THE 
 
 HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ELIXIR OF GOLD. 
 
 
 MRS. C. A. WARFIELD. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "A DOUBLE WEDDING; Qff, HOW SHE WAS WON." 
 
 TWO VOLUMES COMPLETE IN ONE. 
 
 "For over all there hung a cloud of fear : 
 A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, 
 And said as plain ais whisper in the ear, 
 The place is haunted." THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 "I'll keep this secret, 
 As warily as those that deal inpmson 
 Seep poison from their children." WEBSTER. 
 
 " '/ shuddered ab the sight,' 
 Said Margaret, 'for I knew it was his hand 
 That placed it (here.'" WORDSWORTH. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BEOTHEES, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 MRS. C, A. WARHELD'S NEW WORKS. 
 
 Each, is complete in one volume, cloth, price $1.75. 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE; or, the Elixir of Gold. 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING; or, HOW SHE WAS WON. 
 
 From Marion Ha.rla.nd, author of "Alone," "Hidden Path" etc. 
 " As to Mrs. Warfleld's wonderful book, the ' Household of Bonverie,' I have read it 
 twice tne second time more carefully than the first and I use the term ' wonderful,' 
 because it best expresses the feeling uppermost in m^jnin*L botb^vvlli 
 thinking it over. Aa a piece of imaginative writing^Lnave^ten ^Ui 
 since the days of Edgar A. Poe, and I doubt whethef hej!8uldllRveT*Staiiled Ifl 
 and the reader through a book of half the size of tlj^iiwtwehold-DflJOITfPm?'' 
 literally hurried through it by my intense sympathy, my devouring curiosity it was 
 more than interest. I read everywhere between the courses of the hotel-table, on 
 the boat, in the cars until I had swallowed the last line. This is no common occur- 
 rence with a veteran romance reader like myself." 
 
 from Gail Hamilton, author of "Gala Days," etc. 
 
 " ' The Household of Bouverie ' is one of those nuisances of books that pluck out 
 all your teeth, and then dare you to bite them. Your interest is awakened in the first 
 chapter, and you are whirled through in a lightning-express train that leaves you no 
 opportunity to look at the little details of wood, and lawn, and river. You notice two 
 or three little peculiarities of style one or two ' bits ' of painting and then you pull 
 on your seveu-Ieagued boots, and away you go." 
 
 From John G. Saxe, the Poet. 
 
 " ' The Household of Bouverie ' is a strange romance, and will bother the critics not 
 a little. The interest of the book is undeniable, and is wonderfully sustained to the 
 end of the story. I think it exhibits far more power tban any lady-novel of recent 
 date, and it certainly has the rare merit of entire originality." 
 
 From George Ripley's Review of "The Household of Bouverie" in Harper's Magazine. 
 " ' The Household of Bouverie ' betrays everywhere a daring boldness of conception, 
 singular fertility of illustration, and a combined beauty and vigor of expression, which 
 it would be difficult to match in any recent works of fiction. In these days, when the 
 most milk-and-watery platitudes are so often welcomed as sibylline inspirations, it is 
 somewhat refreshing to meet with a female novel-writer who displays the unmistakable 
 fire of genius, however terrific its brightness." 
 
 4&- Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of either one, or both 
 of the above books, will be sent at once to any one, to any place, postage pre-pald, on 
 remitting their price iu a letter to the Publishers, 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
 
 or ASIIWOOD, LOITISIASA, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DKDiCATKD, SOT MOKE FROM REGARD TO THB LIVING THAN IN MEMORY 
 OF THE DEAD, 
 
 Iff HER FBIEND ANJ) KINSWO3I IS, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 2051393
 
 f '
 
 TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 "FoR us, and for our tragedie, 
 Here {looping to your clemencie, 
 We beg your hearing patiently." 
 
 HAMLET, Prologue.
 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 
 "The fountains of my heart dried up within me, 
 With none to love me and with none to love, 
 I stood upon the desert earth, alone." 
 
 MATURIN. 
 
 " I should sin 
 To think but nobly of my grandmother." 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 ** And soon within her hospitable hall, 
 fine saw his white hairs glittering in the light 
 Of the woodfire, and round his shoulders fall, 
 And his wan visage and his withered mien, 
 Yet calm and gentle and majestical, 
 Such was Zonora." 
 
 SHELLEY (Prince Athanase).
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOWERIE. 
 
 BOOK 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT was evening when we reached the goal of a long journey by 
 sea and land, and saw, brought out into picturesque relief by 
 the red-setting sun and the dun clouds around it, the broad and 
 singular mansion that was thenceforth to be my home. As we 
 paused for a moment at the gate, difficult to move from long 
 disuse, and swinging slowly back on its obelisks of stone, I clung 
 with a feeling of vague terror to my companion's arm, and my 
 eyes dwelt anxiously on his features, as if in their impassible 
 calm I could read my future. 
 
 This stranger for I had never seen his face nor heard his 
 name, until, armed with some authority none dared or cared to 
 dispute, he stood in Taunton Tower, and claimed the right to 
 convey me to a new home in a foreign land, and to relatives I 
 had never known now seemed my nearest friend. Insensibly 
 during our long journey, his quiet voice and manner had stolen 
 through the crust of my reserve, and won my entire confidence 
 a confidence never partially accorded.
 
 10 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 His gaze, his smile, his tones, his very gestures, were instinct 
 with a latent melancholy power potent with a nature like my 
 own, quick to impetuosity ; yet, now he did not notice me, intent 
 as he had heretofore been on my slightest requisitions ; but 
 gazing forward with a strange eagerness I had not marked in him 
 previously, he murmured between his set teeth : 
 
 " God grant us good tidings ; what may not have happened 
 during this long and cruel absence ?" 
 
 The carriage, which had brought us from the nearest town, 
 now wound through the shadowed gravel road that led to the 
 
 mansion's front a i*6ad evidently little used for such a purpose, 
 
 jr 
 for the dark, unpruned branches above us swept constantly across 
 
 its roof and windows with a harsh, grating sound that made my 
 blood curdle. 
 
 " They seem to "be trying to drive us back," I said at last. 
 
 " ' They ?' To whom do you refer, Lilian ?" asked Dr. Quintil, 
 starting as if from reverie. " Have you seen any one ?" 
 
 " Only the branches," I replied with a little childish laugh that 
 ended in a long-drawn sigh. " Oh dear ! I wish we were on the 
 sea again ; I was so happy there !" And I clasped his hand 
 timidly. 
 
 " Be pacified, Lilian. You shall still be happy if there is 
 power in affection to render you so. You are led here, I trust, 
 for some wise though yet undeveloped purpose, known only to 
 God." 
 
 " I did not know you were a preacher before, Dr. Quintil," I 
 said, impressed by the solemn fervor of his words, and uncon- 
 scious of the slightest irony in mine. 
 
 A half smile curled his lip. " Nor am I, Lilian nor am I. 
 But do not speak to me again just now, for I"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVER1E. 11 
 
 The unfinished explanation was not needed. I saw with the 
 quick discernment of childhood, that he was shaken with emotion, 
 and imagination supplied the cause. 
 
 "He is afraid some one is dead," I thought. " I would not 
 care if they were all dead ! Then I could live alone with him, in 
 peace, and be his daughter. Oh 1 I am sure I shall neyer love 
 these strangers." 
 
 And the memory of those I had loved, swept across my soul 
 with surpassing bitterness. I wept aloud. 
 
 " Child, child ; this will not do," said Dr. Quintil, almost 
 sternly. " A little patience, a little self-command, is necessary 
 now. What moves you thus ?" 
 
 "I was thinking of my grandmother," I answered, wiping my eyes 
 as quickly and quietly as I could. " Oh, Dr. Quintil, you did not 
 see her when she was laid at rest, or you could never forget her ! 
 Such a sweet, noble face ; such snow-white hair, brought low on 
 her thin pale cheeks ; and a smile of such perfect peace lying on 
 her mouth like sunshine on a grave ! I was thinking of her thus, 
 as I shall never see her again." 
 
 He listened to me with a grave attention ; yet it seemed to me 
 he was scarcely able to repress a sort of sad smile, peculiar to 
 him, as he inclined his ear to hear me. Strange to say, this 
 encouraged me to proceed, for its source I knew was in sympathy, 
 not derision. 
 
 " They say she was very old," I continued ; " and that I ought 
 to be reconciled to her death because of her great age. But I 
 think we love people the more the older* they grow ; don't you, 
 Dr. Quintil ?" 
 
 " Not always," he said at last. " Old people are often selfish 
 and hard-hearted, and then they 'surely are not lovely."
 
 12 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 " All grandmothers must be old," I hazarded. Then added, 
 after a pause, " Is my grandmother Bouverie one of the kind of old 
 people you speak about ? Oh, I hope not I hope not ; but I 
 am so afraid." And I clung to his arm with spasmodic anguish. 
 
 " Your grandmother Bouverie old, my child !" he said, with a 
 sort of amused indignation. " I hare never before connected the 
 word with her. We have lived so much together that the process 
 has been a very gradual one too gradual to be perceptible ; and 
 yet, after all, when I consider the matter, she certainly is not 
 young, as the word goes. But stay, here we are ; I thank you, 
 Lilian, that you so beguiled the way that I scarcely knew how 
 near home we were, and anxious thought was laid at rest." 
 
 " And this is to be my home I" 
 
 I drew back, and remained buried in shawls in the corner of 
 the carriage, hiding my face with willful perversity, and crying 
 silently yet bitterly. 
 
 " Come out, Lilian," said Dr. Quintil, a little sternly, I thought. 
 " Give me your hand, and be calm, if you have any regard for my 
 feelings. There is no time to lose," he whispered. " Look up, 
 here is your uncle Jasper." 
 
 I turned. I was composed, with one of those quick impulses 
 familiar to my nature, to my race an impulse of self-command, 
 if such a term may be applied to that which is usually -considered 
 the very antipodes of impulse. I smiled, I stretched forth my 
 hands, and blindly embraced my uncle Jasper, and was strained 
 silently to his bosom. 
 
 "Now come to your, grandmother," said Dr. Quintil; "and 
 Tasper, how how are all of you ?" He paused a moment, hold 
 ing my hand tightly in his. I did not hear Jasper's reply, but 
 fudged it farorable from the hearty " Thank God !" that seemed
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBDE. 18 
 
 to burst from the very depths of Dr. Quintil's heart. We passed 
 from theVestibule into a large circular hall, and, traversing this, 
 entered and crossed an oblong passage, from which a door imme- 
 diately before us gave into my grandmother's chamber. 
 
 It was half open, and I caught a glimpse of a lady walking the 
 floor in evident agitation, before we entered. She came rapidly 
 forward when she saw us, gave both her hands to Dr. Quintil 
 without speaking, and then, stooping down, embraced me tenderly 
 yet still in silence. 
 
 Drawing me back toward the broad window that opened almost 
 half of the whole end of the room, she unloosed the ribbons of my 
 travelling-hood, and laid it by ; then, putting back my hair, gazed 
 earnestly into ray face, murmuring perhaps unconsciously of the 
 impressions she received from the close, long scrutiny. 
 
 " A fair young face 1 not beautiful, perhaps, but better thus- 
 frank, and true, and strong ; a face to be relied on nothing of 
 him." These expressions seemed to drop from her lips rather than 
 to be spoken with any direction of the will. Raltying suddenly 
 from this mood of soliloquy, she smiled, and said, in more natural 
 tones : 
 
 " Lilian, you do not resemble any relatives that I have seen 
 of yours. I find you a De Courcy, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Yes, grandmother, so they say of me." 
 
 " The bloody glove is no heritage of yours, in any case," she 
 said, taking my hand, and speaking again in low and self-directed 
 accents. She found it cold, and led me to the hearth, where an 
 early autumn fire had been kindled more, it appeared, for cheer- 
 fulness than needful warmth ; and I sat well pleased in the blaze 
 of the crackling aromatic branches. 
 
 Dr. Quintil was already seated, stretching his hands over the
 
 14: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEEIE. 
 
 ruddy fagots, and wearing the sad and dissatisfied expression of 
 weariness and fatigue. She paused beside him, and laid one hand 
 kindly upon his forehead, as a mother or sister might have done. 
 
 " I fear that you are not well, Quintil," she said. " You seem 
 anxious, depressed ; what ails you, my dear friend ?" 
 
 " It is nothing, madam," he replied, reviving under the influence 
 of her touch, her words. " Nothing but the natural change that 
 action makes in all dreamers and solitary people, when they go 
 out, wholly unprepared, into the great whirl of life, and feel them- 
 selves, for the time, no more than dead leaves in the current. 
 
 " The reaction after such excitement is wearisome, nevertheless. 
 Oh ! Paul, I would your sphere of existence were widened. Your 
 powers demand this ; they rust, they corrode you here." 
 
 " Madam, you mistake me ; the harbor of home suits me best. 
 I am ill at ease elsewhere, and yearn for rest." 
 
 She sat down between us. "I will not question you now," 
 she said ; " but after awhile, when your spirits find their tranquil 
 level again, I know you will have much to tell me. We shall 
 have many happy evenings this winter, talking over this distant 
 
 | 
 
 pilgrimage in search of ' treasure trove.' And Lilian too," she 
 added, turning to me with her brilliant smile, " shall contribute 
 her recitals for our enjoyment." 
 
 I looked steadfastly upon her without replying, and as the red 
 firelight fell over her as a .crimson mantle, sparkling back from 
 her flashing dark eyes, white teeth and mobile lips, I thought 
 I had never seen so beautiful a woman. Lady Torrington, 
 even, as she swept past Taunton Tower on her grey charger, 
 dressed in her hunting dress of green and scarlet, had never 
 seemed so radiant to me ; and I wondered within myself, not 
 reflecting on the vast difference of years between them what had
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 15 
 
 made one of my grandmothers infirm and aged, and sealed unfail- 
 ing youth and beauty on the brow of the other! I thought of 
 the man who drank of the waters of eternal youth wondered 
 whether " Ponce de Leon" had indeed succeeded in discovering a 
 fountain of this kind in Florida, as I had read he did in some old 
 history or legend of his life; and finally, following out the tissue 
 of thought until it assumed another shape, spoke aloud: 
 
 " Grandmother, did my mother look like you?" 
 
 She hesitated ; then answered hurriedly: " I do not know, my 
 child, I never saw your mother after she was one day old, save in 
 a vision of fearful reality." Again she paused, with her hands 
 folded on her knee, and gazed fixedly into the fire. 
 
 " Her pictures do not resemble me," she resumed in a sort of 
 dreaming way, shaking her head slowly, "not in the least, Lilian; 
 her features seem to have been her father's P? 
 
 I was checked from further remark by the shadow of ineffable 
 grief that seemed to fall over my grandmother's face as she spoke 
 these words. 
 
 The light died from her eyes; her cheek her lips grew wan, 
 and even shrunken, as though the impress of that age which her 
 beauty defied, had suddenly fixed itself irresistibly on every 
 feature. 
 
 But at the first change in the conversation she raised her head, 
 so buoyantly and elegantly placed that it conveyed the impression 
 to the beholder of constantly renewed hope and expectancy; the 
 color returned to her cheek, the light to her eye ; her youth 
 seemed restored to her, as by some magic process. I did not 
 then define, as I am doing now, these changes in expression 
 that so powerfully ruled her aspect ; the effect was all I recog- 
 nized. It must have been later when these things begun to
 
 16 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 assume more importance in my sight that I remarked the rare 
 perfection of her foot and hand, her noble throat and neck, her 
 still symmetrical, though no longer strictly slender waist. At 
 first I was struck only by her grace and beauty, as they diffused 
 themselves over her whole mien and expression, and the look of 
 truth, of pride, of power, that beamed from her features. 
 
 " But, my uncle Jasper 1" 
 
 Surely no face of angel traced by the hand of Raphael, 
 no aspect of holy martyr transfigured into beauty by the near 
 approach to heaven, was ever more lovely, more divine than 
 his! 
 
 The large, clear blue eyes, the waving chestnut hah 1 , tinged with 
 sunshine, the ivory complexion, the exquisite profile, feminine yet 
 not effeminate ; the mouth rigidly beautiful, as if from suffering and 
 determined endurance these in their fullness struck me then in 
 their detail later; but when he rose I saw that he was writhed 
 and shrunken on one side of his figure, and that he leaned upon 
 his cane habitually, whether standing or walking. Yet, beautiful 
 as were both mother and son, they did not greatly resemble 
 each other, either in manner, expression or physical construction. 
 That slender form, that angelic face, must have been my uncle 
 Jasper's heritage from another parent long laid in dus*, the very 
 mention of whose name seemed to throw a shadow over the house- 
 hold of Bouverie.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MY grandmother's spacious bed-room, ending in a half octagon, 
 formed a central projection from the rear of the building. Three 
 doors opened into this apartment from the sides that joined the 
 house, and presented a stiff array, separated as they were by wide 
 panels lined with mirrors. The central door opened with leaves 
 into a square or rather oblong hall; the others, narrower and of 
 simpler construction, gave into small rooms, evidently partitioned 
 from the hall for convenience rather than symmetry, since the 
 effect to the eye must have been far more liberal when the pas- 
 sage swept across the house, as I knew afterward it had origin- 
 ally done. One of these chambers, some twelve feet square only, 
 yet lofty and well ventilated, had been fitted up for me with a 
 care and taste that left me nothing to regret, even when I com- 
 pared it with the comfort and luxury of my former home. That 
 which I supposed to correspond with it on the other side (which 
 indeed the form and size ot the mansion made evidently the case), 
 was kept strictly locked ; and at first I conceived it to be my 
 grandmother's oratory recalling that of the mistress of Taunton 
 Tower or study, perhaps, where books and paintings, sacred to 
 her eye alone, were cautiously concealed, as I had heard was the 
 enstom among the authors and artists of the world. 
 
 But my grandmother, I soon discovered, was neither the one 
 dor the other ; and when I found how simple and even homely 
 were the details of her every-day life, I descended from my pedes- 
 tal of fancy, and determined that this " Blue beard chamber,"
 
 8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 so mysterious and inaccessible to me, was nothing more or less 
 than a shy woman's dressing-room A deep reticence of nature 
 did indeed underlie, in a very remarkable degree, the sparkling 
 cordiality of my grandmother's manner. You stumbled on thia 
 constitutional or habitual reserve, accidentally sometimes, as you 
 might do on a stone hid in a bed of flowers, and with something 
 of the same sharp sudden anguish ; but I am digressing to speak 
 of this now. I wish to give at once, for reasons that will be 
 plainer hereafter, as correct an idea as I know how to convey by 
 words, of the construction of the house of Bouverie. 
 
 The central building, as seen from without, built as it was oi 
 the dun-colored sandstone common to that region, consisted of two 
 stories surmounted by a circular dome or cupola. A glitter on 
 the roof of this superstructure, which was observable at some 
 distance from the mansion, pointed to the idea of a skylight or 
 glass framework, which might in the beginning have lit the lower 
 as well as the upper hall, if such indeed existed. No evidence 
 that an upper floor formed any portion of the house was afforded 
 by its internal construction ; it contained no stairway, and the 
 circular hall of entrance was ceiled over, so as to shut out any 
 connection with that which might have been supposed to lie 
 above it. 
 
 The house was built in the outline of a disproportioned cross, 
 in which the small square vestibule in front, my grandmother's 
 projecting chamber in the rear, and the two long wings, contain- 
 ing severally the gentlemen's apartments and accommodations and 
 offices for servants, represented the four limbs. The main build- 
 ing contained only, as far as the eye could see within, the central 
 circular hall to which I have already referred, and one large room 
 on either hand opening from this rotunda, and made square, or
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 19 
 
 rather oblong, by means of triangular closets. The lateral hall, 
 with its divided chambers, completed the quadrangle. 
 
 I understood later how it was that after her husband's death, 
 one of violence and horror it was whispered, my grandmother had 
 cut off all communication with those upper rooms which he had 
 chiefly inhabited, associated in her mind as they were with 
 bloodshed and self-slaughter; and how, as the dark legend crept 
 stealthily around, that night after night he might still be heard 
 walking their floors, and had even been seen descending the spiral 
 stairs that linked one circular hall with the other, while the moon 
 shone down through the great skylight, revealing to the startled 
 watchers his ghastly lineaments and spectral form she had, in 
 the desperation of her fear and agony, sealed up forever those 
 haunted and accursed chambers. For this purpose the stairway 
 had been removed, and the space between the two halls floored 
 and ceiled. This was done with an expedition that made food for 
 conjecture in the neighborhood, having its origin, doubtless, in 
 the almost frenzied terror of her own sensations, that caused her 
 to spare neither expense nor urgency to have her alterations 
 executed with dispatch. The workmen who performed this task 
 were summoned from a distant town, and spoke in a foreign 
 tongue. They came and went like shadows; and hi this manner 
 she evaded, as much as possible, the neighborhood gossip and 
 espionage which must otherwise have so annoyed her in her 
 crushed condition. For, at the tune all this was done, my grand- 
 father's fearful death was recent; and the same artisans who 
 removed the stairs, and sealed away from sight and access those 
 abhorred upper apartments, placed the simple marble obelisk 
 which bore his name, above his grave in the cedar grove. 
 
 A great lamp swung in the centre of that circular hall now,
 
 20 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEEIE. 
 
 where the sunlight and moonlight had once streamed freely down 
 from the transparent roof ; and the restless ghost might walk 
 forever in those large dim chambers, with their nailed-up windows, 
 and disused and mouldering furniture, and disquiet no one. 
 
 "Not one article was touched or brought away, Miss Lilian, 
 that ever belonged to him" added my informant in low whispered 
 tones, the old demure, and yet gossiping woman who assisted at 
 my toilet, and who had lived with my grandmother and cared for 
 her since her birtfi ;. " not one article, lest a curse might cleave to 
 it and fall on ?w ; and still he may be heard at tunes don't be 
 frightened, Miss Lilian ! walking, walking, the livelong night, 
 the livelong day even, as though no rest were granted him in the 
 other world, who took no rest in this." 
 
 I had hidden my face on Dame Bianca's arm as she proceeded 
 in her vague narration, thrilled by a momentary terror. Now I 
 looked up and was annoyed by the expression of her countenance 
 as my sudden glance fell upon it. She seemed to be enjoying the 
 emotion she had insDired me with, and a furtive and half sup- 
 pressed smile lurked on her lips and in her eyes that shook my 
 confidence in the sincerity of her representations. 
 
 " She is trying to fool me," I thought, " with this ghost-story, 
 and to make a coward of me ; but I know there is nothing of the 
 kind." 
 
 And nervea by this sudden conviction, I proceeded to question 
 her with more coolness and sagacity than she could have expected 
 from one evidently so impressed with her narration a moment 
 before. 
 
 " What made my grandfather so restless, Dame Bianca ?" I 
 asked. " Was he unhappy and wicked, or only busy ?" 
 
 " All, oaild, all ! wretched enough, I daresay, when he stopped
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 21 
 
 to think of his misdeeds and busy always as any working-bee 
 hi summer-time. Busy with hand and brain, with pen and sword, 
 with drug and pistol, reading, and thinking, and plotting and con- 
 triving ; and trampling over every one that stood in his way, 
 without fear or mercy. But he was a great gentleman after all, 
 more like a prince than a common man it appeared to me, and so 
 grand in his ways, that no man could ever take a liberty with 
 him, not even the old master, Ursa Bouverie, that had no 
 respect for any one else, and trod on human feelings as a horse 
 treads on grass. Old ' Ursa Major,' they call him hereabouts ; 
 but I never could see the sense of putting his title last ; ' Major 
 Ursa ' would have sounded better, I think, Miss Lilian ?" 
 
 " Why, that means the great bear, Bianca," I said, laughing 
 heartily at the conceit, and entirely roused from the horrors of 
 her narrative ; forgetting too, in my amusement, the pique her 
 expression of triumph had occasioned me when she felt sure of 
 my credulity. " An excellent title, I have no doubt, for the cross 
 old man Ursa ! what a funny name for a Christian I" 
 
 " He was no Christian, Miss Lilian," she said gravely ; " but 
 a dreadful old heathen as the Lord ever permitted to live ! I 
 never knew how it was that your grandfather crept into his feel- 
 ings so toward the last, unless it was " and she hesitated, then 
 digressed abruptly. " ' She shall have a home of her own, if my 
 act can give it to her,' I heard him say one night about a week 
 before he died, when your grandfather his nephew, you know, 
 child, he was was talking with him about making his will in the 
 library, and he slammed his hand down just so on the table till it 
 shook again ! ' Shall I insert the clause now, uncle ?' I heard 
 Mr. Brastus Bouverie say in his soft sweet tones, more like trick-
 
 22 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVEKIE. 
 
 ling water or falling silver than any other sound I ever heard. 
 ' Or shall it be done later ?' 
 
 " ' You need not trouble yourself about it at all, Erastus,' the 
 old man answered ; ' after all your objections, it might give you 
 too much pain ; or maybe, you might accidentally leave a flaw !" 
 and old ' Ursa Major,' laughed long and loud." 
 
 " Oh, Bianca, that was very insulting to say to his nephew, I 
 think" 
 
 " Not for hmi, Miss Lilian, who never had a civil word for any 
 one except Miss Camilla ; but her he fairly worshipped. Any- 
 way, the look he got that night from Mister Erastus would have 
 killed any one else outright. Few people could stand before 
 your grandfather's eyes, I tell you, my child ; but he said no- 
 thing on this occasion, but went on writing. I have heard them 
 say that knew his disposition best, that ne aever justified himself 
 in any way but one." 
 
 " And that one, Bianca ?" 
 
 " Never mind, Miss Lilian, what that was, it was a dreadful 
 way at the best ; but as I was saying, he kept on writing in 
 silence. The old man did not live long afterward ; he died sud- 
 denly, you know, but he did not forget to add the clause, and 
 that was the way your grandmother came to own Bouverie." 
 
 " But where were you all the tune, Bianca, to see and hear so 
 much ? Were you hid away to spy and to listen, Bianca ? Oh, 
 I hope not, for the credit of our house." 
 
 " Busy in the next room, child, and the door ajar between ; but 
 if you hold such suspicions, you may learn the rest for yourself." 
 Aud the injured dame drew up her slight, erect figure in an 
 attitude that indicated fixed resolution ; nor could I hope to
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIK. 2ii 
 
 learn from any other source the unfinished history I burned to 
 know. 
 
 A little scene had been enacted before this conversation occurred 
 with Bianca, which taught me the necessity of self-control in the 
 household of Bouverie, both as to question and remark. I could 
 not venture, after this, to inquire of any member of the family 
 concerning my grandfather's fate or the events of his life, in view 
 of the lesson that my own indiscretion had taught me 
 
 It was on the day after my arrival, that, sitting at the supper- 
 table, during a long pause in the conversation, and while my 
 grandmother was especially engaged with her coffee-urn, I was 
 suddenly shaken by one of those unseasonable fits of laughter 
 common to excitable children. 
 
 " What amuses you, Lilian ?" asked Dr. Quintil. " Come, give 
 us your merry thought, and we will pluck it together." 
 
 " Oh, Dr. Quintil, I was only thinking how funny it was -and 
 I never thought of it until this minute, which makes it funnier 
 still that my uncle Jasper has never spoken one word to me since 
 I came to Bouverie ! Not one. word, Mister Jasper, have you 
 said to your niece since she came to live with you, either for good 
 or for bad," and I shook my finger playfully at him across the 
 table. 
 
 He gazed at me a moment earnestly, and then suffered his fore- 
 head to droop into his hands. Had I offended him ? I looked 
 anxiously at Dr. Quintil ; he, too, was pale and grave, and averted 
 his eyes from mine. My grandmother alone retained her self- 
 possession. 
 
 " My child," she said, " in this house, above all others, learn 
 to be discreet. It is our misfortune to be an afflicted household, 
 Jasper has never spoken."
 
 24 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOFVERIE. 
 
 i dropped the untasted morsel, and, in a passion of grief and 
 mortification, I slid from the table, and lay with my face on the 
 floor. I was raised by kindly hands. Jasper held me in his arms. 
 
 " Oh, what have I done !" I said ; " I did not know indeed I 
 did not know that one might hear, and still be dumb. Poor 
 Uncle Jasper ! Can you forgive me ?" 
 
 Words never spoke as his eyes spoke to me then. I have since 
 believed that in the spirit-world there will be no need of speech, 
 but that light, shining from each heavenly visage, shall reveal 
 whatever the immortal essence seeks to communicate, and words 
 be put away with other bonds of flesh. He held me to his bosom 
 long, for my feelings, when once vividly aroused, were not easily 
 consoled to quiet again ; and they told me that on that home of 
 peace I sobbed myself to rest. 
 
 Jasper my Jasper from that hour I loved thee as entirety 
 as I shall ever do when we meet at the feet of God 1
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I KNEW that all who cared for me in England were dead, and 
 lhat my hopes and affections must now, for my own happiness, be 
 centred in the household of Bouverie. My father's relative, who 
 anerited Taunton Tower, had been long in India. He was old, 
 cniidJ^ss, diseased, and totally alienated, as they told me, from 
 family and country. He had not thought of me, except as an 
 incumbrance in my double orphanhood, and must have been re- 
 lieved to find me swept out of sight when he came to take posses- 
 sion of his heritage. 
 
 My father had been an only son, and my mother placed at 
 school with his young sisters, under the private tutelage of 
 Madame Ambrose, an aunt of his had early attracted him, and 
 secured, as they grew up together, a place in his deepest affections. 
 Known, as she was, to his family from infancy to youth, and even 
 distantly related to them through her father, they received her 
 gladly as his wife, and accorded her at once a place among them 
 as one of themselves. 
 
 They were married at his majority, and in her earliest girlhood, 
 as was best for her, motherless as she was supposed to be, and 
 protected only by her aged relative, Madame Ambrose then ap- 
 proaching her end and a father, whose rare visits were made 
 from a distant land, and with erratic irregularity. This father, it 
 is true, provided liberally for her education and necessities, and 
 had impressed all who saw him in his brief visits to his child as a 
 
 man of elegance and refinement befitting his name and English 
 
 2
 
 <* THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 connections. Yet he was an alien, and some stringent reason, of 
 a nature perhaps too delicate to be revealed to strangers, or more 
 than surmised by them, prevented him from inviting his daughter 
 to share his American home. Half suspected, as this reason was, 
 it was one that offered no impediment to honorable marriage on 
 her part, and so, with the blessing of mother and sisters, Morna 
 Bouverie was united to Edward De Courcy. 
 
 In the first year of marriage one of the fair sisters of my father 
 faded away in consumption ; the other, splendidly beautiful, and 
 of a haughty and wayward spirit, fled with, and was married to, 
 Lord Torrington, the hereditary foeman of her race. He was a 
 man of notorious character, of more than double her own age 
 the divorced husband of one wife, the slayer and oppressor, it 
 was believed, of another, the abhorred of all right-minded and 
 honorable men. How he had found means to approach and woo 
 her was never known ; yet in his fastness of the mountains his 
 frowning and almost inaccessible castle they lived without society, 
 and, as far as could be judged of by outsiders, in harmony, if not 
 affection. He was a stern, superb-looking man, as I remember 
 him, heading the hunt, as it swept by Taunton Tower ; and to the 
 magnificent presence of his wife, as she followed fast upon his 
 steps, I have elsewhere alluded. All the romance in my young 
 heart was kindled by the sight of this beautiful kinswoman, to 
 whom I dared not speak or even allude ; who was, indeed, con- 
 signed to deeper oblivion than the grave affords to the beloved 
 dead, from the day of her headstrong marriage, by the whole of 
 her offended family. 
 
 In the fatal severing of other ties, my mother was folded with 
 true maternal love to the heart of my grandmother De Courcy. 
 Alas ! another year saw her also lying a pale still corpse, with a
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 27 
 
 wailing infant beside her, motherless from its first dawn of life, 
 and, as if fate were never weary of sacrifice in that devoted 
 household, two years later Edward de Courcy was lost, sailing in 
 his summer boat, on one of the romantic lochs near Taunton 
 Tower, and in sight of assistance, some said, from Torrington 
 Castle, coldly, vengefully withheld. By this very act, or the sus- 
 picion of it, any possibility of reconciliation was forever shut off 
 between the offending daughter and the unhappy mother, who now 
 took to her bosom for all comfort, the feeble infant her son had 
 left, made poor and dependent by his untimely death. 
 
 For, as I have elsewhere said, the estates passed to mak hdr 
 collaterals. 
 
 My parents were but dreams to me, even when described in 
 such earnest language as my grandmother De Courcy could com- 
 mand ; nor did her care and affection leave any feeling of my 
 heart unsatisfied, or room for the faintest regret to harbor there. 
 It was not until she too was cut off by the hand of death that all 
 my desolation and woeful orphanage flashed over me, with a sud- 
 denness that almost changed my nature, and converted its childish 
 confidence to gall and wormwood, and age, if experience be 
 such. 
 
 The coarse, unfeeling speculations of strangers as to what 
 would become of me, freely uttered before me, with that strange 
 misapprehension of a child's capacity to feel and to suffer, that 
 belongs to commonplace natures and matter-of-fact thinkers, 
 wherever they may be found, had stung me to agony ; and when 
 I heard the letter of Colonel de Courcy read aloud, in which he 
 expressed the hope, that I would be suitably provided for before 
 he came, " at the parsonage, or somewhere else " a letter 
 written to the land steward of the estate, my grandmother's
 
 28 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 servant, as I had ever esteemed Mm ! all the pride and sorrow of 
 my soul surged to the surface, and I, a child of scarcely twelve 
 years old, thought sternly of suicide ! That lake in which my 
 father found a grave, would afford a refuge for his child. I 
 would go down into its deep dark waters, and lie at rest ; yea, 
 eternally 1 God would not be angry with me ; he knew what I 
 was suffering, and I should be restored to those I loved to my 
 grandmother my forgotten, but idolized father and mother, now 
 smiling amid the angels I 
 
 There was no place in the world for me, it seemed, better than 
 the cottage of Bridget, my nurse, with its coarse surroundings, 
 unless indeed the grim portal of Torrington Castle were opened 
 to me ; that prison-house of pride and sin, as my beloved grand- 
 mother had described it, from which kindred eyes had looked 
 down upon and mocked my father's death-struggles ! 
 
 Not there not there ! Better the still tarn, or the dun, sepul- 
 chral vault at Taunton Tower, where at least, I, as one of that 
 proud race, had a right to lie in death, than life in those walls, 
 with sin and hardness of heart as my. companions. 
 
 I was crouching under one of the old stone pillars that sup- 
 ported the gate of entrance to the outer park of Taunton Tower, 
 while thoughts like these swayed my being. I was thinking of 
 the cold, deep water the plunge, the shock then the long sweet 
 sleep, and the awakening in Heaven ; with all the earnestness 
 a perfect faith in the resurrection could impress on my nature, and 
 with something very near a fixed determination in my heart to 
 tempt my fate, when I heard a voice speaking beside me. The 
 words it uttered were lost to my ear, but they aroused me fully. 
 I arose to my feet with a conscious individuality that belonged to 
 me eveu as a child, and always commanded me in any sudden
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE, liV 
 
 need, as if self-defence were my birthright, and mankind my 
 hereditary foemen, and looked full upon the stranger. 
 
 He was evidently a traveller. The horse he led was a tired 
 creature, and he was covered with the dust that the wild wind of 
 that September day for the sun then was just crossing the line 
 whirled over every object ; and as he looked into my face with his 
 clear grey eyes, wistfully, anxiously even, I felt my heart for the 
 first tune for many days, heave in my bosom it had lain like a 
 stone before with renewed vitality. 
 
 I will not linger on this interview, nor on its strange disclosures. 
 Then first I heard that another grandmother, hi a foreign land, 
 was stretching out her arms for me. My mother's father, I 
 knew had been long dead, and of other relatives of hers I had 
 never been informed. Then first, since the death of my grand- 
 mother De Courcy, months before, I felt that there still remained 
 to me in this world, hope and affection. Dr. Quintil claimed me, 
 as if I had been a jewel of price, instead of a friendless and almost 
 portionless orphan ; for my grandmother's slender savings, though 
 willed to me, would scarcely have done more than given me bread 
 and raiment in a humble sphere of life ; and thus it came to 
 pass that I was transferred to foreign guardianship, and to a 
 transatlantic home, almost before my bewildered brain could 
 realize the change hi my destiny. 
 
 On the day before we left Taunton Tower, Dr. Quintil called 
 me into the library, where, in the presence of the magistrates of 
 the parish, he was signing some papers, necessary I believe, to my 
 departure with him as my guardian, when a veiled lady opened 
 the door looked in, closed it again, and noiselessly withdrew tc 
 veappear however, a few minutes later, leaning on the arm of a
 
 30 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 tall and stately man, whom I recognized at once as Lord 
 Torrington. 
 
 My aunt trembled excessively, nor did she once remove her veil 
 during the brief interview that decided my fate. Through her 
 husband's lips her errand there was mad6 known, in a few 
 haughty but not uncourteous words. She asked to adopt me as 
 her child, promising me a mother's care and tenderness and her 
 low sobs attested tp my heart, the sincerity and feeling with which 
 this offer was made. 
 
 I will not deny that my whole being yearned to her then, 
 almost irresistibly, and the potent voice of blood cried out within me. 
 
 Dr. Quintil, with his calm observing gaze, noted and compas- 
 sionated the struggle that was going on within. 
 
 "Speak, Lilian !" he said ; "you only can decide in this mat- 
 ter, so important to your happiness and welfare ; but reflect the 
 step you take now will be irrevocable." 
 
 I glanced at Lord Torrington's handsome stormy face. 
 thought of the sinking boat, and the help refused, and my father 
 cast pallid and dead on the strand below his castle ; and my heart 
 was nerved like steel. 
 
 " I will go with you, Dr. Quintil," I said, stretching my hand 
 to him, which he grasped, and held firmly. 
 
 Lady Torrington rose ;_ she tottered rather than walked to the 
 door. I wrested my hand from Dr. Quintil, and rushed after her. 
 
 " Stay," I cried, " let me speak to you at least one word, before 
 we part forever. You are the last of my father's kindred, and if 
 you have been cold and cruel, I forgive you now." And I threw 
 my arms around her. 
 
 " Cold and cruel, Lilian I Oh, who has said this of me 1
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEKIE. 31 
 
 Blighted and miserable, say rather/ ? she murmured, as she clutched 
 me to her breast in an embrace of straining agony. " And alone, 
 utterly alone, in the world." 
 
 " Aunt, I could have loved yon so dearly," I said, sobbing ; 
 " but now " 
 
 " Go," she said, "with that good man, it is best ; be happy. I 
 would ask you to write to me," she added, in whispered accents, 
 " but this would not be permitted. Yet do not wholly forget me." 
 
 " It was solely from a wish to save my wife's only surviving 
 relative from contact with disgrace, that I united with her in 
 making this absurd proposition, so insolently rejected," I heard 
 Lord Torrington say, as he turned from Dr. Quintil. 
 
 "/, who have succeeded in accomplishing this by saving her from 
 your hands, can afford to bear your taunts," rejoined Dr. Quintil, 
 coolly. " For the present, at least, our paths lie far apart, rude 
 man ; yet we may meet again." 
 
 "Do you threaten me, sir?" asked Lord Torrington, his dark 
 eyes flashing with fury. 
 
 " Construe my words as you please," was the calm rejoinder ; 
 " yours have no power to stir me in any way." 
 
 I believe that Lord Torrington would then and there have 
 assaulted the mild man who stood so impertnrbably before him, 
 with arms folded on his breast, had not his wife clung wildly to 
 his bosom, entreating him to be pacified. 
 
 I ranged myself with Dr. Quintil my instincts were all on his 
 side ; and something like a wish for battle swelled high in my 
 heart, as I witnessed this brief scene. I felt that day that all the 
 bad and bitter blood within me came to the surface, and that, 
 child as I was, it would have done me good to fight the good 
 fight against my aunt's oppressor, and my father's foeman.
 
 32 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 But, brought to a sudden sense of shame or fear, who knows ? 
 Lord Torrington swung scornfully on his heel, and left the room 
 with rapid strides, followed by his weeping wife so different from 
 the stern, haughty woman I had thought her, and lost to me 
 thenceforth forever !
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MY tastes and feelings had readily assimilated with those around 
 me, and my heart had reached out with warmth and gratitude to 
 meet their affection and esteem so unhesitatingly bestowed. It 
 would have been indeed difficult, so circumstanced, to have felt 
 otherwise, without deserving the reproach of humanity itself ; yet 
 the shadow that enveloped these people, whose daily elegance of 
 life, culture, and courtesy, placed them so high hi the scale of re- 
 finement, fell over me also, an alien to its cause. I had that 
 intuitive perception of their grief, that persons with finely consti- 
 tuted nerves possess of the approach of a thunder-storm, though 
 the sky be clear and cloudless. The determination manifested by 
 all around me to make the best of the lees of life, did not deceive 
 me, child as I was, into the belief that the bead was still on their 
 wine. 
 
 Yet they inspired me with that respect we involuntarily feel 
 toward those who, in accepting their condition, prove their supe- 
 riority to fate itself, and disarm destiny of its keenest sting re- 
 sistance. Shipwrecked sailors are they who compel themselves to 
 a new existence and a comparative contentment, cut off, as they 
 are, by the nature of things from all long accepted sources of en- 
 joyment strong swimmers, who have left a wreck, and breasted 
 the surf, to live forever on a desert island. 
 
 Those to whom the changes of nature, the freshness of morning, 
 the glory of sunset, the opening of flowers, the tender beauty of 
 
 the grass, are most pleasing most suggestive, are not the 
 
 2*
 
 M THE HOUSEHOLD OF BuUVKitlii. 
 
 the gay, the happy. They are those who, having suffered, humbly 
 recognize the beauty and the promise that remain to them, and 
 are placidly thankful for all surroundings that may impress and 
 elevate their thoughts, and, above all, lift them from themselves. 
 
 I have seen a strong man, whose life had been a failure, busy 
 himself with newspapers until they seemed an integral part of his 
 existence, with all their fluctuations of political and commercial 
 changes, or merge his very being in the game of chess, until the 
 nature which had stood immovable as a rock against the storms 
 of fortune, grew warped and bitter under defeat, and lost dignity 
 over a disputed move or a checkmate ! 
 
 And so in the house of Bouverie, where self had long ceased to 
 interest, and individual joy was stagnant, the child that came 
 among them unconscious of their sorrow, and bearing about her a 
 freshness of youth 'and foreign impulse at variance with all their 
 monastic habits, was to them as a votive altar to gather about 
 and wreathe with garlands a talisman, to while away that sore- 
 BOU! apathy that, before her coming, must have brooded very 
 heavily indeed over their social existence. 
 
 Yet the dignity, the method, of my grandmother's household, 
 suited in turn my native taste, which enjoyed no vulgar excitement. 
 I admired the perfection to which system, and a determination to 
 secure peace as the first of all considerations, had brought her 
 management. Order seemed to have taken the place of happiness 
 at Bouverie, as taste has often been seen to step forward in that 
 of talent with a certain gracefulness which almost persuades one 
 into a belief in their identity. It is true, no stranger's foot ever 
 crossed our threshold to mar the tranquillity of our routine, save 
 that of Bishop Clare my grandmother's valued friend, and 
 spiritual guide ; and it was certainly easier, under these serene
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 35 
 
 circumstances, to preserve unbroken order, than if guests had been 
 admitted, or the members of the family gone forth and returned 
 frequently. Yet it required patience and system both to draw 
 such results from the elements around her, as obeyed the manage- 
 ment of the mistress of Bouverie. 
 
 Her servants were old and few singularly chosen, I thought 
 then ; wisely, I knew, later and her own hands put the finishing 
 touch that added refinement to neatness, to much of the work of 
 her household. It was my pleasure to aid her in her tasks, and I 
 became, like herself, a proficient in all the light cares of house- 
 wifery, and learned to value the variety they afforded in the mo- 
 notony of our lives. 
 
 As members of the household of Bouverie to which narrow 
 sphere of action my story is chiefly limited and as not wholly 
 unimportant accessories to the movement of this domestic drama, 
 I will notice here singly, yet as briefly as I may, the humble yet 
 eccentric personages who constituted with us the " second estate." 
 Dame Bianca, our personal attendant, was a slight, upright 
 person, still wearing her own dark hair, and bearing traces of 
 beauty peculiar to her Spanish origin, yet having no remembrance 
 of her native land or of its language. She had been thrown, in 
 her orphaned infancy, into the hands of my grandmother's mother, 
 who had reared her tenderly ; and she had been, through life, 
 devoted to her service and that of her daughter, whose senior she 
 was by several years. She was childless, having married late in 
 life, but her husband survived and lived under the same roof; 
 and she esteemed herself happy in a privilege rarely granted to 
 white servants, considered as it is a mere matter of course by 
 slaves. 
 
 Our cook, a much older woman than Dame Bianca in appeal-
 
 36 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 ance, if not in reality, was an Irish virago tamed down by ago 
 and infirmity, and a very hag of hideousness and crossness. She 
 was, however, it must be confessed, quite a proficient in her line, 
 and in order to secure her services permanently, she had been 
 allowed to rear and keep her idiotic grandson at Bouverie. 
 
 Patrick McConnick had grown old enough to officiate as scul- 
 lion at first, and finally as hostler even to the saddle horses of 
 Bouverie, for carriage there was none. It was his duty to dress 
 the flower plots, and to bring from the distant house of the gar- 
 dener and his wife, our laundress, the daily supplies of marketing, 
 vegetables, fruit, poultry and linen, we required. Thus, in some 
 measure, my grandmother's bounty, extended to him through so 
 many useless years, seemed at last repaid. For the rest, his 
 almost ludicrous ugliness and awkwardness unfitted him for house 
 service, and made him a repulsive object to me whenever I encoun- 
 tered him. 
 
 He had conceived, from the tune of my advent to Bouverie, an 
 almost spaniel-like fondness for me, which occasioned me no little 
 annoyance. He haunted my steps until I was obliged, in self- 
 defence, to drive him sternly back, tune after tune; and he would 
 stand, on such occasions, looking after me with a wistful sorrow, 
 as you have seen a dog do, repelled by his master, distressed yet 
 not resentful. It was impossible by any other means than those 
 dictated by severity, to assign to this poor, half-sane creature, his 
 proper limits, or to make him recognize his true position. Until 
 rendered afraid to repeat the liberty, by a sound thrashing from 
 Widow McConnick, he would constantly touch, and examine 
 admiringly, the long brown curls that fell over my shoulders. 
 
 Once, when I was seated under a tree reading an illustrated 
 book, his large red forefinger was suddenly obtruded on my view
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE^ 37 
 
 as he pointed childishly over my shoulder to the picture that 
 attracted him, and the spot his soiled touch had left could 
 never be effaced. But this time I dismissed him with a slight 
 rebuke, touched as I was by both his earnestness and penitence ; 
 taking care, however, to read illuminated volumes within doors 
 thereafter. It was strange, indeed, to find so keen a sense of the 
 beautiful as he possessed, lying at the bottom of such an imper- 
 fectly developed nature. 
 
 I have seen the creature lean on his spade, with his lips parted 
 and his gooseberry eyes stretched to their utmost limits, gaping 
 rather than gazing with evident admiration on the setting sun. 
 The sensation of enjoyment was there, unembarrassed by thought 
 of any kind, or power to express it if it existed, otherwise than 
 by mute attention. Where would metaphysicians have placed 
 this instinct of poetry, cut off as it was from all its usual accom- 
 paniments, in the case of this half-witted boy? Or how separate 
 the fine silken threads of feeling and loyalty that were woven in 
 the warp of his foolishness, from the coarse fabric itself, or even 
 know where one ended and the other began ? 
 
 In the absence of a better religion, the poor fellow was the 
 prey of abject superstition, and was witch-ridden to an extent 
 rarely heard of since the days of Cotton Mather! His crude 
 imagination revelled in a kingdom of its own, where goblins and 
 ghosts made an absolute despotism, and held him in serf-like bon- 
 dage; and his only feeling of enmity was directed against these 
 supernatural foes. Charms and talismans of all kinds were gath- 
 ered around his person for the purpose of destroying the power 
 of these tormenting visitors, whose wish to possess bma certainly 
 indicated a degree of disinterestedness on their part, unusual in 
 their organization, and worthy of a better cause.
 
 38 .THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIK 
 
 I have lingered thus long over the portrait of this "half-saved w 
 lad, for reasons that may be plainer hereafter. There remains 
 but one additional member of the corps of domestics to be intro- 
 duced, a man machine, if ever there was such a creation, pursuing 
 his tasks so literally, so mechanically as almost to persuade one that 
 the click of the clockwork that impelled him could be heard as 
 he glided along. Something peculiar and mysterious seemed to 
 attach to his presence and movements, that was increased by the 
 reserve and rigidity of his deportment. He was of medium height, 
 slight, pallid, withered, yet with two bright spots glowing on his 
 cheeks, vivid as if painted there, and hectic as the color of the 
 autumn leaf. His eyes were blue, glassy, inexpressive, and usually 
 directed into space, if such a term might be applied to their inde- 
 finite stare; yet with these incomprehensive-looking eyes of his I 
 ascertained later, that he saw everything that went on. His hair 
 was of a strange yellowish white, in which the gold of youth still 
 contended strongly with the inevitable silver of age, and was worn 
 '.n short tufted curls, so as to display the whole of his flat, un- 
 meaning forehead. He reminded me of a faded wax doll, or a 
 picture poorly painted in water-colors, that one wipe of the hand 
 would obliterate altogether. His smile consisted of a contraction 
 or pucker of the lips, instead of labial expansion, and recalled 
 that mixture both sour and saccharine that housewives call sweet 
 pickle. It was his province to lay the cloth and serve the meals, 
 after fulfilling which duties he invariably disappeared, to pursue 
 what further employment I knew not and did not inquire. 
 
