumn time, Maggie dreams on, 
 perfectly happy, though she knows not why, for never 
 yet has a thought of love for him entered her soul. 
 She only knows that he to her is the dearest, best of 
 friends, and Greystone Hall the loveliest spot on earth, 
 but the wish that she might ever be its mistress has 
 never been conceived. 
 
 With the coming of the holidays the lessons were 
 suspended for a time, for there was to be company at 
 the hall, and the master would need all his leisure. 
 
 " I shall miss you so much," he said to Maggie, as he 
 walked with her across the fields which led to her 
 humble home. " I shall miss you, but the claims of
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 39 
 
 society must be met, and these ladies have long talked 
 of visiting us." 
 
 " Are they young and handsome ? " Maggie asked in 
 voluntarily. 
 
 " Only one Miss Helen Deane is accounted, a beauty. 
 She is an heiress, too, and the best match in all the city 
 
 of L ," answered Mr. Thornton, more to himself 
 
 than Maggie, who at the mention of Helen Deane felt 
 a cold shadow folding itself around her heart. 
 
 Alas, poor Maggie Lee. The world had long since 
 selected the proud Helen as the future bride of Graham 
 Thornton, who, as he walks slowly back across the 
 snowclad field, tramples upon the delicate footprints 
 you have made, and wishes it were thus easy to blot 
 out from his heart all memory of you ! Poor, poor 
 Maggie Lee, Helen Deane is beautiful, far more beauti 
 ful than you, and when in her robes of purple velvet, 
 with her locks of golden hair shading her soft eyes of 
 blue, she flits like a sunbeam through the spacious 
 rooms of Greystone Hall, waking their echoes with 
 her voice of richest melody, what marvel if Graham 
 Thornton does pay her homage, and reserves all 
 thoughts of you for the midnight hour, when the hall 
 is still and Helen's voice no longer heard ? He is but 
 a man a man, too, of the world, and so, though you, 
 Maggie Lee, are very dear to him, he does not think it 
 possible that he can raise you to his rank make you 
 the honored mistress of his home, and still lower him 
 self not one iota from the station he has ever filled. 
 And though his mother loves you, too, 'tis not with a 
 mother's love, and should children ever climb her knee 
 calling her son their sire, she would deem you a gover 
 ness befitting such as thej r , and nothing more. But all 
 this Maggie does not know, and when the visiting is over
 
 40 MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 and Helen Deane is gone, she goes back to her old 
 place and sits again at the feet of Graham Thornton, 
 never wondering why he seems so of ten lost in thought, 
 or why he looks so oft into her eyes of brown, trying 
 to read there that he has not wronged her. 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 Another year has passed, and with the light of the 
 full moon shining down upon him, Graham Thornton 
 walks again with Maggie Lee across the fields where 
 now the summer grass is growing. The footprints 
 in last winter's snow have passed away just as the 
 light will go out from Maggie's heart when Graham 
 Thornton shall have told the tale he has come with her 
 to tell. With quivering lips and bloodless cheek she 
 listened while he told her indifferently, as if it were a 
 piece of news she had probably heard before, that 
 when the next full moon should shine on Greystone 
 Hall, Helen Deane would be there his bride ! 
 
 " This, of course, will effectually break up our 
 pleasant meetings," he continued, looking everywhere 
 save in Maggie's face. " And this I regret but my 
 books are still at your disposal. You will like Helen, 
 I think, and will call on her of course." 
 
 They had reached the little gate, and taking Mag 
 gie's hand, he would have detained her for a few more 
 parting words, but she broke away, and in reply to his 
 last question, hurriedly answered, " Yes, yes." 
 
 The next moment he was alone alone in the bright 
 moonlight. The door was shut. There was a barrier 
 between himself and Maggie Lee, a barrier his own 
 hands had built, and never again, so long as he lived, 
 would Graham Thornton's conscience be at rest. Amid 
 all the pomp of his bridal day at the hour when, re 
 splendent with beauty, Helen stood by his side at the
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 41 
 
 holy altar, and breathed the vows which made her 
 his forever amid the gay festivities which followed, 
 and the noisy mirth which for days pervaded his 
 home, there was ever a still, small voice which whis 
 pered to him of the great wrong he had done to Mag 
 gie Lee, who never again was seen at Greystone Hall. 
 