 It was long before I became aware that this peculiar individual 
 had been the body-servant of my grandfather, and was the hus- 
 band of Dame Bianca. They called him Fabius. 
 
 Each day had its accustomed routine at Bouverie. As soon as
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 39 
 
 breakfast was over, and the light task of disposing of the fine 
 and carefully preserved china, in which I assisted my grandmother, 
 at an end, I withdrew with Dr. Quintil to the study in the wing, 
 and there received his instruction in various branches. Corn- 
 panionless, I had no other resource than books afforded me, and 
 the love of knowledge became with -me an absorbing passion 
 rather than an occupation. 
 
 Jasper usually sat in the same room in which I was taught, 
 pursuing his separate studies, and entirely engrossed by the 
 volumes he pored over, to* the exclusion of voices and other dis- 
 turbing causes. He had, indeed, that power of application in an 
 uncommon degree, \vhich by some French authors, Montesquieu, 
 I believe, has been used as a definition of genius. If the meaning 
 be extended so as to cover the ground of the application of know- 
 ledge after its acquirement the result of application of mind to 
 all occasions of life, this definition may be found to possess 
 merit, and even originality, and to answer as well as most that 
 have been accepted as expositions of that Protean gift of which 
 Prometheus was the antique type. 
 
 At noon, when study hours were over for the day, I sought my 
 grandmother's chamber, and found her usually seated at her work 
 by the large window I have before described ; while the little 
 repast of fruit, or cake, or conserves, she never forgot to provide 
 for me, was placed on the table by her side. When I had par- 
 taken of this I was free to go, to ride my pony, to walk, to 
 swing, and gather flowers in the fine season ; or in winter, to 
 exercise in the basement below, kept warm for the benefit of the 
 flowering plants it sheltered, or to pore over the volumed lore of 
 the library, until our late dinner hour arrived, or to play and sing 
 at my piano, unquestioned and unnoticed ; for my grandmother
 
 40 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 knew better than most persons, how important to the growth and 
 dignity of a child's character, is a certain freedom of action and 
 solitary self-reliance. 
 
 I still look back to those lonely hours, as the basis of much 
 that is strong and resolute in my character, and as the promoters, 
 if not originators, of that -poetic faculty which, however limited in 
 its results, has been my chief comfort and resource in life a 
 faculty I would not surrender for Victoria's crown, were I obliged 
 to fill its place with commonplace and inanity, and which, more 
 than all else, has reconciled me to life; and assured me of the cer- 
 tainty of a glorious immortality. 
 
 A great orator has lately in his eulogium on the most dis- 
 tinguished statesman \>f any age, in his zeal for those qualities 
 which peculiarly appertained to the character of the august sub- 
 ject of his debate, levelled cold and cruel blows at the peculiar 
 organization to which we give the name of " genius." When God 
 takes back his gift of flowers, limits sunshine, wipes out the rain- 
 bow, dashes from the shell and gem their lustre, and from tne 
 bird the hues of his glorious plumage, replacing these with cold, 
 utilitarian coloring ; when the love of the beautiful the gerni of 
 all poetic power ceases to lift the human heart to Him who 
 adorned the world with such exquisite consideration for this 
 master passion of his noblest creatures including as it does, love, 
 heroism, religion, glory then, and not until then, shall I believe 
 that genius is superfluous ; and that in the eyes of the Creator it 
 is of little or no avail 1 
 
 Dr. Kane, sailing on the lonely Arctic seas, renders nicer 
 tribute to the comfort that genius gives . him ; I use the word 
 advisedly ! 
 
 " None," says he, " who have not read the poems of Tennyson
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 
 
 nuder circumstances of isolation like those that surrounded me, 
 can form any idea of the consolation to be derived from their 
 perusal." 
 
 These are not his exact words I do not own these volumes 
 but any one can find the passage I refer to with such a clew. 
 Following out the impulse of his gratitude, he calls by the name 
 of his favorite poet, the wondrous column of green basalt 
 that stands forth as if made by the hand of human art, bare and 
 terrific even in its strange solitary grandeur, from the cold grey 
 rocks around it, and looms above the lonely glassy ocean of that 
 Arctic zone. This he calls " Tennyson's Monument." What 
 prouder tribute has poet ever received ? 
 
 Dear as were those solitary hours to me, and life-giving as they 
 proved themselves, the tendency of my nature was essentially 
 social and loyal ; and, had I been permitted to do so, I would 
 have attached myself warmly and entirely to my grandmother's 
 society, and even service. But, while with one hand, she drew me 
 to her, with the other she put me away gently, but no less 
 decidedly. 
 
 Her conversation was especially delightful to me so animated, 
 so varied, so natural, so full of detail, that it was like reading a 
 pleasant book to listen to it. One is said, I know, oftener in de- 
 rision than in praise, to " talk like a book ;" but this is a prejudice 
 derived from old times, when books were oftenest prating and 
 pedantic oracles. Who would not like to hear such conversation 
 daily, as we meet with in the pages of many modern novels ? 
 Terse, sparkling, and graphic illustrations of nature itself, com- 
 pared to which all ancient dialogue seems flat and affected ! 
 
 I would often linger, as if spell-bound, near my grandmothers 
 chair, until almost commanded to leave her ; and then drag myself
 
 42 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 unwillingly away, wounded and dissatisfied. Yet out of this very 
 mood came forth at last, as I have said, a wonderful self-reliance. 
 
 " Lilian," she said to me, one day, when, more than usually 
 fascinated by her discourse, I had established myself on a stool at 
 her feet, with my favorite paper-work, and had been gazing some 
 moments perfectly spell-bound into her speaking face ; " Lilian. I 
 must be cautious ; I am afraid you are beginning to love me a 
 .little." 
 
 " Beginning, grandmother ! and why not ?" I asked, somewhat 
 indignantly, opening my eyes to their fullest extent, and pausing, 
 with the scissors extended in my right hand, with which I was 
 about to clip the paper-rose I held in my left. " I think it is quite 
 tune I should love you." 
 
 " Love any one else you please, Lilian," she said, in a low, mo- 
 notonous tone, wholly different from her usually well-modulated 
 accents ; " love Jasper and Dr. Quintil with all your heart, and 
 you will get back your treasure with interest. Love Dame 
 Bianca, even, if you can and choose to do so ; but do not love me, 
 Lilian, I beseech you." 
 
 Again the question, " why not ?" trembled on my lips ; and now 
 my eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Because it is dangerous to love me," she answered ; "fatal, 
 almost, I fear a better reason, perhaps, still, because I have no 
 love to give you in return ; nothing but sadness ; my affections 
 are dead, Lilian, my heart lies like a stone in my bdsom. My 
 intellect only survives." 
 
 "I will love you, then," I said, kneeling on the stool before 
 her, and folding my hands on her knees, while the neglected 
 paper-work strewed the floor beside me, " without asking for any 
 return. I will love you as Mary Magdalene loved Christ, when
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVKRIE. 43 
 
 she poured sweet ointment on his feet, and heeded no re- 
 proaches." 
 
 " Your thought is a strange and even beautiful one for a child 
 of your years," she rejoined, "but irreverent, as you apply it. 
 Lilian, it is sinful, extravagant, to make such comparisons ;" and 
 she looked at me with severity in her eyes. " Yon have no right 
 to render such tribute to any creature of dust." 
 
 " Tell me, then," I said, stoutly, iny cheek flushing from her 
 slight rebuke, or the manner of it " tell me, then, why I am not 
 to love you ? Give me a good reason, and I will try to obey you. 
 Grandmother," I continued, fixing my eyes on her in turn, with a 
 steady sternness foreign from their usual expression ; " answer me, 
 are you wicked ?" 
 
 " Child, you are a terrible inquisitor," she said, rising to her 
 feet, and standing before me, in a state of unwonted excitement. 
 " Lilian, I cannot see how one of your tender years could ever 
 conceive such a thought, or utter such a question. Well, let it 
 pass ! But this is a stringent word, truly, that you apply to me ! 
 No, no not wicked," she added, in low murmured tones, as she 
 turned to me again ; and, pausing, extended her hands, perhaps 
 unconsciously, as if appealing against the harsh judgment. 
 " Sinful we all are sinful I, too, have been, and chosen per- 
 haps especially chosen to bear the burden of the sin of others ; 
 but wicked ? not that not that !" Her words seemed self- 
 directed. 
 
 " Then, grandmother," I said, clasping her hands, and standing 
 steadily before her, " you must let me love you, even if you don't 
 care for me, for are you not my mother's own dear mother, and 
 thus nearer than all the world to me ?" 
 
 She shook her head mournfully. A sudden thought flashed
 
 4:4: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 across me for the first time, then and there, blighting and crushing 
 as lightning. I dropped her hands, I sank to the floor, I clasped 
 her knees, and hid my face among the folds of her garments. I 
 recalled what she had said of her child. 
 
 " Oh, answer me truly, grandmother I" I almost groaned. 
 "Did you did you abandon my mother, your helpless baby?" 
 
 She did not reply for a moment, but I felt her frame tremble 
 from bead to foot, as if my grasp only upheld her. Then stooping 
 down, she raised me from the floor, and spoke with comparative 
 coolness. 
 
 " You torture yourself and me, by such doubts such sugges- 
 tions, Lilian. The time will come, I trust, when you will think 
 better of me than to question of such matters. Until then, 
 silence your misgivings, and, if you can, believe in me. And now, 
 more than ever, I find it necessary to impress upon you the lesson 
 that gave rise to this painful outbreak of feeling between us. I 
 am in earnest, Lilian, and speak for the welfare of both, when I 
 warn you counsel you, not to love me. It is a luxury in which 
 I cannot afford to indulge." And she smiled .bitterly. 
 
 " Gather up your papers, Lilian," she said calmly, a moment 
 later, seeing that I still stood before her, silent and irresolute, 
 " aud go and seek Jasper ; you will find him better company to-day 
 than I can be." 
 
 I obeyed her first injunction. My paper flowers were swept 
 hastily together, to be in the next moment cast in the flames, and 
 consumed before her ; and, without lifting my eyes to her face, I 
 passed from her presence, to seek not Jasper, but the deepest 
 shadow I could find, and to lie mutely at the foot of a cedar-tree 
 for hours.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHEN I returned to the house after tliat long trance-like 
 struggle of feeling, so to speak, in which my spirit had been 
 engaged, while torpid lethargy oppressed my frame, the sun waa 
 setting. I knew that I had been sought for during this interval 
 of absence. Jasper had passed mutely twice along the gravelled 
 path that swept not very far from the cedar-tree that sheltered 
 me, without distinguishing my green dress from the abundant 
 periwinkle that clustered around me, and the long cedar boughs 
 that trailed over me ; nor did I care to attract his attention. I 
 had heard Pat McCormick shouting my name at the dinner hour, 
 in different directions ; the long drawn " Miss Lilian," so dis- 
 torted as to sound like the hooting of an owl, through the 
 medium of his thumbs and imitating fingers, was repeated at in- 
 tervals afterward, through the whole afternoon ; but of this sig- 
 nal I took no notice. 
 
 " What did it matter to me, whether they were seeking me or 
 not ? Let them suffer as I was suffering, if indeed, my absence 
 troubled them. I had believed myself beloved I had found 
 mere dutiful compassion instead. I was nothing but a charity 
 child to them to Dr. Quintil, and Jasper, and all I was glad I 
 understood this at last. I should be so hard, so happy now, for 
 to love too much was burdensome, after all 1" 
 
 And in a current like this my unjust and passionate mood 
 found vent, until the tide ebbed away and left me calm, passive, 
 and almost repentant ; and in this better frame of mind I arose 
 thoroughly chilled, I must confess, and turned to the house
 
 4:6 THE HOUSEHOLD OF JJOUVERIK. 
 
 I entered through the wing, where the pantry and domestic 
 offices were situated, and stumbled at once over Dame Biauca 
 busily engaged in setting to rights the china and viands, as was 
 her custom after meals. 
 
 "La, Miss Lilian, where have you hid yourself?" she ex- 
 claimed, with upraised hands ! " You that are so regular at 
 meal-tunes. Dinner has been over this hour and Bishop Clare 
 here and such nice cream and pudding, and young broiled 
 chickens, and everything you love on the table and your grand- 
 mother in such a worry about you ! Now, Miss Lilian, for 
 shame, to try patience this way ! Pat McCormick has just got 
 on a horse to go in search " 
 
 " Do, Dame Bianca, stop scolding," I interrupted, " and give 
 me something to eat. I am almost starved ; I know you kept 
 my dinner for me." 
 
 " Well, if I did, it was more than you deserved ! To go and 
 frighten a body so ! How did I know what had become of you, 
 with all that strange, bad Bouverie blood boiling in your veins ? 
 Did any one ever know, from one moment to another, what 
 Major Ursa, or Mister Erastus would be at ? I ask you that, 
 Miss Lilian ?" 
 
 " Dame Bianca, you forget that I never knew either of tho^s 
 gentlemen, and that my name is De Courcy and that," I added 
 savagely, " I have had no dinner, and am half dead for soinethii g 
 to eat, and if I can't get my dinner here I can go off again, 
 and " 
 
 " Good Lord, Miss Lilian ! do have common patience. Don't 
 you see me fixing your chicken, and your lettuces, and your bread, 
 on one plate so as not to mix" 
 
 T cut short her epicurean fancies by seizing the plate of viands
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIB. 47 
 
 she extended, and adding half a dozen other articles of food to 
 the daintily arranged chicken and lettuce, and after demolishing 
 these in an incredibly short tune, I asked for the cream and pud- 
 ding. 
 
 When I had literally eaten through the bill of fare, I paused, 
 well pleased, from my labors. 
 
 " Dame Bianca," I asked, "can you tell me what is better 
 than affection or fame or intellect, or any other matter of that 
 sort that people make such a fuss about ?" 
 4 " Religion, Miss Lilian," she answered with meek simplicity, 
 " that is, the true Catholic faith." 
 
 " My friend, you are much mistaken," I said, with an assump- 
 tion of importance that must have struck even her with its 
 absurdity. " Above all these things is the value and importance 
 of food to the hungry. In short, a good dinner, Biauca 1" 
 
 She looked at me with a half amused face and said, shaking her 
 head : 
 
 " Ah, Miss Lilian ! anybody could see who had been your 
 teacher that sounds mightily like Dr. Quintil." 
 
 " Dr. Quintil 1 I do believe you think all wisdom comes from 
 him, and that the mantle of his namesake has fallen on his 
 shoulders ! Can't you give me credit for a little sense of my 
 own?" 
 
 " Not much, at your age, dear, not much ; and as for Dr. 
 Quintil, he has more sense, and goodness too, than the Apostle 
 Paul ever dared to have." 
 
 " Bianca 1 what impiety 1" My Calvinistic blood flashed to 
 my cheek in a moment, and I felt like placing a lance in rest at 
 once for my grandmother De Courcy's Bible hero. 
 
 " For didn't he stone the holy St. Stephen, my patron saint-
 
 4:8 Tilt HOLSKHOL.D OF BOUVEBIK. 
 
 and Bishop Clare's, too, for that matter," she continued, raising 
 her voice, "just because he hadn't sense or feeling enough to see 
 the truth, until he heard a voice from heaven, crying out to him ? 
 If every man had to wait for that to be a Christian, where 
 would the true Church be now, or the merit of Christianity ? I 
 ask you that, Miss Lilian ?" 
 
 " Good heavens, Bianca ! let us drop that never-ending theme, 
 ' the true Church,' and give me a light that I may brush my hair, 
 and change my dress before I go to meet that terrible old bug. 
 bear, Bishop Clare." 
 
 " Bugbear, Miss Lilian ! Bishop Clare a bug-bear !" and her 
 kind eyes filled with tears. She said no more ; but lighting the 
 candle, extended it to me with a sort of sorrowful indignation. 
 
 I took it and hastened away from her with a rejoicing levity of 
 spirit. 
 
 " I mean to be as free as air from this moment," I thought, 
 " and not care for any of them. Ah ! grandmother, your lesson 
 is a hard one, but I will learn it well." 
 
 I am afraid that something of old Ursa Bouverie did peep out 
 from my hidden nature that evening, but there was a rock at 
 hand to crush the serpent's head, and stifle it forever. A rock 
 did I say ? Nay, rather a downy shower of roses, a deluge of 
 honey and rosewater, and all fine odors, a perfect avalanche of 
 plumes and pearls, more potent to subdue and smother soul- 
 snakes than all the pelting of sticks and stones. And und*er this 
 great tempest of tenderness, that wicked scion of old Ursa Bou- 
 verie yielded up its breath, and left the heart of his descendant 
 open once more to sacred influences and teachings of affection, 
 even as the atmosphere was purified when the genial Sun God 
 slew the Python
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBTE. 49 
 
 The dining-room, our customary sitting parlor, was empty 
 when I entered it ; but I saw through the open door lights be- 
 yond, and following these I soon found myself in the drawing- 
 room, where, for the first tune since I came to Bouverie, the family 
 was assembled. 
 
 I paused at the open door, a little uncertain as to my reception, 
 and surveyed the scene within. Bishop Clare, for such I could 
 not doubt was the noble, white-haired man who occupied a deep 
 chair in front of the blazing wood fire, was listening with grave 
 attention to some communication my grandmother was making to 
 him in under-tones. Dr. Quintil sat near the shaded lamp, looking 
 over a newspaper; Jasper was walking the apartment, anxiously 
 ( thought. 
 
 I entered and stood before them. 
 
 Jasper saw me first. The sunshine of joy broke over every 
 feature as he came eagerly forward and, clasping my hands in his, 
 pressed them fondly to his breast, then drew me on to my grand- 
 mother's chair. 
 
 She turned ^her great eyes filled with tears her arm was 
 around me with a half-convulsive pressure, and I thought I heard 
 a smothered sob; but she did not speak until, recovering herself 
 abruptly, she jflaced my hand in that of Bishop Clare with the 
 simple words: 
 
 " This is my Lilian, father." 
 
 "Our Lilian say rather, madam, for you shall not begin so late 
 in life to be selfish, even on the plea of relationship." 
 
 "' Our bird of Bouverie/ I call her, Bishop Clare ; and you 
 will think so too when you hear her sing," quoth Dr. Quintil 
 from behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. 
 
 " And what songs do you love best, my daughter," said the 
 
 3
 
 50 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVERIE. 
 
 stately priest; " tell me, for I sometimes judge of character from 
 things like these." 
 
 " Scotch songs, chiefly, father, because she loved them; but for 
 my own part, there are some I prefer," I faltered. 
 
 "And what axe those songs, Lilian? " 
 
 " I would rather not tell you, father," I answered, looking 
 straight into his clear blue eyes with their magnetic attractiveness. 
 " You might not think so well of me for liking those Dr. Somers 
 did uot ; but indeed I cannot help it," I added, laughing. 
 
 "Name one, Lilian," said my grandmother; "I would not have 
 Bishop Clare believe that you were ashamed of any song you 
 sing." 
 
 '' Moore's songs then, if you must know. ' Come rest in this 
 bosom,' grandmother, is a beautiful song I think; but I have been 
 told it was sinful to like it, and since then I never sing it. This 
 was her opinion and you know this was enough." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," she replied, " you were right to respect 
 your grandmother De Courcy's sentiments ; the song is one of 
 dubious morality I believe," she added; " though, indeed, I never 
 thought of it in that light before. But the music, the old mourn- 
 ful French air of ' Fleuve de Tage,' is very beautiful." 
 
 " It is not the music, grandmother, half as mucn as the words 
 that move me so. You know where the lady says " 
 
 " The lady, Lilian! It certainly is a man's song and conveys a 
 man's sentiments." 
 
 " Oh no, grandmother, I am sure it was a lady that said 
 
 ' Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps I'll pursue, 
 And shield thee and save thee, or perish there too.' 
 
 "Her husband, you know, Bishop Clare, was condemned to
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 51 
 
 walk through a fiery furnace, by some wicked king I suppose, and 
 Bhe would not forsake him." 
 
 "And you like this sentiment, Lilian, which you take so lite- 
 rally?" said Bishop Clare. " This is what you would have done 
 under like circumstances ?" 
 
 " I think so," I answered low, but my eyes fell beneath his long, 
 sad gaze, as clasping my wrist he held me before him, and pored 
 on my face as on an open book. When I looked up again he had 
 relaxed his hold Dr. Quintil had retreated and I went to take 
 my seat by my grandmother. There wa*s deep silence. I looked 
 inquiringly into her face. Had I unwittingly offended ? I could 
 not ask in words, and no answer was rendered to my appealing 
 gaze ; but I saw that every ray of color had died from her 
 cheek, and that her features were rigid and lifeless, and that she 
 held her hand closely pressed to her heart. The mood passed 
 over; she was the first to speak. 
 
 "After all, these are very old-fashioned songs, Lilian ; I must 
 get some new ones for you. I am told the modern music is exqui- 
 site, and some rare songs have been written recently some by 
 Barry Cornwall." 
 
 " But I love the old ones so well, grandmother, there is no 
 need for new. Besides, I do not learn strange music readily." 
 
 ' That piece of song, that old and antique song we heard last 
 night," soliloquized Dr. Quintil as he walked the room in the 
 shadow and the background, half hearing our subjdct of conversa- 
 tion, half absorbed in his own reflections a sort of double-sided 
 mood habitual with him, and peculiar to his temperament. 
 
 Jasper smiled as he followed him with his eyes, and enjoyed the 
 oddity of his humor with that sort of playful irony that springs 
 only from true affection. Then rising after a time, he approached
 
 52 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 him, throwing his arm up over his shoulder, and joined Ms pur 
 poseless promenade, as if to be near him were a necessity of the 
 moment that could not be controlled, and which sufficed for his 
 happiness without any further communion between them. 
 
 I have rarely seen love like theirs! 
 
 "You have removed your piano, Camilla," said Father Clare, 
 looking around. 
 
 " Lilian practises in the library ; we keep no fire here, habitu- 
 ally ; besides, it is best you know the old prejudices," and she 
 dropped her voice. 
 
 " I did not reflect," I heard him say in low accents ; " it cer- 
 tainly is best to confine music lessons to the wing, under existing 
 circumstances." 
 
 " I teach her as well as I can," she pursued ; " but her musical 
 ability far exceeds my own. I fear I am of but little use to her, 
 in this capacity, at least. Yet it is such a pleasure to both 
 of us !" 
 
 " An innocent one, I am sure," my children ; and, as such, fear 
 not to enjoy it while you may," he said, extending his hand to me, 
 and drawing me before him again as he spoke ; "but, to-morrow, 
 I must have a sample of this bird's singing : we may want her yet 
 m the choir as a leader. And now, stand still, Lilian, I wish 
 to look at you again. Nay, do not smile, I desire to see your 
 face in repose." 
 
 I obeyed him, standing motionless before him, and looking 
 again full into his calm blue eyes until he had completed his inspec- 
 tion. " Self-command there," he said low ; then added aloud, 
 . "she does not resemble you, Camilla, nor any one else of her 
 kindred that I have known. This is a new face in the household 
 of Bouverie."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 68 
 
 " She is said to be like her father," my grandmother replied ; 
 " at least as to feature ; and I am glad of this glad at least that 
 she is not like me. I am so tired of my own face that I never 
 want to see it repeated." 
 
 " Except in the glass, grandmother," I said, laughing, as I rose 
 to cross the room to sit by Dr. Quintil now weary of sauntering 
 accepting at last his mute but oft-repeated invitation. 
 
 Father Clare smiled at this parting sally " Parthian dart," he 
 called it. 
 
 " She knows your besetting weakness, Camilla, as well as if she 
 were your confessor," I heard him say. 
 
 " Oh ! father, that is all over long ago," she said, shaking her 
 head ; "the glass is now to me only a habitual assistant, ard a 
 monitor. The glory has departed !" And she smiled sadly 
 
 Dr. Quintil wanted to lecture me and I knew he called me for 
 this purpose about my escapade of the morning, and my want of 
 punctuality at the dinner, hour. 
 
 " What could have occurred, Lilian, to justify such a proceed- 
 ing ? What had your grandmother done to wound you she who 
 is usually so careful of the feelings of every one ?" I did not 
 answer this inquiry, and he went on : " Do you know that you 
 afflict her dreadfully she who already has so much to bear, when 
 you behave in this thoughtless way ? I can tell you, Lilian, you 
 assume a great responsibility." 
 
 " And I do you suppose I have no feeling because you call 
 me a child ?" I asked in turn. " Does she think she can whistle 
 me to her like a little dog, when she wants me ; and drive me 
 away, when she is tired of amusing herself ? No, Dr. Quintil, she 
 can never do it again !" 
 
 " This is very strange I do not understand yon at all. Youi
 
 64 I'HK HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 grandmother is fond of you, that is evident ; kind hi her manner 
 remarkably so. Of what do yon complain ?" 
 
 " I make no complaint I mean to make none ; I have only 
 expected too much that was all ; but I thought, gold for gold, 
 and love for love, was true, all the world over.'" 
 
 ' : Lilian, be patient. You do not see into things yet, except 
 darkly, as through a glass ; after a while all will be made plain to 
 you that troubles and perplexes you now. Your grandmother 
 has many sorrows, and has been truly 'acquainted with grief.' 
 You must make every allowance for this. Your fault is over- 
 bearing impetuosity you must bridle this for your own happiness, 
 if not for ours. But no more of this. Have faith hi those around 
 you, and be obedient, and peace will follow as certainly as day 
 comes out of darkness." 
 
 "Ohl Dr. Quintil," I said, thoroughly overcome, "I could 
 have loved her so dearly, but she would not suffer it I" Sobs 
 choked my utterance, and the tears rolled over my cheeks. 
 
 " Command yourself, or you will be observed," he said, in 
 gentle accents ; " learn to command yourself. See, Jasper is 
 watching you, and you will make him unhappy he, poor fellow, 
 so devoted to you." 
 
 "He is, indeed !" I murmured, wiping my eyes quietly. " I 
 would not distress him for the world, and, if I have said anything 
 rash, do, dear Dr. Quintil, forgive me I am sorry." 
 
 "All is over," he said hurriedly. "Let us not allude to this 
 matter again ; but, remember, you are always our own dear 
 Lilian, whatever may betide." 
 
 And, rising from the sofa, he gaily challenged Bishop Clare to 
 play chess with him. "Bring the board, Lilian, love, from the 
 dining-room, and don't forget the men ! The part of Hamlet is
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEB1K. 55 
 
 not left out ' by request,' this time. Jasper, the stand, if yon 
 please ; now place the candles there, we are ready. Lnther 
 against the Pope." 
 
 " A bad jest, Quintil," said the reverend man, shaking his 
 white locks, as he seated himself opposite his opponent. " A 
 sorry jest, even for a Puritan to utter and this is saying much." 
 
 "Now, woe to the scarlet woman !" said the imperturbable Cal- 
 vinist, as he moved a white pawn two steps in front of his king, 
 and eyed with vengeful glances the opposing queen.
 
 56 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEREE. 
 
 fj ' CHAPTER Vi. 
 
 I HAD been six months at Bouverie at the period of Bishop 
 Clare's visit, delayed, as it was, by his absence in the South. It 
 was his custom to make a quarterly visit to my grandmother, 
 when not prevented by imperative duties, and remain some days 
 on such occasions. He was indeed the only intimate friend she 
 possessed outside of her own household, and had been her spiritual 
 guide from childhood ; and, in temporal affairs, had assumed a 
 father's place toward her on various trying occasions. 
 
 He was, at the period of our first acquaintance, more than 
 seventy years old, nor had tune withheld one attribute of his age. 
 His figure, still stately with its remnant of vigorous proportion, 
 was bowed not more by the weight of years than that of the 
 harness he had worn as a vowed soldier of the Cross. His habits 
 were frugal as those of a Carmelite monk, and hardy as a High- 
 lander's ; nor had he ever been known to flinch or falter in any 
 battle of life, from contumely down to epidemic for it was on 
 this scale he considered moral and physical evil. For the rest, he 
 was not the metaphysical scholar that many of his order unques- 
 tionably are, but had freely given forth all his powers to the great, 
 active and practical needs of man, feeling it as much his duty to 
 sustain the starving pauper, when bread was his to give, as to 
 minister to the perishing soul ; and recognizing the imperative 
 claims of his religion, wherever sorrow or misfortune existed. 
 
 Such was this simple Apostolic man. How little I thought 
 when I saw my still strong and beautiful grandmother standing
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 57 
 
 by the venerable priest, then apparently fast descending the last 
 slope of life, and mentally contrasted their appearance, that it 
 would be his task to lay her head in the grave, with the rites of 
 their ancient church ! I could not connect age or infirmity with 
 one so self-poised, so vigorous, as she seemed to* be so full of a 
 nameless power that diffused itself over her whole being and ap- 
 pearance, and which nothing I have read so well expressed as 
 Miss Bailie's description of Jane de Montfort, in her tragedy of 
 " Hate." ' 
 
 A page announces to the Lady Freberg, in the presence of her 
 husband, that a lady waits without to see her ; and she questions 
 him about her, thus : 
 
 Lady Freberg. " Page, is she young or old ?" 
 Page. " Neither, if right I guess; but she is fair, 
 
 For Time has laid his hand so gently on her, 
 
 As he too, had been awed." 
 Lady Frelerg. * Thou foolish stripling ! 
 
 She has bewitched thee. Is she large in stature ?" 
 Page. " So stately and so graceful in her form ; 
 
 I thought at first her stature was gigantic, 
 
 But on a near approach I found, in truth, 
 
 She scarcely did surpass the middle size." 
 Lady Freberg. " What is her garb ?" 
 
 Page. ".I cannot well describe the fashion of it, 
 
 She is not decked in any gallant trim ; 
 
 But seeias to me clad in the usual weeds 
 
 Of high habitual state." 
 Count Freberg. (starting up,) 
 
 " 'Tis Jane De Montfort." 
 
 M 
 
 My grandmother was born of Catholic parents, and reared 
 
 under Catholic influence ; and it was a wish of hers that sho 
 
 3*
 
 58 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 could not disguise, that I should embrace the faith she reverenced 
 loved, I might have said ; but for the deadness to its tender im- 
 pulses of which she constantly accused herself. 
 
 " I sometimes wish," I heard her say one dajito Bishop Clare, 
 " that I had notfceen trained to piety, so that I might experience 
 the joy of a uewly received religion. The freshness of a yet inex- 
 perienced sensation like this, is what I need to rouse, to revivify me." 
 " There is a rekindling of such holy light in many earnest 
 natures," he rejoined, " where habit has staled enthusiasm for 
 to this error of our very organization, all men are subject more 
 pure, more beautiful, than the pristine flame itself. This order of 
 things is usually won by prayer and humiliation, for the doors and 
 windows of the soul must be set wide open by such agents, before 
 the breath of heaven can enter, to fan the smoldering embers of 
 faith into renewed glory. But occasionally God condescends to 
 manifest his power, through miracles, and the dying shiner, by no 
 agency of his own, is saved and brought to a perfect understanding 
 with his Creator." 
 
 " Father, must I wait for this ?" 
 
 There was a dry agony in the tones hi which she asked this 
 question. 
 
 By no means, my daughter. Seek, through the intervention 
 of Saints, and above all, through the Yirgin, the friend of all de- 
 solate women, the aid you tlesire. In old tunes these never failed 
 you, why should they now ?" 
 
 " I know not," she made answer ; " I only feel that they do 
 fail me in my utmost extremity, in the apathy of my broken 
 hopes, my advancing age." 
 
 " Camilla, you surprise me. To what can you attribute such 
 inconsistency on the part of agents so divine, so infallible ?"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIK. 59 
 
 I did not hear her answer, it was made in suppressed tones ; 
 but the surprised rejoinder rang out clearly and sternly. 
 
 " No, no ; you are wrong, utterly in error 1 Discard the 
 thought as unworthy of your own nature, and above all of Him, 
 the Great, the immaculate Father ! Oh, my daughter ! my 
 heart bleeds sorely for you 1" He groaned aloud. 
 
 This conversation took place in my grandmother's chamber, 
 and was, I felt, not intended for my ear ; but I had taken my 
 seat, fatigued from some momentary exertion, on the broad step 
 that led down from the open window to the lawn, and sat enjoy- 
 ing the fresh, balmy beauty of that April morning, attracted 
 before I knew it, to listen, by the familiar voices, and the unusual 
 words they uttered. 
 
 I rose now, 'and went into the room to disclose my presence ; 
 but both speakers had disappeared, and, though I sought them 
 through the house, it was not until dinner was served, and the 
 summons of Fabius had drawn the remaining members of the 
 family together in the dining-room, that Bishop Clare and my 
 grandmother were again visible. 
 
 This ^absence formed food for conjecture in my mind " They 
 have been at the confessional," I thought ; " and that mysterious 
 chamber is after all, oratory as well as dressing-room. I wonder 
 how many images of saints and holy Madonnas are assembled 
 there ! No ; this religion and its symbols would never suit me : 
 dolls and images are well enough in their way, but how can they 
 help us to serve God ? Does he care for all this ceremony ?" 
 And I thought of the simple prayer of the old kirk, delivered 
 standing, and revered more than ever the absence of form and the 
 direct character of the faith of that grandmother who had never 
 forbidden me to love her !
 
 60 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEK1E. 
 
 Temperament has, after all, more to do with religion that 
 theologians are willing to acknowledge, and there certainly was 
 in my very veins some principle antagonistic in its nature to 
 Catholicism. I was made, I think, of those elements from which 
 new churches, new forms of government have sprung. It was 
 natural to me to investigate motives, and demand reasons for 
 action ; and if I was a poor logician, I was at all events, no so- 
 phist, no self-deluder ; what I believed was a part of my own 
 being. 
 
 I have heard people talk of choosing a religion, as they would 
 select a garment, and marvelled at the fallacy ! Oh, who can 
 choose a conviction ; or who would not, if this were possible, be- 
 lieve in the comforting doctrines of the universalist or the epicurean ? 
 
 No ! religion is made of sterner stuff ! We cannot banish or 
 deny the presence of evil ; it is here we can only contend 
 against it, with what limited power we have, and what divine 
 assistance we receive. We cannot shut out the bitter belief in the 
 vast inequality of human lots, prate as philosophers may of com- 
 pensation on earth ; nor fail to perceive the absence of all justice 
 in the visible dispensations of Providence. Else would no virtu- 
 ous man go down in the fiery sea of sorrow and adversity ; else 
 would no icy-hearted villain prosper ! That these things are, none 
 can deny that noble lives are failures, that base ones are crowned 
 with success, let Kossuth let Louis Napoleon testify, for want 
 of fitter examples, known to all men ! But we need not stop 
 with public characters like these. In every sphere of life there 
 aro innumerable instances of this kind, and when we try to per- 
 suade ourselves that there is no truth in the dark doctrines of 
 fate and election, let us reflect on these manifest inconsistencies, 
 before our daily eyes.
 
 THTC HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 61 
 
 Yet who wants to believe in these doctrines who would incline 
 to it if it were possible to waive them away by any process of 
 human reasoning or self-deception ! And why should any belief, 
 after all, however gloomy and oppressive in its tendency, make 
 us, for one moment, falte* in our faith in, and perfect love for 
 God? 
 
 For the future is in his hand of which we know nothing now, 
 and the instinct is in all hearts, to trust in its mighty develop- 
 ments, its compensations, its unerring fidelity to, and correspon- 
 dence with the past, so that they may be said to ' represent the 
 two scales of a balance one before us, with its heavy and uncom- 
 prehended measure of good or ill the other with its unseen 
 freight far in eternity. 
 
 Yet happy those who, closing their eyes on its complicated in- 
 consistency, and seeing its sublime comfort, and loving charity 
 alone, bow down and worship at the foot of the Catholic cross 1 
 Happy those who deem that sin can be forgiven by prtfxy, and 
 the gates of heaven entered by death-bed repentance ! These 
 are the beings whom the rapture of heaven possesses even on 
 earth, and who bear most often, lightly the burden of sin and 
 sorrow so crushing to the sterner thinkers. Nature had never in- 
 tended me to be one of these. 
 
 So the teachings of Bishop Clare entered not deep into my 
 spirit, and I still continued to repeat the simple prayers, and 
 to read the daily chapter in the Bible, as my grandmother 
 DC Courcy had taught me to do, and to believe that if I did the 
 very best in my power, God would take care of the rest; for my 
 fate was in his hands only who made the sea and the earth. I 
 had nothing to do with my own life, or with the time of death, 
 Mien wherefore great concern for the one, or fear for the other ?
 
 62 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 God had given me a room, grandmother De Courcy said, in his 
 great palace of the world, and I must sweep it and set it in constant 
 order; but outside of that he would not permit me to go, either 
 in life or death, unless he wanted my services beyond its limits. 
 Then he would let me know in his own way! And with this 
 quaint and primitive allegory I was satisfied. 
 
 There were no undue efforts made to change my habits of 
 thought or worship, by those who believed so differently, or to 
 confirm the convictions which had struck such deep root into my 
 childish mind, by him who held the same tenets. These things 
 were left to my own reason, my own inclination, with the delicacy 
 inherent in high-bred people, so thoroughly at war with fanaticism 
 that it shrinks from the responsibility of proselytism. 
 
 Strangely enough, Jasper, who might, from the sympathy natural 
 between the young, have exerted a greater amount of influence 
 over my religious views than any other member of the household, 
 was himself disinclined to Catholicism, in spite of his love for his 
 mother and reverence for Bishop Clare, and the instructions he 
 had received from both. He inclined openly to the faith of 
 Dr. Quintil, nor did this Calvinistic predilection of his seem to 
 have caused him one reproach on the part of my grandmother. 
 It was a subject, however, on which he rarely touched, as was 
 certainly, under the circumstances, most wise and even delicate,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 63 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I HAD hoped that when Bishop Clare's departure had left us 
 leisure to be alone together again, my grandmother would refer 
 to our former conversation, and recall the request she had made 
 me. I had determined to be magnanimous, and forgive the injury 
 she had done my feelings by putting aside my affection, when the 
 time of explanation arrived. I waited vainly the concessions I 
 expected were never made; and although her manner, her con- 
 stant kindness, left me nothing to complain of, I was, I confess, 
 disappointed and even disheartened. It was my nature to love 
 passionately, exclusively. Jasper was dear to me; Dr. Quintil 
 possessed my confidence and respect, and even affection; but for 
 my grandmother I had reserved the full cup of my devotion, 
 linked with the sentiment of filial love, more potent than any 
 other in my peculiar organization, and which was now wholly 
 wasted and, as it seemed to me, unrecognized. 
 
 Yet I could not help feeling that in spite of all her efforts to 
 smooth over affection with the gloss of duty, there did exist for 
 me some stronger sentiment than she exhibited beneath the calm 
 cheerful equipoise of her daily manner. I read it iker eyefcjo 
 the tones of her voice when she least suspected them of betraying 
 her, and in that quiet vigilance with regard to all I did or said, 
 that to the close observer is such an unerring indication of deep 
 interest. 
 
 I had gone into the drawing-room with Bianca a few days after 
 the termination of Bishop Clare's visit, to assist that notable person
 
 64 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIB. 
 
 in replacing the holland coverings of the elaborately embroidered 
 chairs and sofas, and the protecting gauzes over the picture- 
 frames, removed in honor of our guest, when the conversation 
 I am about to relate occurred between us. It is hardly worth 
 recording here, except as far as it gives a clue to later revelations, 
 and gave at the time an impetus to my imagination, difficult to 
 check even when reason and duty nerved me to the effort. 
 
 " You say, my grandmother embroidered all of these chairs, 
 Bianca! How long was she about it, I wonder. What a time it 
 must have taken her to cover the whole canvas with worsted work 
 in this elaborate way." 
 
 " They were on hand, Miss Lilian, the best part of nine years, 
 and I heard Dr. Quintillian say that the French Gobelins could 
 produce nothing finer." 
 
 I laughed I knew what she was aiming at I had read of the 
 Gobelin tapestry. 
 
 " You needn't laugh, Miss Lilian, in that scornful way, if you 
 are book-learned, nor think yourself above such valuable work as 
 this ! It is something to be proud of, to be able to cover a 
 whole set of furniture just with the work of one soft pair of 
 hands. I wish you were just one half as industrious as your 
 grandmother." 
 
 " Oh, Bianca, times are changed. Women write books and 
 lint pictu^s now, instead of wearing out their eyes and patience 
 ich tedious embroidery; and the day will come, I believe, 
 when they will keep wooden seamstresses (automatons they call 
 them, Bianca; an old man has taught one lately to play chess and 
 blow the trumpet even), to sew up all their seams, while they 
 amuse themselves, and read new books, and plant flowers, and 
 write poetry."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 65 
 
 " La, Miss Lilian ! your talk seems wild to me sometimes, and - 
 when I hear you predicting such strange things, do you know, 
 child" and she looked hard at me while she paused in her occu- 
 pation " you remind me (the land forgive me for even thinking 
 of such a likeness, but it is the solemn truth jjof Mr. Erastus, 
 your grandfather." 
 
 "And why should I not remind you of him, Bianca, and why 
 should you be afraid to say so ? Does not his blood flow in my 
 veins ? Am I not his lineal descendant ? After all, what do these 
 evasions, this determined silence, mean ? Speak to me ; it is my 
 right, and I will know. What was his story? Tell me of his 
 life, of his death? How did he die, Bianca ?" And I drew near 
 to her, and laying my hand on her arm, looked steadfastly into 
 her eyes. "Say, did he take his own life, as I have half-suspected, 
 or was he murdered," and I prolonged the word with its vague 
 horror, dropping my voice to a dreary whisper. 
 
 " Neither, Miss Lilian, dear," she replied, greatly agitated. 
 " For pity's sake do not ask me anything more. Mrs. Bouverie 
 would never forgive me if she knew that I had ever mentioned 
 his name to you." 
 
 I knew that I had to do with a weak woman, in whose very 
 timidity of organization lay her only strength ; for to her, discretion 
 came through fear, the most powerful sentiment of which she was 
 capable, probably, next to an unquestioning fidelity of habit. 
 
 " Bianca, there is one thing I must know; you told me to-day, . 
 when I admired this beautiful new carpet, that it had been 
 recently laid on the floor, and that the room had been closed for 
 years until I came, when the stained carpet was removed to make 
 way for this. You shuddered when you spoke of those stains, 
 and the ineffaceable nature of them. Bianca! were they caused
 
 66 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 by his blood ? Did he meet his death in this room ? Speak to 
 me; I tell you, this mu;h I must know." 
 
 " No, no, Miss Lilian dear, no drop of his blood was ever 
 spilled in this ho^se that I know of, but I cannot, cannot tell you 
 another word. 2 must not, I dare not, Miss Lilian;" and she 
 sat down pale and terrified, as if overcome by the very thought 
 of what she might be tempted to reveal. 
 
 I pitied her weakness, yet respected her scruples, and forbore 
 from further questioning, although the excitement under which I 
 was laboring flushed my cheek, and disqualified me for a time from 
 rendering her further assistance. 
 
 At last I rose up, seeing that she was preparing with some 
 hesitation to ascend the slight step-ladder she had brought with 
 her, in order to cover the picture she had placed it before ; and 
 feeling that my firmer, more active foot could better poise my 
 < rame on the rather unsteady height of that somewhat hazardous 
 contrivance for the old and feeble, I took from her hand the cur- 
 lain of barred muslin, and ran lightly up the steps. She was 
 evidently relieved by this volunteer enterprise of mine, and stood 
 with her hand on the cross-bar that sustained the ladder, while 
 she praised my activity and forethought, and paying little atten- 
 tion to her words, I contemplated at my leisure the peculiar face 
 before me, which, hanging in a deep recess, had until now almost 
 escaped my attention. 
 
 It was that of a powerful old man, furrowed, dark, ugly, ma- 
 licious with its small, black, rat-like eyes, and sneering lip, and 
 shapeless nose, and bold, prominent forehead, surmounted by its 
 crop of short, bristling grey hair, that grew in a harsh, unwaving 
 line, in exact correspondence with the straight, shaggy brows 
 beneath beetle brows, I think they call them. The whole
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 67 
 
 aspect was that of a mean tyrant Louis XI. might have looked 
 just so. 
 
 I knew at once that the evil countenance of old Ursa, or 
 Usher, Bouverie for such was his real name scowled full 
 upon me. 
 
 " Oh ! Bianca, what a horrible old man he must have been. 
 Let me get down !" I exclaimed, as I put the last pin in the 
 covering ; " I am afraid of him, even on canvas how, how in the 
 world, did my grandmother ever manage to be fond of him ?" 
 
 " She never was, that I know of," said Bianca, gravely ; " no 
 one ever was ; but he almost worshipped her, partly because she 
 looked like his wife her mother's aunt as he fancied, and partly 
 because she saved his life, when a little girl only ten years old, by 
 knocking aside the hand that held a pistol to his breast, with ber 
 slight battledore. To be sure, Pat McCormick was drunk when 
 he attacked the master, and weak, or the child could never have 
 so disarmed him ; but, any way, the courage she showed, and the 
 true feeling, made their way to the rough old man's heart for it 
 seems he had one, after all and he loved her, and left her all ho 
 had to leave, for his English estate was entailed on Mister Eras- 
 tus ; at least, that is the only way I can account for his affection." 
 
 " Was it the cook's son of husband who attempted this out- 
 rage, Bianca !" 
 
 " Oh ! her husband ; the overseer then, but he never showed his 
 face here again after that, and died soon afterward in an alms- 
 house ; and his son, Michael, took to the same bad ways, and 
 went to sea, and married, maybe who knows ? and brought 
 back that simpleton to pester our lives out, just before his death 
 a part of the Bouverie luck, you know, Miss Lilian, is Pat 
 McCormick."
 
 68 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIK. 
 
 I had before admired the beautiful heads of my grandmother 
 and Jasper, painted hi clouds, and still recognizable, although 
 youth had belonged to one, and infancy to the other, when they 
 were executed ; and the noble half-length portrait of Dr. Luther 
 Quintillian, with bis Saxon face, and clear blue eyes the elder 
 brother of our Dr. Paul which occupied the recess opposite to 
 that containing Ursa, or Usher, Bouverie's picture. But there 
 was one large canvas hi the room, hanging over the fire-place, 
 which fronted the door of entrance from the hall, on which I had 
 never looked. The heavy, black cloth curtain that hung closely 
 over it, revealed only the corners of the elaborately carved and 
 gilded frame that surrounded it, and bade defiance to all but the 
 most overt act of curiosity ; and this, the mood I was then in 
 urged me to attempt. 
 
 I had an instinctive knowledge that this canvas contained the 
 likeness of my grandfather, and had felt thrilled and impressed by 
 its presence, even veiled as it was by the sweeping, pall-like 
 curtain above it. But when I lifted the light step-ladder, and, 
 placing it before the chimney, prepared to ascend it, hi order to 
 put aside the interposing veil, Bianca seized and held me with all 
 her strength. 
 
 " Child, child," she said, " you do not know what you would be 
 at ! No hand has touched that curtain since that night no hand 
 shall prosper that ever touches it again." 
 
 " Bianca," I said, standing perfectly passive hi her grasp, " 1 
 mean to see that picture as surely as my life is spared to me. If 
 you prevent me now, I will come back another tune, even at the 
 risk of discovery." 
 
 There was something in my manner, perhaps, or in the low, de- 
 termined accents of my voice, that impressed her with my sh>
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 69 
 
 cerity ; her grasp gradually relaxed, and she turned away sorrow- 
 fully. 
 
 " Do as you will, Miss Lilian, for you are a hard and headstrong 
 child, and not to be led by reason, or persuasion either ; but I 
 wash my hands of it all, and maybe I shall tell your grandmother 
 or Dr. Quintil." 
 
 " I do not care whom you tell, Bianca, or what any one says, 
 though it pains me to be scolded. In the frame of mind I am in 
 to-day, I would see that picture even were my grandmother De 
 Courcy to rise in spirit, and forbid me to look upon it. There 
 you have my determination !" 
 
 " Oh, Miss Lilian, dear, I pity you, to be so persevering and so 
 perverse ! No good will ever come to you unless you drive out this 
 demon of self-will that possesses you. I will speak to Bishop Clare." 
 
 By this time I had ascended the ladder, and thrown back the 
 curtain, and now came hastily down, that I might stand on the 
 floor, and survey the painting to the best advantage, denying 
 myself even' the privilege of a glance toward it while I was un- 
 veiling it, lest the after effect should be destroyed. 
 
 I clasped my hands, and stood thrilled before the superb 
 majesty of the presence which I had thus evoked from thick dark- 
 ness. I saw a man, dressed in furs, dark, distinguished, elegant 
 in appearance, standing with his arm thrown over the jet-black 
 neck of a horse, the head and fore-shoulder of which appeared 
 only on the canvas. 
 
 I had not time to study the picture as I could have wished to 
 do, before the curtain, insecurely fastened back by my hasty hand, 
 settled again above it, in heavy, dropping folds, as gradually as 
 though arranged by unseen fingers, and the vision was shut away 
 from my longing, straining eyes.
 
 70 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIB. 
 
 " See, Miss Lilian !" said Bianca, " you have offended your 
 grandfather's very spirit, and the veil falls between you forever." 
 " Yes, forever !" I said, with a sudden change of mood ; " I will 
 never raise it again, I trust ; I hope, at least, I never will. I 
 have done wrong to look on anything my grandmother's hoube 
 contains, without her approbation. But do not tell her, Bianca. 
 It would do no good. It is well, perhaps, after all, that 7, his 
 child, should have seen his face at last," I murmured. " I must 
 have looked once, or died I" 
 
 " We will go out, now, Miss Lilian, dear," she said, seeing that 
 ] still stood wrapped in dreams before the mantel, with its sable 
 hangings above bringing out into such strong relief the whiteness 
 and purity of the sculptured marble of which it was composed, 
 and the Caryatides that upheld it on their hands ; "we will go 
 out, now ; the covers are all replaced, and I must take the key of 
 the drawing-room to your grandmother, until Bishop Clare comes 
 again." 
 
 "First tell rne, Bianca, how long has that black cloth curtain 
 hung over that portrait ?" 
 
 " Ever since the news came of the master's death in Russia, 
 nearly twelve years, I think, next month, Miss Lilian." 
 
 " He died in Russia, then," I said, catching at the words she 
 had carelessly dropped. "In battle, perhaps? by violence, I 
 know. Tell me, Bianca, I beseech you, tell me," and I clasped 
 her hands persuasively in mine, " how my grandfather died ? I 
 have a right to know." 
 
 She shook her head : " You will know all some day," she said, 
 " and then you will wish yourself back again where you are this 
 morning. Such knowledge will burden you, Miss Lilian, burden 
 all the rest of your life. But come along, it grows late, and I
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 71 
 
 have not made the custard for dinner yet ; besides, I heard the 
 door of your grandmother's room open just now, and she will be 
 wanting you." 
 
 It was her habit to close her chamber door for a few hours each 
 day, whether in the afternoon or evening ; but to-day my absence 
 with Bianca had determined the time of her seclusion. It seemed 
 to me to belong to the dignity and peculiarity of her character, 
 that she should thus retire into self-communing for a portion of 
 each day, and I have elsewhere said that I had felt strengthened 
 and uplifted by the self-reliance this very exile had impressed 
 on me. 
 
 I found her to-day, preparing to walk to the remote vegetable 
 gardens of her domain. The comfort of the household depended 
 greatly, through the summer, on the successful planting of the 
 spring garden, and although Smith was an efficient gardener, she 
 preferred superintending the quantity and quality of the seed he 
 planted, part of the result of which he disposed of by contract with 
 his employer, for his own benefit. 
 
 I could not help saying, as we returned from our walk, " Grand- 
 mother, I do not like Smith's face, nor that of his wife either. 
 They look mean and wicked, both." 
 
 "They are drunkards, lam afraid," she replied ; " but they do 
 my work well so far, and I esteem permanence as a great good 
 with regard to servants. They will never leave me, I think." 
 
 " And I do not like their ways," I added ; " they are so watch- 
 ful, grandmother, and though they never look one in the face, 
 t^iey see everything with their underhand glances." 
 
 " It is a habit of vulgar people, Lilian, to look in this furtive 
 way. A clear and steady gaze is an evidence of good breeding 
 and native nobility of character. We cannot expect much of the
 
 72 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 former from people like the Smiths, and as to the latter, I think 
 with you, they do not happen to possess it. I have heard an ob- 
 servant man say, that in travelling hi Europe he avoided as much 
 as possible, all persons who wore spectacles, as he found they 
 were the usual disguise of sharpers. The eye tells the truth in 
 spite of training ; but the other features may be commanded and 
 disciplined to deceive." 
 
 " I noticed to-day when Smith laughed so loud and long at 
 something I was saying to his wife, that his eyes never changed 
 in their expression ; but were as cold and hard as if his lips were 
 not laughing. That is a bad sign, I think." 
 
 "What an observer and physiognomist you are, Lilian," she 
 said, laughing. " Perhaps, some day, you may put all these mat- 
 ters in a book and surprise us, as Miss Burney did her father 
 and family, by becoming an authoress !" 
 
 " Oh, no, grandmother ; I am sure there is nothing to make a 
 book about at Bouverie, so quiet and uniform as everything is 
 about us. It would be hard for me to imagine myself an en- 
 chanted princess, and Jasper a prince deprived of his throne ; or 
 you a banished queen : or Dr. Quiutil a bloodthirsty conspirator, 
 hiding away from justice ; or Pat McCormick an evil genius ; 
 or" 
 
 " Lilian, it is not of materials like these modern books are 
 made. You run on wildly, your ideas are so peculiar," She 
 stopped she gasped. 
 
 I looked at her amazed by the hardness and dryness of her 
 voice, a moment since, so mellow, so affectionate ; and saw that 
 the rich color that made the chief characteristic of her still re- 
 markable beauty, had died from her cheek, and that her features 
 v ere locked and -sharpened, as if with agony.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 73 
 
 " Lilian," she said, a moment later ; " let me lean on you, I 
 am indisposed ; my heart beats wildly. Do not speak to me it 
 will pass I am often thus." And in silence and sadness of spirit, 
 and unavailing conjectures on my part, the walk was finished. 
 
 But when I entered the dining-room a few minutes after our 
 return, every trace of suffering had passed from my grandm other's 
 features, and she wore again her look of almost youthful anima- 
 tion. Nor would a superficial observer beholding her at the head 
 of her table dispensing hospitality with such high-bred grace, and 
 wearing her own rich, dark hair in profuse and careless abundance, 
 have believed that youth had left her long ; and that middle age 
 itself was fast passing away with the near approach of half a 
 century. 
 
 I had almost forgotten, however, that one seal of time had been 
 set indelibly on her stately head. A small grey plume seemed to 
 have been laid flat among her dark tresses so as to cross her 
 coiffure horizontally, and was perfectly defined and separated 
 from the neighboring locks ; otherwise, as I have said, dark and 
 glossy. 
 
 This silver tress might have been considered symbolical of that 
 deep-seated sadness and reserve that threaded her otherwise social 
 and cordial temperament. For underlying all her determined 
 cheerfulness, and her dutiful occupation of time and energy, there 
 was undeniably something dead and despairing ; a stagnation of 
 life and feeling at their very sources, that like water concealed by 
 pond lilies, sent forth its depressing miasma beyond all the bloom 
 and beauty that covered it.
 
 V 
 74- THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYERIE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IT struck me as a peculiarity not consistent with her usual care 
 and economy, that, although my grandmother's garb was simple 
 and uniform consisting, as it invariably did, of black silk, or 
 some other material of the same sombre hue, relieved only by the 
 handkerchief and collar of fine white muslin or lace she always 
 wore, with its jet clasp at collar and throat rich dresses, of many 
 colors and fashions, were disposed carelessly enough, I thought 
 in her wardrobe. 
 
 At first I supposed she might be intending to sit for her picture, 
 as my grandmother De Courcy had done on one occasion ; and I 
 remembered how, long before the painter arrived, her maid laid 
 out, one by one, all those splendid dresses she had long ceased to 
 wear, to tempt her to array herself as became her rank. But she 
 chose the worn black velvet gown, after all, with the close lace 
 cap, that became her so well, and which I knew as a part of her- 
 self ; and, so dressed, submitted herself to the artist's hands to be 
 painted for my sake. The picture, she had bequeathed to me, 
 hung at my bed-head, and was to me a guarding presence as 
 potent as Saint or Virgin could have been to a Catholic worship- 
 per, and far more dear, for I have elsewhere intimated that filial 
 duty was the peculiar channel in which my affections tended most 
 fully and perfectly. 
 
 " Grandmother," I said, one day, " I saw a beautiful black lace 
 dress, with gold flowers embroidered over it, lying on your bed 
 yesterday, spread out as if you meant to wear it to a gay party.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERDS. 75 
 
 If yon T*ill give it to me, I will put it by carefully, and sew tissue- 
 paper over the flowers, and save it to shine in, when I am a young 
 lady." 
 
 " No, Lilian, not that ! God forbid that you should ever wear 
 that fated dress that blood-stained garb, which must lie with me 
 in the grave ! Years have passed since I wore it, or looked upon, 
 it before. Years may pass before I wear it again. It will be a 
 strange sight, Lilian, to see clay wrapped in such a shroud ; but to 
 this use aloue can that magnificent dress ever be consigned again." 
 
 " You have many fine dresses, grandmother ; had we not better 
 pack them away ? Perhaps you may need them again some day, 
 or perhaps " I smiled, and hesitated. 
 
 " Or perhaps they may be shaped to suit my Lilian's slender 
 form. Was that your thought, my prudent little Scot ?" 
 
 "I don't know how else I shall ever have fine dresses," I 
 answered ; " for I know that I shall be quite poor, and it will take 
 all my money to buy images, and stuffed birds, and poems, and 
 shells Indian shells, grandmother with their splendid hues, more 
 lovely even than flowers." 
 
 " Flowers have life, Lilian ; shells are but dead things at best 
 poor outcasts of vitality ! I never have cared much for them. 
 But, after all, why buy such things at all ? You spea,k of them 
 as if they were necessary to you ; whereas they are at best the 
 merest whims of luxury. Good clothing, you know, is a requisi- 
 tion of society that every lady must comply with you among 
 the rest." 
 
 " Then I will dress in calico, and give up society ; for I would 
 so much rather indulge my tastes, than dress to please other people, 
 Indeed, grandmother," I added, with a half scornful air, "I 
 believe I have very little native turn for the world."
 
 76 FHE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 She laughed. " What do you know of the world, Lilian, that 
 you should abjure it so promptly ? Who made you such a phi- 
 losopher ? How will all those strange thoughts that puzzle your 
 own brain as well as mine, find vent, unless you go out and con- 
 rerse freely with your fellow beings ?" 
 
 " In poetry, grandmother," I said so gravely, that the laugh 
 was checked upon her lips, and faded from her eyes ; and now she 
 looked upon my face with mournful tenderness, as she put back 
 my hair from my compact, yet not lofty, forehead, and, shaking 
 her head, said slowly : 
 
 " Child, child, have we reduced you to this extremity ?" 
 
 "Not yet," I said ; "not yet. I am only practising to be a 
 poet ; the time has not come, but it will it must, grandmother ; 
 [ feel it here." 
 
 And I laid my hand on my heart solemnly. 
 
 " Ah ! heart-poetry, Lilian, not that of the brain a caprice, a 
 fancy, child put it away. Don't you know poetical women are 
 never happy ?" 
 
 " Are you poetical, grandmother ?" I asked, unconscious of the 
 Bting my words conveyed. 
 
 " No, Lilian, no ! That only was wanting to complete the 
 rest. No tyrant of the intellect has ever tortured my thoughts 
 nntil they fled to the crowd for sympathy. What I have had to 
 bear I have made no moan over." 
 
 " I will write poems for money and for fame, grandmother 
 not for sympathy ; and I will buy those splendid dresses for 
 myself, perhaps, that you refuse to give me, with my own toil. 
 Since you will not be my godmother, and touch me with your 
 wand, and make me a princess, I will turn fairy, myself," I said, 
 laughing.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 77 
 
 " What a type you have chosen, Lilian ! Remember how, 
 having attained her wish, her own disobedience and want of faith 
 converted Cinderella into a mass of rags again ; and how darkly 
 she sat down amid the ashes of her hopes, and the cinders of her 
 remorse." 
 
 " Ay, but grandmother, she rose out of these again to be great 
 and happy." 
 
 " True, true, child ; but the story fails there. All women have 
 not been so rewarded for long-suffering and meek patience." 
 
 " You, for instance, grandmother," I said impulsively imperti- 
 nently, perhaps. 
 
 " I, child I" She spoke with a cold surprise. " Alas, I have 
 never been patient never experienced the true sense of that most 
 godlike quality. I am one of those impotent beings who have 
 chafed bitterly against the ills of life, and submitted only when 
 submission ceased to be a virtue, since it became a necessity. 
 But, Lilian, you must not be so personal." 
 
 "I scarcely understand you. What is it to be personal, 
 grandmother ?" 
 
 " Perhaps you will understand the idea better when I speak in 
 metaphor : you a poet a practising poet not yet quite perfect I" 
 
 " Oh, grandmother, I will never tell you anything again, if you 
 taunt me afterward." 
 
 " I was only ' personal,' Lilian ; that is, I only took up the 
 bodkin with which vulgarity loves to stab good breeding, and 
 showed you how to use it. But come with me," she said, amused 
 at my clouded, half-puzzled countenance, " and I will show you a 
 lace dress that will better become your fair young face than that 
 ominous Cinderolla robe of mine you coveted that ' Auto da fie" ' 
 garment."
 
 78 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE, 
 
 And she opened for the first time before my gaze the cedar 
 ohest lined with white satin, which had passed into her keeping 
 when Dr. Quintil brought me to Bouverie ; and which contained 
 the wedding trousseau of her child. From that hour the key was 
 mine, and I revelled in the possession of its varied treasures. 
 
 Not only had my mother's wardrobe been preserved for me by 
 my thoughtful grandmother De Courcy, but almost every token 
 she could gather of her brief and innocent life. My mother's 
 and my father's miniatures the first, slight, dark, spiritual the 
 last, fair, frank, joyous their sacred correspondence, full of aspi- 
 rations never to be realized, and hopes to be crowned but for a 
 season ; locks of their hair, blended in vivid contrast ; faded 
 flowers, fervent mementoes, were there, too early consecrated by 
 the hand of death to the adamantine altar of eternity ; pearls for 
 the breast, and brow, and arm, that might have passed unques- 
 tioned by Undine herself for size and water, and which had been 
 her father's wedding gift to my mother ; and a girdle of aqua 
 marine and a cross of diamonds, more than usually magnificent, 
 which had been those of mine, 
 
 There, too, were the rosary, and the ritual, and the mass-book, 
 that indicated my mother's faith, strangely preserved in that Puri- 
 tanic land, and revered for her sake, though no heritage of mine, 
 as to the belief they inculcated ; and a hundred rare and delicate 
 legacies of taste and affection, in the shape of unfinished broidery, 
 and half-tinted drawings, and exquisite designs for needlework, 
 mutely suggesting to her child the value she had placed on every 
 moment of her short and happy life. 
 
 Short and happy are not those words indissoluble ? Is hap- 
 piness worthy to be called such ever lengthened beyond a 
 brief and uncertain term ? Let no man count himself wholly un-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 79 
 
 fortunate who can look back either from his sleepless bed of 
 luxury, or prison-couch of penury, and say, " I once was happy .'" 
 Brother, there are some of thy fellow beings who have no 
 privilege to utter words like these above whom, through life, an 
 eternal cloud has brooded unpierced by any sunshine, and to 
 whom the whole memory of the past is pain. Let not such even 
 despair ! The grave is near, the gateway to a new existence, 
 where mercy and justice reign eternally, and sunshine is equally 
 dispensed for all who merit its reviving rays. Faith, hope, and 
 patience ! The mystic three, before whose magic touch sorrow 
 and sin fade into oblivion, and earthly troubles drop to dust, 
 stand ready to comfort him, denied by experience and memory 1
 
 BOOK SECOND. 
 
 usy priest." 
 
 J'ABKT CORNWALL. 
 
 " Dost thou deem 
 
 It such an easy task, from the fond heart 
 To pluck affection out?" 
 
 SOUTHBY. 
 
 'Can this be true? uie thought I was acquainted 
 With all the dusky corners of this house !" 
 
 COLEBIOO& 
 
 " He has, I know not what 
 Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate 
 that almost aves me." 
 
 DBTDBH.
 
 BOOK SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHEN Bishop Clare caine back to Bouverie, after long absence, 
 the summer in all her languid beauty reigned over the land, 
 and exerted a depressing influence over the health and spirits of 
 those who required all the energy they could command at any 
 season, to support the stagnant routine of their lives. 
 
 My grandmother, more than any other member of the house- 
 hold, seemed to droop and fail, under the dry glare of August. 
 She had lost appetite, even for fruits, usually her favorite food 
 and her habitual color died from her cheek, leaving it clear yet 
 sallow. Jasper, too, was pale and listless, and would lie dream- 
 ing under the trees for hours, with a neglected book, instead of 
 exerting himself with his pencil or pen, as he had been in the 
 habit of doing, or galloping through the woods and meadows, 
 or to Croften for letters and papers, on his beautiful grey mare 
 Violet Fane. 
 
 Dr. Quintil and I bore up better under the steady breathless 
 heat yet his anxiety about those he loved would not suffer him 
 to rest, and day after day he was devising new remedies for 
 debility and languor, new provocatives for the failing appetite, 
 of those he watched with such unwearying solicitude. As for me, 
 I confess, that for the first tune in my life, I suffered from ennui 
 a strange enemy to beset a girl of my age, full of life, and 
 health, and vigor, and with occupation enough to beguile time,
 
 84 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE 
 
 very effectually if this, indeed, were all that is needed for such a 
 purpose. 
 
 Two years had passed since we last saw Bishop Clart two 
 years which he had spent abroad, partly for the benefit of his 
 church, and partly in the hope of restoring his own declining 
 health. He returned invigorated and satisfied with the success of 
 his mission, and with all his olden interest and affection for the 
 inmates of Bouverie unchanged ; pained, indeed, to see the evi- 
 dences of ill-health in my grandmother's appearance, and never 
 weary of exclaiming at my rapid growth and wonderful physical 
 and mental improvement. 
 
 Those years had indeed done more for my development than any 
 other five of my life have effected. They had brought to me my 
 full stature, and opened unsuspected sources of intellect and feel- 
 ing ; yet with them had come new suspicions, painful glimmer- 
 ings of truths, cautiously and I could but think injudiciously, con- 
 cealed from me. Among other matters a light had dawned 
 across my brain wakened how and when I could scarcely tell 
 that had changed Jasper's attitude toward me, and thrown con- 
 straint between us. He himself had aided but little to do this 
 no one had openly done it. I could recall but one overt advance 
 to such a revelation on Jasper's part it was when we were 
 reading the " Bride of Abydos " together alone in the library. 
 He drew near to me on the sofa on which we were sitting, and 
 encircling me with one arm in his half playful yet fraternal way, 
 stopped me in my reading to draw his pencil beneath the line 
 " Zuleika, I am not your brother." Then rose and went hurriedly 
 out ; nor did he recur again to this imperfect explanation of a 
 subject that embarrassed both. 
 
 Bianca's insinuations had long pointed to this ; my own instincts
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 85 
 
 had risen against the disproportioned tie between us ; but that a 
 near one existed, I could not doubt, though not precisely that, I 
 felt, which I had been heretofore suffered to suppose our bond of 
 kindred. 
 
 Yet I neither demanded, nor received the slightest satisfac- 
 tion about the condition of things that had weighed so heavily 
 upon me, from any one around me, and I leave to the reader 
 the solution of the question why it would have been such joy to 
 me to feel that a distant link of relationship alone united me to 
 Jasper. 
 
 There is a wonderful sagacity in affection to discover the 
 exact limit of its natural boundaries. Nature speaks to blood as 
 to the waves of the ocean, and says hi commands that are never 
 mistaken, nor transcended, " So far, and no further shalt thou go." 
 
 An external voice only had said these things to me no law of 
 my soul spoke out against the affection I gave to Jasper no cry 
 of wrong-doing rose up to stifle my devotion. 
 
 It was in a state of things like this that Bishop Clare arrived 
 at Bouverie, and never were his cheerfulness, and practical wis- 
 dom, and determined energy more needed than now among us. 
 
 He came from the outside world, bearing a valued freight as 
 a ship to a distant island. His simple yet shrewd and practical 
 nature befitted him well to mingle with, and understand men 
 and motives, and to deal with them. He had a power of delinea- 
 tion and even analysis that belongs to few, and which, wherever 
 it may be found commands interest and attention. His con- 
 versational powers were far beyond those of many men, his 
 superiors in knowledge and profundity of thought, adapted as 
 they were to the occasion by an infinite sweetness of manners 
 .and native good breeding.
 
 86 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJYEBIE. 
 
 He saw at a glance how heavy a cloud was brooding over 
 our patient household, and he strove to dispel it by cheering 
 accounts of matters beyond our province by vivid descriptions 
 of scenes he had recently moved among by animated, yet always 
 friendly controversy with Dr. Quintil, whose chief delight lay in 
 argument and by lively pictures of friends once familiar to my 
 grandmother, and still remembered by her with placid affection, 
 although shut away forever now from her narrow sphere. 
 
 The effort made in turn to entertain him suitably, and as be- 
 came her own dignity, reacted favorably on my grandmother's 
 condition. Additional delicacies were provided at meals for one 
 who cared little for more than a bone and crust, and a draught 
 of water and yet who recognized with pleasure the spirit of the 
 exertions made to honor him. 
 
 We sat in the drawing-room, with its pleasant shadowed 
 windows and handsome surroundings ; we looked over folios 
 of pictures, and talked, of books, long neglected or laid aside, 
 or examined some curious presents he had brought. The old 
 enthusiasm for chess was revived, which Bishop Clare declared 
 to be " the only perfect human institution both as to arrange- 
 ment and conduct," and thus revealed, my grandmother de- 
 clared, the Templar Spirit that abode in his heart in spite of 
 modern innovations. For she contended that a taste for military 
 tactics and chess always existed together and that it was a 
 mistaken notion to look upon it as a scholar's or clergyman's 
 game ! It was nothing but war in disguise ! 
 
 " I wish you could live here always, Bishop Clare," I said to 
 hun one day, after listening with rapt attention to one of those 
 lively narratives he told so well, at the subsidence of which my 
 grandmother had left the room.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 87 
 
 "The house is so different when you are here! We were all 
 very silent and dull before you came; but now, all except Jasper 
 seem to have revived!" 
 
 "And he, poor fellow, is in love!" I started, then laughed and 
 colored at the quaint and sudden accusation; for I felt that his 
 calm, blue eye perused my face. " How did you find it out, 
 Father Clare ? Did he confess it to yon, and have you betrayed 
 him?" 
 
 " My dear Lilian, I am an old man, but I see very quickly 
 into an affair of this sort. I was in love too at his age, and like 
 him, fell into the dumps, until those wiser than myself determined 
 to send me away, and so and so I got over it." 
 
 " But who is there for him to fall in love with ? Does he visit 
 any one ? Has he acquaintances in Croften ? " I asked with ill- 
 suppressed emotion. 
 
 " Who knows, my dear, what a young man's fancy may lead 
 him to ? Perhaps it would be best for you not to inquire further. 
 Jasper is twenty years old now, and it is time he should see the 
 world. We are about to send him to Leyden to the university." 
 
 " To Leyden?" I trembled, I grew pale; but soon command- 
 ing myself, I said, " Why of all places in the world to Leyden 
 that horrid Dutch town ? Why not to Yale, to Cambridge, 
 father to an English college even ?" 
 
 " Leyden was his mother's birthplace, and a small heritage falls 
 to him there when he completes his majority. To claim this he 
 must go in person. We deem it best to send him a year sooner, 
 that he may take advantage of the schools, and consult with 
 a famous professor there, about his lameness, and see Prince 
 If ohenloe* in person, as a patient sent by me, and finally, have 
 
 * Th* miraculous cures of Prince Hohenloe are matter of history.
 
 88 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 an opportunity of recovering from this impossible love dream 
 of his 1" 
 
 " Impossible 1 Why impossible, Bishop Clare ? Answer me 
 as you have mercy for us both. Say, would Jasper's love be sinful 
 in the eyes of God ?" 
 
 I laid my clasped hands on his arm, and looked imploringly into 
 his face. 
 
 " It seems so, Lilian, when all the circumstances are Con- 
 sidered." 
 
 "What circumstances ? I desire I demand to know! Loose 
 insinuations have been thrown out significant hints dropped 
 that distress, that torture me. You know in this house of mys- 
 tery one can ask no questions. The people that come to us in 
 dreams are not more unsatisfactory in their proceedings than 
 those of Bouverie. You are of the world, though a minister, 
 and have a human heart, and not a substitute of stone a mere 
 filterer for the life blood to flow through. Tell me the truth- - 
 What is my true relationship to Jasper Bouverie ?" 
 
 "Ask me no more, Lilian; I cannot answer you now. Yet 
 render to those about you, I beseech you, the justice at least to 
 believe they do nothing in vain, nor without considering your best 
 interest. For all our sakes for his, and more especially for your 
 own suffer no confidence on this subject to escape from Jasper. 
 He will repent it hereafter, if he betrays himself now, and shrink 
 from you evermore as the cause of such self-betrayal; and Lilian 
 hear me. Do not seek to be alone with Jasper again. There is 
 a ban of blood between you two !" 
 
 He paused he turned away; and as if in horror of his own 
 ivords, covered his eyes with one hand and waved the other. 
 
 " I know I know !" I said. " He is my uncle, or you call him
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEKIE. 89 
 
 such ; that is indeed a ban of blood 1 Oh I never thought of this 
 before. I wish I wish you had not spoken, Bishop Clare." 
 
 " Had I not done so, he would he must have spoken, and then 
 infinite misery might have pursued you both. The discovery of 
 this misplaced passion has seriously affected your grandmother's 
 health; she sees hi you unusual growth of both mind and stature, 
 indications of an early womanhood, that redoubles her solicitude 
 in your behalf. Scarcely fifteen, you wear the presence and 
 appearance of at least two additional years; and Jasper forgets 
 that you are really but a child, and and his relation. On your 
 good sense, and honorable forbearance, I place my hopes. Pro- 
 mise me that before he leaves this house you will receive no love 
 passages from Jasper." 
 
 "I promise you, Bishop Clare, but I think you wrong him; 
 he could not forget our close dose kindred, so far as to 
 breathe such words to me. "Why, he is to me as a dear, only 
 brother I" 
 
 " And such he shall remain if you retain your prudence and 
 keep your word. But think of the sorrowful estrangement that 
 rash avowals on his part must occasion; one of you would be 
 obliged to leave Bouverie I" 
 
 " But now that I am warned, you will not send Jasper away ?" 
 I asked eagerly. 
 
 "Yes for the present, Lilian, he must go; and when I leave 
 Bouverie I take him with me, and see him safely placed on ship- 
 board before we part. But there will still be a week of interval 
 before this time, and all depends on you." 
 
 "I think you have shown great confidence in me, father, and 
 although you have given me exquisite pain, I appreciate and will
 
 90 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 not betray it I promise to obey your directions," I said, with 
 downcast head. .^- r 
 
 "Not a word, then, Lilian, to any one not even to your 
 grandmother on this subject. You will see later the wisdom 
 and the justice of my proceeding." 
 
 " But, when Jasper comes back, Bishop Clare, what then ?" I 
 faltered. 
 
 " He will come back cured ! you need anticipate no trouble 
 on that score. Have I not told you that at his age my friends 
 sent me to travel, to avoid just such a snare, and that it succeeded 
 perfectly ?" 
 
 " Oh, Bishop Clare, Jasper is not like you ; he will never forget 
 me." I gasped, I trembled. 
 
 " Lilian, have I misread you ?" he said, grasping my arm, and 
 shaking it slightly. " Are you so weak, so wrong-minded, as 
 to encourage guilty hopes like these ? Speak if so, you, too, 
 must go beyond the reach of danger. Back to Scotland ! back, 
 as were best, in any case," he murmured, "to Taunton Tower !" 
 And he frowned on me sternly, speaking vehemently. 
 
 "I will not go !" I said, looking up. "I will stay here, and 
 obey you to the letter. Is not this enough ?" I added, indig- 
 nantly ; "have you any right to probe my inmost soul ? I am no 
 slave of yours no Catholic ; you have wrung and wounded me 
 sufficiently let me pass !" 
 
 And bursting away from his detaining hand, I sought my 
 chamber^-to lie alone, with my burning face buried in the pillow, 
 and indulge in passionate tears. "Jasper, Jasper," I murmured, 
 " the priest may be all wrong, as I know such love as yours would 
 be ; but I feel tha : in heaven it can be no sin for you to claim me
 
 TEE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEKIE. 91 
 
 as your kindred spirit, and I will walk through life alone for your 
 sake, my Jasper. I am a child no longer your love, real or 
 fancied, has made a woman of me at once, strong to feel and 
 tc suffer ; and I do love you, oh, my Jasper ! more entirely, more 
 intensely, than than Hero loved Leander. (I could think of no 
 stronger comparison.) But T will keep my word, and this 
 shall save us loth from the sorrow of such sin as spoken love 
 would be." 
 
 I sobbed myself to sleep ; and, when our late supper-hour ar- 
 rived, Bianca had difficulty in arousing me. I rose hastily at hei 
 summons, as soon as it became distinct to my ear ; and, smooth- 
 ing my disordered hair and garments, went into the dining-room, 
 where Bishop Clare the inveterate toper ! sat slowly sipping 
 his fifth cup of weak black tea. Jasper had supped, and risen 
 from the table, and now reclined on the sofa at some distance 
 from it ; and Dr. Quintil was reading aloud the description of 
 a fearful Imrricane in the South Mississippi, I believe in the 
 moon, it might as well have been, so little could I realize the 
 nature of it in the mood of mind in which I was. To this narra- 
 tive, both my grandmother and Bishop Clare lent rapt attention, 
 interrupted only by expressions of interest or commiseration. 
 But I was insensible as steel to the whole recital. 
 
 Once I ventured to look up, and saw that Jasper was watching 
 me ; and, for the first time in my life, his gaze flooded my whole 
 face with crimson. He rose, and left the room, conscious, per- 
 haps, that his vigilance disconcerted me ; nor did he join us in the 
 drawing-room that evening. 
 
 I moved about in a sort of wretched dream ; but found myself, 
 after a tune, sitting close to Bishop Clare, while my hand nestled 
 in hip. I could not bear rmy longer hi? cold, averted look. He
 
 93 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEKIE. 
 
 must be my chief comfort now my counsellor, my confidant, it 
 needs must be ! He who made the wound must cauterize it. I 
 knew by his friendly grasp, that my injudicious haste was for- 
 given ; but no words were spoken between us on the subject, then 
 or thereafter.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIK. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I AVOIDED Jasper, as I had promised to do. Half-sick, as I 
 was, I took advantage of my slight feverishness to pass whole 
 days on my bed alone in my little, cool, dark room, with its one 
 jalousied window and white draperies, through which every breeze 
 bore the spicy scent of the clinging pink honeysuckle without that 
 refuge where sunshine and watchful eyes never penetrated, to 
 flout and annoy me. 
 
 And, lying there, I heard those light, quick, ghostly footsteps 
 above my head, of which Bianca had warned me, and which I had 
 before caught uncertainly and at rare intervals, but with little or 
 no faith, from the first, in their supernatural character. I heard 
 them distinctly now in the nervous crisis under which I was labor- 
 ing, which sharpened every sense even to intensity ; and, again, a 
 heavier, slower tread, and could it be my fancy ? hi that sultry, 
 summer stillness, the low roaring of a furnace, or smothered fire, 
 seemed at intervals to fill my ear, as the moaning of a shell may 
 do when held close to the head. 
 
 I shuddered, and held my breath, as this novel sound first took 
 possession of me ; and, at that moment, Dr. Quintil came in with 
 some composing draught he had prepared for me. 
 
 " You are more nervous than before, Lilian," he said, feeling 
 my wrist ; " your pulse is feeble and fast." 
 
 " Those noises upstairs," I whispered, clinging to his arm with 
 uncontrollable terror, " quite unnerve me I am frightened ? What 
 can they mean ?"
 
 94 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEK1K. 
 
 He listened for a moment, as if to assure himself of the correct- 
 ness of my impression, and then said although I had heard no 
 sound in the interval with a shake of the head, and a faint 
 smile : 
 
 "You do not let a few rats having complete possession of 
 abandoned premises, or the hollow voice of the wind in disused 
 chimneys, make a coward of you, I hope ? You must bear a 
 stouter heart, Lilian this will never do 1" 
 
 And such was the power of this man over me, in his simple, 
 upright manliness, and native truth of character, that these few 
 words did more to dispel my fears than whole tirades of argument, 
 founded on sounder reasoning, would have done, from a less 
 reliable source. 
 
 Yet he had asserted nothing, disproved nothing ; and, later, I 
 remembered this and was glad to be able to do so as an evi- 
 dence of his unvarying consistency and integrity. 
 
 One evening the last of Bishop Clare's stay I rose after 
 twilight had set in, and made my way through my grandmother's 
 room to the great open window ; and there, among the long, 
 white, transparent curtains, swaying to and fro in the faint breeze 
 of summer, I sat down, to inhale the pleasant breath just wakened 
 by the night, 
 
 I would have gone elsewhere, but I felt that Jasper was seek- 
 ing me ; and that here only I could be secure from his dear yet 
 avoided presence. 
 
 I had promised Bishop Clare not to meet him alone, and I 
 would keep that promise, even though it cost me much, and op- 
 pressed me with a suffocating sense of desolation. Yet I could 
 not bear the constraint, and the light of the drawing-room ; nor 
 did I wish for food. Air, freedom, solitude, Jarkness, were what
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 96 
 
 I wanted, aiid what I sought, as I crouched in the embrasure of 
 the wide window that opened to the floor. 
 
 The night was one of peaceful beauty. A few stars were 
 visible, and the narrow-crescent moon hung high in the heavens ; 
 yet the crimson remnant of sunset skirted the horizon, like the 
 smile that lingers on dead lips we love so sweet, so holy, that 
 life never wore any expression half so lovely. 
 
 There are certain temperaments, not the loftiest, perhaps, that 
 find great consolation, in the various influences of nature even 
 in seasons of adversity. Mine is of this class ; and that evening 
 I folded the quiet twilight to my heart, as a friend that would 
 not betray me, nor desert me in my need, and stretching forth 
 my hands to the calm unheeding sky, I murmured of my sorrow. 
 I was startled from my reverie, if such that passionate mood 
 might have been justly called, by the sudden opening and shutting 
 of a door behind me. I turned to see the dimly defined forms 
 of my grandmother and Bishop Clare emerge Trom the secret 
 chamber. 
 
 They came together to the centre of the room, and com- 
 muned there for a few moments in low tones. I heard only the 
 words : " Again, that fatal passion ! I hoped it was laid 
 at rest with other madness. Camilla, you must discourage 
 this !" 
 
 " Father, I cannot ! Think of the isolation of such a life, and 
 be merciful in your judgment. What else remains what other 
 resources are left for one so lost, so lonely ?" 
 
 I rose and fled away. It was not right not honorable for me 
 to hear another word. Once before I had overheard a con- 
 versation between these two, not intended for any ear, and
 
 96 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 from the same hiding-place. This should no* be again and 
 yet I could not bear to appear before them as one who had 
 listened, even unintentionally, to any portion of their sacred 
 confidence. 
 
 Obeying this instinct, almost of self-preservation for is not 
 self-respect the dearest part of self I went out upon the lawn 
 and sought the deep-shadowed retreat I loved inclosed by a 
 clump of laurel trees and threw myself at length on its rustic 
 bench. I lay on my face this buried in my hands and moaned 
 aloud. 
 
 Everything about me seemed mysterious and repulsive. I was 
 bewildered tempted yet repelled ! Wild thoughts were busy 
 in my brain conjectures thickened ; half-formed suspicions 
 gathered strength, and substance came from shadows. 
 
 But above all, the sorrow of my bereavement weighed on me 
 most heavily, and with passionate tears I called upon his name 
 there in the calm and unpitying night who was more than life 
 to me. 
 
 " Jasper my Jasper do not do not leave me. I cannot 
 live without you dear most dear 1" 
 
 I felt his soft touch on my hair. I would have known it in a 
 thousand. I looked up I sprang to my feet I strove to evade 
 him. 
 
 He clasped my hands in his he drew me gently to his bosom- 
 and folded me there in one long, mute embrace. It was but & 
 moment and he was gone ; but the letter he had written remained 
 in my hand, to be read and read again night after night, with 
 ever new and ever tearful joy. 
 
 We parted next morning in the presence of the household hi
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIB. 9? 
 
 a tender yet grave and decorous manner worthy of our 
 ship. Bishop Clare was the last to say "Farewell" to me, and 
 as he kissed my cheek, he whispered in my ear : " You could 
 not help the meeting in the ' Laurel-bower.' I am witness that 
 you behaved well on the occasion, and kept your word to the 
 tt*>r." So speaking, he was gone.
 
 TOE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBI2. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JASPER'S letter to me, was not one of those extravagant effu- 
 sions that ordinarily come under the acceptation of love-letters, 
 and yet it gave me a sweet assurance that brought back health to 
 my frame, and happiness to my heart. I felt convinced from its 
 tenor that his relationship to me could not be so near as I had 
 imagined even. Sometimes I doubted altogether that any tie of 
 blood bound me to her I called my grandmother, and I half 
 conceived the idea that she had been merely the step-mother of 
 my grandfather's daughter. Yet how could I reconcile this 
 state of things to her own remark : "I have never seen your 
 mother since she was one day old," made on the first evening of 
 my advent to Bouverie ? 
 
 Alas, alas ! Did there rest on that mother the dark stain of, 
 illegitimacy, which by educating her in a foreign land her father 
 had sought to conceal, and was the birth of this child a cause 
 of this terrible sorrow that seemed to have risen up between 
 husband and wife, and shadowed their hearth forevermore ? Or 
 was my grandmother ? But, no ! I could not question of her, 
 so great, so true, so noble as she undeniably was 1 Nor 
 could there be a reasonable doubt of her close relationship to 
 Jasper, as evidenced by her devotion to him, and tenderness 
 such as she never bestowed upon me. 
 
 If alien there was, I was that alien ; and crushing as was the 
 first thought that had presented itself to my mind. I fear now 
 that I fostered it, rather than believe that Jasper was indeed
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 99 
 
 my uncle. No ! this could not be ; and that my opinion was 
 not altogether without foundation, let his letter prove. 
 
 " Lilian," it said, " they are sending me away because I 
 insist on making revelations to you on which our life-long happi- 
 ness depends. Not content with exacting a promise from me, 
 to defer these until after my return from Leyden, they have, I 
 perceive it clearly, Lilian, poisoned the very sources of your 
 affection for me by giving you the impression, that my reckless 
 hand would lay low your peace, as dear to me as my own life, 
 by sacrificing the sacred ties of blood. Do not believe this, 
 Lilian. Rest as you have ever done, in the sweet confidence 
 that I would do no violence to any feeling of your heart nor to 
 any covenant of society ! 
 
 " Yet I cannot, my tender child, without forfeiting a solemn 
 trust, make matters plainer to you now ; nor can I bear, with- 
 out a perfect explanation of the nature I desire to make, to re- 
 main near you longer. I am convinced in my own mind that it 
 would be better for all parties concerned to suffer this under- 
 standing to take place at once ; but, as I am refused this privi- 
 lege, rather than rest in a false position another hour, I have 
 consented to go away for a season, and it may be for the best. 
 
 "But hi this at least I feel that I have been wronged; when the 
 reluctant promise to which I have referred was exacted from me, 
 I was, I think, entitled to such confidence as would have spared 
 you the burden they have laid on your young life. I should have 
 preserved the pledge I made immaculate; and to doubt me was 
 to dishonor. 
 
 "I think we owe much of what we suffer now, to the amiable 
 but ill-advised interference of Father Clare, whose Jesuitical ten- 
 dency has been plainly shown by the whole proceeding. These
 
 100 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 confessors have strange views of human motives, because they 
 believe what they hear in their confessional, and never hear the 
 truth! We should not be so judged, were the common standard 
 of truth and honor higher; but as it is, my Lilian, we must bear. 
 
 " I know my gentle girl will believe me incapable of cherishing 
 any hope or aspiration connected with her, that I might not with 
 propriety spread before the world; and that the tune may come 
 when this may be done without reproach or reserve, I pray to the 
 Parent of all good. 
 
 " In the meantime write to me, dear beloved friend, freely and 
 frequently, and send me your poems, just as they fell from your 
 pen, that I may, though distant, trace the progress of those 
 powers with which God has so richly gifted you. 
 
 " For my own part, I do not conceal from you that my hope 
 of success in that peculiar walk of art to which I incline, gilds 
 this exile from home, and alone makes the thought of absence 
 endurable. 
 
 " You that have watched with such interest my crude efforts, and 
 suggested to me, out of the storehouse of your ardent fancy, so 
 many beautiful subjects for design, will, I well know, go hand in 
 hand with me along the path I have traced, and rejoice in what- 
 ever distinction I may achieve. 
 
 " For believe me, beloved Lilian, no day shall pass in which I 
 shall not be near to you in thought and in affection, however 
 arduous my tasks may be; and the hope of pleasing you, and the 
 thought of your beaming eye and smile, shall cheer and strengthen 
 your devoted Jasper." 
 
 Was this a letter to be ashamed of to be taunted about? 
 No. Bishop Clare should read it I resolved on it at once-~
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 101 
 
 whenever he came again. I would make him ashamed of the part 
 he had performed. He, an anointed priest of God, to play the 
 spy and the eavesdropper! How my cheek burned as I thought 
 of his covert sarcasm, when he averred that I had obeyed him 
 "to the, letter!" A play upon words, at such a time as that, was 
 too unfeeling. Why had he not a family of his own to attend 
 to, like other men ? Why must he meddle forevennore hi our 
 affairs ? 
 
 Long before he came again, all these bad feelings had melted 
 into thin air. Troubles of my own had arisen, to humiliate, 
 to torture me; and connected with these, had dawned over me 
 some glimmering of the unseen motives that had prompted him to 
 take so decided a part in affairs that seemed little or no concern 
 of his, at the time of Jasper's departure. 
 
 It was early in December before he found himself at leisure to 
 return to Bouverie; and in this interval some remarkable revela- 
 tions had been made to me, partly by accident, partly through my 
 own enterprise and headstrong determination to cut the Gordiau 
 knot of mystery at once. I was in sackcloth and ashes for all 
 this when he came; yet I told him nothing of what had occurred, 
 although I surmised that from another source he had obtained 
 information of my proceedings. The autumn had been full of 
 incident to him ; the epidemic prophesied by Dr. Quintil had, 
 during that season, ravaged a portion of his diocese, and had 
 indeed approached near to our own doors; and, as usual, Bishop 
 Clare had breasted the fierce tide of suffering with all the skill 
 and energy he could command. 
 
 Priest, doctor, soldio.r all in one he bore back to us the 
 marks of the strife he k d encountered, and was fain to rest for 
 weeks, at Bouverie, before he went forth again to the renewed
 
 102 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 discharge of his pastoral duties. The old man was sorely shaken; 
 he was more bent and worn, my grandmother thought, than she 
 had ever seen him, and her solicitude about him found vent when 
 we were alone. 
 
 "Oh, Lilian, what if he should pass away before me! How 
 could I live without the staff of my whole life my comforter, 
 my counsellor, my almost more than father ? Cut off as I am 
 from my fellow-beings, an exile from society, he seems the link, 
 not only between my soul and heaven, but my life and the earth 
 it clings to now!" 
 
 I reproached myself sorely then for my hard thoughts toward 
 this good, this disinterested man so self-forgetting, so truly de- 
 voted to the welfare of his fellow-creatures, as to neglect his own ; 
 and my hasty resolution to show him Jasper's letter was at an 
 end, when I reflected that he might be wounded to the quick by 
 the manner in which he was mentioned in its pages. 
 
 I had thought, at one time, that he deserved a blow like this 
 and from the very hand that dealt it. I looked upon matters 
 differently now. I saw why they had hesitated to trust one so 
 young, and so impetuous, with the perilous confidence that must 
 have been reposed, had reasons been assigned for a new position 
 between Jasper and myself ; and I bowed before the still uncom- 
 prehended fiat. 
 
 But, in recording these convictions, I am anticipating the events 
 that gave rise to them, and deferring an acknowledgment of error 
 that it costs me dear to make, even at this hour. Let me go 
 back to the middle of October. It was then that the suspicions 
 that had long haunted me, though vague and unformed, received 
 confirmation in the startling manner I am about to relate. 
 
 During a week of stormy weather, T had taken refuge during
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 103 
 
 my leisure hours in the basement conservatory, with my ball, and 
 battledoor, and skipping-rope, for the sake of the unimpeded 
 room for exercise which it afforded. The plants it contained 
 recently brought in for shelter were ranged in long rows on that 
 side of the apartment on which the windows were pierced ; and 
 between these and the blank partition opposite, lay an open pass- 
 way, of nearly twenty feet hi breadth, and at least thirty in 
 length for the room embraced the space occupied by the draw- 
 ing-room, and a portion of the lateral hall above it. 
 
 Tired of skipping up and down the uneven pavement, I had 
 just commenced to throw my ball against the partition, when I 
 heard a familiar voice exclaim : 
 
 " Oh, what a ' lively bouncer ' she is ! Miss Lilian, let me come 
 play ball with you, please, ma-am I" 
 
 I turned, with a mixture of disgust and indignation, to chide 
 the intruder ; but his poor, pleading face pathetic enough, at all 
 tunes, in its unmitigated foolishness disarmed me, and I merely 
 said : 
 
 " Don't you know, Pat, that stable boys never play ball with 
 young ladies ? Go away, directly, or I shall have to call the 
 dame." 
 
 He stood a moment, slightly confounded by this threat, which 
 he knew would, if put into execution, bring about certain unplea- 
 sant consequences ; but, soon recovering himself, he thrust out hia 
 hand, with its long, dangling fingers, and said, hi a wheedling 
 way, inexpressibly ridiculous and repulsive at once, to me : 
 
 " Miss Lilian, dear, give me your ball your pretty red ball, 
 that looks like mammy's Bible I want it to keep the witches 
 away, they pesters me so of nights !" looking fearfully around, 
 with an expression worthy of Tarn O'Shanter himself. Then
 
 104: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 di awing closer to me, he added, in a loud whisper, holding on 
 hand over his mouth, and stooping forward, as if there might be 
 ear-witnesses about, while the other was still extended in true 
 beggar fashion : 
 
 " If you'll give me your bouncer, Miss Lilian, I'll tell you what 
 I'll do I'll show you my pretty old play-actor man upstairs, and 
 the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and the kettles, and all, 
 where he cooks his victuals ; but don't tell mammy, or" walling 
 his eyes fearfully "she'll pin my tongue to the biscuit-board 
 again with her big darning-needle." 
 
 " Poor wretch ! did she ever treat you thus ? Why didn't you 
 go at once and complain to Mrs. Bouverie ? What made you 
 bear such barbarity ?" I asked, pausing in my amusement. 
 
 He did not answer my indignant interrogatories, nor even 
 seem to heed them ; but continued to plead, still stretching forth 
 the supplicating hand, by this time so drawn up as to resemble the 
 claw of a bird of prey. 
 
 "You see, Miss Lilian, the witches tells me, that old Master 
 TJrsa Boobery" so he invariably pronounced this aristocratic 
 name " buried money pots down in the woods, where the spotted 
 snake watches ; and, if you will give me your Bible ball, I will roll 
 it in the hollow till it stops right over the gold. And then I will 
 'vide with you, Miss Lilian indeed I will ! half and half, for a 
 bargain is a bargain, and a promise must never be broke so 
 Bishop Clare says." 
 
 " Be quiet, Pat, and go your ways. I am tired of your folly. 
 There, poor fellow ! take the ball ; you have little enough to please 
 you, heaven knows ! And listen, Pat ! if you ever follow me 
 here again, I will tell Dr. Qnintil and your mammy both, I 
 promise you '"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 105 
 
 He turned away well pleased with the granted plaything, and, 
 taking up my rope I was preparing to jump again, when I felt 
 my arms violently seized from behind ; and, before I could resist 
 
 or cry out, I was thrust into an opening, never suspected before, 
 
 If 
 against a narrow ladder that r^n up, dingy, and straight, and 
 
 steep before me. He had unclosed a small door, hitherto unsus- 
 pected, in the plank partition, while my back was turned, and was 
 compelling me to enter it. I disengaged myself without difficulty 
 from his grasp his object seemed only to exhibit the mysterious 
 stairway and he stood holding the door back, as if quite uncon- 
 scious of having offended me, until I sprang round with my hand 
 uplifted to strike him. 
 
 He sank on his knees with a moaning whimper, such as a beaten 
 hound makes sometimes, as if sorrow got the better of mere phy- 
 sical pain, and covered his face with his hands. 
 
 " Oh ! don't strike me, Miss Lilian," he said. " Tell my 
 mammy, but don't strike me yourself!" 
 
 " You have behaved outrageously to me !" I said, dropping my 
 hand as soon as I recovered my voice, of which terror and sur- 
 prise had for a moment deprived me ; " and you shall be beaten 
 for your conduct, and sent away from Bouverie forever." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Lilian 1" The piteous moaning continued, and the 
 contortions and shudderings were wonderful to behold. I could 
 scarcely help laughing at them in the midst of my rage. He 
 could not have employed more effectual means of disarming me. 
 
 " What does this mean, after all, Pat ?" I said, mollified by his 
 excessive and caricatured agony. " What is this door used for 7 
 how did you find it out ? and how dare you show it to me ?" 
 
 " Oh! Miss Lilian, I just wanted you to see the pretty old play- 
 
 5*
 
 106 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 actor man, and the show upstairs, because you gave me your 
 Bible ball. One night I watched when Fabius came down, and 
 I seed in the moonshine how he opened and shut the door ; I 
 watched him a heap of nights before I crept up the ladder, and 
 then I went up so easy that the very mice could not hear me ; 
 and I seed the old king in his crimson gownd, or maybe it was 
 the Pope himself I seen. And the Mistress was there, dressed 
 like a beautiful queen but I knowed her for all that ; and Dr. 
 Quintil was there ; and they talked, but I did not know much 
 what they said. And- then I crept back, softly softly, and all at 
 once I fell at the foot of the ladder, and rolled out in the cellar, 
 and burst the spring open and see, Miss Lilian, how loose 
 it is." 
 