 Much the elder Mrs. Thornton marveled at her ab 
 sence, and once when her carriage was rolling past the 
 door of the little store, she bade her coachman stop, 
 while she herself went in to ask if her favorite were ill. 
 Miss Olivia's early call at Greystone Hall had never 
 been returned, and now she bowed coldly and treated 
 her visitor with marked reserve, until she learned why 
 she had come ; then, indeed, her manner changed, but 
 she could not tell her how, on the night when Graham 
 Thornton had cruelly torn the veil from Maggie's, 
 heart leaving it crushed and broken, she had found her 
 long after midnight out in the tall, damp grass, Avhere, 
 in the wild abandonment of grief she had thrown her 
 self ; nor how in a calmer moment she had told her sad 
 story, exonerating him from wrong, and blaming only 
 herself for not having learned sooner how much she 
 loved one so far above her, so she simply answered, 
 " Yes, she took a violent cold and has been sick for 
 weeks. Her mother died of consumption ; I'm afraid 
 Maggie will follow." 
 
 " Poor girl, to die so young," sighed Mrs. Thornton, 
 as she returned to her carriage and was driven back to 
 Greystone Hall, where, in a recess of the window Gra 
 ham sat, his arm around his wife, and his fingers playing 
 with the curls of her golden hair. 
 
 But the hand dropped nervously at his side when his 
 mother startled him with the news that " Maggie Lee 
 was dying." Yery wonderingly the large blue eyes of
 
 42 MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 Helen followed him, as, feigning sudden faintness, he 
 fled out into the open air, which, laden though it was 
 with the perfume of the summer flowers, had yet no 
 power to quiet the voice within which told him that if 
 Maggie died, he alone was guilty of her death. " But 
 whatever I can do to atone for my error shall be done," 
 he thought at last, and until the chill November wind 
 had blasted the last bud, the choicest fruit and flowers 
 which grew at Greystone Hall daily found entrance to 
 the chamber of the sick girl, who would sometimes push 
 them away, as if there still lingered among them the 
 atmosphere they had breathed. 
 
 " They remind me so much of the past that I cannot 
 endure them, in my presence," she said one day when 
 her aunt brought her a beautiful bouquet, composed of 
 her favorite flowers, and the hot tears rained over the 
 white, wasted face, as she ordered them from the room. 
 
 Much she questioned both her aunt and Bennie of 
 her rival, whose beauty was the theme of the whole 
 village, and once, when told that she was passing, she 
 hastened to the window, but her cheek grew whiter still, 
 and her hands clasped each other involuntarily as she 
 saw by the side of the fair Helen the form of Graham 
 Thornton. They both were looking toward her win 
 dow, and as Helen met the burning gaze, she exclaimed, 
 " Oh, Graham, it is terrible. It makes me faint," and 
 shudderingly she drew nearer to her husband, who, to 
 his dying hour, never forgot the wild, dark eyes which 
 looked down so reproachfully upon him that memorable 
 wintry day. 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 Three years have passed away since the time when 
 first we met Avith Maggie Lee three years which 
 seemed so long to her then, and which have brought
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 43 
 
 her so much pain. She has watched the snow and ice 
 as they melted from off the hill-side. She has seen the 
 grass spring up by the open door has heard the robin 
 singing in the old oak tree has felt the summer air 
 upon her cheek. She has reached her eighteenth birth 
 day, and ere another sun shall rise will indeed be free. 
 
 " Oh, I cannot see her die," cried poor little Ben, 
 when he saw the pallor stealing over her face, and run 
 ning out into the yard he threw himself upon the grass, 
 sobbing bitterly, " My sister, oh, my sister." 
 
 " Is she worse ? " said the voice of Graham Thornton. 
 
 He was passing in the street and had heard the wail 
 ing cry. Ben knew that in some way Judge Thornton 
 was connected with his grief, but he answered respect 
 fully, " She is dying. " Oh, Maggie, Maggie. What 
 shall /do without her ? " 
 
 " You shall live with me," answered Mr. Thornton. 
 
 'Tvvas a sudden impulse, and thinking the assurance 
 that her brother should be thus provided for would be 
 a comfort to the dying girl, he glided noiselessly into 
 the sick room. But she did not know him, and falling 
 on his knees by her side, he wept like a little child. 
 " She was sleeping," they said, at last, and lifting up 
 his head, he looked upon her as she slept, while a fear, 
 undefined and terrible, crept over him, she lay so still 
 and motionless. At length rising to his feet, he bent 
 down so low that his lips touched hers, and then, with 
 out a word, he went out from her presence, for he knew 
 that Maggie Lee was dead ! 
 