 I looked in the direction of his pointing hand, but as he 
 attempted to rise, I held him firmly in his kneeling position by 
 pressing my hand on his head, as I have seen children hold down 
 a Newfoundland dog. 
 
 " Go on, Pat," I said sternly; " make a clean breast of it at 
 once. Imagine that I represent Bishop Clare." 
 
 "And that is all, Miss Lilian; indeed, ma'am, it is," with piteous 
 grimaces. " Let me go, Miss Lilian, and I will never trouble you 
 no more." 
 
 " How often have you been up there, Pat, and whom have you 
 told of this adventure ?" 
 
 " The witches punished me so, that night, I never went back ; 
 and and I was afraid to tell mammy, and I never told nobcdy 
 before," sobbing fearfully. 
 
 " Put your hands together, Pat." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Lilian, what are you going to do to me ?"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 107 
 
 " Only to tie them with my rope;" and the great booby put hia 
 shapeless hands together, and was securely bound as a punishment 
 for his misdemeanor. Having accomplished this feat, I permitted 
 him to rise and depart, first assuring him that if his visit to that 
 basement room was ever repeated, Dr. Quintil would cause him 
 to be hung in the orchard, as the gardener Smith had hung his 
 sheep-stealing dog ! " To which threat he listened with depre- 
 cating faith and solemnity. 
 
 Before I left the conservatory, I closed the newly discovered 
 door, and mastered the secret of the spring which, as Pat had said, 
 was loosened so as to show on examination between the starting 
 planks. I saw now that a brick partition had first existed, and 
 that the slight screen of plank had been thrown before it, so as 
 to square the room, and inclose the steps which, as there was 
 a stairway elsewhere for all household purposes, were not of 
 course a general necessity. The ladder had, evidently then, been 
 placed there for some peculiar emergency, and with an object of 
 secrecy; and connecting these convictions with the vague disclosure 
 of Pat McCormick, I felt strengthened in the belief that had, 
 for some time past, wrestled dimly in my mind. Moreover, I felt 
 determined now to place this matter beyond a doubt, if daring of 
 mine could do this; and having achieved such knowledge as I 
 desired, I would tell my grandmother of the idiot's discovery, 
 that she might take measures to guard against further mischief 
 from that source. 
 
 "Rut how confess the part I had resolved to take in the matter ? 
 Was it, after all, necessary to refer to this at all ? And even 
 should she question me, was I bound to reply to her interroga- 
 tories ? I would be silent, sullen, injured ; she would never dream 
 the truth, and it was with me optional to reveal it or not. I
 
 108 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 would conquer this mystery that had been shut away from me 
 with such system and unwearying care, and preserve it still a 
 mystery, if only to feel that I had triumphed over every obstacle 
 caution or vigilance could oppose to unshrinking will I would 
 do this, or die!"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 109 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 READER, do you know what it is to have bad and bitter blood 
 conflicting, in your veins, with the mild 'and milky stream that 
 flows through them in greater volume and tranquillity? And has 
 it been your lot to feel, at some tune of your life, that this swell- 
 ing tide had power (unsuspected before) to carry everything 
 before it ? If not, take no merit to yourself for having proved 
 immaculate and defied temptation. 
 
 Sailing on the Atlantic ocean, the eye of the voyager is arrested 
 by the singular appearance presented by a current of water 
 darker and infinitely more rapid than the surrounding sea, and 
 said by sailors to be twice as salt and bitter. The pilot carefully 
 keeps the ship beyond its strictly defined limits; the stormy petrel 
 that rests on its surface, rises with difficulty or is submerged; and 
 the small boat (launched from the vessel for some emergency), 
 becomes unmanageable, if chance or necessity subject it to the 
 influence of its rapid current. 
 
 Through my veins there surged a gulf stream such as this, just 
 as separate from my more universal nature, just as irresistible in 
 in its effects, just as wisely shunned by my reason, as the current I 
 have referred to by the wary mariner. As old Bianca had said, 
 " the blood of the Bouveries boiled in my veins," that blood which 
 had flowed ever to evil ; and at last disappeared, only to form an 
 undercurrent in the heart that held a more uniform and steady 
 etream as its abiding influence. 
 
 There was a legend in my grandfather's family, to the effect
 
 110 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 that the Norman blood they boasted had flowed lineally from a 
 pirate's veins, and had later been crossed by intermarriage with 
 the daughter of a famous French charlatan who had given gold 
 for rank ! Be this as it may, my lineage on my father's side was 
 of undoubted purity to the very fount, and my grandmother had 
 sprung from old and respected Virginian parentage; so that the 
 balance of good, at least, was in my favor. 
 
 Yet through my whole life I have felt the occasional power of the 
 gulf stream, and dreaded its fierce current, though time, and sorrow, 
 and experience (the last a wary pilot) have shown me lately how 
 better to avoid it, than in my impulsive youth. And it may be 
 that whatever of power, of genius, or of passion have been mine, 
 I owed to this conflict of two natures in one weak breast, teaching, 
 as it did, the necessity of strength, of self-command and forbear- 
 ance, to the overruling soul itself. 
 
 I have nothing to urge in extenuation of the deliberate and 
 willful misconduct that followed the discovery of the secret door. 
 I might plead that I was lonely, and that excitement, under the 
 circumstance of peculiar isolation from all congenial companion- 
 ship to which I was consigned, possessed for me an unusual charm. 
 I might even urge the precedents of female curiosity, from Eve to 
 Fatima, in extenuation of the determined spirit of investigation 
 that possessed me. 
 
 But I scorn to seek my apology either in circumstances or natu- 
 ral motives, or the example of others. I had been taught better; 
 I knew better, and che voice of conscience was silenced in the 
 hurricane of error and self-will. I had even, for a time, a sense 
 of perverse enjoyment in my power to triumph over precept and 
 precaution; and the temptation that beset me was as strong and 
 irresistible in its way, as the love of Romeo or the hate of Hamlet,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. Ill 
 
 or the ambition of Macbeth. The boat of reason had drifted 
 into that fatal gulf stream, and was the plaything of its force I 
 
 The seed the poor idiot had carelessly thrown down on a fer- 
 tile ^soil germed at once and bore its bitter harvest. For three 
 days the conflict went on, I moved like one in a dream ; I could not 
 sleep nor eat, nor study, nor think, nor pray, for the whirl of 
 fighting emotions. 
 
 The steep black stair was always before my eyes ; the fantastic 
 madman, such I concluded Pat McCormick's old play-actor man 
 to be, ever busy in my brain, the desire to see and know para- 
 mount and unquenchable. Thus wrought the black and bitter 
 blood of Bouve,rie ! 
 
 It was on the evening of the third day that the opportunity I 
 coveted for putting my design into execution presented itself for 
 the first time since it had occurred to me. My grandmother 
 retired to her room early in the evening, as she not unfrequently 
 did, and closed it for the night, leaving me in the dining-room 
 with Bianca, who was charged to see me in my chamber before 
 she left me. Dr. Quintil, too, had gone to his study, probably, on 
 this occasion, and feigning weariness I retired early, dismissing 
 Bianca, who insisted somewhat on seeing me in bed, at my 
 chamber door, and waiting afterward with almost uncontrollable 
 impatience for the sound of her parting footsteps. At last I 
 heard the pantry closed, and I knew that Bianca had made her 
 exit from the dining-room, through that outlet to the wing, 
 carrying the key away with her, as she invariably did, after 
 fastening all the openings of the house securely for the night, and 
 drawing the ponderous bolt last of all across the front door of 
 entrance. 
 
 The clock had not long struck nine when the house was still ;
 
 112 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 but I sat and pondered my project in doubt and terroi, half an 
 hour longer. 
 
 At length I rose, and after locking that door of my chamber 
 that gave into my grandmother's, I stole quietly from the other, 
 and unclosed with trembling fingers the bolt of one of the tri- 
 angular closets from which the staircase in common use descended 
 to the basement scullery. I soon found myself in the plant- 
 chamber, through the barred windows of which the moonlight 
 streamed, throwing out sharp and startling shadows from every 
 object it touched, and glistening on the steel of the spring, 
 between the crevices of the planks, of which the partition was 
 composed, so as to reveal it more clearly than impartial daylight 
 could have done. 
 
 To press this firmly, to start the door open, and leave it so, 
 to clamber up the dark, steep ladder seemed to me but the work 
 of a moment. When I reached the summit I found myself in a 
 small, square, but lofty hall, lit from above by the rays of light 
 streaming from an open door at the head of the spiral stairs, 
 that sprang up light, and apparently unsupported, from this land- 
 ing. I could not doubt that I stood in the division of the lateral 
 passage, corresponding with my own chamber, and that the 
 mystery that guarded its access was now explained to me. A 
 door dimly defined by a wavering hue of light beneath it, 
 cast from the blazing wood-fire within, indicated that entrance 
 to my grandmother's room from which I had seen her emerge 
 with Bishop Clare, and which had been so carefully closed during 
 my whole stay at Bouverie. I passed it with a stealthy step and 
 beating heart. All was silent within. She slept probably ! and 
 yet, " What if she should suddenly unclose the door and appear 
 before me, either going or returning !" " What would become
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 118 
 
 of me ; how could I meet such a reprimand as hers would be ? 
 Her very look would kill me ?" 
 
 The suggestion, full of terrors as it was, gave speed to my steps. 
 I flew lightly up the winding stairway, and so rapidly that my 
 head reeled with the rotary motion to which it was subjected by 
 my whirling flight. I reached the summit, breathless for a mo- 
 ment, and stood holding firmly by the padded banisters, covered 
 like the steps and the hall below, with some heavy woollen ma- 
 terial to prevent sound, until I recovered somewhat from both 
 fatigue and fright. I had gone too far to recede ; I took what 
 courage I could and crossed the landing to the open door, whence 
 the light emanated, and looked timidly in. 
 
 The room into which it gave was empty ! It was a spacious, 
 circular apartment, vaulted and domed, and corresponding evi- 
 dently with the lower hall but far more lofty and elegantly pro- 
 portioned. In the centre, immediately under the skylight, was a 
 large, round table covered with a crimson cloth, on which burned 
 an Argand lamp and several wax-candles, in sticks of ormolu. 
 Books and papers were scattered profusely over this* table, on 
 which a portfolio of colored prints lay open. 
 
 A solid marble counter, as it appeared to me, was placed al- 
 most against the extreme wall of the apartment, so as to block a 
 central door, leading out, perhaps, on the balcony over the vesti- 
 bule (but this I did not think of then), and covered with curious 
 utensils in glass and copper, whose uses were entirely unknown 
 to me. 
 
 A few long chairs, some hanging bookshelves and maps, and a 
 cabinet of minerals, completed the scant furniture of this apart- 
 ment, the walls of which were lined with pictures, and the floor 
 covered with crimson baize, so fitted as to render footsteps inaudible
 
 114 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 The sound of voices beyond, irresistibly impelled me to proceed ; 
 and, with a hardihood I could neither account for nor withstand, 
 I crossed the hall, and stood near the half open door from which 
 the sounds issued. By the merest chance, the faces of all the in- 
 mates were averted, or I must have been discovered at once ; but 
 I speedily assumed an attitude that would have afforded me con- 
 cealment, even had they turned, and eagerly surveyed the scene. 
 
 A fire burned low in the grate, in front of which a table was 
 placed, bearing lights, and fruit, and wine, and perhaps other re- 
 freshments. The company, consisting of a lady and two gentle- 
 men, sat with their backs to this table, gathered closely around 
 the hearth, and engaged in earnest conversation, to which at first 
 I paid but little attention ; on the other side of the table, with his 
 face turned also to the fire, stood Fabius, in the attitude of a 
 soldier on guard, holding a silver salver shield-fashion on his 
 breast. 
 
 One of the gentlemen was already known to me. The patient 
 and somewhat peculiar attitude, the dark brown clustering curls, 
 the curved shoulders, the calmly folded hands, were those of Dr. 
 Quintil. My grandmother was dressed in one of those dresses I 
 had admired and coveted. A garnet-colered velvet, trimmed 
 royally, and made with pointed corsage and large flowing sleeves 
 became her well. Over her head was thrown a golden net, and 
 her cheek, half turned to me at times, wore its crimson flush of 
 feeling or excitement. 
 
 But the third occupant of the hearth-stone was one I had never 
 seen before, though the mystery of his presence had long weighed 
 on my spirit ; and oh ! how impressive how thrilling its reality 
 was to me at last ! At first I beheld only the long, sweeping, 
 steel-colored hair, as it fell over his collar almost to his shoulders.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 115 
 
 and the outline of a form which, though emaciated, still presented 
 traces of remarkable symmetry. But, when he turned, I searched 
 every feature of his face with breathless eagerness. 
 
 Though changed by tune, by ill-health, by trouble, perhaps, I 
 I could not doubt that the original of the picture I had uncovered 
 two years before in the drawing-room was before me. 
 
 The forehead of the mysterious stranger was high, narrow, and 
 projecting ; the eyes, small, and dark, and deeply set, were of in- 
 tense and glistening brilliancy ; the face, of unusual paleness, was 
 of olive tint, and slender proportions, to which the regularity and 
 delicacy of the profile gave repose and dignity, otherwise wanting, 
 for every feature seemed imbued with separate life and mobility. 
 
 The restless eye, the dilating nostril, the wreathing, quivering, 
 brilliant, yet sardonic lip, now closely set as with clasps of steel 
 now straight, now curved, now revealing its treasures of ivory 
 teeth, in a smile of more than womanish sweetness now wearing 
 an expression of almost wolfish fierceness, or the despairing anguish 
 of a doomed and hopeless soul. These mobile features, and 
 especially that flexible mouth, indicated a nature too subtle, too 
 changeful, too willful, yet too sensitive, either for happiness or 
 strength. 
 
 Never have I beheld such a Protean countenance, nor one that 
 so well portrayed the inward man ! Yet think not, that inexpe- 
 rienced as I was, and in that brief scrutiny of mingled terror and 
 interest, I arrived by any just process of thought at these conclu- 
 sions. The result of this subsequent analysis was stamped on my 
 mind then and there, as the solution of difficult problems is often 
 instinctively obtained by those incapable of mathematical ratioci- 
 nation. Instinct works well, when nerved by strong excitement, 
 as sustained me in this momentary survey.
 
 116 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 The face on which my gaze was riveted was quickly turned from 
 me again ; and now my grandmother arose from her seat beside 
 him, and pointed to the table, still spread with its untouched 
 collation. 
 
 " Your food stands untouched to-night, Erastus," I heard her 
 say ; " you grow thinner, paler, day by day, and your loss of ap- 
 petite is cause enough for this. Eat, or your strength will 
 decline." 
 
 " I find a few drops of the elixir of gold more strengthening to 
 me at times than food itself, and this I keep always by me ; but 
 when you are here, madam," he added, " I need neither to sus- 
 tain me." 
 
 " How long will you continue," she asked, unheeding the fine 
 courtesy of his remark, "to make use of this fabulous instrument 
 of good this subtle poison, that wastes your substance, and de- 
 stroys your health ? Will nothing convince you ?" 
 
 " I am convinced," he interrupted mildly, " of its complete effi- 
 cacy in sustaining my feeble life ; and of the glory the discovery, 
 or rather perfection, of so potent an agent of health, will yet con- 
 fer on me and mine." 
 
 " Glory !" with what bitterness she repeated the word with 
 what speechless sorrow she gazed on him ! 
 
 " Resume your reading, if you please, Dr. Quintil," she said, 
 after a pause, during which the person addressed had taken down 
 a volume laid open on the mantel-piece, and was slowly turning 
 over its leaves. "There is something in that picture of Acadian 
 life irresistibly beautiful, I think, and far more cheering to one 
 shut away from nature than any conversation of ours could be." 
 
 Without hesitation or the slightest reply, Dr. Quintil took up 
 the thread of the poem he had been reading, and traced it on me 1
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 117 
 
 chanically, as if he had been only an instrument for another to 
 play on, until arrested by the uplifted hand of him they called 
 "Erastus." 
 
 " It is beautiful," l.e said ; " I acknowledge that ; but it touches 
 no spring of my being, either in the past or present. One blast 
 from Byron's bugle were worth twenty strains like this one 
 breeze from the ^olian harp of Shelley, more soul-stirring than 
 whole orchestras of such music. Take him down, Quintil the 
 man whose heart remained untouched when his body was burnt to 
 ashes on the Tuscan coast and give me the ' Ode to the West 
 Wind.' It will comfort me to-night, the grand the godlike 
 fugue ! And hark, how that very wind, perhaps, is blowing 1 
 But no," he added, " never mind !" as Dr. Quintil arose to obey 
 his request. " You read very well, Quintil, but you could not 
 manage that few can ; I could once, but now but now " 
 
 And he sat for a few moments with his head bowed as if trans- 
 figured in the past, or crushed, perhaps, by the present ; then, in 
 low distinct tones, more thrilling more musical than any I had 
 ever heard before, shall ever listen to again, and with that pe- 
 culiar " abandon," that evidences entire forgetfulness of, or in 
 difference to the presence of witnesses, he gave the conclusion of 
 the ode he had spoken of, beginning with the lines : 
 
 " Oh ! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud ; 
 I fall upon the thorns of life I bleed ! 
 A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed 
 One too like thee ! Tameless and swift, and proud " 
 
 And continuing to the close, he went on : 
 
 " Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is ; 
 What, if my leaves are falling like its own ! 
 The tumult of thy mighty harmonies,
 
 118 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 Will take from both a deep autumnal tone, 
 
 Sweet though in sadness ! Be thou, spirit fierce, 
 
 My spirit ! be thou me, impetuous one ; 
 
 Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, 
 Like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth, 
 And by the incantation of this verse, 
 Scatter as from an unextinguished hearth, 
 Ashes and sparks my word among mankind!" 
 
 These verses he gave utterance to with a power and pathos, 
 subdued as both were, to which no words of mine could do 
 justice, and I felt thrilled and uplifted by the inspiration of both 
 author and medium as I had never felt before. 
 
 " A pastoral poem in an age of progress is surely out of place, 
 behind the times," he said, when the echo of the poem, if so I 
 may express it, had time to die away in his own mind, and the 
 silence of others seemed to grow oppressive. 
 
 " And yet," rejoined Dr. Quintil, " it is a noble thing, niethinks, 
 for a great poet, to throw out his powers freely to celebrate the 
 legends of his country. Thus did Homer, thus did Walter 
 Scott ; let our bard persevere, and we will crown him yet our 
 " national poet," a higher post than Poet Laureate of England 
 has ever attained. A few more such strains, and he will be em- 
 balmed in the heart of the people, to live while the land bears its 
 name 1" 
 
 My grandmother here took up the discourse, and under the 
 cover of this conversation I retreated as carefully as I had ap- 
 proached. Again I scrambled down the dark ladder, loosening, 
 as I tried to reach its rounds, a trap-door which had been propped 
 back, but which closed with a noiseless fall after me, leaving me 
 in utter darkness. The moon was now veiled by heavy clouds,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEKIE. 119 
 
 and the plant-room was so dark that I found difficulty in groping 
 my way to the basement apartment used as a sort of scullery, and 
 from which the stairs in general use ascended. 
 
 These, too, were steep and narrow, and dark, and when I 
 reached my room and struck a light, I found my dress half torn 
 off, and my hands bleeding in several places." I did not say my 
 prayers that night, but slunk like a guilty creature to my bed, 
 with the mental resolution complete, however, never to return to 
 the upper story, until invited to do so by my grandmother ! 
 
 " Yet, will this request ever be made," I thought ; " and what, 
 what does all this mean ?" And I lay with my face covered by 
 my hands, conjecturing, marvelling, excited beyond any possibility 
 of repose for hours, at the end of which I heard my grandmother 
 enter through her cautiously opened door, and her low, sobbing 
 voice soothed rue to an unquiet slumber. 
 
 I had heard before, at rare intervals, that sound of sorrow from 
 her chamber, and going to her impulsively on one occasion, she 
 had lifted before me a face so grave in its dignified displeasure, 
 though bathed in tears, that I shrank away rebuked from her 
 presence. 
 
 Oh ! luxury of solitary grief sole consolation of the broken- 
 hearted how dear thou art how little understood by those 
 who have no experience of suffering 1 
 
 Pillow, that wet with tears hast so often smothered the moans 
 of deep affliction, and received as in a friendly bosom the quiver- 
 ing and passionate face of extremist agony ! Dost thou not seem 
 thereafter an altar on which sacrifice to God has been offered ? 
 
 Calm, and even with sad smiles, the mourner rises from thy sus- 
 taining ministry, and through her household, or the crowded 
 streets, or the homes of others, pursues her quiet away !
 
 120 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 She speaks of common things, she, whose whole life is a secret 
 tragedy ! Her lips receive their daily food ; she bears her daily 
 burdens, waiting, yearning, pining for the shadow, for the welcome 
 soul-sustaining hour, when she shall be alone. 
 
 Sympathy is precious, as was the spikenard balm that Mary 
 poured on the feet of Jesus, but solitude is sacred, for it means 
 communion with God himself ; and accursed be that falcon eye of 
 vigilance that pursues and mocks, under the guise of solicitude, 
 and with its stern compulsion of self-command, the surging 
 anguish of the stricken and bereaved ! 
 
 Is it nothing in the estimate of those who preach of patience, to 
 move, unmoved, all day through the routine of duty, to utter no 
 wild cry when a word is suddenly spoken, that makes the heart 
 leap like a steed that snaps his bridle at the explosion of a gun ? 
 
 Is it nothing to such as these that tears are swallowed with 
 every mouthful of loathed jet necessary food ; and that there 
 exists sometimes, even when smiles are on the lip, that nameless 
 sinking away of the whole being, as though its fountain-springs 
 were failing at their source in the arid desert of unseen despair ! 
 
 "What more do you ask oh, practical philosopher, preacher, 
 and pharisee ! what more ? 
 
 Will you not suffer the doomed martyr to rest from the stake 
 for a little while, even while fresh fagots are preparing for the 
 half-exhausted fire 
 
 The crowd will re-assemble, the pangs will recommence. Suffer, 
 I entreat you, the tortured wretch to sit for a space upon the 
 ground, among the ashes in the abandonment of self-pity, and 
 gaze weeping upon her scars ! 
 
 Leave self-command for the morrow 1
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 121 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WE met as usual at the breakfast-board on the morning suc- 
 ceeding my adventure. As far as appearances went at least there 
 was no change ; but a great struggle was going on in the breast 
 of one of that household, destined ere long to burst to light, and 
 KO find partial relief. 
 
 I began to see for the first time in my life that there was com- 
 fort in one peculiarity of the Catholic faith, and that a great 
 principle in human nature was carried out in the confessional. It 
 may be, it no doubt is, sometimes perverted (of what institution 
 cannot this be said ?) but that to the lonely and sick-hearted, 
 yearning for sympathy and counsel, it bears a world of strength 
 and consolation, cannot be with any truth or plausibility even 
 denied. 
 
 Disinterested counsel ! Where else can it be so certainly ob- 
 tained ? Sympathy divested of earthly motives ! from whom 
 other than the anointed priest of God have we a right to expect 
 it ? Acknowledgment of error, so dear a privilege to the noble 
 and repentant of heart ? Go make it to your nearest friend, and 
 wear the yoke of shame for ever afterward ! There is not mag- 
 nanimity enough among men, nor women either, to justify such a 
 proceeding ; nor to recognize the true nobility of voluntary self- 
 humiliation. 
 
 In less than a week after my visit to the sealed chamber of 
 Bouverie, during which I was a prey to the tortures of remorse 
 and shame, a conversation at the dinner-table seemed to mj 1
 
 122 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 morbid mind to point to the discovery of my transgression. 
 Doctor Quintil was fond of metaphysical discussion, a species of 
 argument from which my grandmother usually shrank ; but on 
 this occasion she had entered with much spirit into the subject 
 proposed, and finally, the discourse settled on an estimate of 
 mental qualities, made by a French philosopher, and entirely 
 differing from the commonly received opinions as to the scale in 
 which they should be considered. 
 
 " He says that order is happiness," said Dr. Quintil ; " and I 
 suppose, that, involving as it usually does, peace and permanence, 
 he may be right." 
 
 " It is the best compromise we can make with happiness in 
 this unsettled world," rejoined my grandmother ; " but as for the 
 thing itself, it involves some higher elements, I am thinking." 
 
 " Keeping my closet in order would never make me happy !" 
 I broke in, with impulsive levity. 
 
 " But keeping your mind and body a.nd temper in order would 
 make you happy," said Dr. Quintil, " if anything earthly could. 
 All other desirable consequences would follow such a state of 
 things." 
 
 " I agree fully with our philosopher, that patience is the 
 noblest quality known to man," my grandmother said " I 
 know no other so godlike." 
 
 " Oh, grandmother ! I said ; a hen is patient !" 
 
 " Jesus was patient," she answered, gravely ; " patient and 
 long-suffering ; we need no other example." 
 
 Constancy would have been the better term, I think," said 
 Doctor Quiutil ; " for it involves patience and something higher, 
 and that after all is what our philosopher was trying to ar- 
 rive at."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 123 
 
 " Constancy is a good thing in its way," my grandmother 
 remarked, drily enough, I thought ; " but oftener an evidence of 
 weakness, than of strength, I believe, if truth were told. No I 
 abstract patience is the greater quality of the two the greatest 
 quality any human being can possess." 
 
 " He esteems envy the worst passion," said Dr. Quintil. 
 
 " And cowardice is the meanest, grandmother, I think ; "for 
 that includes falsehood and baseness of all sorts, does it not ?" I 
 hazarded. 
 
 " I think not; a man may be a physical coward and yet love the 
 truth and his fellow-creatures. I believe, Lilian, that I place 
 undue curiosity still lower in the moral scale than cowardice, 
 although one Frenchman thinks otherwise. Curiosity, Lilian," 
 (speaking very emphatically) " is the quality I most detest." 
 
 And she fixed her eyes on me with a peculiar and unmistak- 
 able meaning. I rose and left the table in tears. 
 
 She had struck home, and I went weeping to my room. A few 
 moments later I heard my grandmother calling me from her 
 chamber. I obeyed her summons instantly, and stood with down- 
 cast eyes before her chair. 
 
 " You resented my remark just now, Lilian, as if you were con- 
 scious of possessing that hideous quality the sin that wrecked 
 the human race 1 Be good enough to explain, why you appro- 
 priated the observation ?" 
 
 " Oh, grandmother !" and I bowed my face in my hands, 
 " Lilian," she went on, evidently moved, for her voice trembled ; 
 " when you withdrew the curtain so sacred in my eyes, was there 
 no internal monitor to rebuke to warn you that you were doing 
 wrong ? Are you hardened in self-will ? Lilian, I 'had feared 
 this."
 
 124: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOITVERIE. 
 
 " Indeed, indeed," I said, " I have wished to tell you," and I 
 removed my hands from my face and gazed earnestly into hers 
 " I know that I am very mean, very degraded in your sight, and 
 that my curiosity has led me to this discovery of your secret, so 
 painful to us both ; but " 
 
 She rose she stood before me with flashing eyes and white and 
 quivering lips, and blanching cheek, and grasped my shoulder 
 with her bloodless hand strong as steel, and cold as death. 
 
 " Child," she said, gasping for breath ; " speak truly, what 
 have you discovered ?" 
 
 The flash of evidence was irresistible I saw my mistake at 
 once, and whither her reference pointed. 
 
 A day or two before, I had for the second time, unveiled my 
 grandfather's picture, to convince myself of his identity with the 
 concealed inmate of Bouverie. She had heard of or seen this pro- 
 bably unperceived by me. Her allusion was a literal one when 
 she spoke of the curtain ; I had accepted it figuratively ; but it 
 was too late to recede now. The whole truth must be told, and 
 it were better thus. It was not until she repeated her 
 question with all its first emphasis that I found courage to reply. 
 
 I sank on my knees and avowed the whole. As I proceeded in 
 the story of my temptation, and succumbing to the master passion 
 that had for a time possessed me, her face softened, relaxed, her 
 hands dropped on her knees for she had taken her seat again 
 during my recital and tears rolled over her pallid cheeks. 
 
 When I had concluded my relation, she held my hands mutely 
 in her own for a long time. My face was hidden now in her lap ; 
 but I felt her hot slow tears falling one by one, on my bare neck, 
 ,nd quivering in my hair, each one a reproach and fiery anguish 
 to my spirit.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 125 
 
 " Lilian," she said at last, " I would have spared you this ; 
 you were free, you were happy. I wished you to remain so ; 
 but you have lain down your neck to the yoke of the Bouveries, 
 and you must bear it yet is it hard to bear. Concealment is a 
 wearing thing to any mind ; but above all, is it unendurable to 
 the young and light-hearted." She paused for a minute, and 
 then continued 
 
 " It was a great an untold pleasure to me, to witness your 
 uncontrolled and innocent joy, and to feel that you were shielded 
 from the sorrow of this house. You were to me, my child, as a 
 flower a bird a ray of sunshine, piercing these gloomy walls a 
 direct and palpable gift from a pitying Father to one of his most 
 desolate children. Thus I regarded you. I am sorry this delu- 
 sion is dispelled I am stricken thus early by your hand ; and, for 
 your part, you have chosen the harder lot, when both were spread 
 before you. The shadow of a great sorrow, and a great shame, 
 must fall over you, and darken your young life. Can you bear it, 
 Lilian ? can you bear it ?" 
 
 " Grandmother," I said, looking up, and clasping my hands 
 on her knee, " we will bear this burden together, and you shall 
 teach me how to do my part." 
 
 " No, Lilian, I am nothing in a case like this. Who will sus- 
 tain you under its crushing necessities ? not I, surely, made weak 
 and apathetic by long suffering. Who, then, Lilian ?" 
 
 " God will sustain me, grandmother," I said, rising to my feet, 
 and standing erect before her. 
 
 She regarded me with earnest attention. " It may be so," she 
 said at last, with solemn humility. " I trust you are nearer to 
 him than I have ever been. He has his own good reasons for 
 receiving some, and rejecting others. I bow, but understand not."
 
 126 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 
 
 Then, after gazing forward intently and silently for a few 
 minutes, she said, in low, thrilling accents, as she clasped her 
 hands accents of indescribable pathos " It is long since He has 
 withdrawn from me 1" 
 
 I shall never forget the surpassing sorrow that these simple 
 words revealed, nor the effect they created on my heart. 1 
 trembled, and the cold dew started to my brow ; and, for a mo 
 ment, I felt as if the floor was sliding from under my feet. 
 
 What substance was there what reality what hope what 
 stay in life or death, if this could be ? To be God-forsaken ! I 
 had never thought that there could be so terrible a doom I 
 would not think so now ! 
 
 Yet I could find no words wherewith to gainsay that accusa- 
 tion for such I felt it against my Creator. I could only 
 mutely pray, then and thenceforth, that the heart that uttered it 
 might, through the extent of his mercy, be brought near to its 
 Maker again. 
 
 And impotent to aid, I withdrew silently.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 127 
 
 * ,; 
 
 CHAPTER YI 
 
 SOME effective threat or punishment milder, I trust, however, 
 in its character, than the torture of the darning-needle and the 
 biscuit-board must have sealed the poor idiot's lips. He never 
 passed me, for a long time after my confession to my grandmother, 
 without deprecating signs of fear or entreaty ; and his whole de- 
 meanor was calculated to inspire both pity and derision. 
 
 Sometimes he would clasp one of his huge claw-like hands 
 tightly over his mouth, and extend the other in a cringing way, as 
 he had done when begging for my " Bible ball," as he called the 
 plaything poor wretch, what a conceit ! Again, veiling his eyes 
 with his extended fingers, he would watch me through the crevice 
 between them, as I have seen -some preachers do their congrega- 
 tion ; or, perhaps, loll out his great red tongue at me, in a manner 
 common to fatuitous people. 
 
 The entrance to the secret stair had been altered, I knew, in a 
 single night Fabius and Dr. Quintil working hard to effect this 
 change before morning, consisting, as it did, simply in removing 
 the ladder to another room thereafter kept locked and pointing 
 it to the same landing through a different opening. All traces of 
 the secret door in the conservatory were effaced ; and Pat 
 McCormick's idiotic curiosity, if it still existed, was completely 
 foiled. But was it safe to trust to the feebleness of his memory, 
 or the existence of momentary terror, as safeguards against his 
 future revelations ?
 
 128 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 " Why not send Pat away altogether, grandmother ?" I asked, 
 " he is so irresponsible 1" 
 
 " Send him where, Lilian ? To whisper and scatter our secret 
 of life and death throughout the land ? No ; we must keep him 
 here, and control him. Besides, his mammy is entitled to some 
 consideration in the matter. She is an old family servant, though 
 never a favorite one of mine ; and necessity has placed me greatly 
 in her power. She has my confidence." 
 
 I would have said, " What is this secret of life and death to 
 which you allude ? Why am I to be shut out from confidence 
 accorded to servants ? Tell me all, and I will never betray you, 
 while reason remains to me. More than this, my own blood is 
 concerned in the mystery, and I have a right to know." 
 
 But her manner precluded words like these. It rose like an icy 
 barrier between us ; and, remembering that she had esteemed 
 patience a " godlike quality," I determined to lean on this staff, 
 and await the issue. Think not that my curiosity was laid at rest 
 I cannot boast of a conquest over self like this ; but it had 
 assumed a nobler shape since the conviction had forced itself on 
 my reason that the lonely occupant of those upper chambers was 
 he from whom my very life had flowed. 
 
 Nothing of this sort had been explained to me ; the resemblance 
 to the picture in the drawing-room, the spoken name " Erastus," 
 were the tenures to which my belief attached itself ; and some- 
 thing like electric affinity seemed to bind to draw me to that 
 desolate being, an exile from society, from nature, from change, 
 from all that cheers and animates human existence, and makes it 
 worthy of the name of life. 
 
 Ineffable pity was mingled with every thought of him, and 1 
 yearned with an intense desire to know the cause of his sufferings
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 129 
 
 and to be permitted to aid if such power indeed were mine in 
 alleviating them. 
 
 My grandmother had, in the beginning of her knowledge of my 
 discovery, exacted from me a solemn pledge of secrecy. She had 
 made me swear on that book which she knew I revered with no 
 common reverence, that no circumstance in life should extract 
 from me one word, spoken or written, on the subject of the con- 
 cealed inmate of Bouverie. 
 
 Having done this, she seemed to dismiss the subject from all 
 further consideration. Her cheerfulness returned, and her manner 
 to me was more than ever frank and conciliating, and even aflfec- 
 tionate. Yet, as she had said, the shadow of concealment fell 
 darkly over me, opposed, as it was, to every instinct of my nature. 
 I was constrained and silent. I moped in lonely places. I 
 grieved, more than ever, for Jasper's sympathy and counsel my 
 refuge, hitherto, when distressed and chafed against my stagnant 
 and cornpanionless life with rebellious bitterness. This mood of 
 mine did not pass unobserved at least Dr. Quintil spoke to me 
 about it. 
 
 " Our bird is silent," he said one day, when he saw me more 
 than usually depressed " silent and ill at ease 1 I miss that 
 lark's voice in the morning. I have not heard my Lilian's joyous 
 carol this many a day." 
 
 I hung my head without replying. 
 
 He took my hand kindly. " I know all, Lilian," he said, " and 
 have made every allowance for youthful indiscretion; you must not 
 grieve any longer." 
 
 " Does Jasper know," I asked, "of him I mean?" 
 
 " Jasper does know," he replied ; " but between you two there 
 *an be no communion on that subject. To him as well as to
 
 130 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 yourself, that occupant those chambers must remain unnamed, 
 unseen and unexplored." 
 
 " Oh, Dr. Quintil, have you banished him from his father, if 
 such indeed he is ? That is so dreadful !" And I grasped the 
 hand that held mine, in an agony of pity. " You have assumed 
 a terrible office !" I murmured low, but the whisper did not 
 
 escape his ear. 
 
 
 
 He made no answer at first, but dropping my hand, commenced 
 walking the room in almost breathless agitation. I had rarely 
 seen him so excited' so angry, perhaps. 
 
 " You judge me too harshly, Lilian," he said ; " yet I confess, the 
 case does seem a hard one ; but that is your fault you jump too 
 hastily to conclusions. Ihere is deep-rooted prejudice and hatred, 
 almost animosity, to be contended with in that quarter. Jasper 
 cannot appear before him; he would destroy him, probably; we 
 have no reason to think otherwise." 
 
 " He would not harnj me I know, even if he is mad," I re- 
 joined. " I am not afraid of madmen, or of anything that suffers. 
 Our old gardener went mad at Taunton Tower, and I was the 
 only person that he would take food from afterward until he 
 died ! 
 
 " Child, child, there is no question of madness here. Would 
 oh, would to God there ever could have been. He that you 
 refer to is not mad. only very peculiar and and unfortunate 
 (let the word pass) ; no one must approach him unbidden." And 
 again he walked the room for a few minutes in silent agitation. 
 " Lilian," he said, pausing suddenly in his pace and looking at 
 me fixedly, "you must make an end of this; you must drive this 
 matter from your mind; in justice, in honor, you must do this. 
 Try and forget that tnere is anything more in this habitation, than
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 131 
 
 you saw during the first year of your stay. You were happy 
 here then." 
 
 " Yes," I said, " Jasper was here, and time passed differently. 
 But now everything is changed, and dark and dull. I have been 
 the cause of unhappiness to all of you to him, to you, to my 
 grandmother, to myself and I am sorry that I ever came among 
 you only to trouble and annoy. And now this last most fervent 
 hope is taken away from me. I had thought to go to him, to 
 comfort him, to aid in caring for him in every way ; for already I 
 feel that he is near to me, and I stand prepared to love him." 
 
 " You are unreasonable now, as are all passionate people ; you 
 will think better of this hereafter ; yet if your inclination leads you 
 to leave Bouverie regretting, as you do, your advent here, I think 
 your grandmother will not oppose it; and I deem it my duty to 
 tell you, under these circumstances, that a very favorable oppor- 
 tunity for casting your lot elsewhere is now afforded you. When 
 you are calmer I will explain this to you, and leave the matter to 
 your own dispassionate decision. In the meantime, rest assured 
 that no event of the last ten years has given us half so much 
 pleasure as your coming to Bouverie. Yet I feel that it must be 
 a prison to energies like yours, and cannot wonder that you desire 
 to leave its gloom and monotony behind you." 
 
 So speaking in calm, cold accents, he passed from the apartment, 
 leaving me greatly disconcerted. 
 
 Two hours later I was summoned to his study by Bianca, who 
 found me sitting just where he had left me, with the traces of 
 tears on my face, which moved her to compassionate remark. 
 " What has gone wrong with you, Miss Lilian ?" she asked ; 
 " you have not seemed yourself lately, at all. I am afraid yon 
 take on too much about Mister Jasper."
 
 132 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 " Give me some cool water, Bianca, and tell Dr. Quintil I will 
 be with him in a few minutes; and don't ask me any questions, if 
 you love me." 
 
 The good creature fulfilled all my mandates; and with as serene 
 a countenance as I could command, I followed her to Dr Quintil's 
 presence. 
 
 " Sit down, Lilian," he said when, looking up from his book, 
 he saw that I stood before him, for I had entered noiselessly; 
 " I was not aware of your presence ; sit down and read this 
 letter." 
 
 And he gave me one that he drew from his pocketbook, stamped 
 with a foreign postmark. My amazement was at its height when 
 I found that it was from Colonel De Courcy, the present possessor 
 of Taunton Tower, and that it contained a conditional offer for 
 me, of home, education and suitable provision in after-life. 
 What miracle had wrought this change, and melted this heart of 
 ice, to flow in streams of genial fellowship and humanity ? 
 
 I could only conjecture what had effected this alteration in his 
 views, when I read, toward the conclusion of the letter, that he 
 had, within the year, adopted the orphan children of his sister, 
 who had been to him once as a child herself, although her ill- 
 starred marriage had long separated their fortunes. 
 
 All was forgiven now; she and her husband were both dead, 
 and the son and daughter for whom she entreated protection 
 on her dying bed, were not rejected. He determined to keep 
 them with him, and educate them at home by means of masters; 
 and that companionship might not be wanting to his niece, he 
 invited me to come and share all her advantages equally and 
 impartially. 
 
 There was something said in the letter, about " concentrating
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 188 
 
 fortunes, should inclination so direct," to which I paid but little 
 attention at the time, though later its significance did not escape 
 me. It was evidently his plan (I found on re-reading this letter 
 months afterward), to unite me in marriage with his nephew, 
 should we so incline on acquaintance, and thus secure the pros- 
 perity of all connected with him. 
 
 He mentioned that Lady Torrington had gone abroad in feeble 
 health, and that in case of her death, her portion of the estate 
 would revert to me, the only survivor, save herself, of her mother's 
 family. This, he remarked, would make me independent, had he 
 not determined to effect a settlement upon me in case I complied 
 with his request; which he seemed to consider a mere matter of 
 course that I would do joyfully. He invited Dr. Quintil to be 
 his guest while in Scotland, should it suit his convenience to cross 
 the seas with me; advising him, otherwise, to consign me and my 
 effects to the care of the British consul in New York, a personal 
 friend of his, who would take pleasure in sending me safely over. 
 To my grandmother he did not even allude, the letter being 
 addressed wholly to Dr. Quintil, with the request that it might be 
 communicated to me, and answered speedily. 
 
 " Has my grandmother seen this letter, Dr. Quintil ?" I asked 
 as I handed it back to him with non-chalauce real, not affected. 
 
 " Not yet. I deemed it my duty to submit it first to you, and 
 learn your wishes. The matter might then be broken gradually 
 to her." 
 
 " Do you object to answering it before she sees it ? w I asked. 
 
 " It depends,. Lilian it depends," he replied, greatly agitated, 
 I could see from the pallor of his lips, " on what that reply is to 
 be. It would certainly be unbecoming in me should you con- 
 clude, to avail yourself of this invitation to to answer the lettiei
 
 134 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 without consulting her who stands to you now in the attitude of 
 mother 1" 
 
 I smiled. " You know me but little, Dr. Quintil, if you think I 
 could for one moment meditate any answer but one." 
 
 "And that, Lilian ?" He had hold of my hand, now he under- 
 stood me, and the tears stood in his great grey eyes. 
 
 " Is oh I you know, dearest dearest friend ;" and I hugged 
 his ungraceful arm in both of mine, " that, until you drive me 
 from you, I will never leave you while life is mine ! How could 
 you dream for a moment of any other decision ?" and I kissed his 
 large brown hand. 
 
 We wept together. It did us good to indulge the weakness of 
 the moment, occasioned, as it was, by sentiments of no ordinary 
 strength. Renewed tenderness and esteem spra.ng from this un- 
 equivocal rejection on my part of Colonel de Courcy's liberal offer ; 
 and it was with something of triumph that we went to my grand- 
 mother's room, and laid before her both the invitation and its 
 courteous but decided rejection. 
 
 I thought there was much meaning in the silent pressure of her 
 hand, and the husky voice in which she said, with an effort at dis- 
 interestedness : 
 
 " Lilian, had you not better think this matter over ? You are 
 rejecting opportunities I can never give you ; and I feel that my 
 secret of life and death will be as safe with you in Taunton Tower 
 as in Bouverie. Perhaps you had better not determine rashly, 
 Lilian." 
 
 " Grandmother, I believe you are tired of me, and want me 
 to go." 
 
 " Child child, do not attempt to weigh my motives thus." 
 
 " But I do not care, dear grandmother I will not go. I will
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 136 
 
 oe your old man of the sea, and stay and plague you always. For 
 do you think, oh, do you think that any other place than Bouverie 
 would ever seem like home to me now ? And as to Colonel do 
 Courcy," I said, indignantly, " I ignore him forever. He is ,no 
 gentleman no man of feeling even, to dare to dare to leave 
 your name unspoken, grandmother, in writing about your child !" 
 
 " I have never deserved his disdain," she said, in cold and sub- 
 dued accents ; "but I have taken no pains to explain to those 
 English people my true position, and they may think what they 
 please of me. At home I am known and respected, I believe 
 this suffices me." 
 
 My arms were around her neck silently she pressed me to her 
 heart ; no further words were spoken. And, from this slight cir- 
 cumstance, my life seemed to take a new impetus ; and my resolu- 
 tions then formed, to abide by the wishes and counsel of those 
 that loved me, uncomprehended as their motives might be, sus- 
 tained me through another eighteen months of probation, of vain 
 conjecture, and unexplained mystery.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OUR letters from Jasper were frequent, and very cheering. 
 His health was improving under the peculiar treatment to which 
 he was subjected by the learned physician in whose family he 
 resided, and he was pursuing his art with interest and advantage. 
 Though certainly not recognized as a sphere for painters, he had 
 the good fortune to stumble across a gifted artist in Leyden, 
 from whom he received valuable instruction. The fine library of 
 the institution was also at his command, through the interest of 
 his friend, Dr. Steinforth, and he was reading with avidity, such 
 works as he had never been able to command before. 
 
 The life he was leading was evidently pleasant to Jasper, and 
 at the expiration of one year's absence he demanded another, 
 wherein to complete the experiments Dr. Steinforth was making 
 on his limb, and his own studies, both in art and science. 
 
 It was Dr. Quintil's wish that Jasper should choose the career 
 of letters, for which he thought the delicacy and fire of his in- 
 tellect peculiarly befitted him. His infirmity had shut him out 
 from a regular collegiate course, as it must have continued to do 
 from either of the leading professions ; but his mind was richly 
 stored with desultory lore, and it is from materials like these 
 the greatest writers have wrought their fine gold of fancy, or 
 of fact. 
 
 It is a dangerous experiment to tamper thus with a weak in* 
 tellect. Tarpeia was overwhelmed, we are told, by the weight of 
 ornaments the Roman soldiery threw on her as the price of her
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 137 
 
 treachery and so the feeble fancy reels and staggers under the 
 accumulation of poetry or fiction, and dies in its faint efforts to 
 grasp the treasures with which its allegiance to the common- 
 place has been beguiled. But place a child of active brain, and 
 quick imagination and judgment in a miscellaneous library 
 where books, good and bad, serious and satirical, ponderous and 
 frivolous abound in almost equal proportions, and ten to one that 
 child will emerge from its unrestrained feast of intellect, 
 strengthened, uplifted, educated, almost I 
 
 The thinking mind acts as an alembic on the indiscriminate 
 materials it receives, and separates the dross from the purer 
 essence to reject the one and assimilate the other. Almost all 
 the fine talkers and orators I have known have been formed in 
 this way, and many of the poets of the world owe their fertility 
 at least, to the wondrous store of desultory lore their eager 
 minds have received through miscellaneous reading. 
 
 But as I have said, this is a dangerous experiment for the 
 weak and uncertain intelligence, so apt to dwarf under intel- 
 lectual burins. 
 
 Better for such the old gymnastic training of memory and com- 
 pelled attention and homoeopathic doses of information regularly 
 administered. 
 
 Oh, Liudley Murray ! Has any thinking creature who has 
 studied thy pages a doubt any longer that the bed of Procrustes 
 did indeed exist ? Yet, some I believe, have been stretched 
 advantageously to themselves on that rack of thine. But, woe ! 
 for those whose feet projected beyond thy limits and who have 
 gone hobbling ever since in consequence of amputation then 
 endured ! 
 
 Dr. Quintil did not approve of Jasper's wish to make his art
 
 138 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEBIE. 
 
 the pivot of his existence. He had old-fashioned notions on this 
 subject and thought that when a man was painting he was 
 amusing himself, as women do with embroidery. He could not 
 look upon it as earnest work. 
 
 " A man should choose an occupation that will accompany him 
 through life," he said. " Artists have nearly all unattainable 
 ideals in their own minds. By the time they arrive at middle-age 
 they become convinced of this and grow dissatisfied with themselves 
 and with their calling. The rest of life to such a man is a blank. 
 This is the case in nine cases out of ten the tenth man succeeds 
 and carries out his views, merely because he has more energy, 
 and less genius than the others, and a limited ideal." 
 
 I had long since thrown off, or at least I so persuaded myself, 
 that hallucination that Bishop Clare's strangely ill-judged com- 
 munication had wakened in my brain, and with renewed certainty 
 and submission settled patiently down again into the belief that 
 Jasper was my uncle. 
 
 There was not a word of reference to the past in any letter of 
 his, although overflowing with affection and tende^ interest for 
 me. It was evident to me now, that Bishop Clare had misun- 
 derstood his sentiments for me, and acted on vague suspicious 
 and on reading Jasper's letter again I saw that it was possible 
 those revelations he spoke of might have pointed to the discovery 
 I had since made, and the propriety of communicating to me the 
 existence of our mysterious inmate. 
 
 So, very dearly as I still loved Jasper, I was no longer moved 
 by that excessive and morbid emotion as I felt it now to have 
 been, that had for a time engrossed my being ; I could even 
 bear to hear with moderate composure those cruel jests that Dr. 
 Quintil threw out from time to time, about the probability of his
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 139 
 
 becoming attached to Miss Steinforth, whose daguerreotype (the 
 first we had ever seen) Jasper sent to us in a package with other 
 matters. 
 
 The art was very imperfect then, but the shadow of a sweet 
 young face was traced on the dusky metallic mirror before us 
 with which the reflection of my own contrasted unfavorably, it 
 seemed to me. Even Dutch, I thought, might fall sweetly from 
 those mild and smiling lips ! But how could my Jasper love any 
 one so well as he had loved me ? Uncle, brother, friend it 
 mattered little what he was, I felt, the load-star of my life ! 
 