 The next day, at sunset, they buried her in the valley 
 where the mound could always be seen from the 
 window of Graham Thornton's room, and, as with 
 folded arms and aching heart he stood by, while they 
 lowered the coffin to its resting-place, he felt glad that
 
 44 MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 it was so. " It will make me a better man," he thought, 
 " for when evil passions rise, and I am tempted to do 
 wrong, I have only to look across the fields toward the 
 little grave which but for me would not have been 
 made so soon, and I shall be strengthened to do what is 
 right." 
 
 Slowly and sadly he walked away, going back to his 
 home, where, in a luxuriously furnished chamber, on a 
 couch whose silken hangings swept the floor, lay his 
 wife, and near her his infant daughter, that day four 
 weeks of age. As yet she had no name, and when the 
 night had closed upon them, and it was dark within the 
 room, Graham Thornton drew his chair to the side of 
 his wife, and in low, subdued tones, told her of the fair 
 young girl that day buried from his sight. Helen was 
 his wife, a gentle, faithful wife, and he could not tell 
 her how much he had loved Maggie Lee, and that but 
 for his foolish pride she would perhaps at that moment 
 have been where Helen was, instead of sleeping in her 
 early grave. No, he could not tell her this, but he told 
 her Maggie had been very dear to him, and that he 
 feared it was for the love of him that she had died. 
 " I wronged her, Nellie, darling," he said smoothing 
 the golden tresses which lay upon the pillow. " / 
 broke her heart, and now that she is gone I would 
 honor her memory by calling our first-born daughter 
 MAGGIE LEE. 'Tis a beautiful name," he continued. 
 " and you will not refuse my request." 
 
 There was much of pride in Helen Thornton's nature, 
 and she did refuse, for days and even weeks ; but when 
 she saw the shadows deepened on the brow of her hus 
 band, who would stand for hours looking out through 
 the open window toward the valley where slept the 
 village dead, and when the mother, in pity for her son,
 
 MAGGIE LEE. 45 
 
 joined also in the request, she yielded ; and, as if the 
 sacrifice were accepted and the atonement good, the 
 first smile which ever dimpled the infant's cheek, played 
 on its mouth, as with its large, strange, bright eyes 
 fixed upon its father's face, it was baptized " Maggie 
 
 Lee." 
 
 * % * * * * * 
 
 Four years of sunshine and storms have fallen upon 
 Maggie's grave, where now a costly marble stands, while 
 the handsome iron fence and the well-kept ground 
 within show that some hand of love is often busy there. 
 In a distant city Ben is striving to overcome his old 
 dislike for books, and seeking to make himself what he 
 knows his sister would wish him to be. At home, the 
 little store has been neatly fitted up, and Miss Olivia 
 sits all day long in her pleasant parlor, feeling sure that 
 the faithful clerk behind the counter will discharge his 
 duties well. Greystone Hall is beautiful as ever, with 
 its handsome rooms, its extensive grounds, its winding 
 walks, its bubbling fountains and its wealth of flowers, 
 but there is a shadow over all a plague-spot which 
 has eaten into the heart of Graham Thornton, and 
 woven many a thread of silver among his raven locks. 
 It has bent the stately form of his lady mother, and his 
 once gay-hearted wife wanders with a strange unrest 
 from room to room, watching ever the uncertain foot 
 steps of their only child, whose large, dark eyes, so much 
 like those which, four long years ago flashed down on 
 Helen their scrutinizing gaze, are darkened forever .for 
 little Maggie Lee is Hind ! 
 
 They are getting somewhat accustomed to it now 
 accustomed to calling her their " poor, blind bird," but 
 the blow was crushing when first it came, and on the 
 grave in the valley, Graham Thornton more than once
 
 46 MAGGIE LEE. 
 
 laid his forehead in the dust, and, cried, " My punish 
 ment is greater than I can bear." 
 
 But He " who doeth all things well," has in a measure 
 healed the wound, throwing so much of sunshine and 
 of joy around her, who never saw the glorious light of 
 day, that with every morning's dawn and every even 
 ing's shade, the fond parents bless their little blind girl, 
 the angel of their home.
 