 Yet a few months later, a very stringent test was put to my 
 affections, and for a time the conflict was sharp and poignant, and 
 the victory uncertain. 
 
 Before I was seventeen years old, Dr. Quintil and my grand- 
 mother determined that I should go forth from the seclusion of 
 Bouverie and travel under his care through that wide and 
 beautiful land, that was still a sealed book to me. We left home 
 in the beginning of June, and were gone two months, during 
 which time we ranged from Maryland to Canada, and saw all 
 that was worthy of notice, whether in the shape of city or natural 
 scenery. 
 
 I yet recall that journey with ever fresh sensations of deMght, 
 for to my nature and character it was strengthening and life- 
 giving beyond anything that I had yet experienced. I was not a 
 little gratified to find that many of the attentions extended to us 
 were on my grandmother's account. In Washington, especially, 
 that city of " effaced footsteps," where Mr. Bouverie had been 
 at one time employed in some scientific capacity by government 
 and where he had exercised a distinguished hospitality her 
 claims were not forgotten.
 
 140 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 I could not but observe, that my grandfather was rarely 
 referred to, aud always with constraint and evident reserve. On 
 one of these occasions the speaker, a distinguished gentleman of 
 our diplomatic corps touched on a chord with regard to him, that 
 vibrated keenly in Dr. Quintil's bosom, and even in mine. 
 
 " Mrs. Bouverie sees no society, I am told, since her husband's 
 death, either at home or ' abroad. Have I been correctly 
 informed ?" he inquired of my companion. 
 
 " You have," was the brief reply. 
 
 " Would she not, in favor of an old friend like me, break 
 through her monastic resolution ? I shall be in her immediate 
 neighborhood before long, and it would gratify me much to see 
 her." 
 
 " She cannot receive you, Mr. ," was the reply. " I am 
 
 sorry, but such is her resolution. Her neighbors vainly sought to 
 shake it for some time and at last gave up the task as hope- 
 less. With the exception of Bishop Clare, her confessor, her 
 threshold is never traversed by any foot save that of an 
 inmate." 
 
 " And these inmates ?" Dr. Quintilian. 
 
 " Consist of three her children and myself." 
 
 '*There are reports abroad, my dear doctor," resumed Mr. 
 
 , with an earnest yet grieved expression, "which render it a 
 
 matter of self-protection almost to Mrs. Bouverie that she should, 
 however painful to herself, receive the occasional visits of disin- 
 terested friends. To these reports I have attached no attention, 
 having known her well ; but it would gratify me to be able to 
 confute them from personal observation." 
 
 " And these reports ?" asked Dr. Quintil, in a husky voice 
 and with a forehead gemmed with cold dew. " Favor me with
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 14:1 
 
 these, if you please ! Nay 1 I will take no denial speak out 
 frankly, my friend ; I insist upon it ! These reports !" 
 
 " Are to the effect, that she is insane," added Mr. , in 
 
 hesitating words and evidently pained to be the medium of such 
 unfounded rumors. 
 
 Dr. Quintil smiled in the fullness of his relief and the blood 
 rushed back to his face. 
 
 " Speak, Lilian !" he said, turning to me. " Is your grand- 
 mother insane in being only too rational, or whither tends her 
 mania ?" 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. ," I answered, " Of all persons I have ever 
 
 known she is, I think, the most entirely self-poised and philo- 
 sophic. Her very melancholy has assumed a systematic cheer- 
 fulness which rarely abandons her I would I were half so 
 rational !" 
 
 " I am relieved," said Mr. , " and can imagine how a wo- 
 man of feeling having received such a blow, should shrink after- 
 ward from, contact with the world. Hers was truly a fiery 
 trial V 
 
 " Come, Lilian," said Doctor Quintil, " or we shall be too late 
 to fulfill our engagement," and he literally hurried me away, 
 
 cutting short the conversation with Mr. , with a few hasty, 
 
 half-muttered apologies. 
 
 I remarked afterward, that when this gentleman called on us 
 again, he did not invite me to accompany him to the parlor of 
 the hotel, but advised me to write home in his absence. Here 
 also was food for conjecture ! 
 
 It was at Niagara we met with Everard Howe. Standing by 
 that mighty cataract, that seems the fittest emblem earth presents 
 of fate itself, and absorbed by its awful presence, I dropped from
 
 142 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 my hand the flowers and handkerchief it held, and saw them 
 borue away on the rapid water. But not before a young man, 
 who was poising his slender, yet well-knit figure on a pinnacle of 
 rock, apparently in rather a jeopardous attitude, had made an in- 
 effectual effort to recover them with the slight cane he carried 
 and at the same time hazarded a loss of balance that must have 
 been fatal. 
 
 Touched by the impulsive courtesy of the act, Doctor Quintil 
 approached him a few minutes later, and addressed him frankly. 
 
 " Had you fallen into the water while trying to recover that 
 lace-trimmed rag and those frail blossoms, we could never have 
 forgiven ourselves your death would have lain at our door." 
 The person so addressed, who had by this time returned to the 
 greater security of the bank removed his hat with a frank smile 
 and a graceful bow revealing as he did so a head of glossy 
 chestnut hair, and a set of dazzling teeth. 
 
 " I am sure I have no wish to make involuntary murderers of 
 you," he answered, " but I was really in no danger. I am very 
 sure-footed, and have stood too often among the shrouds to feel 
 much apprehension on terra firma." 
 
 " When a man falls into the ocean there are reasonable hopes 
 that he may be rescued," resumed Dr. Quintil, shaking his head 
 gravely ; " but he who is once submerged in this tide, has no 
 longer any hold on human life !" 
 
 " The thought is very solemn, but very exciting, too," said the 
 young man, archly. " A man might leave an enduring fame be- 
 hind him who could breast these rapids I It is well worth a 
 venture." 
 
 Dr. Quintil, deceived by the earnestness he managed to throw 
 into the last observation, began gravely to expostulate and reason
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 143 
 
 on the matter ; but the flash of merriment that darted from my 
 eyes met those of the stranger, and we laughed -outright at the 
 same moment. 
 
 Thus began a pleasant acquaintance that gradually ripened 
 into a graver intimacy, and finally occasioned the painful struggle 
 of feeling I have elsewhere referred to. 
 
 I have known few persons in my whole life so winning as 
 Everard Howe at twenty-five ! Not strictly handsome, he had 
 so distinguished a bearing, and his expression was so ingenuous 
 and intelligent, that the observer saw nothing to regret in the 
 absence of mere regularity of feature. He might have owed 
 something of the frankness of his manner to his profession, which 
 seems singularly to mold most of its followers into more than 
 drawing-room courtesy and gallantry of demeanor ; but I must 
 think a good and loyal nature lies ever at the bottom of all 
 thorough good breeding such as his certainly was. 
 
 I had been accustomed to a higher reach of intellect and deeper 
 culture than he possessed ; but I had met no person before, who 
 had amused and entertained me half so much, and when he had 
 travelled with us some weeks (for he left us no more from the 
 time of our first meeting, and seemed to attach himself greatly to 
 our society) I began to feel that he was quite an indispensable 
 part of our enjoyment. 
 
 His interest in me seemed to spring to sudden life (although 
 somewhat evidenced from the first) after he had heard my name. 
 It was a familiar one to him, he said he had friends who bore it; 
 and I found later, that he had been in the part of Scotland from 
 which I came and had even seen Taunton Tower and used an 
 oar on the romantic lochs with which it was surrounded. 
 
 He was spending an idle summer he stated, in the United
 
 144 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 States, had brought letters, but delivered none. Among the 
 rest, I heard afterward, one to Dr. Quintil himself, which 
 accounted for the perfect security my guardian had manifested in 
 seeing me in the society of this stranger. I was too young and 
 inexperienced to feel any surprise at this at the tune ; but when I 
 learned more of the world, I saw why I had been permitted to 
 treat him rather as an established friend than a new acquaintance, 
 and even encouraged to enjoy his society. 
 
 At the end of six weeks, when the time for separation arrived, 
 I felt that a very close tie had been woven between us, and that 
 it was hard to say farewell forever to this mere summer 
 acquaintance. In truth, that brief but constant companionship 
 had done more to unfold our true natures to each other, than 
 years of mere routine and occasional visiting could have done. 
 Yet I was scarcely prepared for the avowal he made to me on the 
 evening before we parted. 
 
 He had come, he said, to the United States on purpose to see 
 me, and was on his route to Bouverie, when we met at Niagara, 
 having just crossed from Quebec, to which city he had sailed in a 
 government vessel. He had kept his identity secret from me 
 until then, fearing that my prejudice, frankly avowed from the 
 first against Colonel de Courcy might extend to him, his nephew, 
 and with Dr. Quintil's consent this was done. Oh 1 that dear 
 hypocrite. Everything was plain now ; but he should suffer for 
 this by and by. 
 
 And now he laid his hopes of happiness at my feet, with what 
 fortune and prospects earth contained for him. All this was very 
 unexpected very gratifying, too, reader, I am ashamed to 
 confess for I could only partly return his affection, and yet, it 
 was too precious to me to cast aside forever.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 14:5 
 
 So I compromised the matter for the time. I would write to 
 him my final decision after I had seen my grandmother. He 
 should come back a year later should she favor his suit, and we 
 would spend another summer together, in travelling through the 
 romantic region of the lakes ; and after that, if we felt that our 
 inclinations increased in strength, I would marry him 1 
 
 He smiled at the strange indefinite arrangement, so little suited 
 to his views. 
 
 " I will go with you to Bouverie," he said, " and learn my 
 fate at once. I should be ill at ease under such probation." 
 
 I turned pale at the very thought. " This cannot be," I said. 
 " No one goes to Bouverie no stranger is admitted there ; my 
 grandmother is a recluse ; I thought Dr. Quintil might have told 
 you this." 
 
 " I have never heard it spoken of before," he answered gravely; 
 " but of course I must respect this peculiarity, and meet you else- 
 where. My ship sails in September ; let it be before then !" 
 
 "No," I said ; "I want to know my feelings better before I 
 make you a single promise. I heard you say that you were 
 coming to Montreal next summer that your cruise would be over 
 by that tune. I will meet ,you at Niagara in July if, if my 
 feelings impel me to do so and if you write to me that you will 
 be there." 
 
 " Lilian 1 Miss de Courcy ! This is very hard." 
 
 " Mr. Howe, you do not sufficiently consider my extreme youth, 
 and the abruptness of this proceeding !" 
 
 " I feel that I have been precipitate," he said ; "it would have 
 been wiser to have deferred this avowal of my feelings a better 
 mode, I know, of enlisting yours, according to the received no- 
 tions of men of the world." He spoke with some asperity.
 
 146 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 " Not so," I rejoined. " Mine is not a nature to undervalue 
 frankness and impulse, or to be won by procrastination or 
 finesse ! I abhor these things I admire your straightforward 
 and manly course ; but I cannot respond to you now as fully as 
 I could wish. I am sure you would no.t respect me," I added, 
 " if I were to deceive you in so important a matter. I must love 
 the man I marry with all my heart, or I shall feel that I am a 
 hypocrite indeed ! I must prove myself first 1" 
 
 And with this vague understanding he was fain to be satisfied 
 for the time.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 14:7 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HAD I known more of the customs of the world, or even re- 
 flected abstractly on the rights of others, I should have smiled at 
 the absurdity of the compact I sought to make with Everard Howe. 
 My mind had been so thoroughly imbued, by means of books, and 
 the few gentlemen I had seen, with notions of high-bred courtesy 
 and chivalry, as being the due only of woman from man, that I 
 did not properly estimate the nature of the sacrifice I demanded. 
 
 I did not consider myself engaged to Everard Howe, by any 
 means ; and yet I frankly confess I did consider that he was en- 
 gaged to me ! Nor until it was pointed out to me, did the in- I 
 justice, the inequality of our position, strike me. Weeks elapsed 
 before time or opportunity occurred to make the communication 
 I had intended for her from the first, to my grandmother. New 
 and engrossing occupations filled my existence on my return to 
 Bouverie, that shut out all such considerations, and enlarged my 
 sphere of action and feeling for a time up to the greatest capacity 
 of my nature. 
 
 From the first moment that my eyes fell upon her face, I per- 
 ceived the inroads of deep and unusual suffering in my grand- 
 mother's expressive and flexible physiognomy, so readily altered 
 by muscular depression as to scarcely present the same contour 
 even in joy and grief. 
 
 " Have you been sick, dear grandmother ?" I asked ; " or have 
 you fretted over our absence ? I find you altered for the 
 worse ?"
 
 148 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERLE. 
 
 " Neither, Lilian my health is as usual ; and I have gone 
 forth with you, a-s if in presence, in all your enjoyment so vividly 
 set forth in your letters." 
 
 "What then?" I faltered, before I remembered how she 
 shrank from questions of all sorts almost with nervous repugnance. 
 She waived a reply, by changing the theme to my own improved 
 appearance, though sunburnt cheeks. But Dr. Quintilian, fixing 
 his calm eyes on her face, seemed to read her secret in a moment. 
 
 "He is ill," I heard him murmur, at a moment when he 
 supposed my attention diverted. " You have been watching 1 
 Why did you not write and recall me ?" 
 
 The lips moved, but I did not hear her answer. In another 
 moment, as if by tacit consent, they left the room together, and 
 it was long before they returned. The evening meal united us : it 
 \ was eaten in silence travel having sharpened the appetite of two 
 of the party to the exclusion of conversation probably. But, I 
 noticed that my grandmother swallowed only a cup of tea, and 
 her pallor and depression were even more evident than at first. 
 
 We retired early on my part, not more to recover from the 
 fatigue of travel, than to break up the gloomy restraint that 
 rested over us all. To the very last moment, impelled by my 
 anxiety for her, I hovered around my grandmother, trying to 
 summon courage to ask her what ailed her, and how I could 
 serve her ; but I dared not venture 1 I dreaded that " stone 
 in the flower-bed," that I had stumbled over so often when I first 
 came to Bouverie. Inquiry was the one thing she could not en- 
 dure, as I have elsewhere said. Beneath the voice of the cate- 
 chist, her nature closed up in a moment, as the mimosa does at 
 the touch of the finger. 
 
 What she wished to communicate she made known frankly,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OP BOTTVEBIE. 149 
 
 freely. What remained was for no human ear 01 eye, and her 
 heart shut over its reserved contents like the lid of a cistern. 
 To me, in turn, to be repelled, was the one unendurable, inexpiable 
 offence ; so that we compromised very well on these points, and 
 went ^ach her way in quietness. 
 
 I slept that night the sound, dreamless sleep of strength over- 
 come by fatigue. Hours of such slumber must have passed, 
 before I heard my grandmother's voice calling me repeatedly, 
 and at last aroused myself from half-consciousness, to understand 
 and obey her summons. 
 
 " Lilian, Lilian ! I need you !" she said, in low, sorrowful 
 accents at least these were the first words I caught distinctly, as 
 I opened my eyes and looked straight into her face. The earliest 
 crimson rays of morning streamed through the open blind, thrown 
 back by her hand, and she stood pale and exhausted before me. 
 
 " Lilian, the time has come to prove you. Can you be patient, 
 watchful, and discreet ? Rouse up, my child, to the call of a 
 great duty !" 
 
 I sat up in my bed, and listened earnestly to her words, 
 merely bowing my head, as she spoke, to signify attention ; she 
 mderstood me, and continued. 
 
 " He that you know of is ill ! His life hangs on a thread ; and 
 I am worn with the unceasing vigils of weeks. Bianca and 
 Fabius, too, have withdrawn, entirely overcome. I dare summon, 
 no other assistance. Everything now devolves on me will you 
 share my task ? Can I depend on you to carry out my directions, 
 while I rest for a few hours ?" 
 
 Again I bowed silently I could not speak ; I felt a mighty 
 thrill of emotion pass through my whole frame, as men may feel 
 who love battle, on the eve of some great engagement ; or, per-
 
 1 50 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 haps, as one may feel, about to behold the spirit of the unseen 
 dead, by some magician's aid. 
 
 The power and awe of my sensations uplifted and strengthened 
 me, and I made my arrangements to carry out my grandmother's 
 wishes with coolness and expedition both. Yet I neglected no 
 requisition of my toilet, and I remember so strongly does the 
 common place rule us, even in our most excited moments, when to 
 be useful is our motive that I chose, with some deliberation, a 
 white cambric wrapper from my wardrobe, as the suitable garb 
 of a watcher, and one most pleasant to the eye of the patient. 
 
 We passed through the door of her chamber that mysterious 
 door, closed until now to me and, ascending the spiral stairs, 
 now flooded with sunbeams from the sky-light, soon found our- 
 selves in the sealed apartment of Boaverie. 
 
 The room w* entered now from the circular hall, was not that 
 in which the group had been seated that I had watched with such 
 mingled sensations on the occasion of my secret visit. It lay on 
 the other side of the rotunda, and corresponded in position with 
 the drawing-room beneath. 
 
 The closed Venetian shutters made an everlasting twilight in 
 this chamber, save when a stream of light from the central hall 
 came through the casually opened door ; but the sashes were 
 thrown up, and the warm, soft August air crept freely through 
 the apartment from the two great opposing windows. 
 
 Through a crevice in one of the nailed up jalousies a branch of 
 the jasmin that covered the mansion's front had forced its way, 
 and, loaded with pale and odorous flowers, trailed to the floor. 
 It seemed a hand of nature thrust through the prisoner's bars, to 
 greet and encourage him who might never more see the mighty 
 mother face to face.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 151 
 
 In the centre of the room stood a ponderous rosewood bed 
 stead, very dark from age, and shaped like a lengthened throne, 
 and so placed as to give its inmate whatever advantage of light 
 and air existed in that dusky atmosphere. 
 
 He lay on his snow-white bed, propped with pillows scarce 
 paler than himself, that remarkable man, whose face seemed to 
 have become familiar to me in one brief gaze of terror and 
 mystery. He was sleeping when my grandmother led me to his 
 couch, and with noiseless step and lifted finger impressed on me 
 the necessity of silence sleeping the tranquil sleep of illness 
 merged into debility. 
 
 " Dr. Quintil pronounces this a saving slumber," she whispered, 
 " if not interrupted, yet if any observable change occurs during 
 its continuance you must not hesitate to call him. He lies at 
 present on the sofa in the opposite room, having watched all 
 night ; observe our patient closely, Lilian ; I confide all to you !" 
 
 She withdrew, and I sat close by his side, watching a sleep that 
 closely simulated that of death itself so profound, so tranquil 
 was it and poring on his face, as though it were a book opened 
 before me. An expression of tender repose (if I may so express 
 it) lingered over the thin, straight features, almost transparent 
 from disease. 
 
 The grey hair, singularly indicative of strength and vitality, 
 and bearing unmistakable traces of its original color, lay loose 
 and waving on the pillow. Long as it had seemed before, it had 
 probably grown to an unusual length during his sickness, and now 
 imparted an almost womanish character to his face and head. 
 
 His slender and elegantly formed hands were closed lightly on 
 his breast, as those of the dead are often placed. A white nap- 
 kin lay at his side folded, and glossy ; but streaked and dappled
 
 152 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 with blood fresh from his bleeding lungs a few Stiombio roses 
 were thrown carelessly by it, as if dropped from nerveless 
 fingers. 
 
 Beside him on a small table was a flask of ice-water, a goblet 
 of antique form, some grapes on a plateau of fine china, and a 
 rial of pyramidal shape, filled with a liquid of such brilliant 
 amber-color, that it seemed almost to diffuse rays of light 
 around it. 
 
 During that long watch, my eyes became frequently riveted on 
 this vial, and attracted by its lambent lustre, I raised it between 
 them and the light, so as to scrutinize the contents. I saw with 
 an almost fascinated interest what appeared to be a hair of gold, 
 waving to and fro in the liquid like a miniature serpent. Now 
 rising to the top in spiral lines as if trying to escape from its con- 
 finement then collapsing in a ring to_ the bottom of the wide- 
 based vial. 
 
 On the bottle a label was pasted, on which was inscribed in 
 small, clear Italian chdlacters, the " elixir of gold." This, then, 
 was that marvellous remedy, of which I had recently heard, for 
 the first time, with more of interest than faith I must confess 1 
 Here, then, was the realization of what had appeared to me but a 
 mere fable ! 
 
 A gentleman with whom we had met in travelling, a peculiar 
 and striking person, whose name and mien indicated a foreign 
 origin, had told Dr. Quintil a story in my presence, illustrative of 
 the immediate efficacy of this medicine. 
 
 A child lay dying in a peasant's house, in which a horseman 
 sought temporary refuge from the storm which raged without. 
 Hope was over, and the death-struggle approached, the eyes were 
 glazed and half-rolled back in their orbits cold dew stood on
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 153 
 
 the clammy face, the power of speech, of deglutition itself was 
 gone, when the stranger asked permission to pour a few drops 
 from a small vial he drew from his bosom into the parted lips of 
 the child. The request was granted, and at short intervals he 
 was allowed to repeat the experiment. 
 
 The subtle drug seemeo" to insinuate itself into the system with- 
 out the assistance of the epiglottis ; but, for a time, exerted little 
 opposing influence against the power of the conqueror. He 
 described the marvellous and sudden change that at last occurred 
 the returning hues of life, the renewed intelligence of the eye, 
 the strength restored as if by magic. In an hour later the child 
 sat up in bed and called for food, and the next day rose to its 
 feet convalescent I Such was the tale ! 
 
 Something in the graphic manner of the narrator left the im 
 pression on my mind, that he himself was the benefactor thus re- 
 ferred to, and I smiled at the faith the empiric lent to the work 
 of his own hands doubting not for a moment, that the recovery 
 he described had taken place from natural causes. 
 
 And now my incredulity seemed reasonably confirmed. Here 
 was a dying man (he certainly seemed so to me) with this won- 
 drous yet unavailing remedy in reach ! 
 
 Yet what a radiantly beautiful fluid it was ! 
 
 Had it been called " essence of sunshine," it would not have 
 surprised me, for inherent radiance it certainly seemed to contain. 
 I had just time to set the vial down, which I had raised between 
 my vision and the line of light that came through the slightly 
 opened door, when he awoke, coughing violently, and fixed his 
 glittering eyes full on my face. 
 
 Aroused by the shrill summons, or perhaps already watching 
 
 for such a signal, Dr. Quintil came almost instantly to his assist 
 
 7*
 
 154: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEBIE. 
 
 ance, and sustained him in his arms ; at the same time whispering 
 to me to withdraw from the chamber, and remain without while 
 the paroxysm lasted. 
 
 Fabius had arranged my breakfast in the hall, on that great 
 round table, from which books and papers were now cleared 
 away, that stood beneath the skylight, and it was truly accepta- 
 ble, for the day was on the tide, and I had not tasted food 
 since the previous evening ; I was half famished ; yet I 
 had hardly time to swallow a few hasty mouthfuls, and drink my 
 coffee, when Dr. Quintil called me from within. 
 
 I returned greatly agitated. He was awake ; he would speak 
 to me. He, my mother's father ! It was like the recognition of 
 spirits in another world ineffable, overpowering. 
 
 I advanced to the foot of the bed, and stood thrilled, yet 
 mutely before him. 
 
 "Come nearer, my love," he said, extending one long, thin 
 hand to me, that fell in the next instant almost lifeless beside 
 him. " Nearer, that I may discern your features distinctly. Lilian, 
 the child of Morna," he murmured, " the daughter of my child 1" 
 
 ." Even so, grandfather," I said, as solemnly as ever a devotee 
 gave back "Amen" to prayer; and kneeling, I bowed my head on 
 his nerveless hand, and my nature took on her new allegiance. 
 
 The very sound of his voice clear, sweet, slightly tremulous 
 at times, infinitely pathetic in its quality vibrated through my 
 whole being, as no sound, whether of speech or music, had ever 
 done before. I felt within me then the power, won from the 
 electric shock of the clashing chains of kindred in our veins, per- 
 chance, to serve him faithfully from that hour with any sacrifice 
 that he might sen fit to demand, or that I might find it possible 
 to make.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 155 
 
 Yet, why was this? Others as nearly related to me had 
 awakened no parallel enthusiasm in my soul. I have done wrong 
 perhaps in thinking that it was the power of blood that stirred 
 me thus. Was it not rather some fine magnetic influence totally 
 independent of mere relationship, that rendered every faculty of 
 my being as responsive to his will as the keys of the lute to the 
 touch of the master player ? 
 
 I know not how long I continued kneeling and praying silently 
 beside him if prayer might be called that almost unformed com- 
 muning of my soul with God more a mood than an utterance. 
 He was now forbidden to speak ; yet when I arose and stood 
 beside him again, his beaming eye and smile were more eloquent 
 than words. They seemed to say : 
 
 " Welcome, my love, to this solitary life of mine, art thou, as 
 morning to the sleepless, or showers to the sere grass. Hence- 
 forth thy being shall be blended with my own, and the shadow 
 that envelops me fall over thee also, even as from thy young ex- 
 istence, some light and joy shall gild the clouds of mine. For 
 of this nature is the mighty and inscrutable bond of blood." 
 
 Such, to my excited imagination, seemed the meaning, his mute 
 but quivering features sought to convey ; such the impression my 
 mind received from their expression never to leave it more. 
 
 Yet, again I question, why was this ?
 
 156 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 9 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DAYS wore on, during which the struggle between life and 
 death continued in the worn frame of the sick man, until at last 
 the grasp of the enemy relaxed, and the good genius was in the 
 ascendant. The disease our patient had labored under was a 
 nervous fever, complicated with pneumonia. Those only who 
 have ministered to this malady, can know its tedious, wearing, 
 ever-present requisitions. 
 
 During ten days of this protracted convalescence, my grand- 
 mother was confined to her bed by nervous debility, and I shared 
 Dr. Quintil's duties by the bed-side of the sick man. Fabius and 
 Bianca rendered him what menial assistance was required. But 
 on me devolved, during a long period, the whole charge of sooth- 
 ing, and amusing his restless intellect into something like subjec- 
 tion to the necessities of his situation. 
 
 One of the most stringent conditions imposed on him, as a 
 means of restoring his irritated lungs, was absolute silence ; and 
 in order to induce him to preserve this, I was obliged to exercise 
 every faculty I possessed, so as to anticipate his wants, and be- 
 guile his weary hours of convalescence with such stories as my 
 memory or imagination furnished. In this way, and with no 
 egotistical motive, I laid before him, picture after picture, the 
 panorama of much of my past life, leaving out, however, almost 
 instinctively, some things that I felt must have grated harshly on 
 his feelings. Nor did I mention once the name of Jasper, bear-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 157 
 
 | 
 
 ing in mind Dr. Quintal's admonition, and the evident wish or 
 necessity that existed for keeping this father and son apart. 
 
 He listened to me with the most eager and pleased attention, 
 and encouraged me to proceed often, when I would have desisted, 
 by an authoritative nod of the head or wave of the hand, and 
 the glance of his speaking eye. 
 
 It seemed to delight him especially, that I should in some sort 
 have received the poet's vocation, which, among other matters, 
 came out in the course of this one-sided conversation if such 
 a Hibernianism may be allowed. He almost compelled me to 
 read to him some of those childish effusions which Jasper had 
 admired, and which I cherished chiefly for his sake. He thought 
 they possessed rare promise alas 1 a promise never fulfilled. 
 
 Thus, through the force of circumstances, I threw my nature 
 more widely open to him, than I might otherwise have done in 
 years, and felt drawn to him more closely by his dependence on 
 my cares, than had his been the power to benefit me instead. 
 
 Almost the first words he spoke, when speech was again per- 
 mitted to him, shaped a startling inquiry : 
 
 " Fabius," he said, as he put aside the delicate broth I had 
 brought him one day, almost un tasted, "before I eat another 
 mouthful, tell me of Merodach. I have neglected him too long." 
 
 " He is well, my master," was the respectful reply of the man- 
 machine so addressed, bending his head with the peculiar motion 
 of an automaton, moved by internal mechanism ; "well, and well 
 cared for, I may say." 
 
 " Ha 1 I am glad of it, and might have known as much ; but 
 where have you hidden him, Fabius I did not think anything 
 short of death could part us two. Has he forgotten me ?" 
 
 " I was obliged to shut him up hi the laboratory when you
 
 158 THE HOUSEHOLD OP BOUVERIE. 
 
 were so ill. He was so dissatisfied and troublesome, walking 
 around your bed night and day ; and, at first, he would not cat- 
 like you, sir, now but he has grown quite contented again." 
 
 This intelligence seemed to please my grandfather. His eye 
 twinkled, and he laughed silently. " The rascal ! I have spoiled 
 him, I suppose not eat, eh 1" Then slowly finishing his soup, to 
 the last drop, he said : 
 
 "I am a new man to-day, Lilian, and so I shall take up old 
 duties. Paradoxical, eh I" 
 
 I smiled. "Reach me that lyre, child," pointing, as he spoke, 
 to the uncouth instrument hanging on the wall ; " and let me play 
 for you." I laughed, as I took it down, at the droll misnomer. 
 
 "Lyre, grandfather? this quaint thing a lyre ! Why, it is 
 nothing like the pictures I have seen of the Grecian lyre more 
 like a ' turn-turn,' I think, or a banjo even !" 
 
 " Give it to me, nevertheless ; it is a friend of mine dear to 
 me as the violin of Paganini that contained his father's soul. I 
 found it in a Russian prison, and it soothed me when I was 
 chafing my life out like a caged tiger in the toils of Paulovitch ! 
 I never thought I should grow musical, for I hate the art that 
 veils sensuality under the guise of sentiment. But I was fain to 
 reach down this old matter from the wall of my dungeon where 
 it hung as on the wall of this and echo myself on its chords. 
 
 v 
 
 The charm, after all, was in the result obtained from this exercise 
 of taste and skill" he laughed ironically " rather than in the 
 performance itself. 
 
 " Aladdin was never more surprised at the consequence of his 
 accidental lamp-rubbing, than was I when I beheld the strange 
 slave of the lyre glide forth, and obey its summons ! It stood 
 before me in quiet expectation, evidently, of what it soon received.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 159 
 
 I understood the case, and gave it food. Matters were reversed ; 
 I, King Jehoiachim, being in prison, did give a daily ration to 
 Evil Merodach, king of Babylon." 
 
 " How did you know his name, grandfather 1" I asked, laugh- 
 ing ; " or why did you bestow it ?" 
 
 "It was engraven on his card," he answered, seriously " his 
 card of introduction, you know 1" 
 
 " His card, grandfather 1 Then Merodach was not a dog, as I 
 thought, but a mana maniac, I suppose, hidden away in the 
 gloom some poor, half-crazed musician, perhaps." 
 
 " You will see you will see, Lilian ! Apollo made his first 
 lyre, they say, of just such a card as he offered me. Now, how do 
 you like my music ? Your grandmother says one had as well try 
 to play the flute on a tomahawk, as imitate King David on such 
 an instrument as this ; but you shall judge." 
 
 And he struck a few wild chords on the imperfect lyre, as he 
 chose to call it, on which he played without the least musical pro- 
 ficiency, certainly, yet with a certain graceful abandon. The 
 tones elicited were the most thrilling and peculiar I had ever 
 heard. The ^Eoh'an harp, perhaps, comes nearer than aught else 
 to the low, long wail for melody there was none that rose and 
 fell, as he threw his fingers over the uncertain strings. 
 
 He paused, stilling the sound by the pressure of his hand. 
 
 " Carry him to the hall, Fabius, and set him down there ; 
 leave the door open, and I will see if he remembers his old clan- 
 call still." 
 
 In a few moments Fabius entered, silently pointing back to the 
 hall, to indicate the requested presence, and setting the door wide 
 open as he entered. 
 
 My grandfather rose to a half-sitting position in his bed, as if
 
 160 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 nerved to sudden strength, and struck, with all the force he pos- 
 sessed, a few rapid chords in quick succession ; then, after these 
 had died away, threw out another group of notes, so to speak, 
 with an interval of a few minutes between each cluster of chords, 
 until my patience was well-nigh exhausted, and curiosity at its 
 height. I rose eagerly to go into the hall. 
 
 "Be patient, Lilian, he is coming I hear his dragging feet." 
 His ear, made acute by illness, had heard what was perfectly in- 
 audible to mine, listen as I might, and quick as was my own 
 sense of hearing. Again he struck his instrument of whatever 
 it might be called not of music, certainly diablerie might be 
 the proper term turning upon the door his brilliant, expectant 
 eye, with his lips half open, disclosing the gleam of the white 
 teeth between them ; and looking, for the moment, more like an 
 inspired bard than a man playing the child to cheat necessity. I 
 thought irresistibly of that fine line of Dryden, 
 
 " When Juoal struck the chorded shell," 
 
 as 1 gazed at him. Expectation was at its height with me, when 
 a slight exclamation from his lips turned my attention to the 
 door, on the threshold of which, and in the full glare of light 
 thrown from the sky-light, appeared the uncouth, circular form of 
 a small tortoise. 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, is this all ?" and I clasped my hands in an 
 ecstasy of disappointment. 
 
 " All, Lilian ? why the wonder lies in that very word. Mero- 
 dach is a prodigy -the prince of tortoises a lineal descendant, 
 perhaps, of that famous fellow that sustained the world on hia 
 back, according to Brahmin theology. Not quite large enough 
 for that, you think, eh, Lilian ?"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 16.x 
 
 Strangely enough, this very thought was passing through my 
 mind in ridiculous appositeness at the moment. 
 
 "Wonderfully intelligent, though, as you shall see. Come 
 hither, Evil, old fellow ; I am glad to see thee. Is the joy 
 mutual, Evil ? King of Babylon, brother in captivity, how art 
 thou ? Put up a claw, Merodach, and salute Jehoiachim I" 
 
 He leaned from the low bedstead, so as to let his hand drop on 
 the floor, and the animal advanced briskly for one of its species 
 toward him, with a sort of awkward mincing trot, unspeakably 
 ludicrous ; then turning half on its side, it thrust out its reptile 
 head, and reposed one flabby paw in the open palm of its master. 
 I shuddered at its repulsive hideousness. 
 
 " He walks fast to-day," said Fabius ; "we are going to have 
 rain he is better than a barometer, Miss Lilian." 
 
 " Lift him up, Fabius ! Let him perform his war-dance, while 
 he is in the humor, for Lilian's amusement. Here, place him 
 here !"-and, in accordance with the directions, he was deposited on 
 the circular stand by the bed. 
 
 " Now, dance, Merodach, as David did before the ark ; and be 
 thou more charitable than Micah, Lilian 1" 
 
 Again, throwing his hand over his quaint instrument, my 
 grandfather rang forth a few wailing chords, hi obedience to 
 which the tortoise commenced going through a series of the most 
 absurd evolutions conceivable, alternately jerking and quivering, 
 pausing and proceeding. 
 
 When he was tired of this amusement his master regaled him 
 with crumbs spread on the table, which he devoured eagerly 
 
 " Look at his name now, Lilian," he said, directing my atten- 
 tion to the syllables Ev. Mer. distinctly engraved on his back ; 
 " see there indisputable evidence of its truth !"
 
 162 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 " It must have hurt him to do this, iu spite of his tough shell,* 
 he continued ; "for he feels a drop of rain even on its surface ; 
 see there !" and he sprinkled a few drops of water on his back 
 from the glass beside him. " See how he shrinks and trembles, 
 and draws in his head ! Yet his favorite resort is a tub of water, 
 where he reigns like a wet Diogenes strange paradox, eh ! 
 Lilian to revel in the bath, and shrink from rain ! He believes 
 in baptism, not sprinkling, evidently 1 
 
 "But you shall see him play parson !" And by some means the 
 creature was made to understand the nature of the demand. For, 
 rearing on its hind feet and shell, it stood half leaning forward for 
 a moment, with its fore-paws extended, and reptile head thrust 
 out, imitating as closely as possible the attitude of a preacher 
 bestowing benediction. 
 
 " It is very droll, grandfather how did you make him do it ? 
 Do tell me 1" 
 
 " By means of this I" he said, exhibiting a small tooth-pick, 
 which he had held in the hollow of his hand, and which opened 
 and shut with a spring. 
 
 " I touched him with the point in a sensitive place, between the 
 shell, and it caused him to throw himself back, not from present 
 pain, but past association." 
 
 " Grandfather I did you have to torture him once, in order to 
 teach him this trick ?" 
 
 " Ay, child, ay ! but what of it ? I do not hurt him now ; it 
 only reminds him of the red hot steel. It is plain, he has 
 memory." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather !" I sat down perfectly sick. " Never let 
 him repeat that before me again; I could not have believed 1" 
 
 " No preaching, my love, if you please 1 Let the matter pass.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 163 
 
 
 
 Fabius, take Merodach away ; close the door after you. 
 Lilian, you had best retire ; I think I can go to sleep now." 
 
 I sat in the hall at my embroidery, under the cheerful skylight, 
 across which a troop of doves swept occasionally, that roosted in 
 a locust-grove near by throwing their skimming shadows down 
 upon the floor. An hour later I heard my name called by my 
 patient, and went into the chamber again. He had risen and 
 was sitting in his great chair, dressed in his velvet dressing-robe ; 
 very pale, but refined and stately as a king of lineal descent. 
 
 He greeted me with his usual smile as I entered the cloud 
 had passed away that had risen for a moment between us. 
 
 " Lilian," he said, " I have been thinking about Merodach, 
 and the way in which I came to name him, or rather to guess his 
 name, since you went out. Perhaps you would like to hear it !" 
 
 " Certainly, grandfather, it would give me great pleasure; that 
 is, if the recital would not fatigue you too much." 
 
 " No, no, child, I must talk now ; the long pent-up stream 
 must find its way to light, you know, at last so listen : I had 
 been reading the last chapter of ' Kings/ the book lay open on 
 the table before me, when that queer lettering on the back of the 
 tortoise first caught my eye, and I saw its significance at once. 
 For the first time in my life I was a little superstitious, I 
 confess." 
 
 " That was strange," I rejoined ; then added, after hesitation : 
 " but after all not convincing I How came the tortoise there ? 
 To whom did it belong originally ?" 
 
 " To the last occupant of the prison to him who owned the 
 Bible and the lyre he had fashioned it with his own hands to 
 beguile his weary captivity. A man immured for many years to 
 unit a tyrant's whim, and released at last by the great Emancipa-
 
 164 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. f 
 
 tor. A W*elchman, I believe, one Evan Meredith, such at least 
 was the name written in the sacred volume he tacitly bequeathed 
 to me, for I found it in prison." 
 
 " Grandfather, the beginning oi each of those words corre- 
 sponds so exactly with the characters on the back of the tortoise, 
 that I cannot help thinking it was his master's name he carried 
 about with him 1" 
 
 " You are right," he said, after a pause ; " this never occurred 
 to me before yet the flash of evidence is irresistible now, Fabius," 
 and he turned to the attendant now standing behind Ms chair, 
 " Did you ever think of this ?" 
 
 " Always, my master 1" was the sententious reply. " Why 
 did you not speak, then, you man of mystery ?" 
 
 " The name you chose pleased you, sir ; what difference did it 
 make ?" 
 
 A grim smile played over my grandfather's face ; the question 
 was unanswerable. 
 
 " Let the name stand," he said at last " the name I have 
 given him. It is a good name, and he knows it now, and answers 
 to the Babylonish incantation. Let it stand !" 
 
 " Grandfather, how did you bring Merodach away with you ; 
 and the old lyre, when you left the prison escaped, I suppose ?" 
 
 " No, child, no. When Paulovitch unclosed his hand, and let 
 the bird fly, he sent after him all that he believed to be his pro- 
 perty the broken eggs that remained in the nest a chest of 
 clothes, some jewels and books, an uncouth lyre, and an uncouth 
 tortoise 1 Such were the possessions of the prisoner. Great was 
 his magnanimity, princely his liberality, as he could wring nothing 
 from me, either by imprisonment or torture ; he let me go to save 
 his prison rations, and my effects followed me."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 165 
 
 "Were you long in prison, grandfather?" I asked after a 
 pause. 
 
 " Five years, my child scarcely half as long as I have been 
 hi this." 
 
 " But what a difference. Here you are comfortable, surrounded 
 by your family : there you were probably worse situated ?" 
 
 " Yes, comparatively comfortless and desolate, as far as ex- 
 ternals went. But, oh ! Lilian, hope was then an inhabitant of 
 this heart, fluttering, like the dove in Noah's hand, eager to 
 escape from the ark ; but now a callous serpent coils there in- 
 stead, cold as ice, sluggish as death." 
 
 " Grandfather, what a picture 1" A livid shadow seemed 
 passing over his face. Fabius saw it, and quickly leaving the 
 room, returned with the pyramidal vial I had seen on his table, 
 and poured from its lips, drop by drop, a portion of its flashing 
 fluid into a slender glass. 
 
 His master received it eagerly, drank it down, leaned back in 
 his chair a moment ; then, recovering his energies, as if by magic, 
 resumed the conversation, without reference to the agent of 
 restoration employed, the weird mystery of which so deeply inte- 
 rested me. 
 
 " The sight of your fair young face, the sound of your fresh, true 
 voice, with its sweet, throaty, thrushlike richness, have done more 
 to revive me than all the care and remedies of more experienced 
 nurses. These things were life-giving ; and, hear me, Lilian, 
 save yourself, there is no live thing within those walls. All else 
 are ghosts of the past. There is no vitality here none, child, 
 none 1" 
 
 I thought of Jasper, his son ; but I had learned to suppress 
 all mention of him in his presence, and yet the mystery of this
 
 166 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 terrible necessity (if such it were) weighed on me like a pall, that 
 sundered two lives, belonging so rightfully to one another, and 
 shut away the sweetness and freshness of the son from the sor- 
 row and stagnant morbidness of the father. 
 
 What the rain is to the earth would Jasper be to him, I 
 thought. Oh, what can have arisen between them ? Why is my 
 grandfather here ? What means this immurement, this mystery ? 
 What is the shadow that broods so heavily, so inscrutably over 
 this strange, sad, devoted household of Bouverie this mournful 
 hall of Vathek ?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 167 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE twentieth of September found health again an inmate of 
 Bouverie ; yet on the morning of that day I missed my grand 
 mother from her usual post at the breakfast board, and re 
 marked the sombre shadow that rested on Dr. Quintil's face. In 
 answer to my inquiries, he said : 
 
 " Mrs. Bouverie is not ill ; but you know, Lilian (you must 
 have remarked it before, I think), that this day is a mournful 
 anniversary with her." 
 
 I did indeed recall the fact, that at a corresponding period in 
 every year, during my residence at Bouverie, retirement and 
 silence had prevailed among its inmates. The recurrence of this 
 day had been observed among them, it seemed to me, as penitents 
 keep Ash Wednesday with seclusion and self-sacrifice ; but the 
 mystery of its sorrow still remained unexplained. 
 
 " Go, Lilian," he said, when our melancholy meal was con- 
 cluded, " and see that your grandmother is cared for. This was 
 Jasper's province once ; it now devolves on you." 
 
 I hesitated. It was inexpressibly painful for me to undertake 
 this task. To intrude, unbidden, on her solitude ; to meet that 
 calm, sorrowful, icy face, that had already been lifted before me, 
 when at the sound of her passionate weeping I had been im- 
 pelled to enter her apartment uncalled. 
 
 " I am not fit for such a mission, Dr. Quintil," I said. " I 
 think I am singularly wanting in the power of expressing sym- 
 pathy. I have no tenderness of manner."
 
 168 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 " Passionate child !" he said, shaking his head slightly, as if 
 musing on the estimate I had placed on my own powers. " How 
 strangely you have mistaken your own vocation. I have known 
 few persons with such capacity for affection. I confess it has 
 made me tremble for your happiness sometimes." 
 
 " Yes, when the floodgates are fairly open, I grant you, and 
 njy feelings are vividly aroused. But, Dr. Quintil, forgive me 
 do not think me ungrateful my grandmother has no longer the 
 power to do this." 
 
 "Is it possible!" he said. "Are you resentful after all? 
 Have I over-estimated your native generosity ? Do you not love 
 your grandmother ?" 
 
 And he gazed at me with a sort of incredulous horror, as if 
 this, with him, were the one unpardonable sin. 
 
 " Have I not been forbidden to do so ?" I questioned in 
 return, dropping my eyes beneath his long, sad gaze, and crim- 
 soning to t':e temples. " Has she not enjoined me not to lova 
 her ?" 
 
 "Aye, true, true. I had forgotten that silly escapade of 
 yours, so long over now, founded on uncomprehended words of 
 hers. Let that pass, Lilian ; duty is in the path now, you will 
 not put that aside ?" 
 
 " Certainly not," I answered drily, "I will do whatever you 
 desire whatever you think best. But, if this be duty, why not 
 go yourself?" 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " I have no such privilege," he answered, sadly. "I am a 
 mere outsider after all, governed by the proprieties, you know. 
 If it were a case of physical ailment, if drug or knife were 
 needed, I should be earliest on the scene of action ; but in a case
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIB. 169 
 
 fike this, I have no business there. I hope you understand, my 
 child, that it is from no selfish wish to save my own feelings, that 
 I do not go at once to the chamber of affliction. 
 
 " Lilian, this sacred privilege is yours ; go, then, enter the 
 room quietly, but firmly ; do what you can to dispel the gloom 
 that lies like a dark pall to-day over that most sorrowful woman; 
 and persuade her out of herself, and the useless past, if this be 
 possible." He waved his hand, and, turning from me, sat down 
 in a deep chair, and covered his brow and eyes with his hands. 
 There was silence for a time, unbroken, save by the faint murmur- 
 ings of his moving lips moving and murmuring unconsciously. J 
 knew that he was engaged in prayer. 
 
 With a sense of the sacred nature of his occupation, I arose and 
 left him, and sought, as he had desired me to do, my grandmother's 
 chamber. After a moment's delay with Bianca, I entered through 
 my own, the connecting door of which I found unlocked. 
 
 She was lying on her bed, half-dressed in some loose wrapping- 
 gown, dark, pale, motionless. The shutters were bowed, so as to 
 exclude the beautiful autumn sun ; the fire of fagots, that she 
 loved, had burned down to ashes on the hearth. The room was 
 cold and dim, in striking contrast to all the warmth and glory 
 without. 
 
 "What is the use of all this grief?" was my harsh, unsympa- 
 thizing thought, as I entered the shadowed chamber. " Why not 
 cast it by, and go frankly forth, and strike hands with nature 
 herself, the unfailing consoler ?" 
 
 I stood beside her bed. Her attitude was that of a calm 
 sleeper ; but her large, dark eyes were open and fixed, staring on 
 the wall, as if memory had painted there some ghastly picture in- 
 visible to all other vision. I clasped her hand I called her 
 
 8
 
 170 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEEIE. 
 
 name ; yet, for some moments, she did not seem to regard my 
 presence. 
 
 "Lilian, is it you?" she said at last. "Have you come to 
 keep the birth-day of despair with me ? If so, sit down among 
 the ashes !" Her smile was bitter and unnatural. 
 
 "Job's comforters did this, grandmother," I replied; "yet, 
 after all, proved torturers alone. No, I will not sit down among 
 the ashes ; it is you who must rise out of them. Put the ill thing 
 away from you, and keep no more of its evil birth-days ! Throw 
 off the sackcloth you have worn it long enough." Such were 
 my harsh and inconsiderate words. 
 
 " Lilian 1" she paused, she turned, she raised herself on one 
 supporting arm, and bent on me a gaze of surprised reproof. 
 
 " Lilian !" she continued, in accents of earnest, pathetic remon- 
 strance, " you know not you cannot know, how intimately this 
 sorrow is interwoven with my very heart-strings. They must be 
 cut loose, Lilian, before it can be severed from my being. On 
 this day, ten years ago, my hand received the only full cup of joy 
 God ever deigned to place within its grasp dashed down at once, 
 before it reached my lips, to lie in the dust forever ! Oh ! my 
 child, look on me, not with that cold, astonished face, but with 
 sympathy and affection, such as belong to you by nature ! Look 
 on me, the most doomed, the most desolate, of all the daughters 
 of men would I could say of God, but he has withdrawn himself, 
 he has rejected me ; my claims on him are unrecognized mine is 
 the curse of Saul !" 
 
 Again that accusation against her Maker ! I could not sup- 
 press a stifled cry this thought, which I had once before heard 
 from her lips, was singularly revolting to my nature. She mis- 
 took, perhaps, the cause of my emotion, for iu another moment
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 171 
 
 she drew me closely to her breast, and held me there, while she 
 murmured : 
 
 " Comfort me, then, as you only can comfort me, most dear., 
 most beloved, of all living things, to me ! My daughter's child 
 dearer than Jasper's self !" This was the first time she had ever 
 acknowledged her deep affection for me, and I was melted and 
 overcome by her tenderness, almost as woman is stirred by the 
 spoken love of man. 
 
 " Do you not know," she whispered, " the fate of all that I 
 love ? Are you not afraid to be one of these ? Afraid of him 
 who is my fate ?" 
 
 " Oh, grandmother," I remonstrated, catching remotely at her 
 meaning, " why should I be afraid ? All are so good, so kind, so 
 affectionate he as well as others. Thank you, dear grand- 
 mother, that you permit me to love you at last." 
 
 "I have not said this," she said, withdrawing her arms from 
 me, and shrinking back again amid her pillows ; " I have granted 
 you no new permission let the old order of things remain. It is 
 better so, darling it is best for all !" 
 