 THE ANSWERED PRAYEE. 47 
 
 THE ANSWERED PRAYER. 
 
 ALL day long the canary bird had sung unheeded in 
 his gilded cage by the door, and the robin had caroled 
 unheard by his nest in the tall maple tree, while the soft 
 summer air and the golden rays of the warm June sun 
 entered unnoticed the open windows of the richly 
 furnished room, where a pale young mother kept her 
 tireless watch by the bedside of her only child, a beau 
 tiful boy, three summers old. For many days he bad 
 hovered between life and death, while she, his mother, 
 had hung over him with speechless agony, terrible to 
 behold in one so young, so fair as she. He was her all, 
 the only happiness she knew, for poor Lin a Hastings 
 was an unloving wife, who never yet had felt a thrill of 
 joy at the sound of her husband's voice, and when oc 
 casionally his broad hand rested fondly upon her flow 
 ing curls, while he whispered in her ear how dear she 
 was to him, his words awoke no answering chord of 
 love. 
 
 How came she then his Avife and the mistress of his 
 princely home ? Alas ! wealth was then the god which 
 Lina Moore worshiped, and when Ralph Hastings, 
 with his uncouth form and hundreds of thousands asked 
 her to be his wife, she stifled the better feelings of her 
 nature which prompted her to tell him No, and with a 
 gleam of pride in her dark blue eyes, and a deeper glow
 
 48 THE ANSWERED PRAYER. 
 
 upon her cheek, she one day passed from the bright 
 sunshine of heaven into the sombre gloom of the gray 
 old church, whence she came forth Lina Hastings, 
 shuddering even as she heard that name, and shrinking 
 involuntarily from the caresses which the newly made 
 husband bestowed upon her. And so the love she 
 withheld from him was given to the child who now 
 lay motionless and white as the costly linen on which 
 his golden curls were streaming. 
 
 All day she had watched him, for they told her that 
 if he lived until the sun setting, there was hope, and as 
 the hours wore on and the long shadows, stretching to 
 the eastward, betokened the approach of night, oh, how 
 intense became the anxiety in her bosom. Fainter and 
 softer grew the sunlight on the floor, and whiter grew 
 the face of the sleeping boy. 'Twas the shadow of 
 death, they said, and with a bitter wail of woe, Lina 
 fell upon her knees, and as if she would compel the 
 God of Heaven to hear her, she shrieked, " Spare my 
 child. Let him live, and I will bear whatsoever else 
 of evil thou shalt send upon me. Afflict me in any 
 other way and I can bear it, but spare to me my 
 child." 
 
 In mercy or in wrath, Lina Hastings' prayer was an 
 swered. The pulse grew stronger beneath her touch 
 the breath came faster through the parted lips a 
 faint moisture was perceptible beneath the yellow curls, 
 and when the sun was set the soft eyes of Eddie Has 
 tings unclosed, and turned with a look of recognition 
 upon his mother, who, clasping him in her arms, wept 
 for joy, but returned no word or thought of gratitude 
 toward Him who had been thus merciful to her. 
 ******* 
 
 In a small brown cottage in a distant part of the
 
 THE ANSWERED PRAYER. 49 
 
 same village, another mother was watching beside her 
 first-born, only son. They had been friends in their 
 girlhood, she and Lina Hastings. Together they had 
 conned the same hard tasks together they had built 
 their playhouse beneath the same old chestnut tree 
 together, hand in hand, had they wandered over the 
 rocky hills and through the shady woods of New Eng 
 land, and at the same altar had they plighted their 
 marriage vows, the one to the man she loved, the 
 other to the man she tolerated for the sake of his sur 
 roundings. From this point their paths diverged, 
 Lina moving in the sphere to which her husband's 
 wealth had raised her, while Mabel Parkman one sad 
 morning awoke from her sweet dream of bliss to find 
 herself wedded to a drunkard ! Only they who like 
 her have experienced a similar awakening, can know 
 the bitterness of that hour, and yet methinks she was 
 happier than the haughty Lina, for her love was no 
 idle passion, and through weal and woe she clung 
 to her husband, living oft on the remembrance of 
 what he had been, and the hope of what he might be 
 again, and when her little Willie was first laid upon her 
 bosom, and she felt her husband's tears upon her cheek 
 as he promised to reform for her sake and for his son's, 
 she would not have exchanged her lot with that of the 
 proudest in the land. That vow, alas, was ere long 
 broken, and then, though she wept bitterty over his 
 fall, she felt that she was not desolate, for there was 
 music in her Willie's voice and sunshine in his presence. 
 But now he was dying, he was leaving her for ever, and 
 as she thought of the long, dark days when she should 
 look for him in vain, she staggered beneath the heavy 
 blow, and in tones as heart broken as those which had 
 fallen from Lina Hasting's lips, she prayed, " If it be
 
 50 THE ANSWERED PRAYER. 
 
 possible let this cup pass from me," adding, " Not my 
 will, oh God, but thine be done." 
 