 She turned her face from me, and lay quite still with her eyes 
 closed, for the space of half an hour ; and during that interval I 
 moved quietly through the room, making such arrangements as I 
 thought would please her placing her chair and work-table by 
 the hearth, on which I heaped fresh fagots from the box of pine 
 wood near. 
 
 It was her fancy at certain seasons to burn this aromatic wood, 
 and, to me, as well as to her, there certainly was something singu- 
 larly reviving and cheering in the odor as well as the brilliant 
 flame emitted by the freshly cut branches loaded with fir-cones. 
 As the pleasant light flashed through the shadowed chamber, she
 
 172 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 rose, and approached the hearth. I drew her down in her chair, 
 and felt that her hands were icy cold. 
 
 " Heat is the universal comforter, grandmother, I believe," I 
 said ; "suffering makes one so cold, whether mental or physical." 
 
 " I am a perfect fire-worshipper, I know," she said, half 
 smiling ; " I can conceive of a cold hell." 
 
 " Dante, I believe, described such a place of torture ; but I am 
 not certain it is so long since I read the ' Inferno ' and I have 
 not seen it here." 
 
 " Did you read it in Scotland, Lilian ?" 
 
 " Yes, grandmother. I read whatever our library contained, 
 and fought the battle of the Greeks and Trojans through the 
 medium of a translation when I was seven years old. I was in 
 danger of becoming a member of the Pantheon church in those 
 days, so implicitly did I believe in Homer's gods and goddesses. 
 I am almost ashamed to tell you that I never saw a rainbow 
 without looking to see Iris descending it, as a boy runs down a 
 banister, bound on some message or other ; and as for Pan, after 
 I read of him, I was afraid to go into the woods on his account. 
 He answered the part of devil to me, so literal was my imagina- 
 tion." 
 
 " How strange how original !" she said, leaning on her hand, 
 and gazing on my face ; "how sad even ! Lilian, had you no 
 companions ?" 
 
 " None, except Grandmother De Courcy, and Rene, the grey- 
 hound. I never enjoyed Bridget's society. She was my nurse, 
 you know, a cross, loud-spoken woman and those dear books 
 were meat and drink to me." 
 
 " Did your grandmother know how indiscriminately you 
 read ?"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVBKIE. 173 
 
 " My teacher sometimes complained of this our pastor also 
 he was, Dr. Somers who died just before she did, a very 
 learned, but deaf, and somewhat disagreeable old man : I think I 
 told you about him before. He sometimes complained of my 
 desultory style of reading, but she took little heed, and answered 
 only by desiring him to remove from her library whatever books 
 he deemed objectionable, and lock them away, and thus save 
 all further trouble. So he began by picking out the ' Arabian 
 Nights,' and ' Moore's Melodies,' and ' Don Quixote,' and Mr 
 Beckford's strange book, ' Yathek.' But I laughed him to scorn, 
 for I had all these at my fingers' ends, and proved to him that I 
 had, by the way of taunt ; and so the poor man, utterly be- 
 wildered by the extent of my ill-doing, desisted from his task, 
 muttering as he did so, quite in Cardinal Wolsey style ' Heh, 
 bairn 1 had you served your teacher better, and the deil less, you 
 would have been in a different condition now. But matters maun 
 tak their course. It would require fire and steel to expurgate 
 tliis library,' and so he wheeled off in a silent, puritanic rage." 
 
 " What a mournful life yours has been, Lilian I Passed with 
 the old, the harsh, the sorrowful, shut away from all glad and 
 beautiful influences. How very unusual has been your fate !" 
 
 "You forget, grandmother, you forget," I said, bending my 
 head before her, while the glow of feeling mounted to my brow, 
 " I have known Jasper !" as if in that word were contained all 
 the light, the joy, the gladness, that other natures divide among 
 a thousand objects. I remained mute after I had uttered it. 
 She, too, sat gazing fondly, sadly on me, as though the name of 
 him she loved so well had been fruitful to her of a train of ten- 
 der recollections, and given rise to a host of sweet and bitter 
 fancies.
 
 174: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 A light tap at the door brought me to my feet. Bianca had 
 brought, at my suggestion, a small tea waiter for her mistress, 
 /which I received from her hand, and placed on the stand by her 
 side. 
 
 " She won't like it, Miss Lilian, she won't like it, believe me," 
 whispered Bianca, as I received the tray. " "Us a fast day with 
 her, as I warned you, and no one ever ventured before." 
 
 With a nod and smile, I closed the door against further remon- 
 strances and intrusion, and hastened to the fireside at once, with 
 my burden not noticed at first, for still she gazed forward as 
 if on space, weaving perhaps her web of thought from that dis- 
 astrous past, which invested that glorious autumn day with such 
 peculiar gloom, and even sanctity of woe to her. 
 
 She turned suddenly at last, and glanced at the nicely ap- 
 pointed waiter, with evident displeasure. 
 
 " Who has taken this liberty ?" she said with asperity. " What 
 ill-timed intrusion is this ?" 
 
 " Blame me, dear grandmother, for the whole. Bianca re- 
 monstrated (let me do her justice), but your physician must be 
 obeyed." 
 
 I knelt on the stool beside her, and commenced preparing the 
 beverage, as I knew she liked it best, weighing the sugar to a 
 grain, dropping rather than pouring the yellow cream into the 
 fragrant hyson, served in one of those shallow transparent cups, 
 out of which she preferred to drink it. 
 
 " And now, dear grandmother, just one cup for the sake of 
 your leech Dr. Lilian de Courcy." 
 
 " I am relieved," she said, putting the cup aside. " I could 
 not reconcile such treatment with what I know of Quintil." 
 
 " You will not refuse me, grandmother, this slight request
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 175 
 
 this unimportant sacrifice. I would do so much more to gratify 
 you." 
 
 T clasped her hand, I raised it to my lips, still pressing the ex- 
 tended cup on her acceptance. 
 
 " Wayward girl !" A half smile curled her lip. She did not 
 seem to think the matter worth contention. She took the cup and 
 drank its contents. I saw at once their beneficial effects, in the 
 renewed lustre of her eye and color of her cheek, hitherto pale 
 and dark. 
 
 As sunshine is to the earth, was this rich crimson to her aspect 
 lighting, revivifying, regenerating, beautifying the whole. 
 Without, all was cold and grey like twilight. My heart leaped 
 up to see the returning life-blood brought back by my means, 
 lend new glory to the sweet, noble features I so admired ; and, 
 nerved by a sudden impulse, I spoke my thoughts, still grasping 
 her hand. 
 
 "Oh, grandmother! you make an idol of your grief, and 
 sacrifice to it. Is this right is this just ? Remember what Long- 
 fellow says the writer you love : ' Let the dead past bury its 
 dead.' You must live down this trouble." 
 
 She withdrew her hand. I saw that I had offended her, when 
 I sought to soothe. 
 
 " Such words, Lilian, from your young, inexperienced lips, sur- 
 prise me. Who has taught you this lesson ? What preacher of 
 commonplace ? Pray choose a fitter text." 
 
 " My test is there, grandmother," I said rising before her, 
 while my heart swelled high with its mixed emotions, difficult to 
 describe, and, pointing to a spray of remontant roses in a glass 
 on the mantel ; "Nature supplies it, and the sermon is not hard 
 to preach. Those flowers have succeeded the dead bloom of
 
 176 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 the spring ; and the bush they grow on does not strike its sap to 
 the ground, because its earliest blossoms died, but sends forth 
 more, and renews itself, and so should the human heart, grand- 
 mother." 
 
 " Child, child !" she said, rising in her turn, and confronting me 
 sternly, " it is too much. Your intrusion, your attentions, your 
 suggestions even, I have borne with what patience I might, but 
 when you presume to grapple with the horrors of my life, and 
 judge, without knowing these, its capacity for endurance, you go 
 too far. Were I to tell you," she continued, in a gloomy tone, 
 dropping the excited manner in which she had hitherto spoken, 
 and bending over the chair in which she had so lately been seated, 
 "were I to tell you the nature of that sorrow, whose deep recur- 
 rence this day brings back to me, you would sink beneath the 
 recital yon who have tried to measure your puny strength with 
 mine. What comfort do you imagine the Virgin Mary found, on 
 the anniversary of her holy son's crucifixion, so great as teaw 
 and solitude ? These things are precious to the afflicted, a.nd 
 must not be denied to them." 
 
 " Grandmother, I am grieved." I could say no more, but 
 bursting into tears, turned to leave the room ; my hand was on 
 the lock. 
 
 " Lilian," I heard her say, in a sobbing voice. I turned, her 
 arms were open, she was standing on the hearth, gazing after 
 me. 
 
 " Lilian, return and forgive me ; you must stay with me." 
 
 And so, through that long, bright day, I lingered beside her, 
 in the shadow, speaking sometimes of things dear to her, of Jas- 
 per, of his proposed tour in Italy, and sojourn hi Florence, and 
 hi?, earnest love of art, of his prolonged absence, of his glad and
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 177 
 
 certain return ; for I did not share her misgivings on the subject, 
 and she found comfort in my superior confidence. And now, for 
 the first time, the name of Everard Howe was spoken between 
 us. Dr. Quintil had told her all he knew of our intercourse ; 
 much more remained to be communicated, and, without any 
 reservation on my part, this was done. She said but little, 
 yet listened with earnest attention, which entirely beguiled 
 her for a while from any thought of self, to every word I 
 uttered, pressing my hands, from time to time, between her 
 own, as if from some fullness of feeling that could find no relief 
 in words. 
 
 When I had spoken of this matter, in all its details, a deep 
 silence fell over us again, so heavy, so oppressive, that it seemed 
 almost a mantle that one might feel, and wrap around one, and 
 take shelter beneath. 
 
 It weighed my senses down. I slept ; and when I awakened, 
 my head was lying on her bosom, and through the great open 
 window the last crimson rays of the mild autumn evening 
 poured into the chamber, reminding me, with a sensation of 
 sweet relief, that the day set apart for sorrow was at an 
 end. 
 
 " I would not disturb you," she said, "you slept so sweetly, 
 so profoundly ; and now go and join Dr. Quintil, at the tea- 
 table. To-morrow, at breakfast, I will be there with you ; 
 and, Lilian, hear me, this much you have achieved, I have 
 kept this anniversary of blood for the last tune, but no food 
 to-night, no more society either. Go, dearest, I would be 
 alone." 
 
 I kissed hex forehead, and withdrew. There were letters that 
 night for all from Jasper long, dear, delightful letters. The
 
 178 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 evening passed away so pleasantly in their pernsal, that I scarcely 
 realized its flight ; but, even for the sake of such communication, 
 I did not venture to disturb my grandmother's sacred repose 
 again, and those directed to her remained unopened in Dr. Quin- 
 til's desk until morning.
 
 BOOK THIRD. 
 
 " I cannot love him 
 
 Tet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, 
 Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth, 
 A gracious person, yet I cannot love him." 
 
 " May my fears, 
 
 My filial fears be vain, and may the vaunts, 
 And menace of this vengeful enemy 
 Pass like the gust that roars and dies away 
 In the distant trees."
 
 
 BOOK THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHAT strange power exists in the human mind to put away 
 unwelcome suspicion 1 It would have been unnatural, impossible, 
 for me to do otherwise than connect with the prisoner of Bouverie 
 much of the sorrow that rested on its inmates ; and many of 
 those mysterious allusions to which I no longer desired a clue. 
 Something had occurred, I knew, so dark, so dreadful even, in its 
 nature as to sever family ties and to cut off from all communion 
 with his fellow-men, that strangely attractive and gifted person 
 whose whole safety lay in secrecy. But my mind refused to rise 
 in evidence against him. I would not imagine his crime. I 
 sought to ignore it altogether. Pity, admiration, respect, tender 
 interest drew me toward him with irresistible force. Day by 
 day he acquired fresh power over me. His voice, his manner, hig 
 brilliant though often erratic conversation ; his vast acquirements 
 and power of setting these forth ; his uncomplaining meekness, as 
 it seemed to me so strangely at variance with a spirit all fire, all 
 impetuosity the strain of deep pathos that ran through hia 
 systematic cheerfulness and spread above all these like a 
 princely mantle that dignity of courtesy that commands deference 
 wherever it may be found. These attributes swayed and fascinated 
 me beyond any opposing power that reason or expedience could 
 have exercised. 
 
 I felt instinctively that my grandmother regarded this growing
 
 182 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 influence with an unquiet heart, a feeling as far above jealousy as 
 perfect disinterestedness could make it; and not from a wish to 
 deceive, but to spare her feelings I concealed from her as much 
 as possible the powerful sentiment with which my grandfather had 
 inspired me. 
 
 My visits to him were frequently made alone. From a com- 
 passionate wish to enliven his solitude as much as possible, the 
 inmates of Bouverie divided their visits, so as to fill as many 
 hours as possible of the twelve assigned to occupation. 
 
 He had indeed expressed a wish to this effect, and my grand- 
 mother had in accordance with his desire, given me her duplicate 
 key of the secret chamber, and placed no impediment in the way 
 of our unrestrained intercourse. The invariable presence of 
 Fabius on these occasions, mechanical as it was, proved no 
 restraint to conversation, as that of any participating third party 
 must have done. The slight deafness of the individual, pre- 
 dominating in one ear so as to cause a peculiarly stiff one-sided 
 carriage of the head, as if always thrown back in an attitude of 
 attention, and a habit of dozing, even while standing in readiness 
 to attend on his master's orders and which did not interfere in 
 the least with his immediate attention to duties, waking as he did 
 with a start and snap of the eyes that never failed to amuse me, 
 even though so often repeated these peculiarities rendered him 
 one of the least oppressive witnesses to the communion of others 
 that could have been secured or desired. 
 
 From the very first the old man had taken me singularly into 
 favor, and his earnest wish had been, that I should be permitted 
 to visit and minister to his master, for whom his admiration and 
 affection were unbounded. 
 
 But Mrs. Bouverie had so sternly impressed upon him the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEBIE. 183 
 
 necessity of silence with regard to my presence in the household, 
 and connected her commands with such assurances of deep dis- 
 pleasure, that he had been mute on the subject. Taciturn, and 
 uncommunicative by nature, it was not difficult for him to keep a 
 secret. Mystery seemed indeed his favorite atmosphere, as un- 
 questioning fidelity was his peculiar attribute. Yet his satisfac- 
 tion was unmistakable at the result of my acquaintance with his 
 master. He surveyed with evident gratification that familiar yet 
 not informal intercourse that existed between us, so in keep- 
 ing with his own ideas of ceremonious dignity. He was never 
 more pleased than when called upon to contribute to my amuse- 
 ment by assisting in those chemical experiments with which my 
 grandfather helped to beguile the time, and my exclamations of 
 wonder and delight were music to his ear. My interest in all that 
 concerned my grandfather my contributions of flowers, of fruits, 
 of books, my fondness for the poor dull tortoise even (which I 
 fed and fostered until it learned to know me) were all received by 
 Fabius as personal attentions. 
 
 " Why not keep a dog or a bird instead of this poor earth- 
 bound creature ?" I said, one day to him. " Do you not think, 
 Fabius, we might procure a pet that would please my grandfather 
 better, cheer him more ?" 
 
 He laid his fingers on his lips, a common gesture of his when 
 he wished to be impressive. " Silence, secrecy, are the watch- 
 words here, you know, Miss Lilian ; a dog barks, a bird sings 
 such indiscretion might lead to discovery. Besides, my master 
 never cared for pets Merodach was a special Providence, you 
 know, Miss Lilian, not to be rejected." 
 
 This was a longer speech than I had ever heard him make 
 before. It seemed to have fatigued him he closed his lips with
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKEE. 
 
 a snapping sound, and was inexorably silent thereafter for some 
 time. How perfectly his nature dovetailed with Bianca's, who 
 was a born chatter-box, controlled only by circumstances ! 
 How refreshing to both must have been their conversation, car- 
 ried on in true jug-handle style ! 
 
 Communications being all confined to one side, and received 
 and contained, on the other, even as the contents of a jug, once 
 poured in, are held in its inscrutable depths ; yet, perhaps, after 
 all, in the deep confidence of the conjugal chamber, the "jug," 
 properly shaken, did at tunes gurgle forth a stream of its long 
 withheld yet not less precious contents. I have reason to 
 know, at least, that toward the last, Fabius did intrust to the ear 
 of his spouse the hopes, the schemes, the stratagems, in which his 
 master indulged, and in which he, poor faithful fellow ! was the 
 mechanical abettor. How fatally unsuccessful, both to himself 
 and to others, reader, you si: all learn. 
 
 When rny grandmother committed to -my hands the duplicate 
 key I have mentioned, she coupled with the trust certain condi- 
 tions not difficult to be observed, and the reasonable nature of 
 which were manifest at once. I was charged never to leave the 
 door unlocked, even for a moment, nor the key in the lock, nor to 
 suffer this to pass into any other hands on any pretence what- 
 ever. 
 
 Fabius still found his cautious way through the basemenc - 
 from every part of which Pat McConnick had been excluded oil 
 pain of condign punishment ; and Dr. Quintil accompanied my 
 grandmother most frequently in her visits, or made use of .her key 
 when he went alone, which was seldom enough. 
 
 Their visits were made in the evening mine in the day-tune, in 
 the interval of study or other occupation, and most frequently
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 185 
 
 with work in hand, which, my grandfather said, gave such a home- 
 aspect to every woman. At night, I sat with Bianca in the 
 dining-room, engaged most often in writing, or in the perusal of 
 some favorite author, a species of occupation which was not only 
 congenial to my tastes, but useful, as a positive defence against 
 her garrulity. 
 
 I had long risen above the childish inclination to draw from my 
 grandmother's servant what she herself withheld from me. It was 
 now my turn to check all communications that might have opened 
 before me that sealed volume of the past, so religiously closed 
 from my eyes by those who loved me best, and were the fittest 
 judges of my happiness. 
 
 So I waived away, as gently as I could, every approach on her 
 part to subjects that I knew must be fraught, whenever opened, 
 with exquisite pain to me ; nor did I lose either her affection or 
 confidence by the course of conduct I pursued. Her tender 
 nature clung to my rougher and hardier one with strange tenacity, 
 mingled with respect. The question of servitude, as connected 
 with this feeling, was out of place under the peculiar circum- 
 stances that bound us together. I doubt whether the problem of 
 position ever occurred to either of us as worthy of consideration. 
 I was the hope of her heart. She had but one other. I was the 
 only being, save Jasper, who bound her to the future. My very 
 faults seemed to have endeared me to her. He was "perfect," 
 she said ; "too perfect for this world." But, for me, she must 
 ever watch and pray. Bishop Clare, my grandmother, Dr. Quin- 
 til in this order she ranged the objects of her greatest earthly 
 idolatry. For my grandfather she entertained sentiments of no 
 ordinary aversion, even if mingled with habitual respect. She 
 was antagonistic to him, evidently naturally so, perhaps. She
 
 186 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 groaned, when I coupled his name with tenderness or admiration ; 
 and sometimes rolled her eyes and made a faint sign of the cross 
 at its very sound, as if preparing for a defence against the assaults 
 of the evil one. But beyond this she was not permitted to go, 
 and she felt and yielded to this necessity tacitly, as was best for 
 us both. Although I could not but perceive the unexpressed 
 misgivings that my peculiar pleasure in my grandfather's society 
 occasioned his wife, I still believe that she did, with some unex- 
 plained paradoxical condition of mind, rejoice that natural feelings 
 had found their outlet between us. 
 
 It seemed that she had doubted this result hi the first instance, 
 having knowledge of his peculiarities ; and, probably, as much for 
 this as other reasons, had concealed from him my presence in the 
 household, until justice to both made revelation necessary. She 
 had chosen for this announcement a time which she considered 
 most favorable and auspicious. A tune when tender care, on one 
 hand, and absolute dependence, on the other reversing the natu- 
 ral relations of strength and weakness that subsist originally be- 
 tween man and woman, parent and child might merge all per- 
 sonal considerations into one deep, harmonious affection. 
 
 She had chosen well, as time and circumstances proved. Yet, 
 having so decided, so acted, she had trembled for the conse- 
 quences to me, fearing, that, with returning health, might recur 
 some of those bitter whims and jealousies that had hitherto ren- 
 dered every object of her affection, objectionable, often unenduro- 
 ble to him. 
 
 Perhaps my own impulsive devotion to him from the first, and 
 the instinctive insight I had into the hearts of both, had much to 
 do in determining and coloring our future intercourse. I was 
 enabled thus, in justice *-o myself as to each of these beloved rel?v
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 187 
 
 tions, to parry all investigations on the part of either, as to the 
 precise nature of my feelings toward the other. Was it not a 
 strange order of things that I, the centre in which their feelings 
 concentrated, should have been forced, for self-protection almost, to 
 a non-committal course, verging on duplicity, utterly foreign from 
 my nature, my habits, or my true position. 
 
 There was something degrading, cruel, even, in such necessity. 
 Yet I maintained it as the least of evils. I was like one who had 
 gotten hold of a clew that should lead him through a labyrinth, 
 determined to hold on to its friendly aid though it conducted him 
 through dark, and devious, and suffocating passages, at first, 
 offensive to soul and sense, and confident that at last, by such as- 
 sistance, he should emerge to light and air. 
 
 I would not surrender either of these dear yet divided parents. 
 My mother ! my father ! the only ones that remained to me I 
 Both so nobly beautiful, in their stately yet separate age ! both 
 so gifted, so widely yet differently endowed ! both so unfortu- 
 nate ! Both, it seemed to me, so good. Guilty ! no, I would 
 not couple the word with either I would put it away forever. 
 What business was it of mine ? Was I their appointed judge ? 
 was it for me to usurp the divine prerogative ? Guilty ! Ha I 
 the sting was there at last ! I would trample it under foot ; I 
 would cherish no serpent like this ; or, at most, I would pluck the 
 venom from the fang, by duty, by submission. Yet there were 
 times when the dark spirit triumphed times, when lying in my 
 quiet bed, suddenly, unexpectedly, imagination would present 
 before me a list of horrors, soliciting me to choose my fate from 
 them. For was not my fate and theirs indissolubly bound from 
 the beginning in the warp and woof of the same mysterious des- 
 tiny 1 Could any act, human or divine, separate us now ? Ob {
 
 188 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 then it was, my Creator, that the whole mystery and beauty of the 
 great word " atonement" flashed in a blaze of glory over my soul ! 
 The past was fixed and unalterable ; the future unchangeable, 
 growing, as it does, from that adamantine past, as branch from 
 tree, as fruit from flower, an implacable necessity of 'a consistent 
 God. 
 
 What then remained ? Was there no hope ? none for the 
 offender ? Yes ! the greatest, the noblest, ever vouchsafed to 
 finite creature by infinite power. The hope of renewal, pardon, 
 peace, not evanescent, susceptible of change, as are all the institu- 
 tions of this world ; but great, glorious, eternal, beyond decay ! 
 
 So in my soul the germs of an early implanted religion grew 
 and waxed strong from suffering. Had there been no atmosphere 
 of sorrow about me no pall-like mystery pressing forever on my 
 bosom no voiceless call for sympathy from those about me, ever 
 ringing in the deeps of my spirit, I should have been hard, cold, 
 strong, worldly, selfish, perhaps that darkest of all evils, shut- 
 ting out, as it does, sympathy, and self-sacrifice, and charity, the 
 angels that in the guise of travellers abode all night in Abraham's 
 tent insensible to the claims of humanity or the voice of God. 
 
 My very intellect would have taken the marble type, for such 
 was its natural inclination ; but the rock was smitten by the pro- 
 phet's rod, and sweet and living waters gushed from its granite 
 breast. Enough of this ! I linger on my way. 
 
 Like one who goes back to an old homestead long forsaken, in 
 the company of a stranger, where every grassy stone invites him 
 to rest, every tree to stand at gaze, every bubbling brook to 
 drink, boy-fashion, from his hollowed hand, in memory of the 
 past ; but who forgets, in his own acted reverie, that another, 
 bound by no such power of association, pauses carelessly beside
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTEBIE. 189 
 
 him, or follows mechanically his erratic steps. Like this revisitor 
 of the abode of early days, I linger on the pathway of the young 
 life to which I am returning in spirit as I write, pausing on its 
 motives, drinking from its memories, resting on its sorrows, for- 
 getting, for a time, how in this self-indulgence I am wearying the 
 patience of my companion. I am recalled to a sense of my mouii- 
 siderato egotism. Reader, let us proceed. 

 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LETTERS from Jasper, describing minutely his mode of life, the 
 gradual improvement in his limb and general strength, yet deplor- 
 ing the failure of every effort art could make, or science suggest, 
 for the restoration of his power of speech, had recently arrived. 
 I was not disappointed by this want of success, as my grand- 
 mother and Dr Quintil seemed to be. I think I never realized 
 the extent of this privation in his case as I should have done. 
 Did not this very want make him more peculiarly our own ? 
 
 Yet what a deficiency was here to a man of Jasper's genius, 
 which might, from its fine sensibility, have taken the shape of 
 eloquence, I think had the power of expression been given to 
 him, too fine, too evanescent perhaps (wanting this) to transmit 
 itself perfectly through the secondhand medium of the pen. 
 
 In the pulpit, in the rostrum, in the chair of the lecturer, how 
 beautiful would his presence have been ! How greatly would 
 the luminous eyes, the expansive brow, the graceful gestures 
 have aided the cause, whatever it might have been, he meant to 
 advocate 1 How delicious would his intonation have been in 
 correspondence, as must have been the case, with the sweetness 
 of his character ; how musical his sentences 1 I can imagine all 
 this now ; but then, as I have said, I did not realize the void left 
 in his being by that extinguished power. Now, how greatly the 
 absence of " words, words," as Hamlet called them in his half- 
 mocking philosophy, had marred the purpose of his very life. 
 
 Jasper wrote to us of the pictures he was engaged upon, chiefly 
 
 190
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 191 
 
 of a suggestive character as these were. To those called " En- 
 durance," and " Regret," I shall hereafter revert ; but my favor- 
 ites among his later works were those exquisite and ethereal images 
 called " Fancy," and " Ideality," for thus he divided into two 
 distinct attributes, the mighty power men name imagination. 
 
 His " Dying Flora," and " Aurora Waking," came to us now 
 as proofs of his genius and improvement in the executive depart- 
 ment of his art ; the first, a frail, sweet shape, stretched on a bed 
 of leaves, strewn with broken and faded blossoms. A leafless 
 tree, a wintry sky, an unstrung lyre, a shivered hour-glass, a dead 
 Cicala, were the suggestive features of this picture. The faint 
 and shadowy face of the dying girl, half veiled with fleecy curls, 
 was unspeakably beautiful. A tender smile lingered about the 
 lips, and the fading eyes were fixed on the humming-bird she held 
 in her hand, still fluttering with life. Was this intended as a 
 suggestion of a better hope ? It pleased me inexpressibly to de- 
 tect, after long scrutiny, a weeping Faun lurking in the shadow 
 of an old stone altar, half hidden by trailing vines. His flute 
 lay beside him. The whole attitude of -the grotesque figure was 
 one 01 pity and sorrow. 
 
 " Is it not a lovely thought, dear grandmother," I asked, " the 
 spirit of the woods laments the death of flowers ? I like it 
 better, too, for stealing out of the picture, as it were, like an 
 afterthought, something created by one's own taste and feeling 
 rather than the artist's pencil, one must gaze so long before it is 
 perceived." 
 
 I looked at Dr. Quintil, his eyes were full of tears. Were 
 they of bitterness for the void which even this gift so ill sup- 
 plied ? Were they of gratified pride ? I know not, for uttering 
 the careless words, " The boy has genius certainly," he turned
 
 192 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 away and left the apartmeiit before the second picture had been 
 examined. 
 
 " Poor Jasper, your genius is at a discount," I said, discouraged 
 and surprised as I was by the reception his works had met with 
 from those whose good opinion he most cared for. My grand- 
 mother still stood in silence, and gazed half indifferently I thought 
 upon the picture. 
 
 " I do not think you appreciate your good fortune sufficiently, 
 madam," I added in playful accents. " Just reflect on your im- 
 portance in possessing a painter and a poet as the members of 
 your household. Few queens have more to boast of." 
 
 She smiled and shook her head. 
 
 "The name of Bouverie will yet be enrolled among those of 
 the great artists, I believe, grandmother," I continued- ; " yet 
 how insensible you seem to this dawning glory of your name." 
 
 "Bouverie?" she questioned, starting slightly. "Oh, yes, I 
 agree with you, Lilian, Jasper is probably doomed to distinction." 
 
 " Such a strange word, grandmother, to apply in such a sense. 
 Would not destined be better ?" 
 
 " Small difference, Lilian, between doom and destiny after all ; 
 are they not indeed the same ? I count him the happiest man 
 who fills no part in the dramatic role of fate the man of whom 
 the world knows least the man who has no vocation." 
 
 " Ah, grandmother, you are in one of your cynical moods to- 
 day. I hoped the sight of these pictures would do you good. 
 But no, every one is depressed by Jasper's success, it seems ; 
 every one but me. As to Dr. Quintil, he is really envious I 
 believe. I cannot account hi any more plausible manner for his 
 strange indifference in going away so soon." 
 
 " He will return, Lilian, long after everyone else has forgotten
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 193 
 
 the novelty of the picture, you will see him standing day by day 
 before it, for that boy has hold of his life-strings ; but it behooves 
 me to be .patient and self-contained to restrain your ambitious 
 boasting, Lilian. And now listen to what I have to say to you. 
 My deep experience of life forbids me placing so high an estimate 
 on these things, as you do in your unsophisticated freshness and 
 solemn faith in the efficiency of genius to cure all ills. There sits 
 a man at this moment, above stairs, as superior in natural power 
 and capacity to that poet, that painter of whom you have re- 
 minded me with something like vain glory in your words, as I 
 to the simplest clown. How fares it with him, Lilian ? Deserted 
 by all the world, consigned to a living grave, deprived of the 
 privileges of the meanest slave, he wears away his life in humili- 
 ation, hi solitude. What avail him now those talents, those 
 attractions, that kingly intellect, that will of fire ? The 
 shadow is on him and beneath it he must abide, and with 
 this example before my eyes, it has come to pass, that I have 
 learned to appreciate no quality that is not simple, lowly, and 
 God-fearing ; I dread, I confess, the erratic tendency of that 
 quality men call genius." 
 
 It was no tune for argument, at any other I might have placed 
 a lance in rest against her ; but the sacredness of her grief, the 
 poignancy of her allusions, silenced me and extenuated her pre- 
 judices in my eyes. Was she the loser ? The reader shall judge. 
 I made haste to seek and recover a copy of verses I had left on 
 her table, designed for her eye of course ; but which she forfeited 
 now forever, in consideration of her estimate of my little light of 
 genius. Small portion enough of this, heaven knows they con- 
 tained, yet, in honor of the intention, and to preserve its in- 
 tegrity, I reclaim them now, yellow and faded by time from the 
 9
 
 194 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 portfolio in which they have lain perdu so long, and insert them 
 in this faithful transcript of the past. These lines had been 
 written in the summer, during that period of bitter dejection on 
 my grandmother's part, that succeeded our return from travel, 
 when her whole nervous system seemed unstrung, and her long 
 deep sighs, broke on my ear in every interval of sleep, during one 
 restless night, when weary with my prolonged watch above-stairs, 
 I vainly sought rest in my own chamber. I had not found 
 courage then to offer them to her ; but I felt, after the scene 
 between us on the day of her seclusion, that I might venture to 
 lay them before her with no unreasonable hope that as a tribute 
 to her own sorrow, and a specimen of my girlish verse, they might 
 be graciously accepted. 
 
 The sentiments she had uttered, had altered my opinion. The 
 lines had been written from deep, almost irrepressible feeling. I 
 could not bear to have them slighted, or coldly received, and so, I 
 laid them by in my portfolio and lost sight of them, and when other 
 poems of mine, little better, perhaps, were given to the world, 
 this was passed over and forgotten ; I redeem it now. 
 
 J^claim for it no merit^it has not even that of being a link in 
 the story and may be considered as a bead only on the guard- 
 chain, the dark sombre-twisted circle, that I am weaving (poorly 
 enough, I fear) from the tangled skein of the past, and I give the 
 reader my gracious permission, to read, or pass it by at will. 
 
 But I sternly enjoin him not to criticise the poet as presented 
 in these pages, save in her prose, and again I beseech him to 
 excuse whatever of peculiarity, inversion, or imperfection of struc- 
 ture, may be found in that prose, on the grounds that the writer 
 is a poet ! The habit of cutting down, compelling into small 
 compass, pruning and repairing which belongs of necessity
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 195 
 
 to the poetic culture is almost fatal to the expansive energy of 
 prose. 
 
 Reader, it is a strange rule that will not work both ways. I 
 have proved, I think, that I am entitled to forbearance botL 9R 
 novelist and poet. The poem runs thus : 
 
 DAY. 
 
 Come ! The dawn is cool and grey, 
 And the shadows fleet away, 
 Misty prophets of the day. 
 
 From the conflict of the night, 
 Thou hast risen stern and white, 
 As the victor from the fight. 
 
 Wrung in spirit faint of limb, 
 \\ eary of the wrestle din, 
 With the unseen seraphim. 
 
 And the coming of the dawn, 
 Shows the vanquished foe withdrawn, 
 Night, thine enemy is gone ! 
 
 Bathe thy brow, and bind thine hair 5 
 Fold thee in thy vestment fair 
 And come forth from thy despair ! 
 
 Put aside those dreams of power, 
 That controlled thy sleeping hour ; 
 And 'r. waking make thee cower. 
 
 Put away those thoughts of pain, 
 That involved thee in their chain, 
 Through long hours, that would not *anc.
 
 196 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIK. 
 
 Strengthened by that vague unrest 
 That sits hag-like on thy breast, 
 Still triumphant, though unblessed ! 
 
 Leave thy bitter sense of loss ; 
 Leave affection, proven dross, 
 And with courage bear thy cross. 
 
 Spurn that madness memory, 
 In whose shadow strong hearts lie, 
 Panting for the hour to die. 
 
 Crush that impotence, regret, 
 In whose cankered core are met, 
 All the ills that life beset. 
 
 When the soul is sick with strife ; 
 When the cup of tears is rife, 
 We must live the larger life. 
 
 Come ! I know thee true, and strong 
 Be no more the slave of wrong, 
 Thou to nature dost belong. 
 
 And she calls thee, with that tongue 
 
 Ever eloquent and young, 
 
 As when life from chaos sprung . 
 
 From the conflict of the night, 
 From the inner war and blight, 
 Pass into the outer light. 
 
 Dimly, like a dying queen, 
 Pillowed, fleecy clouds between, 
 Doth the moon from heaven lean 
 
 All the stars have shrunk away, 
 Faithless ministers were they, 
 Leaving her alone and grey,
 
 T?TK HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 397 
 
 With prophetic eye, forlorn, 
 To foresee the coming morn, 
 And the kingly heir, unborn. 
 
 Fresh as winds that sweep the sea, 
 Blows the breath of morning free, 
 Over hill, and vale, and lea. 
 
 And the crimson streaks that lie 
 Low adown the eastern sky, 
 Speak the dawning glory nigh. 
 
 Harken to the morning hymn, 
 Breaking from the shadows dim 
 Of each overhanging limb ! 
 
 How the chorus wild and sweet, 
 With exultant joy replete, 
 Thrills us, to our very feet ! 
 
 And like incense priests go swinging 
 Through the aisles, sweet odors fliugmg, 
 While the holy choir is singing, 
 
 Doth the mingled hedge-rose yield, 
 To the breeze that sweeps the field, 
 All the sweets that night had :> ed; 
 
 Closely with her wand of might, 
 Folding in each blossom bright 
 Separate impulse of delight. 
 
 Insect voices in the grass, 
 Murmur, as our footsteps pass, 
 And, like threads of woven glass, 
 
 Doth Arachne spread her snare. 
 Wavering hi the morning air, 
 Gemm'd with diamond, dew-drops rare.
 
 198 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIK. 
 
 Gaze ! this heritage is thine, 
 All this beauty fair and fine, 
 All this light and joy divine, 
 
 Are for thee, and of thy being, 
 In thy soul, and for thy seeing 
 Thus ordained the All-decreeing. 
 
 Drink! the hand that pours for thew, 
 This pure draught of ecstasy, 
 Reaches from eternity. 
 
 Thou, the finite child of clay, 
 In the sun's rejoicing ray, 
 Dost receive thy pledge of day. 
 
 As I read over these verses to-day, the circumstances under 
 which they were composed rise vividly before me. After that 
 restless night to which I have referred, I had risen at earliest 
 bird-call, and erone out, my heart full of the woes of others, into 
 the morning twilight. The scene, as I have described it in the 
 poem, appeared before me, even to the desolate waning moon. 
 
 I returned at sunrise, strengthened, refreshed, uplifted, by that 
 brief communing with nature ; and, without an effort, nay, almost 
 as a relief, and with scarce a correction, wrote the poem. And it is 
 dear to me yet, with ail its imperfections, for the vivid though mo- 
 mentary power it possesses, to transfigure me, to make me forget 
 the sea of sorrow through which I have passed since then, and, for 
 the time, believe I am still on the further shore. 
 
 I am sitting, as I write, by the great open window in the octa- 
 gon chamber, at Bouverie. Across the emerald lawn, dotted 
 with groups of shrubbery, and broken here and there with clumps 
 of low-growing, flowering trees, all in profuse bloom at this 
 season, the magnolia glaucus, with its broad pink blossoms, the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEEE. 199 
 
 cucumber-tree, with its large white flowers, the laurel, with its 
 exquisite cups, resembling the finest Sevres porcelain, lined and 
 dotted with vermilion, and ready for a fairy festival ; and here 
 and there the intruding but not unwelcome elder, with its panniclea 
 of pearl, fit for a royal bride ; and the coarser dogwood, wearing 
 its scentless starlike mantle gallantly of creamy white, beneath 
 which the May-apple camp is oftenest pitched, as if pigmy hosts 
 were on the eve of battle. Across the velvet lawn, and between 
 all these intervening objects, I look into the far, dim, oak forest. 
 The tender green of spring rests on the trees that compose it, and 
 the sunlight streams here and there for the day is waning 
 through the long arcades formed by their stately stems, and 
 roofed by their branches from the sun's vertical rays. The dark, 
 grey trunks are bathed in golden glory, as I gaze, and seem, each 
 one, a column of fire sustaining the nave of a mighty temple ; but 
 no form of flying horseman is seen among the green alleys, clearly 
 defined against the crimson sky beyond, as I have so often beheld 
 it, returning toward the close of day to the beloved home, and 
 the expectant hearth. 
 
 How silent everything is how solitary ! The birds come 
 tamely under the window as I sit. The quiet deceives them into 
 confidence of then: own dominion. How changed this mournful 
 home of Bouverie ! No stately lady treads its chambers now 
 with graceful and measured step, or reclines in the great 
 cushioned chair, work or book in hand, or presides with gracious 
 courtesy at hearth or board ! No occupant in those great upper 
 chambers breaks their otherwise unsupportable dearth, with his 
 brilliant yet mysterious presence. No white-haired priest of God 
 comes from tune to tune, to cheer, to bless, to reanimate hearts 
 faint and weary with doubt and despondency. Even the stately
 
 200 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEETE. 
 
 servitor is gone Poor Fabius J The door opens, a form enters 
 as if to remind me how much of the cherished past still remains to 
 me. Doctor Quintilian is beside me, and in his mute presence 
 my repining heart finds strength and consolation. 
 
 Reach me thy kind and compassionate hand, friend, guide, 
 companion ; thou sole survivor, save the feeble woman who still 
 clings to thee as her only earthly stay of all that beloved blood- 
 bound household of Bouverie ; and let me read to thee through 
 my bitter and blinding tears what I have written, so that I may 
 go on with a lightened heart and lifted energies to the end of thip 
 story of Alchemy. Alchemy that stayed not in the laboratory oi 
 the philosopher and the dreamer ; but stretched its potent wand 
 over wrung heart, and broken spirit, bringing light out of dark- 
 ness, and encouragement out of despair. The alchemy of affec- 
 tion, the alchemy of faith, having power to allay anguish, and 
 fortify irresolution, to gild the front of shame itself, and substitute 
 the ivory sceptre of mercy for the iron rod of justice.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 201 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I HAD granted no permission to Everard Howe to write to me. 
 Yet it did not greatly surprise me when Doctor Quintil handed 
 me a letter in that unfamiliar character which I instantly divined, 
 and soon ascertained to be that of our English acquaintance. It 
 did surprise me, however, to note the recent date of this epistle, 
 bearing no post-mark, and evidently addressed from some near 
 point, and sent by private hand. 
 
 When I had finished its perusal, I turned an interrogative 
 glance on Doctor Quintil. His eye was on me, my grandmothei 
 was not present, and he hastened to reply to my mute question 
 ing. 
 
 "Everard Howe is at Croften," he said; "his servant 
 brought the letter, and waits for the reply." 
 
 " He asks permission to come to Bouverie, Dr. Quintil ; but 
 mentions nothing of being at Croften. I regret his precipitation. 
 What shall be done ?" I asked, distressed and confused by a 
 course of conduct I had not for a moment dreamed he would 
 adopt, after my positive prohibition. 
 
 " Your grandmother has decided to receive Mr. Howe, 
 Lilian. He has written to her also, soliciting this privilege, and 
 announcing himself as your suitor. She deems it her duty, under 
 existing circumstances, to break through all preconceived resolu- 
 tions, and grant an interview to the lover of her child." 
 
 " Lover !" The word stung me ; I started from it. " I am so 
 
 sorry," I said, " that he is pressing this matter thus indelicately, 
 
 9*
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEBIE. 
 
 it seems to me, after what passed between us. I am not pre- 
 pared" I burst into tears, cutting short my own words. 
 
 Doctor Quintil looked grave, distressed even. 
 
 " One thing or the other must be done this day," he said ; 
 " honor, justice, demand this course ; either you reject Mr. Howe 
 at once, or receive him at Bouverie." 
 
 He turned away without waiting for my answer, and left the 
 room. When I looked up, for I had buried my face in my 
 hands to think over events, my grandmother stood before me. 
 
 " Lilian," she said, smiling, and extending her hands to me ; 
 " I congratulate you ! See what a noble letter the man that 
 asks your hand has written to me ! Every line reveals a true and 
 disinterested soul. The first use he makes of his prosperity is to 
 lay it at your feet." 
 
 " Prosperity, grandmother I Is Col. De Courcy dead ?" 
 
 " No ! Fortune has fallen to him in a much more sad and un- 
 expected way. His uncle, a man in the prime of life and health, 
 shortly to be married too (which renders it doubly painful as far 
 as he is concerned) is dead from fever, contracted in the discharge 
 of duty on his estate, among his tenantry and Everard Howe 
 inherits his fortune and his baronetcy. Lady Lilian, again I con 
 gratulate you." She stooped and kissed my brow I leaned or 
 her supporting bosom silent and overcome, and irresolute. 
 
 "What shall be done, Lilian ?" she said, at last. " He asks 
 to come to Bouverie ; shall we not receive him ?" 
 
 " Oh, grandmother! I do not know what to say. I am very 
 grateful to Everard Howe for thinking of me at such a time, and 
 yet I should so much have preferred the delay I proposed." 
 
 " A very one-sided and unjust proposition it was, Lilian. Re- 
 consider it, my love. Reflect, that you ask what you would be
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 208 
 
 by no means willing to grant. A year of uncertainty to end, 
 perhaps, in grievous disappointment. Mr. Howe is right. He 
 demands to know his fate at once he loves you, he offers you 
 his hand, he is entitled to a definite answer. This is just. Let 
 him come to Bouverie, and receive it here." 
 
 I looked up, I saw that she was excited, and anxiously await- 
 ing my reply. 
 
 " Let him come, grandmother, if you think it best. Perhaps, 
 after all, you will not like Mr. Howe when you see him, and 
 I shall be guided in this matter," I said, firmly, " principally by 
 your advice." 
 
 She rose, she touched the bell, Bianca came, and was dis- 
 patched for Doctor Quintil. 
 
 " Lilian has decided to receive Sir Everard Howe," she said ; 
 
 " had you not better order a horse to be got ready to send by the 
 
 returning messenger to Croften for him, while I write my note ?" 
 
 He looked well pleased ; "I will send Violet Fane," he 
 
 replied ; " her pace suits a young man better than Cedric's steady, 
 
 quiet gait, or perhaps being a sailor " 
 
 " Not Violet Fane, Doctor Quintil, I interrupted ; do not 
 send her. Cedric or, or my pony would do as well. I think the 
 mare is a little lame !" 
 
 " I saw her this morning, Lilian ; she has entirely gotten over 
 her lameness." 
 
 " Wild, then, from disuse ; not safe, perhaps ; do not send 
 Violet Fane," I urged. 
 
 " You tremble for the precious life and limb of Everard 
 Howe, who, being a sailor, is naturally a poor equestrian. I un- 
 derstand you, Puss ; I will send Cedric." 
 
 "Any other beast," I murmured, with sick disgust; "it
 
 204 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 matters not to me ; any, except Jasper's horse ; not that, cer- 
 tainly." 
 
 No one heard these muttered words, I knew, yet I suppose 
 there was something wild and strange in my manner, or my face, 
 for I met my grandmother's compassionate eyes, when I looked 
 up from my reverie. The closing door had warned me some 
 minutes before of Doctor Quintil's departure. 
 
 "I see how it is, Lilian," she said, shaking her head gently. 
 " You do not love Mr. Howe as he loves you, and your con- 
 science is disquieted." 
 
 " Oh, grandmother ! not as I could have loved, do I love Mr. 
 Howe, not as I could still love another who must be nameless 
 now." 
 
 " Hush, Lilian !" She was pale as she approached me, " not 
 another word nor thought, if if you honor me yourself all of us. 
 
 " My child ! my child 1 Cast away forever the vexed, the 
 unreal dream of passionate affection. It is but a name. Respect, 
 esteem, attachment, mutual confidence ; these are the pillars of 
 the sacred union betwixt man and woman, that sustain the temple 
 unshaken to the end. Look at me," she proceeded, " alone, in 
 my age, widowed, desolate, accustomed to misery until I hug it 
 as my peculiar property, and almost learn to love it as my sole 
 possession. Look at me and be warned 1 
 
 " Had I married a man I loved moderately for to such a one I 
 was once plighted I might have been happy now, surrounded 
 by friends, affluent, powerful, respected. What remains of that 
 idolatry which almost baffled reason, and which held me for so 
 many years in bonds stricter than those of superstition itself? 
 Ashes, Lilian, ashes 1 The fire has burned down, the very cindera 
 are extinct the cold, grey ashes are all that love has left."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEEIE. 205 
 
 " And yet, grandmother," I rejoined, " I see you devoted, with 
 no common devotion, to all that remains to you of the past." 
 
 " Devoted ! Aye, in one sense one only pity, duty ; these 
 are potent words with me ; but where do you discern emotion ?" 
 
 " Grandmother, I am so young 1" I said, waiving a reply ; 
 " the world is all before me. Mr. Howe is my first acquaintance. 
 When I go more into society, I shall meet with others " I was 
 Reading my own cause earnestly, when she cut me short. 
 
 "Lilian," she interrupted, "you cannot go into society, as 
 other young girls go, with a mother's or sister's protection ; nay, 
 you cannot go at all, save by snatches, at watering-places and 
 hotels, and casually in cities, you may find yourself occasionally, 
 but never in a position to know, to judge men better than you 
 have known and judged Everard Howe. Besides, Lilian, there is a 
 cloud " she buried her face in her hands for a moment. " Colonel 
 De Courcy is very generous to overlook this," she said, looking 
 up ; " very disinterested to seek to draw you from beneath ita 
 shadow. I recognize his magnanimity, although he has extended 
 so little personal courtesy to me. Let this pass, however, in the 
 current of greater considerations. He is a proud man, and he 
 values highly every drop of kindred blood. He desires the pros- 
 perity of all connected with him ; and when he sent Everard 
 Howe to make your acquaintance, and weigh your merits, and 
 renew to you his own rejected proffer, it was with a view of con' 
 centrating in Taunton Tower all that was left of his almost ex- 
 tinguished race. He foresaw this youthful attachment. He 
 hoped for a happy result. I honor Colonel De Courcy both as 
 prophet and patriarch." 
 
 " Grandmother, it is you who are generous ; you are willing to 
 give me up for that ocean between us will flow like eternity
 
 206 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 almost to secure my happiness, without a thought of your own. 
 But, fortunately, Everard Howe is independent of his uncle now, 
 and, if I marry him, I make one condition he must consent to 
 live here near you." 
 
 "No, no, Lilian," she said impetuously, "not for, the world ! 
 Your husband's country, kindred, fortunes, must be yours. For- 
 get that you ever set foot on this soil never speak of it. 
 Banish the remembrance it will prove fatal to your peace." 
 
 " Grandmother, when I forget Bouverie, may God forget me !" 
 
 " I spoke too hastily," she said, folding me in her arms. " I 
 did not mean that you should forget Bouverie or its inmates. 
 But keep the recollection to yourself. In England, among the 
 proud, the cold, the gay what need to speak of us ? Such 
 reference could only injure you, and cause investigation that must 
 result in agony. Letters, messages, occasional visits on your 
 part, will keep our memory green. Let it be thus ; and now, dear 
 child, retire to your own chamber be composed, be firm, and in 
 a few hours he will be here ; and then you will choose your des- 
 tiny, if such a thing be indeed permitted." 
 