 " I will do all things well," seemed whispered in her 
 ear, and thus comforted she nerved herself to meet the 
 worst. All the day she watched by her child, chafing 
 his little hands, smoothing his scanty pillow beneath 
 his head, bathing his burning forehead, and forcing 
 down her bitter tears when in his disturbed sleep he 
 would beg of his father to " bring him an orange a 
 nice yellow orange he was so dry." 
 
 Alas, that father was where the song of the inebriate 
 rose high on the summer air, and he heard not the plead 
 ings of his son. 'Twas a dreary, desolate room where 
 Willie Parkman lay, and when the sun went down and 
 the night shadows fell, it seemed darker, drearier still. 
 On the rude table by the window a candle dimly burned, 
 but as the hours sped on it flickered awhile in its 
 socket, then for an instant flashed up, illuminating the 
 strangely beautiful face of the sleeping boy, and went 
 out. 
 
 An hour later, and Willie awoke. Feeling for his 
 mother's hand, he said, " Tell me true, do drunkards 
 go to heaven ? " 
 
 " There is for them no promise," was the wretched 
 mother's answer. 
 
 " Then I shall never see pa again. Tell him good- 
 by, good-by forever." 
 
 The next time he spoke it was to ask his mother to 
 come near to him, that he might see her face once 
 more. She did so, bending low and stifling her own 
 great agony, lest it should add one pang to his dying 
 hour. 
 
 " I cannot see you," he whispered, " it is so dark so 
 dark."
 
 THE ANSWERED PRAYER. 51 
 
 Oh, what would not that mother have given then for 
 one of the lights which gleamed from the windows of 
 the stately mansion where Eddie Hastings was watched 
 by careful attendants. But it could not be, and Avhen 
 at last the silvery moonbeams came struggling through 
 the open window and fell upon the white brow of the 
 little boy they did not rouse him, for a far more glorious 
 light had dawned upon his immortal vision even the 
 light of the Everlasting. 
 
 ****** 
 
 In her tasteful boudoir sat Lina Hastings, and at 
 her side, on a silken lounge, lay Eddie, calmly sleeping. 
 The crisis was past she knew he Avould live, and her 
 cup of happiness Avas full. Suddenly the morning still 
 ness was broken by the sound of a tolling bell. 'Twas 
 the same which, but for God's mercy, would at that 
 moment, perhaps, have tolled for her boy, and Lina in 
 voluntarily shuddered as she listened to the strokes, 
 which, at first, were far between. Then they came 
 faster, and as Lina counted Jive, she said aloud, " 'Twas 
 a child but two years older than Eddie." 
 
 Later in the day it came to her that the bereaved 
 one was her early friend, whom now she seldom met. 
 Once Lina would have flown to Mabel's side, and poured 
 into her ear words of comfort, but her heart had grown 
 hard and selfish, and so she only said, " Poor Mabel, 
 she never was as fortunate as I " and her eye glanced 
 proudly around the elegantly -furnished room, falling 
 at last upon Eddie, whom she clasped to her bosom 
 passionately, but without thought of Him who had de 
 creed that not then should she be written childless. 
 
 The humble funeral was over. The soft, green turf 
 had been broken, and the bright June flowers had fallen
 
 52 THE ANSWERED PRAYER. 
 
 beneath the old sexton's spade as he dug the little 
 grave where Willie Parkman was laid to rest. In the 
 drunkard's home there was again darkness and a silence 
 which would never be broken by the prattle of a child 
 ish voice. Sobered, repentant, and heartbroken, the 
 wretched father laid his head in the lap of his faithful 
 wife, beseeching of her to pray that the vow that morn 
 ing breathed by Willie's coffin and renewed by Willie's 
 grave might be kept unbroken. And she did pray, poor 
 Mabel. With her arms around the neck of the weep 
 ing man, she asked that this, her great bereavement, 
 might be sanctified to the salvation of her erring hus 
 band. 
 