 As I turned to leave the room in obedience to her commands, 
 I was arrested by her voice : 
 
 " Lilian," she said, " do not forget, in any future or immediate 
 conference, the oath that binds you ; not even to your husband 
 must be revealed the existence of our mystery, lest hearing, he 
 might recoil from not betray us I do not fear that. Do not 
 forget, "she continued, approaching me, "that you possessed your- 
 self of this secret in the beginning, and that by every law of honor 
 you are doubly bound to keep it. That it is not yours, but 
 another's, over which you have no control, and that it involves 
 the lives of more than one."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 207 
 
 " I do hope," I made answer, " that I shall be strengthened to 
 keep it through my whole life. For the present, I can assure 
 you solemnly. For the future, I can only trust and pray." 
 
 " Enough," she said ; " I can ask nothing more than such a 
 determination, such an inclination ; I know that heaven will 
 strengthen you. Be patient, be discreet, be courageous, and 
 accept," she added, as we parted on the threshold, "the goods 
 the gods provide." 
 
 I think I see her still, as she spoke these words, her head turned 
 toward me over her graceful shoulder ; her lifted finger, her 
 curling lip, her beaming eye, her flushing cheek, are still before me ; 
 and the tone of the pleasant, prophetic voice still rings in my ear. 
 
 I can scarcely realize, so vivid is their memory, that all these 
 things are shadows now, and that never again, while earthly life 
 remains to me, shall the expressive face appear to my vision, save 
 in the mirror of the past. 
 
 Revolving that strange problem called existence, I can see 
 nothing that points so surely to its future solution as the power 
 that dwells in affection to survive its objects, else so cruel an:l 
 bitter a mockery. In this capacity of our nature, we hold the 
 clew of our future life, which blindly, patiently, we must cling to 
 and follow, content, as Theseus was, to bide the time when we 
 shall come into the presence of the Minotaur : 
 
 " They sin who tell us love can die. 
 With life, all other passions fly, 
 
 All others are but vanity. 
 In heaven ambition cannot dwell, 
 Nor avarice in the vaults of hell, 
 Earthly these passions of the earth, 
 They perish where they have their birth, 
 
 But love is indestructible."
 
 208 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 I bless you, Southey, if only for these lines comfort and 
 strength go with them. Eternal peace be thine ! 
 
 Beyond all thy splendid dreams of Indian story, thy grand 
 heroic legends, thy pictures of land and wave, I hold these simple 
 lines embalming a sentiment more dear to suffering humanity than 
 any other reason or religion has to offer.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 209 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHEN I had completed my toilet, and taken needful refresh- 
 ment, and surveyed myself with such satisfaction as circumstances 
 would permit me to do in my Psyche -glass, I went to the draw- 
 ing-room, to await the coming of our expected guest. 
 
 I had put on a favorite dress of mine, blue silk with lace 
 ruffles just the color of my eyes, Bianca said a Marie Louise 
 blue, I think they called it, with black trimmings (these it seemed 
 coincided with her comparison, too, as far as brows and lashes 
 went). The whole harmonized well with my fair and clear com- 
 plexion ; I had let down my curls and shaken them out, until the 
 gold threads stood distinctly from the chestnut ; and though 
 there was little beauty in my face, I thought I looked as well as 
 it was possible for me to look on that occasion. 
 
 My grandmother praised me as I entered, and stood in the 
 flashing firelight before her, until the crimson deepened in my 
 cheek, and a new light came to niy features. It was so rare a thing 
 for her to offer compliment. Gazing on her silently in turn, I 
 thought I had never seen her look so handsome as in that artistic 
 light and shadow, formed by the glowing wood fire, and dressed 
 in the well-preserved black velvet, with its rich trimmings of 
 Mechlin lace, and pointed bodice, caught by a cameo clasp 
 
 When at last Everard Howe arrived, and the additional light 
 of lamps brought out her still remarkable beauty, I was indeed 
 proud of, and pleased with the impression she evidently created on 
 hia mind. She received him with a cordial courtesy, so natural,
 
 210 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 so frank, yet so refined, that it placed him instantly at ease 
 Yet I, who knew him well, saw that she was studying him even 
 while she disarmed him by her manners and that she was content 
 at last with the result of her apparently careless observation, but 
 real scrutiny. 
 
 The conversation flowed in pleasant channels. Dr. Quintil led 
 the way, with a playfulness and grace I had never remarked in 
 him before ; and Everard Howe earned golden opinions from all 
 by his cheerfulness, modesty, and unpretending good breeding. 
 
 He was placed in a trying situation certainly, but he made the 
 best of it, and acquitted himself well ; and as the evening wore 
 on, and I perceived the natural affinity that seemed to exist be- 
 tween him and the friends I reverenced, I felt more and more 
 drawn to him, and more willing than before to trust my bark of 
 life in his guiding hands. 
 
 Seated by his side, listening to his voice, meeting his clear and 
 honest gaze, I had a sense of happiness that had long been a 
 stranger to me. Peace seemed to come and nestle beside rue. 
 Confidence grew up, as if by magic, between us. There was but 
 one thing wanting, and that would come in tune aye, that would 
 come. 
 
 I will not linger on this visit. I do not like to revert to it 
 even in memory. Whenever I have acted against my instincts, 
 and for reason's sake alone, as I did then, I have lived to regret 
 it. Everard Howe remained with us but one day and night, and 
 when he went away he carried with him my plighted troth, to be 
 redeemed at the altar in one year. But for the flashing ring on 
 my finger, I should have thought it all a dream the coming, the 
 wooing, the betrothal, the departure. As it was, the whole mat- 
 ter bore very little reality to me ; yet the indelible scar remains.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 211 
 
 A correspondence was agreed upon between us, irregular on my 
 part it must needs be, he knew, for he was to go around the world 
 in that interval of absence, and my letters must often miss their 
 destination, while he moved steadily on. 
 
 At the termination of this cruise, he meant to resign his pro- 
 fession, long distasteful to him, and settle on his fine estate in the 
 southern part of England. He painted its beauties to me with 
 enthusiasm, he pictured his home as it would be shared by a be- 
 loved sister and idolized wife. A king upon his throne seemed 
 no object of envy to his simple tastes, his quiet ambition, content 
 with love and competence. 
 
 Politics, literature, fashion, what did he care for these ? What 
 for the opinion of the world, or the voice of society ? He 
 talked thus to me. We would live for each other, he said, and 
 throw all else aside as unworthy of consideration, content with 
 mediocrity. 
 
 Unconsciously, but deep within my soul, was raised an idol that 
 his words first fully unveiled, destined, alas, like all other idols of 
 my making, to be broken at the altar in the end, but new and 
 firmly poised on its pedestal at that period. The love of fame 
 was molded in my very being I shivered at the voice of thia 
 Iconoclast. Then first I recoiled from the chasm that yawned 
 between us, then first I felt that congeniality was better worth 
 than affection itself. 
 
 Yet, as I have said, I respected, esteemed, admired him even, 
 had felt for him in our close but brief intercourse, a growing at- 
 tachment, that must, I believed, ripen ultimately into something 
 more. Perhaps it was best for me, impulsive, erratic, as I often 
 was. to be linked to a nature like his. I reasoned thus : had I 
 not seen a fiery horse placed side by side with one of tamer char-
 
 212 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEBIE. 
 
 acter, so that the docile beast might chasten the ardor of the 
 impetuous charger ? Was not the experiment successful satisfac- 
 tory, they called it ? 
 
 Was not this very creature now, driven in harness under heavy 
 loads, having chafed down his original ardor, guided easily by the 
 poor idiot Pat McCormick himself, broken-spirited, down-crested, 
 hollow-eyed, mickering even for his coarse companion. 
 
 Child of genius "veiled spirit of fire" be thou man or woman, 
 from such fate mayest thou be shielded even by the grave ! 
 There are lonely paths on earth, leading to lofty mountain 
 heights, narrow and difficult of access, which thou mayest tread ; 
 choose thou these, rather than the broad beaten road, with thy 
 coarser yoke-fellow. 
 
 {Married not mated Jf common expression of tragic significance 1 
 Oh, the long, long/weary way that such beings must travel ! oh, 
 the blank beginning ! oh, the dreary end ! 
 
 Why was there not another clause added to the litany, forming 
 a sadder climax even than the " sudden death " from which men 
 pray to be delivered? "Prom lightning and tempest," from 
 blindness, madness, and unequal marriages I would interpolate 
 " good Lord, deh'ver us 1" 
 
 Everard Howe was gone ! The chain was forged, and I was 
 free no longer. Yet every link was gilt with hope, trust, ex- 
 pectancy. The dull rust of the iron was removed, but the weight 
 remained. Nay, the very clank of the fetters resounded in my 
 soul, and still I persuaded myself that I was happy 1 
 
 Had I followed my inclinations, I should have communicated 
 my new fortune to my grandfather at once. I believed that 
 prospects such as mine seemed to be would cheer and gratify him, 
 and that he would enter heartily into my hopes and plans for the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. Sl3 
 
 future I gave him credit for at least thus much of disinterested- 
 ness. I felt, moreover, that, as the head of his household, he had 
 a right to know the steps meditated by each member thereof, even 
 if circumstances had taken from him the power of guiding or con- 
 trolling them. 
 
 But my grandmother reasoned differently, and I was guided by 
 her wishes. 
 
 " He will think only of the loss he must sustain in your society," 
 she said. " Long immurement is certainly a friend to selfishness. 
 Isolation, even, favors this tendency, as I know in my own case. 
 A man would be more than mortal, who, thrown on a desolate 
 island by shipwreck, with a congenial companion, could see him 
 depart with satisfaction, even though to return to home and hap- 
 piness. I fear for the consequences of such a communication 
 especially now that your grandfather's health and nervous system 
 have both been so violently shaken by recent illness. It will not 
 occasion him more pain to part with you when the tune comes, 
 than to anticipate the parting. At all events, Lilian, we shall 
 defer the announcement of your marriage until spring, when I hope 
 he may be strengthened to bear it better than now." And thus it 
 TOS determined.
 
 214: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 IT was about this time that Smith, the gardener, began hia 
 course of systematic imposition and persecution. I had before 
 mentioned his distant position from the mansion, and the inter- 
 vention of Pat McCormick as messenger and carrier between his 
 cottage and Bouverie. Dr. Quintil and Jasper superintended, and 
 even aided, in the dressing of the flower-plots around the house, 
 rather than summon Smith ; and, under such supervision, Patrick 
 had acquired considerable facility in the use of garden tools. 
 
 Perhaps undue care to prevent his presence about the lawn had 
 first aroused Smith's suspicions ; or poor Pat himself might, in 
 some unguarded moment, when the terror of his dame was for- 
 gotten, and his errand to the gardener's house was of a nature to 
 detain him longer than usual, have dropped, and had drawn from 
 him skillfully, bits of information, which, gathered up and put 
 together, had furnished a clew to our dearly cherished secret. 
 
 The circumstance of occasional lights, as seen from the crevices 
 of the jalousied windows, during my grandfather's illness, in 
 rooms long supposed to be abandoned, and even cut oil from the 
 rest of the house light only introduced on the sudden emergency 
 of hemorrhage, when life itself was at stake, for before this our 
 patient had been nursed in darkness had confirmed the floating 
 suspicions long entertained by Smith, and determined him to use 
 such knowledge as he had obtained for his own pecuniary advan- 
 tage. 
 
 His demand for advance of wages was made in the confident
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 215 
 
 tone of a man certain of not being refused ; and, at first, rather 
 than hazard an explanation, or provoke his resentment, my grand- 
 mother complied with all of his requisitions. 
 
 Smith had lived fifteen years at Bouverie, and shown himself 
 capable and diligent until lately. Habits of intemperance had 
 recently enervated his physical powers, and rendered him averse 
 to labor ; and, when remonstrated with on one or two occasions, 
 he had exhibited a dogged insolence, that, but for circumstances, 
 would have occasioned his immediate discharge. Mrs. Bouverie 
 had preferred to forbear as long as possible, rather than introduce 
 a stranger on her domain ; yet her mind was almost made up to 
 discharge him, when fortune gave him the advantage, aud turned 
 the tables against her. She felt obliged now not only to keep 
 him and his wife in her employ, worthless as both were fast be- 
 coming, but to suffer an insolence of demeanor that was both new 
 and revolting, and which was alone held in check by her own 
 dignity and the power of her presence. 
 
 Spoken impertinence Smith knew would be punished on the 
 spot ; but all that manner and neglect of duty could do to annoy 
 and irritate, was essayed in turn by this unprincipled pair. The 
 remainder of our servants were compelled to secrecy not only by 
 their interests and attachment for us, but by the power of their 
 church, through Bishop Clare. 
 
 Smith and his wife were English Protestants, at war with the 
 religion of Bouverie, as well as with American habits and institu- 
 tions. It was a positive triumph to them, to possess the power 
 to injure or annoy any citizen of the hated country, to which 
 they had fled from poverty and contempt at home, and whose 
 very abundance they resented now, as a reflection on their own 
 early necessities.
 
 216 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 They were of that class of foreigners, who bring the Ishmad 
 spirit with them from abroad, and who never identify themselves 
 with the land of their adoption, hoarding their earnings to the 
 last cent, and hoping at some future tune to amass enough, either 
 by thrift or dishonesty, to return to their idolized country, and 
 fawn at the feet that kicked them off in the beginning. 
 
 This Spaniel-like patriotism makes bad emigrants, and fills our 
 polls with corruption, our homes with traitors. " I would be 
 willing," said a noble Scot to me, who had cast his lot among us 
 in the true spirit of love and brotherhood, "to lay down all 
 political privileges of my own, could I see the raw foreigners ex- 
 cluded from the polls. No man has a right to a voice in a*, 
 country who does not feel that it is his own." 
 
 And to how few of our emigrants does this feeling come, even 
 witli the sacred claims of home and hearth ! The love of country 
 is implanted in our very natures, no one would wish such holy in- 
 stinct less, but fidelity to a new cause is no less noble than affec- 
 tion for an old. 
 
 How base would be that man, who, received in his fretful 
 childhood into the arms of a tender foster-mother, because his 
 own was hard or careless, or overburdened, would in his health 
 and strength obey only the blind instincts of his nature, and re- 
 turn ingratitude for disinterested care ! How similar is his case, 
 who, emerging from the serfdom of Europe, grows free, and 
 strong, and vigorous in this genial land, and yet refuses to uphold 
 our best institutions, or to acknowledge his weighty obligations in 
 the only way open to him. No wonder that the foreign vote 
 jars so harshly on the sensitive American ear, or that the derision 
 and censure of those who drain our life-blood is so bitter, so in- 
 supportable.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEKIE. 217 
 
 My grandfather had placed this gardener at Bouverie before 
 his last visit to Europe, and he had done well during his ab- 
 sence. 
 
 The English name and lineage, and the peculiar manner of my 
 grandfather, had made an impression on Smith, who cringed of 
 course to the upper class of his own land, though recognizing no 
 distinctions in America, save those which money established. 
 
 He had never suspected before now, as far as we knew, that 
 my grandfather survived, nor had he uttered such a suspicion 
 even yet. He was among the household on the day of the burial 
 (false in one sense, true in another), which shut Erastus Bouverie 
 away from the face of man forever ; and as a proof of his cre- 
 dulity on that occasion, Smith had shed tears, the only one who 
 did so, since to all the rest present was known the secret of his 
 concealment. 
 
 Dr. Moore had remarked this natural impulse to my grand- 
 mother at the tune, as a proof that her caution had been effectual. 
 She told this to me in connection with his own remarkable pre- 
 sence of mind and forethought on that trying emergency, without 
 which my grandfather must have perished. He, her life-long 
 physician, was the only person, except Bishop Clare, outside of 
 Bouverie', who had ever had any insight into that mystery, to 
 guard which she had devoted her life, and he had died without 
 revealing it. Ten years had passed since my grandfather went 
 into the shadow of those upper chambers, and she had been 
 gradually encouraged to hope that his whole natural life might 
 now be suffered to flow on in their deep tranquillity. 
 
 How startling was now the conviction that a reckless hand held 
 a clew to her secret. How humiliating must the consequences be 
 in any case, even if exposure were avoided ! 
 
 10
 
 218 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEE1E. 
 
 Smith had told Bianca that he felt convinced there was some 
 one hidden at Bouverie s and that his wife had seen the taper ap- 
 pear and disappear, as if gliding from room to room, through 
 the Venetian shutters of the upper floor, more than once, during 
 the month of August. 
 
 " It's a queer ghost that carries a candle," he had said in 
 answer to her absurd attempts to convince him that the rooms 
 were haunted an attempt that only injured her cause. " I'm 
 risking my own character to stay in any house where such con- 
 cealment is practised ; for who knows but I shall be accused of 
 conspiracy when everything comes out? Who knows but the 
 law may reach me yet ? This here mean American law, so differ- 
 ent from ours ! There is only one way to cover the risk I'm run- 
 ning. Mrs. Bouverie understands that too well to gainsay any 
 reasonable request of mine, though it cuts her comb considerably. 
 Well, well ! pride will have a fall. Colonel Bouverie was a 
 proof of that to begin with, and now comes her turn !" 
 
 " Her turn !" repeated Bianca. " Do you think, Master 
 Smith, that she has waited thus long for her turn she, a grand 
 lady, born and bred ? Do you suppose she would be stowed 
 away in a corner, if her heart was not broken long ago ? As if 
 the likes of you and yours could cut the comb of Madame Bou- 
 verie, the splendidest lady that ever was in Washington, and 
 given up to be." 
 
 " Oh, that is your Spanish brag, Bianca ! Lord knows, she is 
 quiet enough now no visitors, even and poor enough, if Bou- 
 verie be all she possesses, as they say it is. The truth is, I'm 
 tired of the poor worn land ; tired of subsoiling, and trenching, 
 and manuring. I have a wish to try my hand at a public iu 
 good old England again, and leave you damocrat? (thus he pro-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 219 
 
 nounced this word of many definitions) for there's never a born 
 lady or gentleman among you." 
 
 " You are a poor judge of such articles, I take it," retorted 
 Bianca, briskly. " In your own country a gentleman would not 
 wipe Ms feet on you, or your squint-eyed wife either, and here, 
 we have kept you at your distance, you and yours ; yes, and we 
 will continue to do so in spite of your threats and discoveries," 
 she added, snapping her fingers spitefully at him as he turned 
 away. 
 
 " And good reasons of your own you've had for it. I 
 don't doubt," he retorted, with a low chuckle, as he stuffed his 
 great hands in his pockets and walked away slowly, shaking his 
 head menacingly from time to time, and- muttering, as far as he 
 could be seen or heard. 
 
 " Bianca, you were wrong to excite him thus," I remonstrated 
 after she had recounted this whole scene to me, the end of which 
 I had witnessed. " What would my grandmother think of your 
 indiscretion ? Reflect, this is no matter of pride or feeling now, 
 but one of personal safety to him, to all of us." 
 
 " I hope I shall never lay eyes on his great half-acre freckled 
 face again while I live," she passionately rejoined. " I have a 
 natural disgust to him, as strong as death. I hate his small, 
 green eyes, so dim and cold, and his large potato-nose, and his 
 great gummy mouth, with its yellow fangs and doggish laugh, 
 and his stiff red hair ; and as for his wife, that squint of hers is a 
 true sign of her own spirit, crooked and evil, and mean." 
 
 " Be pacified, Bianca ; let them pass. Think only of the 
 welfare of those you love, and injure by this over zeal." 
 
 "She to call me a 'plumped-out prune,' when my face 
 swelled last week with the toothache ! A hit at my dark com
 
 220 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 plexion, I suppose ! Better to be dark and smooth, than fair and 
 rough-rinded as a nutmeg melon. I'll let her know I have 
 always been a better favored woman than she could ever have 
 dared to pretend to be !" 
 
 Not long after this conversation Smith was discovered acci- 
 dentally by Doctor Quintil walking round the premises late at 
 night, and warned, in spite of his pretext, something about the 
 security of the sheep, or the propinquity of peddlers that he 
 would be dealt with harshly, should he appear again at irregular 
 hours, inside of the inclosure, immediately around the mansion. 
 
 He was reminded that the sheep were in a distant pasture, the 
 peddlers no concern of his, and that there were enough men within 
 the walls of Bouverie to defend it without employing spies to re- 
 connoitre. Doctor Quintil was relating this at the breakfast- 
 table, in the presence of Fabius, when certain signs of distress from 
 that taciturn individual denoted his desire to speak, a movement 
 so unusual on his part, as always to excite both curiosity and respect. 
 
 There was immediate silence, and a general direction of eyes 
 toward Fabius, who, speckless and upright in his white damask 
 apron, and with his silver salver clasped closely to his side, 
 unclosed his oracular lips, and spoke to this effect : 
 
 " I only wanted to say on this occasion, that Bouverie has been 
 watched for two months, night and day, like a besieged fort. 
 Smith is afraid some one will escape, and he has brought his wife's 
 brother from Croften to stand guard, and help him spy." 
 
 " Is it possible!" said Doctor Quintil, springing hastily up ; 
 " I must put an end to this in the most summary way." 
 
 " Quiutil not for the world !" My grandmother's distress 
 would have arrested his movements, even had not her trembling 
 hand been laid upon his arm. " The man drinks, the matter will
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 221 
 
 exhaust itself lie will get tired, forget, or come to a sense of Ms 
 truest interest 1 What would he gain by a disclosure ? Nothing 
 but infamy and poverty ; now, he is well provided for without 
 labor ; for I am paying his brother-in-law good wages to assist 
 him, and Smith throws all the work on him. After all, this may 
 be a mere notion on the part of Fabius," she added, as the old 
 man left the room silently, exhausted probably by his oratorical 
 effort, or dissatisfied by her view of the subject. " Silence and 
 forbearance are best for us in any case." 
 
 " You are half right, madam, I believe," he said, sitting down 
 and resting his hands on his knees, " but it is hard to bear such 
 insolence. I have never hi my lifie been so tempted to do violence 
 as hi this instance. The wretch ; the low, ungrateful, presump- 
 tuous foreigner." 
 
 And in this word all reproach was concentrated, according to 
 Dr. Quintil's mode of thinking. Here it was a crime, but under 
 any circumstances, even the most favorable, a misfortune he con- 
 ceived not to be born American. 
 
 He regarded Europe, or pretended to, as a theatre sustained 
 for the peculiar amusement and edification of the people of the 
 United States, the actors of which were greatly dependent on 
 transatlantic applause or disapprobation, otherwise he considered 
 monarchies as useless institutions, and, even admitting the amuse- 
 ment and interest their fluctuations occasioned in the American 
 mind, matters that would not pay in the long run. " People get 
 weary of the melo-drama," he would say. " Attention slacks at 
 last. Would not those French, Hungarians, Greeks, Poles, et 
 cetera, do better to attend a little more to their agricultural and 
 commercial interest, and think less of our diversion ?" 
 
 Dr. Quintil was one of those thorough humorists not wits, be
 
 222 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 had not the least pretension to anything half so subtile as wit, and 
 the two scarce ever go together in whose conversation it is almost 
 impossible to separate earnestness and satire. His was not bit- 
 ing, keen, sarcastic irony, such as most usually passes by that 
 tf.tle, but a pensive, affectionate, satiric mood, if such a thing can 
 ';e, running through his whole nature, like the veins in Sienna 
 jiarble. 
 
 In glancing back over these pages, I find that I have nowhere 
 attempted a description of that Christian gentleman, Paul Silas 
 Quintilian. Distinct as he is hi my own mind, I have given at 
 least but a shadowy impression of him, I fear, to those that fol- 
 lowed my relations. 
 
 His character had no salient points on which I could seize to 
 set forth its perfection. Nor do I possess the skill, I fear, to 
 handle its harmonious details, so as to impress the whole as a pic- 
 ture on the minds of others. 
 
 I will endeavor, however, in another chapter, exclusively his 
 own, to describe as closely as I can, what appeared to me his 
 distinctive attributes
 
 THE HOUSEHOLE OF BOUVERJE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AT the time of which I write, Dr. Quintil, as we called him by 
 way of abbreviation, was about forty years of age seven or 
 eight years younger than my more youthful-looking grandmother. 
 He came of an ancient Dutch family, long settled and honorably 
 known in Pennsylvania, and was connected by marriage, though 
 very remotely, with the house of Bouverie. The name of Quin- 
 tilian was not without distinction even in Holland, and among its 
 old archives might be found an account of a graphic historian of 
 the times, who bore it by royal permission, as a reward for his 
 accurate translations of the works of the well-known Latin 
 writer, so entitled, and in exchange for a less euphonious 
 surname. 
 
 Whether this literary pedant were or were not the head of the 
 family, I never distinctly ascertained, but from the peculiarity of 
 the name, I have supposed such a beginning probable, and even 
 reasonable. 
 
 Paul Quintilian had been, with his brother, the ward of 
 Erastus Bouverie ; and when his guardian married, the boy of 
 eight or nine was brought home, to make a member of his family. 
 Luther, the elder brother, was already pursuing his studies in 
 Leyden, where afterward he married, and continued through a 
 number of years to reside. 
 
 Paul had been motherless, even before his remembrance. His 
 father he had never known, and he had gone from the indiffer-
 
 224 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 ence of a selfish and distant relative, to the harsher indifference 
 of school, where just in proportion as his mind enlarged his 
 heart closed up. Yet it was only kept the fresher by its entire 
 abnegation of those around him. Like some great cool cistern, 
 reserved for summer use, not sullied and dried up as the exposed 
 hearts of motherless children so often are, by disappointments 
 and repelled affection. 
 
 He had no idea that such a necessity existed at all as tender 
 attachment, and was content and self-supported in the placid 
 beauty of his own nature, and the respect which, child as he was, 
 his peculiar excellence commanded from others, when suddenly he 
 was brought to the presence of the young, gay, beautiful girl his 
 guardian had married, herself almost a child. 
 
 Solitary herself, as far as ties of blood were concerned, and 
 married to an uncongenial though idolized husband, the boy 
 seemed a precious gift to her, and she devoted herself to him 
 from the fu'st with all a sister's interest. Perhaps it had been 
 better for his happiness, had his feelings responded less powerfully 
 to her affection, or had this less sufficed to fill and satisfy his 
 soul. 
 
 lie sought no deeper sentiment than her constant, unwearying 
 friendship afforded him. His mild and peaceful nature craved no 
 excitement, and reposed gratefully on the consistency and energy 
 of her character. 
 
 Yet it was not thus, it seemed to me, he should have contented 
 himself not on the hearthstone of another man his place should 
 have been chosen. So that the shadow that darkened it, left his 
 life also in sombre indistinctness. 
 
 He owed it to himself, to others, to stand forth in the world, 
 and do his part.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 225 
 
 As husband, father how happy, how valuable his life had 
 been ! As citizen, physician how useful, how prosperous ! 
 
 That calm, thoughtful mind, patient and law-abiding, so 
 proud, so manly, yet so full of meek humility (for these things go 
 oftenest together) those large faculties that frank and natural 
 manner that perfect balance of thought and feeling these 
 attributes must have brought about their inevitable results, and 
 Paul Quintilian have stood forth one of the pillars of any com- 
 munity with which he had linked his life, honored, confiding, 
 loved I 
 
 How fared it now ? It cannot be said that his " life was a 
 failure ;" that mournful truth, so applicable to two-thirds of man- 
 kind, did not apply to him, because he had never attempted to 
 make it a success, or to mold it at all separately. 
 
 He had simply merged his existence with all its surroundings 
 into that of others. He had voluntarily sacrificed his identity. 
 
 It was too late to retrieve it now 1 Its clear wine had mixed 
 too thoroughly with our stagnant waters, ever to be separated 
 again from the turbid element. 
 
 For him there was no change possible. His moderate means, 
 which might, under other circumstances, have been the nucleus of 
 fortune, remained intact; but moderate still, of course, and were 
 used chiefly as a resource for others. His talents were at a stand- 
 still. Hs 1 tad no power, living as he did, to increase the one or 
 develop the other. He had even lost the wish for distinction 
 which urged him to such honorable efforts in his youth, and 
 looked back upon it now with melancholy derision as a boyish 
 dream, a fallacy ! 
 
 Yet no one could notice him closely, and not recognize in him 
 many of the elements of success. Nature had gifted him 
 
 JO*
 
 226 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 evidently with power to shine and persevere even with the fore- 
 most. 
 
 His face was a very fine one, regularly yet roughly hewn, as 
 if from granite a true Teutonic face, of the noblest type. But 
 for the lafrge, steady, grey eyes luminous with a green light, that 
 seemed to come irom some foreign source, as when you follow a 
 vertical sunbeam down into the calm sea-waters, you feel that it 
 is in it, but not of it, and yet enjoy all the more the blended, 
 softened radiance but for these clear, yet melancholy orbs, his 
 aspect might have been heavy, and even harsh in its serious 
 expression. His smile was sweet, yet peculiar, with its linger- 
 ing, almost ironical mournfulness. His teeth sound, but short, 
 and shutting justly together, so as to throw slightly forward the 
 lower jaw when in repose, a defect in any countenance. 
 
 His complexion was of an opaque fairness his form ungraceful, 
 yet not exactly stout, as the word goes, was slightly above the 
 middle height ; he carried himself carelessly, and beyond the ne- 
 cessities of a scrupulous cleanliness, paid little attention to the 
 niceties of dress. 
 
 His hair was the only beauty he possessed, if, indeed, the word 
 does not sink into insignificance when applied in any shape to such 
 a man as he was so far at least beyond its commonly received 
 import. 
 
 Yet this man, so full of capacity, and taste, and feeling, had 
 been but a spectator in life at the best, could never be even 
 this again, shut away as he was from all outward influences 
 now. 
 
 When, on one occasion, I asked in my girlish thirst for adven- 
 ture, for his early history, with its young romance, its early 
 aspirations, its inevitable love passages he seemed puzzled and
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 227 
 
 amused at the very idea of being connected in my imagination 
 with things like these. 
 
 He answered me in the words of Canning's poor knife- 
 grinder : 
 
 " Story Lord bless you, I have none to tell, sir I" asd I gazed 
 in surprise and pity on that anomaly to me, a man without a 
 history. 
 
 Peter Schlemihl did not seem more unfortunate or peculiar, 
 after he had lost his shadow, than did that home hero of ourc, 
 Doctor Paul Quintilian, wnen this prestige was destroyed. 
 
 Gentle and noble man, whose place is still by my hearthstone, 
 sole companion of my otherwise desolate life-journey known only 
 to thy Maker in all the fullness of thy self-devotion, and greater 
 in his sight, I well believe, that those that Fame heralds, and 
 ambition rewards. Father, guardian, friend, I cherish still the 
 belief, that in the world to come, the world of peace and perma- 
 nence, and compensation, the garment of humility that clothes 
 thee here shall be transfigured into robes of princely splendor, and 
 the shining crown of the martyr rest on thy loyal head forever.
 
 BOOK FOURTH. 
 
 "Some souls lose all things but their lore of beauty 
 And by that love they are redeemable." 
 
 FESTUS 
 
 * A deep occult philosopher." 
 
 HUDIBKAS. 
 
 , let us gaze, even till the sense Is full, 
 ITpou the rich creation." 
 
 BOWUB.
 
 
 w .t-w 
 
 : n K 

 
 
 BOOK FOURTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I NEED not say that no communication on the subject of Smith's 
 threats and annoyances was made to my grandfather. It would 
 have been cruel and useless to disturb his life with these matters, 
 until prudence and necessity should make it advisable to remove 
 him from the vicinity of danger ; for well we knew that until a 
 crisis of this sort arrived, no representations of ours would induce 
 him to leave Bouverie. 
 
 Persuasions had been employed to this effect, in the first in- 
 stance, by Dr. Moore, by Bishop Clare, by my grandmother her- 
 self. A residence in Europe had been insisted on as the only 
 safeguard against detection, but with a consistent yet unreason- 
 able resolution, he had put the idea aside from the beginning, as 
 one to which death itself was preferable, and clung to the deep 
 immurement, which was the only alternative presented. 
 
 He had, up to the time of his imprisonment in Russia, been a 
 man of active habits, mixing much in society, although never 
 making himself a part of it ; gracious and gay and reserved at 
 once, brilliant yet cold, courteous rather than genial, a man with 
 whom no other man had ever been sufficiently at ease to lay his 
 hand upon his arm, or say in introducing him, " this is my friend, 
 Mr. Bouverie." He had no friends, save those of the stamp of 
 mere admirers and partisans. He laid open his heart to no man; 
 
 m
 
 232 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEREB. 
 
 he asked no man's confidence. His very affections seem to have 
 borne the upas power, of paralyzing and injuring the lives of 
 those on whom they were conferred, for he required that every 
 other feeling should be laid aside in the breasts of those he 
 loved, save devotion to himself; and whosoever exacts this tribute 
 one that God even does not demand from his creatures de- 
 serves to be considered a tyrant and soul-killer. 
 
 For a man of this subtile, dominant temperament, to whom 
 intellectual intercourse, high converse, attrition of mind with 
 mind, and the homage of men, had been necessary as food and 
 air, how depressing must this isolation, this confinement have 
 been ! Yet he never complained of it, seldom manifested depres- 
 sion, busied himself constantly with the details of his chemical 
 experiments, which, since the late arrangement of the laboratory 
 above my chamber, he carried on more to his satisfaction than 
 before, or with his writings, which he supposed would bring him 
 posthumous fame, or with books, which he read with a rapidity 
 that might literally be called " stereotyping with the eye," and 
 enjoyed with an almost sensuous pleasure, as a greedy feeder 
 seems to revel in his food. 
 
 Sermons, novels, poetry, history, essays, travels, memoirs, 
 .nagazmes, newspapers, nothing came amiss to him. Piles of 
 books laid on his table would disappear, tossed under it as he 
 read them successively, with a rapidity that baffles belief. 
 " Clear away this rubbish, Fabius," he would say, "let me never 
 see it again," and the books would be transferred to the library 
 in the wing ; for having once enjoyed them, he loathed the sight 
 of them afterward, it seemed to me. It was only a few early 
 favorites in literature that he ever perused more than once, or 
 could bear to meet again. Among these were Shelley and
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 233 
 
 Coleridge, and the works of Walter Scott. For Shakspeare he 
 never cared. Some prestige seemed to attach to these, and give 
 them, in his mind, strange interest and significance. He called 
 Shelley the Poet's Bible, for he insisted that the germ of all 
 poetic thought, all texts of beauty that others have worked out, 
 lay embalmed in his pages. 
 
 Yet the works he read so rapidly, clung to his memory with 
 wonderful tenacity. His mind seemed, like the crucibles he used 
 in bis experiments, to retain the essence and reject the dross of 
 all that it received. Exquisite arrangement ! by which Nature 
 signifies her master intellects, and assists that progress which is 
 bearing us on to a sure yet far perfection ! 
 
 With a quick insight into character which has seemed to me 
 in any case to be almost a sixth sense, yet which never arrives at 
 the dignity of reasoning, being wholly instinctive, and as such, a 
 part of physical rather than mental construction, I conceive 
 I saw the peculiarity of my grandfather's temperament at once. 
 I saw that he was sensitive, exacting, devoted to his own, even in 
 proportion as he was cold, careless, cruel perhaps to those he con- 
 sidered aliens. No bond of universal brotherhood had knit its 
 silken links about his heart. Hooks of steel had grappled him 
 to a few. Barriers of ice had divided him from the many. His 
 mind was a rapid, rushing river, bearing all before it, all feeble 
 obstructions of conscience, of justice, of humanity, for such he 
 considered these. 
 
 Woe, woe for that mortal whose intellect outgrows his moral 
 sense, until the one stands dwarfed in the growing shadow of the 
 other. A being thus constituted is " no less a monster," some 
 one has said, " than the big-headed child of the fair, or the weak- 
 kneed giant of the circus." Saturn eating his own children is a
 
 234 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 type of men of this stamp. Humanity recoils from them when 
 once they unveil their remorseless egotism, their sublimated 
 sophistry. Yoltaire, Rousseau, Napoleon, Robespierre, were 
 monsters of this class, scarcely less hideous to me than Caligula 
 or Heliogabalus. 
 
 Yet how attractive until the Mokanna veil is lifted, is its glitter- 
 ing light; and the soft breathings of the voice beneath, and the 
 graceful, sinuous motions of the draped and stately form it covers, 
 are oh, how mystic, how bewildering ! It becomes a question 
 here, how much of this is perishable, how much immortal. Can 
 evil be perpetuated in accordance with our conception of a just, 
 a purifying God ! At what point does soul take issue with intel- 
 lect ? And if they be the same, then, then indeed is hell a 
 necessity, not an invention of the alarmist or the melancholy 
 fanatic. 
 
 But I cannot believe this, I dare not. I must grasp the con- 
 viction that our Creator has made nothing in vain, and that 
 through time unmarked by years, in dim futurity, the erring spirit 
 shall struggle on, through what agony, what obstacles it matters 
 little, so that the final triumph be achieved, and the glorious 
 essence, freed from all impurity, be ransomed, rescued, saved I 
 
 And looking upon immortality in this light, it must come 
 to pass that all intellectual aids to our meaner passions must 
 perish with them, and that a mere spark may emerge at last from 
 all the brilliant fire of genius directed to unworthy ends. Those 
 that build altars to circumstance or expediency, need not murmur 
 if a whirlwind overthrows them, and scatters their offerings even 
 in this life, much less must they expect to find their remembrance 
 perpetuated in heaven as accepted sacrifice. 
 
 I do not remember to have received any enjoyment so purely
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 235 
 
 intellectual from the companionship of any other being as that 
 of my grandfather afforded me, yet it never for one moment as- 
 sumed a spiritual type (I separate these things) ; " earthy, and 
 of the earth," was he even in his wonderful knowledge, his bril- 
 liant eloquence, his startling sophistry logic, as he called it 
 his estimate of man and his Creator. 
 
 Had I been less securely poised in my religious convictions, in my 
 poetic instincts, in my habitual reverence for duty, this companion- 
 ship might have been fatal to my happiness. As it was, it only 
 agitated new springs of thought, forced my mind into active use, 
 and taught me self-defence, and even persuasive remonstrance, so 
 that I felt myself strengthened and impelled to come out of my 
 narrow limits, and set my lance in rest for truth and God ! 
 
 He seemed half amused, half touched, by my earnest zeal. It 
 was something new to him this solemn enthusiasm on points the 
 young so seldom care for, or insist upon. My very opposition to 
 his views, and the way in which I set this forth, seemed to please 
 him, and at first he took pains to draw me out, in a half mocking 
 way. But, when he learned to love me better, this manner was 
 laid aside, in a great degree, and he came to look with forbearance 
 and respect on almost all of my opinions, however opposed to 
 his own. 
 
 I have spoken before of the difficulty of my position with re- 
 gard to my grand-parents ; of their strange vigilance, and even 
 jealousy, of any preponderating ascendency over me on the part 
 of either ; and of the suspicious and capricious nature of my 
 grandfather's feelings, as exhibited heretofore toward every one 
 chosen as an object of affection by his wife. A conversation held 
 between us on this subject, may have had its effect in lulling that 
 bitter qualm of jealous distrust with which he watched every
 
 236 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 growing partiality on her part, and as his heart warmed to me, 
 every manifestation of preference on mine. 
 
 He was speaking of his lonely lot-, rather lightly than seriously, 
 one day, calling himself, as he often did, " King Jehoachirn," and 
 wondering whether any real "Evil Merodach" would ever come 
 and take him out of prison. I could not bear that mocking, de- 
 risive way in which he treated, what I knew he really felt to be, 
 a great calamity, and I said : 
 
 "At all events, grandfather, you have devoted friends, who 
 share your captivity, and minister to your comfort." 
 
 " Devoted 1" he repeated, throwing back his head with a scoff- 
 ing laugh that ended in a groan ; " child, child, you see externals 
 only. Who is devoted to me ? You dream !" 
 
 " My grandmother," I timidly rejoined ; " she is evidently de- 
 voted to you ; and Dr. Quintil even seems so, and " I could not 
 add what was in my heart ; I feared he might believe such expres- 
 sion of feeling a mere profession on my part ; so I hesitated, and 
 he waited vainly for the rest, which the glance of his eye told me 
 that he had surmised or anticipated. 
 
 " Lilian, you mean well, I know," he said ; " but you are out 
 of your depth, my love, when you try to interpret the feelings of 
 Camilla Bouverie toward any one most of all toward me, her 
 husband. Believe me, there is no viper that crawls under her old 
 stone gate that she would not sooner cherish in her bosom. You 
 have heard how, in old days, people set up idols of stone, and 
 worshipped them, and laid before them sacrifices of blood, and 
 treasure, and frankincense ! They were not more mad than I 
 have been in my idolatry not more unsuccessful ? She never 
 loved me, though she thought she did, for truth is her element, 
 after all her native one, I mean. I terrified her from the first ;
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 237 
 
 she had not your capacity for understanding me, and allowing for 
 my peculiarities not your breadth of character, Lilian. She 
 shrank from me long before she confessed it to herself ; she 
 shrinks from me openly now you see that, Lilian, notwithstand- 
 ing this most dutiful show of devotion ; and her heart lies buried 
 in a bloody grave !" He muttered the last words. " So do not 
 speak to me again, my child, of such affection as finds its root in 
 pity, and the past ; but know that one of the darkest mysteries 
 of feeling lies in this, that one may love, and get only loathing in 
 return. Is not that a horrible condition of things, Lilian ?" 
 
 He turned to me with startling quickness, as he asked the ques- 
 tion, and grasped my arm. " But she loves you very tenderly, I 
 suppose, and gives you many assurances of this, I doubt not ?" He 
 added, without waiting for my reply, " is it not so ? Speak, Lilian, 
 I have an earnest wish to know the exact state of things between 
 you." 
 
 " She has requested me, more than once, not to love her," I re- 
 plied, " assuring me that she had no love to give me in return." 
 
 "And yet you do love her very dearly, I suppose, feeling that 
 she cannot be sincere in making such a request ?" He hesitated. 
 " Her remarks have made no impression on your attachment for 
 her? This is unshaken? How is it, Lilian?" He shook my 
 arm slightly yet impatiently, still keeping his watchful, glittering 
 eye upon my face. 
 
 " One does not usually give love without return," I answered, 
 while my heart smote me for my duplicity ; but I did believe at 
 the time that I had discovered his mania, and treated him accord- 
 ingly. " My feelings toward my grandmother are very dutiful, 
 but not such as you inspire me with, dear grandfather." 
 
 He turned away well pleased, and yet hi silence. I had spoken
 
 238 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 the truth, yet I felt the whole falseness of my position, forced 
 upon me, as it was, by circumstances. The spirit- of equivocation 
 and compromise were not mine by nature. It cost me dear to 
 make such sacrifice of frankness and outspoken honesty as lay 
 beneath those truthful words of mine. 
 
 " Can it be possible," he said, " that you come here in a frame 
 of mind that permits you to love and honor me ? Have they 
 given you no coat of mail against my influence before sending you 
 here, in the shape of pious warnings, exhortation, and all that 
 sort of thing ! Am I to understand you thus, Lilian ? Speak 
 and speak the simple truth as which have they represented me 
 to you, madman or villain ?" 
 
 " Neither, grandfather, I do assure you," I replied, looking him 
 steadily in the eye. He believed me, evidently he always be- 
 lieved me, for, with all his faults, he had confidence in the exist- 
 ence of truth as an abstract quality a weakness, perhaps, pecu- 
 liar to some organizations even to his own. 
 
 "This is what they call, in Christian parlance, ' heaping red- 
 hot coals on an enemy's head ;' what a noble motive for forbear- 
 ance, to be sure ! That old St. Paul of theirs was an apt tor- 
 turer ; how well he knew the secret of revenge better than an 
 Indian squaw, eh, Lilian ? His nature would come out, though, 
 even in his sanctity. He could not forget the pleasure that early 
 frolic of his afforded him, when he and some other Jewish boys 
 went out and stoned St. Stephen to death, one fine morning." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, he repented of that." 
 
 " Repented 1" he echoed ; " repented ! as if such a thing cculd 
 be 1" He rose and walked the room, with a curling lip end 
 downcast eyes. "I cor^e," said Jesus Christ, "to call not the 
 righteous, but sinners to repentance."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 239 
 
 The sacred declaration seemed to drop from him involuntarily. 
 
 " Comforting words are these, dear grandfather." 
 
 " Impossible words, Lilian, to some natures ; I, for one, am so 
 constituted, that I cannot understand them. The past is irrecover- 
 able it cannot be wiped out." 
 
 " Atonement, grandfather, there is another grand holy word, 
 most comforting, most merciful ; embracing all requisitions of the 
 past and present, repentance even !" 
 
 " Yes, a very grand word, indeed, atonement ;" and he rolled 
 it out like an organ. " Truly, it sounds well I It is strange the 
 French have no such word as that characteristic though of their 
 independent levity ! ' Expier !' it does not mean the same thing 
 at all ; we have ' expiate,' to render that a different sense entirely. 
 A man may ' expiate' his offences by a term of imprisonment ; 
 out he does not ' atone' for them thus. I agree with you, Lilian, 
 you have good taste. It is a grand word." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, it is not as a matter of taste, I regard the 
 word. Think of the promise think of Christ crucified." 
 
 He waved his hand and turned away in silence. When I 
 looked at him again he was standing before his book-shelves, 
 turning over the leaves of an illuminated Coleridge. 
 
 " Iiilian," he said ; " I have tried vainly to analyze the nature 
 or Quintil's feelings to me poor Quintil ! he is a good fellow, a 
 vase that runs over with generous wine ; but I hate unnatural 
 sentiments even if directed to my own advantage, and there does 
 seem to be a sort of moral obliquity about his feelings for me 
 after all. I think I have caught a clew now however, the merest 
 thread though to the general warp in these lines of Schiller, in 
 his grand plays of the ' Piccolomini,' and ' Death of Wallenstein,' 
 through his mouthpiece, the English Coleridge. Hear what h
 
 240 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 says : These are the words of Max Piccolomini you must read 
 the translation, Lilian to the great Duke Wallenstein. He 
 loved him once ; but had lost faith in him now. And he read 
 with his exquisite undertones, the following passages : 
 
 " ' Oh, God of heavens, what a change is here ! 
 Beseems it me to offer such persuasion 
 To thee, who, like the fixed star of the pole 
 Wert all I gazed on, in life's trackless ocean ! 
 Oh ! what a rent thou makest in my heart ! 
 The ingrained instinct of old reverence, 
 The holy habit of obediency, 
 Must I pluck live asunder from thy name.' " 
 
 As he gave the last line he grasped his breast as if he felt the 
 plucking fingers of pain then continued to read, after an inter- 
 val, pacing the room slowly as he did so, still bearing the book 
 lying open on the palm of his left hand, still pressing his right 
 hand laid over his heart. 
 
 " ' Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me, 
 It always was as a God looking on me, 
 Duke Walleustein. Its power has not departed, 
 The senses still are in thy bonds, although, 
 Bleeding, the soul hath freed herself.' 
 
 " Still more ! Alas I alas, Lilian." He paused, and read 
 exquisite pathos, shaking his head slowly as he began 
 
 " 'Thou canst not end in this ! It would reduce 
 All human creatures to disloyalty 
 Against the nobleness of their own natures ; 
 'Twill justify the vulgar misbelief, 
 Which holdeth nothing noble in free will, 
 And trusts itself to impotence alone, 
 Made powerful only in an unseen power.'
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 " That last line is very fine, Lilian," marking it with his long, 
 lithe forefinger. "It contains the whole theory of fate the addled 
 theory 1 and it is in words like these that Paul Quintilian, had 
 he the poetic faculty, instead of the enduring one, would address 
 himself to me," shutting the book suddenly, " Erastus Bouverie." 
 
 I was quite silent, affected in spite of myself, though he made 
 so light of it all ; for he had laid the book aside, and was feeding 
 Merodach when I cleared away the tears that dimmed my eyes, 
 and surveyed him again. 
 
 " Ah, here comes Fabius with my dinner, doubly welcome to- 
 day, since ' Evil ' has dined so heartily. My appetite wakes with 
 sympathy ' L'appetit vient en mangeant,' you know, Lilian ; 
 come, dine with me. Here are Fontainebleau grapes, and 
 Vergalou pears." 
 
 " No, grandfather, they will expect me downstairs ; another 
 time, I will remain ; farewell now, until to-morrow." 
 
 II Farewell, Lily, and hearken ; when you come again put on 
 the little blue dress with the lace ruffles. It suits my fancy and 
 your style of face ; and let your curls drop again. I do not like 
 this severe-braided hair. Give me 
 
 " ' Tresses uuconfined, 
 
 Wooed by each Egean wind.' 
 
 . 
 
 " There it goes again, Lilian. It is the curse of memory to be 
 obliged to speak in other men's jKords half the tune." 
 I laughed and^-teft him.
 
 S42 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DURING all this time, Bishop Clare had come and gone with 
 periodical regularity, to and from Bquverie. He was of course 
 our confidant in the matter of my engagement ; and if ever he 
 recalled the strange intimations he had made to me with regard 
 to Jasper's feelings, no evidence of such memory was given by any 
 allusion or expression of his now. 
 
 There were times, indeed, when turning suddenly to him with 
 my habitual impulse, I found his eyes fixed on me with a half- 
 pitying, half-conjecturing gaze ; tunes, when something seemed to 
 falter on his tongue, suppressed before uttered, and replaced by 
 words of different signification. But to these symptoms of un- 
 easiness on his part, I attached little consequence. I had long 
 ceased to try to fathom the motives of those around me long 
 rested comfortably in the belief that all they did was for the best, 
 and from unavoidable causes. 
 