 " I will do all things well," again seemed whispered 
 in her ear, and Mabel felt assured that Willie had not 
 died in vain. 'Twas hard at first for Robert Parkman 
 to break the chains which bound him, but the remem 
 brance of Willie's touching message " Tell pa good- 
 by, good-by forever," would rush to his mind when 
 ever he essayed to take the poisonous bowl, and thus 
 was he saved, and when the first day of a new year 
 was ushered in, he stood with Mabel at the altar, and 
 on his upturned brow received the baptismal waters, 
 while the man of God broke to him the bread of life. 
 Much that night they missed their child, and Mabel's 
 tears fell like rain upon the soft, chestnut curl she had 
 severed from his head, but as she looked upon her hus 
 band, now strong again in his restored manhood, she 
 murmured " It was for this that Willie died, and I 
 would not that it should be otherwise." 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 Fifteen years have passed away since the day when 
 Lina Hastings breathed that almost impious prayer 
 " Send upon me any evil but this," and upon the deep
 
 THE ANSWERED PRAYER. 53 
 
 blue waters of the Pacific a noble vessel lay becalmed. 
 Fiercely the rays of a tropical sun poured down upon 
 her hardy crew, but they heeded it not. With anxious, 
 frightened faces and subdued step, they trod the deck, 
 speaking in whispers of some dreaded event. There 
 had been mutiny on board that man-of-war a deep- 
 laid plot to murder the commanding officers, and now, 
 at the sun-setting, the instigators, four in number, were 
 to pay the penalty of their crime. Three of them 
 were old and hardened in sin, but the fourth, the 
 fiercest spirit of all 'twas said, was young and beauti 
 ful to look upon. In the brown curls of his waving 
 hair there were no threads of silver, and on his brow 
 there were no lines save those of reckless dissipation, 
 while his beardless cheek was round and smooth as 
 that of a girl. Accustomed from his earliest childhood 
 to rule, he could not brook restraint, and when it was 
 put upon him, he had rebelled against it, stirring up 
 strife, and leading on his comrades, who, used as they 
 were to vice, marveled that one so young should be so 
 deeply depraved. 
 
 The sun was set. Darkness was upon the mighty 
 deep, and the waves moved by the breeze which had 
 sprung up, seemed to chant a mournful dirge for the 
 boy who, far below, lay sleeping in a dishonored grave, 
 if grave it can be called, where 
 
 " The purple mullet and gold fish rove, 
 Where the sea flower spreads its leaves of blue 
 Which never are wet with the falling dew, 
 But in bright and changeful beauty shine 
 Far down in the depths of the glassy brine." 
 
 Over the surging billow and away to the northward, 
 other robins are singing in the old maple-tree than
 
 54 THE ANSWERED PRAYER 
 
 those which sang there years ago, when death seemed 
 brooding o'er the place. Again the summer shadows 
 fall aslant the bright green lawn, and the soft breezes 
 laden with the perfume of a thousand flowers kiss the 
 faded brow of Lina Hastings, but they bring no glad 
 ness to her aching heart, for her thoughts are afar on 
 the deep with the wayward boy who, spurning alike 
 her words of love and censure, has gone from her " to 
 return no more forever," he said, for he left her in 
 bitter anger. For three years the tall grass has grown 
 over the grave of her husband, who to the last was 
 unloved, and now she is alone in her splendid home, 
 watching at the dawn of day and watching at the hour 
 of eve for the return of her son. 
 
 Alas, alas, fond mother, Mabel Parkman in her 
 hour of trial, never felt a throb of such bitter agony 
 as that which wrung your heart-strings when first you 
 heard the dreadful story of your disgrace. There were 
 days and weeks of wild frenzy, during which she would 
 shriek, " Would to Heaven he had died that night 
 when he was young and innocent," and then she grew 
 calm, sinking into a state of imbecility from which 
 naught had power to rouse her. 
 
 A year or two more, and they made for her a grave 
 by the side of her husband, and the hearts which in 
 life were so divided, now rest quietly together, while 
 on the costly marble above them there is inscribed the 
 name of their son, who sleeps alone and unwept in. 
 the far-off Southern Seas. 
 
 THE END.
 
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