 When Bishop Clare was at Bouverie, he spent much of his time 
 alone with my grandfather. A strong personal attachment had 
 existed between them, it seemed, although no two men ever evi- 
 aencefll less congeniality of sentiment. I do not remember to have 
 been present at more than one or two of these interviews, and 
 then it appeared to me that my grandfather was restrained and 
 silent, and Bishop Clare excited and ill at ease. Between him 
 and my grandmother existed a very diiferent intercourse. Her 
 whole nature seemed to wake up and open in his presence, as that 
 of a plant in the reviving rays of the morning sun. She hung
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 243 
 
 upon his words, often commonplace enough, as if they had been 
 saintly oracles. She anticipated his wants with all a daughter's 
 forethought, and gave up every employment to amuse and enter- 
 tain him. When he left her house she would follow his retreating 
 form with streaming eyes, and sink, for days after, into cold, list- 
 less apathy. 
 
 He was, indeed, as she had said, the link that bound her to the 
 outward as well as the spiritual world. The memories, the affec- 
 tions, of a whole life were centred in him, as relics of the dead are 
 laid away in a precious casket. Dr. Quintil, with all his calm 
 good sense and life-long devotion, had not half the influence over 
 her that belonged to Bishop Clare. 
 
 I know not how it was, that, much as I revered and even loved 
 him, our holy father acquired no such dominion over me. It must 
 have been my instinctive shrinking from the commonplace that 
 governed me in this matter an impatience of the matter-of-fact 
 in all its phases. There was a chord in my nature that vibrated 
 to whatever was peculiar, romantic, erratic even, in others ; there 
 was a void to be filled only by the ideal, the chivalric, the half 
 revealed. There was another feeling very strong with me, heredi- 
 tary, perhaps I valued no divided affection. Bishop Clare was 
 not fastidious enough ; he placed every one he loved too much on 
 the same platform ; and did he not for it was his vocation love 
 all the world? I imagined him going into Irish hovels, with 
 nearly the same words of praise or blame, encouragement or affec- 
 tion, he spoke to us. But that man in the sealed solitude above 
 had no other source of delight than I afforded him. Deeper love, 
 stronger friendship, he might once have known than he felt for or 
 received from me ; " but the trail of the serpent was over them 
 U." My unaffected devotion to him, my very ignorance of the
 
 244 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEE1E. 
 
 past, the freshness of our acquaintance, even, kept our affection 
 green, for I was to Mm as a young shoot putting out from some 
 old root, the decayed remnant of a noble tree, thus unexpectedly 
 sending up a scion to be watched and tended again, and to 
 flourish luxuriantly over the mournful wreck of the past. 
 
 Although restored to comparative health, my grandfather's 
 condition was a precarious one, through the autumn and winter of 
 a year whose severity of cold has never been surpassed in the 
 region in which we dwelt. During two months of this most 
 rigorous season, he never left the rooms set apart for his winter 
 use, consisting simply of a chamber that in which I had first 
 seen him and the small laboratory whose roaring furnace over 
 my head had confirmed my suspicions of a hidden inmate. 
 
 He did not even venture, so sensitive to cold had his frame 
 become during this period, to emerge into the circular hall, even 
 for the advantage of exercise and light. There was no way of 
 warming this apartment, the size and roofing of which rendered 
 it intensely cold ; and he basked in the glare of the great coal-fire 
 within and the artificial lights he burned, by the brilliancy and 
 number of which he tried to console himself for the absence of 
 
 the sun. 
 
 In order to enjoy these luxuries with security, it was necessary 
 
 to close the windows almost hermetically, by means of thick shut- 
 ters placed inside of the sashes, protected without, as these were, 
 only by the jalousies that shielded all the casements. We have 
 Been how a ray of light, shining through the crevices of these 
 Venetian blinds, during his illness, had subjected my grandmother 
 to suspicion and persecution even for in the summer, when his 
 closely-sealed apartment became unendurable to him, and he 
 passed into another, our prisoner was compelled to dispense alto-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 245 
 
 gether with artificial light, and pass the short nights in darkness. 
 In winter he was as completely shut away from the external 
 world in that closely sealed room of his, as the sailors in the hold 
 of a ship are shielded, when the dead lights are down, from the 
 raging storms without. 
 
 The constant fire in his grate, excited, however, no attention as 
 that in the dining-room below was never extinguished wholly, and 
 the same chimney carried off the smoke from either flue. The fur- 
 nace in the laboratory was connected also with this by means of 
 slender pipes contrived by Dr. Quintil. 
 
 I think I have sufficiently shown that the comfort as well as 
 safety of our captive had been scrupulously consulted, as far at 
 least as these could be connected. His tastes, his pleasures were 
 equally considered. 
 
 His room was surrounded with cabinets of minerals, shells, 
 coins, and medallions cast from outlines of celebrated statues, 
 and bas-relievos. The rotunda was literally lined with fine en- 
 gravings, among which appeared, here and there, exquisite paint- 
 ings, like jewels sparkling on a setting of plain gold. His 
 writing-table was heaped with the volumed literature of the day, 
 regularly renewed, although consumed (such literally was the ex- 
 pression that suited best his style of reading), with such remorse- 
 less rapidity. Folios of architectural, geological, botanical, 
 anatomical prints, were piled on dtageres. Magazines and news- 
 papers were brought in, too, for his use, by every mail ; yet had 
 it depended on him, none of these suggestive 'influences would 
 hare surrounded his lonely lot, much as he enjoyed them. 
 
 His income, cut down now to his original patrimony, that de- 
 rived from Ursa, or Usher Bouverie once large from his own exer- 
 tions and passing through the hands of his wife into his own (since
 
 246 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYERIE. 
 
 in the eyes of the world he had no existence), flowed into far 
 different channels. One thousand guineas a year still came to 
 him from English funds with unfailing regularity, paid in gold, as 
 it was for its intrinsic value only that he esteemed the money he 
 used for such peculiar purposes. In the preparation of his costly 
 medicine, and the prosecution of his chemical experiments, he con- 
 sumed every grain of this, yet found it all too little to develop 
 the mighty purpose that inspired his stagnant life. He had con- 
 ceived a project of which he never lost sight for one moment of 
 his conscious existence, and in the development of which he 
 rested his whole earthly aspiration. He believed in the entire 
 possibility of effecting this great object of his life, and had 
 proved this confidence by daring the anger of Nicholas of Russia, 
 rather than acknowledge himself incompetent to carry out his 
 idolized scheme. It was his belief that he possessed this power, 
 that enabled him to bear so patiently his inactive and monoto- 
 nous life. What was the past, what was imprisonment, what was 
 remorse itself to one who looked to a future so splendid as to gild 
 a whole existence, however dark, as the dawning glory of the 
 morning dispels the shadows and chilliness of night ? 
 
 " Why, Lilian," he would say, " the fabulous lamp of Aladdin 
 would fall short of the power such science, when perfected, 
 would confer on its possessor. Chains could not hold such a 
 man, authority could not come near him, he would be 
 amenable to no laws ; armies would be at his command, and 
 the kings of the earth his suppliants. Limits could not be 
 placed in the miraculous wealth of one who could mold obscure 
 and common elements into the richest treasure known to the 
 human race." 
 
 As the brilliant vision swayed his mood, he would walk the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 247 
 
 room with steps of pride and power, his form dilating, his eye 
 glittering, and that radiance that I have seen in no other counte- 
 nance flashing over and illuminating his face like sunshine. 
 Another moment and the dream would vanish before the impo- 
 tence of reality. His step would slacken, his lifted arm fall 
 heavily by his side, his head droop on his breast, the light die 
 from his face, and he would throw himself depressed and ex- 
 hausted into a chair, to muse and perhaps despair. 
 
 Yet this depression, this exhaustion, were never of long endur- 
 ance. Again the brilliant possible would put aside the impotent 
 actual. Again the blazing eye, the eloquent voice, the graceful 
 gesture, would bear witness to the strong conviction that nerved 
 his inmost being, and sorrow, shame, adversity fade before the 
 splendor of his imagination ! 
 
 Such was his solitary life ! More full of excitement and change 
 than that of the commonplace many, who meet and mingle in the 
 highways of the world. He had made to himself a kingdom in 
 his solitude, where his brilliant theory held absolute dominion, 
 self-crowned and sceptred. His good angels were all gone. 
 Freedom, affection, religion he had relinquished these, and he 
 struck hands with, and confided in the gloomy genius that re- 
 mained to him. 
 
 One by one had drifted from him all that gilds our earthly 
 dream. Glory, virtue, pride and honor, God's approval, man's 
 esteem. All were gone, save wild ambition, with its power to 
 dare and scheme. 
 
 What marvel, then, that listening to his persuasive voice, gazing 
 on his speaking countenance, witnessing his weird experiments, my 
 young imagination took fire from his, and went hand in hand with 
 his own enthusiasm ? It was, indeed mysterious joy to me to bend
 
 24:8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVKRIE. 
 
 with him over his crucibles, and surrey the magic crystallization 
 and change of color that the mixing of elements occasioned ; or 
 to behold fluid divide from fluid, as did the waters of the Red Sea 
 beneath the rod of Moses ; and to image forth, as globule melted 
 into globule, and gradually bodies of light and beauty emerged from 
 opaque molten masses, how God shaped his worlds and flung 
 them forth, one after another, into space, to testify of his power 
 forever ! 
 
 Under the strong stimulant of fancy, I have indeed felt at 
 times, a quick terror come over me, as though the presence of 
 some unseen witness shadowed the chamber, and gazing round 
 have half dreaded to see some shapeless, gigantic thing emerge 
 from the twilight corners of the room, when the lights burned 
 low, and flit with webbed, bat-like wings, along the dusky 
 walls. 
 
 It may have been a noxious exhalation from the crucibles that 
 filled my brain with fantasies like these, quick to come, and to 
 depart ; but from whatever cause they originated, I had at least 
 the power to control any expression that might have betrayed 
 my weakness, or my expectation (call it by what name you will), 
 to my grandfather or Fabius. I believed that one such' manifes- 
 tation on my part would close for me the door of these mysteries 
 forever, and the variety they gave my life had made them invalu- 
 able to me. 
 
 Of the many experiments my grandfather performed for my 
 amusement only, I will describe but one, as further detail might 
 weary those with whom I am desirous to proceed to the end.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 249 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ONE day, on my entrance one bitter day in February, I re- 
 member, while he was still confined to his sealed chamber he 
 looked up from the writing which engaged much of his time, and 
 welcomed me with a smile of more than usual significance. 
 
 " Wait a little, Lilian, until I have shaped a few more sentences 
 in this endless treatise this Penelope's web of mine and I will 
 show you a new experiment ; one at least that you have not wit- 
 nessed before. Fabius, trim the lamp, it burns badly. Ah, I 
 wish the time was come when electricity would do service instead 
 of oil or gas. I hate this detail all will be simple, then, ' in that 
 good time coming.' " 
 
 I sat dOwn in quiet expectation, and he went on writing, while 
 Fabius made his usual systematic and nice arrangements in perfect 
 silence. He first set forth a small marble-topped table, on which 
 be placed a crystal globe, with a movable top, a tall blue jar, and 
 a flask or perhaps one might call it a retort of common green 
 glass. A stopper in the side of the globe was now removed, and 
 the spout of the retort inserted into the aperture, which was made 
 to fit tightly by means of wrappings of some transparent material. 
 My grandfather now approached the table. 
 
 ".Did you ever hear of the resurrection of flowers, Lilian ? not 
 in the old slow fashion of root and stem, winter and summer, but 
 sudden, wonderful, as that which we are told shall, among men, 
 succeed the sound of the last trump ?" 
 
 : ' Grandfather, what a comparison !" 
 
 11*
 
 250 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 " You shall sec for yourself, child, and understand me better 
 Give me that dead rose, Lilian." 
 
 I looked in the direction of his pointing hand, and took from a 
 vase on the mantel-piece a branch which I had broken from a 
 plant in the basement, on which a solitary rose had struggled into 
 wintry bloom, and carried to him some days before. I took the 
 rose from the vase, and gave it to him, as he requested. 
 
 " Now look, Lilian 1" 
 
 I obeyed. The dead rose was thrown into the crystal Dowl, 
 and the lid replaced. Then, lifting the cover of the retort, the 
 contents invisible to me of the blue jar were hastily dashed into 
 it, and the top as instantly closed down again. In a few moments 
 the spell began to work before my astonished eyes. A faint 
 bluish vapor seemed gradually to fill the transparent sphere, 
 through the filmy clearness of which I could distinctly discern 
 whatever change occurred within. 
 
 The rose, blackened and dead, grew at the extremity of a 
 shrivelled stem, about six inches long, covered with faded leaves. 
 It lay helplessly at first at the bottom of the bowl. What was 
 my astonishment, to see it gradually assume an erect position, as 
 a sleeper, half-bewildered, might slowly arise from his couch, and 
 stand upright beside it ! The flaccid leaves revived, a tint of 
 green crept through them, the stem filled up, the thorns bristled 
 in fleshy greenness ; and now, the rojte, first with a faint tinge of 
 its olden color, then with a more vivid hue, swelled, strengthened, 
 deepened, flushed into new life and beauty, and stood arrayed 
 before me, as when freshly broken from the parent stem ! 
 
 A murmur of admiration escaped my lips. My grandfather 
 stood, with his arms folded, gazing with ca,reless approbation on 
 the limited success of his experiment, not yet completed. Fot
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 251 
 
 still more wonderful to witness had this been possible was th 
 process by which the tiny shoots at the root of each leaf-stem 
 were impelled to put forth embryo leaves. The plant was 
 growing ! 
 
 " How beautiful ! how marvellous 1" I exclaimed. His spark- 
 ling eyes and smile testified his enjoyment of my amazement ; but 
 he said nothing, and, mutely stretching out his hand to Fabius, 
 waited a moment in that attitude of expectancy until the attend- 
 ant first seeking them in a drawer brought and poured on his 
 palm a few of the black conical seeds of the cypress vine. 
 
 Again he opened the lid of the crystal bowl, from which a faint, 
 unpleasant odor escaped as he did so, and, throwing them hastily 
 in, closed it again. And again the attentive eye, the folded 
 arms, led me to expect new wonders. Nor was I disappointed. 
 
 I saw that from the rose, or its decayed particles, a black mold 
 had been precipitated, in which the stem seemed firmly fixed, and 
 beneath whose soft covering the seeds settled slowly down until 
 hidden from sight. 
 
 I watched the process eagerly, and soon oh, wonderful, magical 
 transition ! the tender whitish germs appeared above their scanty 
 covering, deepened in color, sprung up into rapid development 
 grew, climbed the confines of the basin ; clung to the rose, now 
 covered with tiny buds, and put forth in profusion their small 
 crimson trumpets. 
 
 I gazed enchanted, my lips parted, my hands pressed on my 
 breast, almost fearing to breathe, lest the fairy spell might be 
 broken, when suddenly he lifted the lid. 
 
 For a moment the vision of flowers continued ; then, as a dream 
 passes, melted away, leaving the helpless withered branch, and 
 the slender black stem of the cypress vines, as the only witness of
 
 '252 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOITVERIE. 
 
 the vanished bloom, save the dark mold that still covered the 
 bottom of the bowl. 
 
 " Grandfather, this is .sorcery !" I exclaimed. 
 
 He smiled. " No, Lilian nothing but a sport of science, than 
 which I could show you many more marvellous, had I material 
 and patience. All that you saw was effected by the combination 
 of gases, forcing into active impulse the same powers that in their 
 natural condition furnish in a gradual way the life and being of 
 flowers. And now let us reason from analogy. Why cannot the 
 power that can compel dead plants to live again, and seed to 
 germinate in a moment instead of a month, as well compress those 
 energies into sudden vigor, which, in the bowels of the earth, are 
 slowly constructing diamonds ?" 
 
 " Why not indeed !" I murmured. 
 
 ''When I reflect," he continued, "that I have so nearly grasped 
 the secret of almost superhuman success in the condensation of 
 diamonds, I can but deplore the necessity I find myself under of 
 abandoning forever a scheme the fruition of which would elevate 
 me and mine to the very pinnacle of earthly grandeur. I am 
 doubted, I am considered a dreamer, by those nearest to me, and 
 who would be the chief beneficiaries of my success. You, even, 
 Lilian, listen to me with distrust." 
 
 He hesitated as if waiting for a reply, a disavowal, perhaps, of 
 his accusation . I made none, although greatly impressed by mV 
 words and manner. A moment later he went on : 
 
 " This is hard to bear, yet I must not forget that in the begin- 
 ning all important discoveries have been met with mockery and 
 suspicion. Was not Galileo imprisoned ? Did they not shut up 
 in an iron cage, as a desperate lunatic, the first man Avho sug- 
 gested the use of steam in France ? Was not Columbus doubted ?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 253 
 
 Was not Socrates sacrificed ? Was not Christ crucified ? In all 
 time the ignorance of man has risen in rebellion against the dawn 
 of science or philosophy. So shall it be to the end. Yet these 
 matters force themselves on human conviction at last, thanks to 
 man's selfishness, to which be all honor !" 
 
 He smiled and waved his hand in his peculiar sarcastic way ; 
 rose, paced the floor, and continued talking in low but clear 
 tones, as if soliloquizing. His long seclusion had taught him the 
 comfort of this. 
 
 " Electricity, by the help of which men are destined to cultivate 
 their fields, propel their ships and carriages, prepare their food, 
 illuminate their cities, communicate, with lightning-speed, from 
 zone to zone ; nay, restore life itself in many instances, when all 
 other means have failed ; this mightiest power granted to man by 
 Omnipotence, is dormant still, in this first dawn of science. How 
 grand how Godlike will be its development I Your Greeks, 
 with their Jove and thunderbolts, never dreamed of things like 
 these 1" 
 
 He turned to me, slightly smiled, paused, then continued his 
 slow musing walk in silence for a tune ; at last he broke forth 
 agaiu : 
 
 " When the balloon ascends amid the shout of boys, or the long 
 drawn breathings of thoughtful men, fearful of the result to 
 human life ; how little does the crowd foresee the time when such 
 ascensions shall be affairs of hourly and certain occurrence, a*id 
 the balloon (aimless and useless now) be considered the safest 
 and speediest method of conveyance. Tennyson, indeed, seems to 
 have thought of this when he speaks of " airy navies grappling in 
 the central blue I" Was not that what he was aiming at, Lilian ? 
 What beautiful lines that man writes, by the way. I mean
 
 254 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEUIE. 
 
 literally what I say lines ; there are some that haunt me, cut 
 away, like ships drifting from anchor, from all connection of sense 
 or meaning beyond the exquisite fullness of sound, and single 
 images. You remember where he tells of 
 
 . ' Summer isles of Eden, lying 
 
 In dark spheres of purple sea.' 
 
 Gorgeous, by heaven 1 
 
 ' Love took up the glass of time, 
 And turned it in his glowing hands.' 
 
 What a picture 1 Titian might have painted it he only I 
 
 ' When in wild Mahratta battle, 
 Fell my father, evil starred !' 
 
 "What aline for sound, for power, for suggesting narrative! A 
 whole history springs out of it at once. By the by, your true 
 poets are your only prophets, you know eh, Lilian ?" stopping, 
 and turning upon me suddenly with his glittering smile. " Your 
 practical people never see beyond their own noses, be they 
 long or short, and reduce everything to one level. Old Pro- 
 crustes was their ancestor, I'm thinking !" 
 
 " I don't know, grandfather, what to think of prophets or pro- 
 phecies, beyond what man's judgment points to a different thing, 
 after all, from prophecy. Who can know the future, save 
 God ?" 
 
 " And are you sure he knows it, Lilian ?" 
 
 " Grandfather ! Can any one doubt his supreme know- 
 ledge ? Such misgivings were blasphemy, it seems to me." 
 
 " There is no surprise for the Deity then, child. He misses a 
 very great pleasure, I am convinced ! \ According to you reli-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 255 
 
 gious people, he is the cause of all evil, since he foresees and does 
 not prevent it, as well as of all good. Strange, irreconcilable 
 creed ! j Believe me, he has something greater to do than to 
 arrange puppets, and pull their wires, or to watch the proceedings 
 of man." 
 
 " The Bible tells us, grandfather, that the hairs of our head are 
 counted ; and, that ' not a sparrow falls to the ground without 
 his knowledge.' It makes me feel very happy to believe this, very 
 fearless." 
 
 " Believe it, then," he said, gloomily ; " if such be the result, 
 happiness is not easily procured ; find it where you can, even in 
 delusions." 
 
 Again he paced the room, his head bowed on his breast, his 
 hands clasped behind him, and again, after an interval of silence, 
 he spoke in those clear, low somnambulic tones peculiar to him 
 when soliloquizing ; for he seemed at moments to forget every 
 presence, and to commune with self alone. 
 
 " In the last few days I have perfected a system beyond any 
 possibility of failure, now that I have thoroughly tested the 
 amount of power employed, and the means of creating the neces- 
 sary pressure. This system has been perfected by failure and 
 sacrifice, as have all the successful systems of the world, whether 
 physical or moral. In acquiring the skill and knowledge requisite 
 to my art (that of condensing diamonds) I have used all the 
 jewels in my possession, and I find myself prostrated for means 
 to prosecute my search ; the result of which must be the final 
 triumph of Alchemy ! 
 
 " This is no vain hypothesis, but a common-sense proceeding, by 
 which diamonds, under certain treatment, can be blended and con- 
 densed into one body with the same amount of certainty that
 
 256 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERE3. 
 
 water exposed to peculiar temperature may be hardened into ice. 
 The Indian king, who put to death a missionary for asserting- this 
 natural phenomenon, was not more narrow in his prejudices than 
 those who deny the feasibility of my scheme. I am convinced 
 that in a given time, and with certain agents, I can convert any 
 amount of diamonds not larger than a. pin's head into their equal, 
 or nearly their equal weight, in one large, brilliant, and uniform 
 mass. I go beyond this. I earnestly believe that with superior 
 assistance to any I now possess, I can create with equal facility, 
 and from the common elements around me, diamonds of inesti- 
 mable size, and water. 
 
 "Have you heard me, Lilian? Do you hear that word, 
 create? " he said, suddenly stopping and surveying me. "A God's 
 privilege until now ? A creator of diamonds ! oh, what a divine 
 phrase ! Listen, child : the philosopher's stone was nothing to 
 it ; no dream of Eastern story equals it ; no dumb, submissive 
 genii ever ministered with such unflinching, mechanical fidelity to 
 the owner of lamp, or talisman, or mystic ring, as shall this power 
 to me ! 
 
 " What a heritage to bequeath to a whole race ! Think 
 of it, Lilian think of it I Power, genius, beauty, luxury, rank 
 itself, tributary to the posterity of that webbed-spider that stone- 
 grown toad that sealed pestilence, Erastus Bouverie !" 
 
 " Grandfather, do not speak such terrible words you unnerve 
 me, you wrong yourself !" I approached, and stood beside him, 
 placing my hand on his shoulder soothingly. He had thrown 
 himself on a sofa, and, leaning on its elbow, covered his face with 
 his hands, and his whole frame shook with his strong emotion. 
 After a time he looked up, and I saw, for the first time, tears 
 rolling over his pale and haughty countenance ; and all the pity,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 257 
 
 all the sympathy 01" my nature, were stirred by this unwonted 
 Bight. I, too, wept. 
 
 " You feel for me, Lilian, but in some respects you are like the 
 rest. I am in your eyes only an enthusiastic dreamer." 
 
 " Oh, no, grandfather ! I know you have great powers ; I do 
 believe that you will yet succeed that is, if it be God's will." 
 
 " Give me my life and the diamonds, and I will make the will," 
 he said, almost fiercely, dashing his long, thin hand back against 
 the carved woodwork of the sofa with reckless force. " Lilian, I 
 hate cant I am afraid this is all talk with you. What makes 
 you think that God troubles himself about man's affairs He that 
 has worlds to manage innumerable systems even ? It is vanity 
 it is worse to suppose that he knows the individual from the 
 mass. He stereotypes Creation He does not set up copy letter 
 by letter ; and special knowledge would be the ruin of His gigantic 
 schemes? Believe me, God has nothing to do with us or our 
 affairs. We stand alone." 
 
 " Alone, grandfather !" I said, in a low, sorrowful voice 
 " What a terrible solitude that would be ! But, fortunately, God 
 has determined for us in this matter. Yet how can any being of 
 His hand endure his life under such a cloud as this ? Our Creator 
 forget us, ignore us ! Oh, grandfather, I could not live an hour 
 and believe this terrible thing !" 
 
 "We will not talk of creeds," he said, gloomily; " as well reason 
 a man into falling in love, as into believing against the habit of 
 his life. I am unfortunate, perhaps ; but incorrigible, neverthe- 
 less. I am wrong to be so rough with you, however. Poor 
 child ! poor tender flower blooming in captivity, like Piccioli ! 
 As I said before, be deluded, if you will, so that it renders you 
 happy. Ah, Lilian, that is a beautiful word," he added, shaki%'
 
 258 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 bis head mournfully ; " it has been a long tune since I heard it 
 fall from any lips before you uttered it. Yes, there must be such 
 a thing. Happiness is no myth, as I have sometimes thought \t, 
 but real as ah* and sunshine ; real, but like them intangible." 
 
 He paused, as if wrapt in thought. 
 
 " It is said that women of your temperament are never happy," 
 he continued ; "but I do not believe this. I think, on the con- 
 trary, that they possess an internal and perennial fount of joy, 
 which no other influence can wholly quench or sully not even 
 poverty, Lilian not even pain not even shame." 
 
 " These things would fall very crushingly on me, grandfather. 
 God's aid alone could sustain me under them." 
 
 He gazed at me long and earnestly. " Go," he said, at last ; 
 "I am weary, now exhausted, almost. Fabius, the Elixir ! 
 Lilian, come soon again !" 
 
 As I left the room, I saw Fabius in the rotunda, arranging the 
 vial and glass on a salver. As I passed him he held up the bottle 
 with a galvanic smile ; and the small golden snake rose, and fell 
 convulsively in the fluid. 
 
 "There is life in that, Miss Lilian," he said, shaking it 
 before me. 
 
 " Life 1 What life ?" I thought ; and, for the first time, the 
 true meaning of Coleridge's ghastly picture of "life hi death" 
 seemed to flash over me. I passed the old man in silence, and 
 went down, depressed and wretched, to my chamber. I never 
 pitied my grandfather so inexpressibly as after that conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " If he were in the stone cell of a penitentiary," I thought that 
 night, as I lay shedding silent tears over his bitter fate, " alone, as 
 they tell me some men are, and destined to be alone to the very
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 259 
 
 hour of death ; if, in that stone cell, he could believe that God 
 knew him, pitied him, loved him even ; oh, how preferable, how 
 infinitely less solitary, were his condition ! But to be God- 
 forgotten, God-forsaken oh, what words are these ! What a 
 mournful doom they image forth to me ! Yet such is the self- 
 uttered sentence of both of my grand-parents Bouverie 1 Truly 
 do they invoke on their own heads the terrific words that Samuel 
 spoke to Saul." 
 

 
 260 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I MADE that night a resolution involving a sacrifice, that, petty 
 as it may seem to the reader, cost me dear. My grandfather had 
 doubted my faith in him ; I would convince him, as far as acts of 
 mine could do this, that I did believe in his ability to achieve his 
 scientific schemes a confidence that I knew he would prize on my 
 part, however injudiciously accorded. I would minister, as far as 
 I was able, to the passion that glowed so vividly amid the ashes 
 of his life, and which seemed alone to light its desolation. 
 
 I would carry to him, on my next visit, my diamond cross. I 
 woold consult no one in doing this. I had a right to proceed as 
 I saw fit with my own property, it seemed to me ; nor would I, by 
 proposing such a step, arouse objections which would have no 
 weight with me after all, yet which it would give me pain openly 
 to oppose. Precious as was this relic of the past to me, he should 
 have it to do with it as he chose. He should destroy it, if he 
 liked ; take out all of the large stones, one by one, and burn them 
 in his fierce fire, and crush the small bead-edging of minute dia- 
 monds that surrounded the jet setting into impalpable dust, if it so 
 pleased him. 
 
 I shivered to think of this, for a life of thought was in that 
 cross to me. It was a symbol of my mother's religion, and a 
 legacy of her love. I knew little of its intrinsic value, cared less, 
 attached none to it, save that my father's beloved hand had con- 
 ferred when he placed it, a marriage gift, on her beloved bosom. 
 
 This circumstance alone would have hallowed it in my sight ;
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIB. 261 
 
 but what was this association of feeling even, compared to the 
 hope that the sacrifice I was making might console my grand- 
 father, and assure him of my confidence and affection ; or, perhaps, 
 enable him to wrest one oasis of amusement from the sandy desert 
 of his existence ? 
 
 I could offer no better proof, I thought, of the reality of my 
 professions to one who doubted me, perhaps ; a being the most 
 desolate, it appeared to me belief, ability, and position, severally 
 considered that the earth bore on all her varied surface a 
 being the most fatally gifted, the most brEliantly endowed, that I 
 have ever known, or ever should know again. 
 
 It was not without tears, and prayeYs, and many misgivings, 
 that I made this resolution ; but I remembered that my grand- 
 father had said all great victories were won by sacrifice. 
 
 Might not this childish one of mine win the divine favor for his 
 projects, which I endeavored to persuade myself were destined to 
 ultimate success ? and smooth away some obstacles from his path 
 to that almost superhuman fortune he promised himself in the 
 future. 
 
 When I next visited my grandfather's chamber, I carried with 
 me, in accordance with this resolution, my diamond cross ; and, 
 toward the termination of my visit, placed it in his hand, with a 
 few accompanying words of explanation, murmured, rather than 
 spoken. I was indeed uncertain how he would receive my 
 offering. 
 
 "Do I understand you," he said at last, " that you bring me 
 these diamonds of your own free will, and with the request that I 
 may use them in the continuation of my experiments ?" 
 
 " Such is my wish, grandfather." 
 
 " Go then, and when you return again you shall witness the
 
 262 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 result. At all events, you shall not be the loser, Lilian, by this 
 act of generous confidence. Give me three days to operate in, 
 and then return. You will not be disappointed." 
 
 " I expect nothing, grandfather," I remonstrated. " It is not 
 from any hope of gain, only to amuse your solitude, that I " 
 
 " I understand all this," he interrupted, " and yet I would not 
 despoil you of any portion of your narrow heritage for gratifica- 
 tion of mine. I shall succeed, and you shall be repaid." 
 
 I could not explain to him (it would have been ungenerous for 
 me to have attempted it) that no reward, except the conscious- 
 ness of having served him, could at all compensate me for the 
 sacrifice I was making. I was disappointed (such is the strange 
 injustice of the human heart) that he did not properly estimate 
 it. Yet, had he comprehended it with all its bitterness, I should 
 probably have taken pains to efface an impression that must have 
 pained him. With that inconsistency which belongs to a nature 
 made up of opposite qualities, I was dissatisfied with the whole 
 proceeding, and in a moment of childish spleen almost wished 
 that he might fail, so that I might convince him, by my treat- 
 ment of the disastrous result, of my perfect disinterestedness in 
 the transaction. 
 
 It was toward the close of the third day that I again sought 
 the chamber of the alchemist. I had heard him busily employed 
 in his laboratory before I rose, and after I retired to bed, in the 
 room above mine. The fire had roared incessantly under the fur- 
 nace since we parted, and the light, quick tread peculiar to him 
 met my attentive ear, from the upper floor. I had distinguished 
 also the slow and cautious steps of Fabius in his work of ministry, 
 and I perceived plainly that a great experiment wits in pro- 
 gress.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 263 
 
 Whan I opened the door, on my return to his apartments, I 
 saw my grandfather seated as usual at his writing-table. He 
 looked up I thought with a troubled and anxious glance as I 
 entered. 
 
 " He has failed," I said to myself, " Poor grandfather, I pity 
 you. You are disappointed I" 
 
 I stood beside him a moment without speaking, and laying my 
 hand on his shoulder, looked intently into his face. 
 
 " Lilian," he said, " you gave me your little cross. I return 
 you a jewel of more than twenty times its value." 
 
 As he spoke he lifted before me a small ring-box of mother of 
 pearl, set with turquoise, which I had noticed by his inkstand 
 when I entered, and touching a spring, disclosed the wondrous 
 gem within. 
 
 A diamond as large as the iris of a human eye flashed and 
 flickered within ; for only by these terms can I describe its living 
 and bewildering lustre . 
 
 " Take it," he said, " Lilian. This marvellous stone is yours." 
 I put it gently aside. 
 
 " No, grandfather, I do not want your jewel. Your success 
 repays me." 
 
 " I command you to take it," he said a little sternly, " and to 
 preserve the whole matter an inviolate secret," and again he ex- 
 tended it to me. " It is justly yours," he added as I received the 
 box, dropping his head again above his writing, and proceeding 
 with his occupation as if unconscious of my presence. 
 
 I was heartsick, and sat down, on a low velvet stool, at some 
 distance from the table, still holding the box carelessly unopened 
 in my hand. I did not want the jewel. It could not replace my 
 cross, and yet left no reasonable room for discontent such as I
 
 264: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEKEG. 
 
 felt. Tears gathered in my eyes, yet I sat in silence a silence 
 only broken by the scratching of his rapid pen. 
 
 " Lilian I" The word rang out so suddenly that it startled me, 
 and I looked up from my reverie to meet my grandfather's pierc- 
 ing gaze riveted on me. 
 
 " You are wrong in supposing that I do not appreciate the 
 motive of your gift. I understand perfectly its self-sacrificing 
 nature. Yet I thought I knew you well enough to suppose you 
 would prefer I should not allude to this." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather !" I exclaimed in a deprecating voice, " I am 
 quite ashamed " 
 
 " Your gift," he continued, " has placed me far on the progres- 
 sive path to the accomplishment of all I desire, therefore it has 
 not been made in vain. Yet it is natural that you, who are no 
 lapidary, should attach little consequence to this success, as mani- 
 fested in that splendid stone. Bring it to me ; on second thoughts 
 I will keep it until I can have it set for you in a ring as a soli 
 taire, or in brooch or bracelet clasp, surrounded with rubies or 
 emeralds (of which I have a box full unpolished in my secretary), 
 as you prefer. You will like it better thus, and forget your 
 cross. 
 
 " Grandfather," I said, willing to waive the subject, " if you 
 have rubies and emeralds, why not concentrate these as well as 
 diamonds ? They are greatly enhanced in value by size, and are 
 more readily procured." 
 
 " Because they lose color, and become opaque in the process, 
 and are without that power of resistance which keeps its lustre in 
 the diamond's heart through the most intense pressure. See," 
 he said, approaching me and opening before me the box that con- 
 tamed the gem he had given me. "Was any star of heaven
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 265 
 
 erer more radiant, more flashing, than this stone? Was any 
 human eye yours even, Lilian ever more full of vitality and 
 fire ?" 
 
 I smiled at the subtle compliment, and stooping down to ob- 
 serve the stone more narrowly than I had yet done, I saw w-hat 
 appeared to me a small bright eye directly in its centre. 
 
 " Oh, how strange I" I cried. " Grandfather, did you ever 
 observe an eye in the very heart of this jewel a living, human 
 eye ?" 
 
 "Your own, probably," he said, taking it hastily from my 
 hand, "reflected there in Nature's choicest mirror ;" and closing 
 the lid of the box, he placed it in his bosom. "And now," he 
 said, " that you have witnessed my success, I would speak to you 
 once more very earnestly indeed of the last hope that remains to 
 me. Your grandmother has diamonds you have seen them I 
 know badly set, composed of innumerable small stones, without 
 peculiar brilliancy. Could I obtain these, I shall have gained my 
 first foothold in the temple of fortune. Lilian, you have influence 
 over her. It must be so ; your uprightness, your directness, 
 your judgment must gam this for you, with all who know and 
 love you. I charge you to use this influence for the great end I 
 have endeavored to portray to you. Procure those diamonds for 
 me, only for one day, and I will rain riches on your grandmother 
 in return, beyond the wildest dreams of Alchemy." 
 
 "Grandfather," I replied, "I cannot venture on this subject 
 again. Once before, you desired me to make the suggestion. It 
 was coldly received, and I was forbidden to allude again to such 
 a possibility. Perhaps if you would show my grandmother the 
 result of your last experiment, she might be moved from the reso- 
 lution." 
 
 12
 
 266 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEREE. 
 
 He mused and smiled. 
 
 " She gave as her principal reason for not complying with my 
 request, I believe, that she considered the diamonds sacredly 
 yours ; the only heritage she had to leave you, I think she said, 
 except this domain of Bouverie, with its worn fields and sparse 
 woodlands ?" 
 
 " These were the words, grandfather. You recall them to me 
 perfectly." 
 
 " Then it is to you, the real owner of the diamonds, that I 
 shall address myself." 
 
 What more he might have said remained unspoken, for at 
 this moment my grandmother's light knock was heard at - the 
 door. 
 
 He rose to open it, greeting her as she entered, with that rare 
 grace and cordiality of manner, that made him so irresistible in 
 my eyes ; but she, as was her custom, walked across the floor 
 with a grave and steady step, and seated herself at a distance 
 from him 
 
 " We were speaking, Camilla, ere you came," he said, " of that 
 wonderful step in science which I am on the eve of taking, the 
 concentration of diamonds ; and I was expressing a hope to 
 Lilian, that you might yet be prevailed upon to lend yourself to 
 my undertaking." 
 
 Her brows contracted slightly, as though the subject were dis- 
 tasteful to her, and a cloud came over her features. 
 
 " I had hoped," she said, " that you had dismissed this matter 
 from all further consideration, as an entire fallacy. I am grieved 
 to find that the dream still haunts you." 
 
 " Why does he not show her the proof of his success," I 
 'bought, involuntarily entering the lists for him mentally against
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 267 
 
 her skepticism. "How does she know it is a fallacy? How 
 hard she is, to censure him thus!" 
 
 To my astonishment, he did nothing of the kind ; but standing 
 before her, and fixing her with his glittering eye, the Alchemist 
 poured forth his rapid and eloquent defence of his cherished 
 scheme, and appealed to her ambition, her pride, her hope for 
 future distinction, to advocate his measures. 
 
 " Erastus," she replied, calmly, when he had finished his bril- 
 liant appeal ; "I cannot go with you along the path of visions. 
 I am no sophist, no dreamer ; I would that I had your capacity 
 for finding substance in shadows. But with me, all things must 
 be real to be of the slightest value." 
 
 " Camilla," he remonstrated ; " throw off, I conjure you, this 
 dreary mantle of skepticism, and lend yourself to my efforts to 
 build up the future, and redeem the past 1 Give me your useless 
 diamonds. Let me experiment with these, and when a stone 
 larger than the famous Koh-i-noor, the Hindoos hold so sacredly, 
 meets your sight as the product of my labors, recognize the 
 destiny that awaits you and your posterity. Think of it I" a 
 favorite mode of emphasizing of his. " the raising of your 
 hand shall be the signal for monarchs to obey. Arts, science, 
 progress of all kinds, be stayed or facilitated as you will. Tlio 
 first position of the world will be assigned to its richest denizen, 
 and your posterity, perhaps, occupy the thrones of the nations I 
 In this atmosphere of power and pride, your youthful brilliancy, 
 your happiness will be restored to you/' 
 
 She groaned, she covered her eyes with her hands a few 
 broken words escaped her lips. 
 
 " Restored ! Oh, what can restore the dead ?" 
 
 I do not think she meant this as a reproach. It was wrung from
 
 268 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 her by what she felt the bitter, yet unintended mockery of his last 
 remark. My grandfather's face was a study. Arrested in hia 
 sanguine flight he stood with one hand upraised, and an expres- 
 sion of confusion and surprise upon his countenance that evi- 
 denced itself in a thousand rapid changes. His color became 
 ghastly, and his still parted lips trembled like those of a man in a 
 strong ague fit. The lurid and continuous flashing of his eye 
 denoted the strong anger that was moving him, and must, I 
 thought, had she looked up and met its blazing light, have 
 withered her who had offended him. 
 
 Yet, in a few moments the storm was apparently lulled, and 
 when my grandmother recovered herself and raised her head again, 
 no trace of unusual emotion could be discerned on the plastic 
 features of her husband. 
 
 Nor was the subject of the diamonds again recurred to during 
 our visit; but I am inclined to think the wish to possess them had 
 only yielded to the determination to do so whenever this could be 
 put into effect with entire convenience. 
 
 On looking back, though unsuspicious then of such an inten- 
 tion on his part, I am convinced that he sounded me repeatedly 
 afterward on the subject of my concurrence in his desires and 
 plans. It would have been better for him, perhaps, had he 
 openly proposed them. The shock of open denunciation or 
 rebuff might have brought him to his senses, by baring the 
 depths of his inmost motives, which he managed so dexterously 
 to gloss over in his own eyes. Sophist as he was, he needed to 
 hear the voice of truth from others, that he might discern the 
 snares of his own spirit ; as harsh winds blow away the accumu- 
 lated leaves that hide the pitfalls of the forest. 
 
 From this time his interest in his chemical experiments
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVEKIE. 269 
 
 to decline, and the fires in the laboratory above my head were 
 extinguished. 
 
 I missed the quick firm step at morn and night, that had grown 
 familiar and even pleasant to my ear, and the stillness of the 
 npper chamber seemed almost that of death. 

 
 270 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVKKIE. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 SPRING came again, and the captive was released from the 
 prison within the prison, the winter chamber compared to which 
 the summer apartment, filled with the fresh breath of heaven, 
 seemed luxury indeed. Even the poor tortoise seemed to recog- 
 nize the greeting of nature, and dragged itself to bask daily 
 beneath the genial skylight with its wealth of noontide sun- 
 beams. 
 
 From the outer world, with other sunny influences, came fond 
 and pleasant letters to me from my only two correspondents. Sir 
 Eyerard Howe's portion of these epistles was written in a manly, 
 earnest, and entertaining style, wholly characteristic of the 
 writer. A reader would have confounded the lover with the 
 friend, had he been unacquainted with the true relations subsist- 
 ing among us, and given to the vivid, artistic and tender letters 
 of Jasper that position due to another. 
 
 Let me mention here that I had been forbidden to communi- 
 cate my engagement to Jasper for the present, and had without 
 a question obeyed the command. It is wonderful how soon the 
 outside habit of obedience paralyzes independence, and goes to 
 the very source of thought. I had ceased to arraign motives or 
 investigate causes ; they only puzzled me. I was content with 
 the irresponsibility my submission brought with it, and had in 
 more ways than one "lain down my neck to the yoke of Bou- 
 verie." 
 
 To these letters I wrote occasional replies, always submitted to
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 
 
 my grandmother's perusal before dispatched. Those to Jasper 
 Bouverie were directed and forwarded by Dr. Quintil, accom- 
 panied, as they usually were, by others, which formed a package. 
 Those to Everard Howe, fewer in number, more restrained in 
 character, were directed in sequence and by my own hand 
 to those ports of which he had given me a list before leaving 
 Bouverie. 
 
 Edith Howe, his sister, had I knew gone to the continent on a 
 tour with her uncle, Colonel de Courcy. Everard had described 
 her as a slender, beautiful girl of sixteen, with great sweetness, 
 and childlike vivacity of character, attributable in a great mea- 
 sure to her early mode of life. She was the youngest of six 
 children, all of whom, with the exception of her eldest brother 
 and herself, had died in infancy, and was the petted darling of her 
 parents, and the great consolation of her mother's widowed 
 existence. 
 
 The grave and stately man to whose care she passed after that 
 mother's death, had been, like most persons of this nature, per- 
 fectly ruled by and fascinated with her innocent, confiding gaiety, 
 and had gone in his indulgence to her whims and caprices, even 
 beyond the original spoiling she had received. A thoroughly 
 sweet nature however can never be entirely spoiled after all, 
 either by severity or overweening indulgence. The experiment so 
 fatal to the mean and the commonplace, is seldom more than a 
 passing inconvenience or trial of strength to the sunny and elastic 
 temperament of generosity and affection. 
 
 So Edith Howe was only a little odd and fanciful, her brother 
 said, but infinitely kind, forgiving, and tenderhearted, and docile 
 even, when the slightest semblance of authority was manifested. 
 Her inflexible governess, Miss Rhoda Montade (or some such
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 name, I forget exactly what), would have broken her birdlika 
 spirit into inanity, had not Colonel de Courcy resolutely main- 
 tained her right to be gay, impulsive, a little foolish even, if it 
 made her happy, so that she never transcended the true bounds 
 of propriety or respect for others. 
 
 It was from this childlike personage that I received a letter, 
 dated "Florence, February," that unveiled the truth to me as to 
 the fatal hold I had over Jasper's feelings, and snatched a veil 
 from my own never to be replaced. 
 
 I had before received her congratulations when she became 
 aware of my engagement to her brother, and was amused at the 
 view she took, naturally enough perhaps, of this contemplated 
 union. It was evident that she conceived all its advantages to be 
 on one side, and considered her the most fortunate of women, who 
 could enlist the affections of her idolized relative. 
 
 To reply to this letter had been the most difficult task of my 
 life. I felt a struggling indignation as I wrote, wholly at vari- 
 ance with the commonplaces I was forced to employ, and inconsis- 
 tent with the tender relations that I felt ought to exist between 
 us. Her letter had been affectionate, even if injudicious and 
 slightly indelicate ; mine, though cold, was a model of pro- 
 priety. 
 
 She felt that something had been wrong in hers, but evidently 
 could not conjecture what. 
 
 " I fear," she wrote, " my letter did not please you ; your reply 
 seemed to me constrained ; but perhaps I had painted you in my 
 imagination differently from the truth. I knew that you were 
 young, and I supposed all young people must be gay, careless, im- 
 pulsive, as I knew myself to be. I forgot that you had never 
 been thrown with persons of your own age, although Everard had
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 278 
 
 told me this, and that naturally from intercourse with older per- 
 fions, you must have acquired much of their gravity and dignity. 
 Tell me that it is this habit of your life that makes you write so 
 distantly to me, dear sister Lilian, for such I already wish to con- 
 sider and call you, and that you are not offended with me, or, 
 worse than all, indifferent to me. I wish you would reassure me 
 about this matter as quickly as you can. And now let me tell 
 you of a little adventure I have had recently, in which you are 
 somewhat interested. 
 
 "It has been our habit to go almost daily to a gallery in 
 Florence, where my uncle is having a picture copied. He is de- 
 voted to art ; but I grew very weary after a while looking at the 
 same paintings all the time ; and transferred my interest very soon 
 from the pictures to the artists employed in copying them. I 
 made the acquaintance of such a sweet woman a Miss Steinforth, 
 a Dutch lady, who speaks a little English, and a great deal better 
 French than I do. She is copying a Madonna, for her own 
 amusement, not to sell. But you will not care much to hear 
 about her ; she is a little passe"e, as the saying is quite thirty, 
 although looking much younger, as fair women often do ; and is 
 soon to marry one Signor Baldini, who has recently come to for- 
 tune, after having been long a master of drawing in Leyden, 
 where the attachment sprang up between them. Seated next to 
 her, I remarked the handsomest and most interesting young man 
 I ever saw, and, bending over his shoulder, one day quite unpef- 
 ceived by him, of course I saw the word ' Jasper ' traced on the 
 edge of the canvas he was painting on. I knew, dear Lilian, 
 that you had an ' Uncle Jasper,' an artist ; but I supposed him to 
 be a middle-aged gentleman, and never thought of his identity with 
 this quiet youth. In truth, his strange silence struck me at last 
 
 12*
 
 274 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOT7VEEIE. 
 
 even painfully, and I whispered one day to Miss Steinforth, ' .Does 
 the young man next to you never speak ? I have seen you pass 
 over your sketches to him, and he returns them without a com- 
 ment. Is he dumb, or only stupid and impolite ?' 
 
 " Then came an explanation that convinced me this was the 
 mute Uncle Jasper, of whom you had spoken to Everard, and he 
 in turn to me ; and so I insisted on an immediate introduction, 
 and we shook hands, which seemed to surprise him at first, until 
 I, in my impulsive way, told him why I was attracted by his 
 name, mentioning although, of course, he knew it before the 
 engagement between my brother and his niece as the cause. 
 
 " I supposed at the moment that he was mortified that he could 
 not speak to me, for I never saw a man turn so pale. The brush 
 fell from his fingers in his embarrassment, and Miss Steinforth re- 
 covered it for him without attracting his notice. Just then uncle 
 called me a little impatiently, I thought ; and I flew to him, wish- 
 ing to acquaint him with my discovery as soon as possible, so that 
 he too might form the acquaintance of your uncle Jasper, as well 
 as excuse my delay. 
 
 " Looking back, I saw that the young gentleman had leaned 
 his head on his arm, and it then occurred to me that he might be 
 ill, or that I might have said something to pain him, as I often do, 
 quite unintentionally, of course ; but I cannot recall anything of 
 the sort. Do ask him, dear Lilian ! He has never returned to 
 the gallery since that day, and Miss Steinforth says he has left 
 Florence for a time. She thinks he has unexpected business, as 
 his atelier remains unchanged, and that he will soon return. I do 
 hope this is the truth, and that he does not, as I have feared since, 
 disapprove of your marriage ; though what any one could see to 
 object to in my brother, I cannot conceive. He is, in my estima-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 275 
 
 tion, the most perfect of his sex, and, of course, in jours also, dear 
 Lilian ; so explain this, if you can." 
 
 The letter ran on for pages in this girlish strain ; but the sub- 
 stance to me was in the extract I have made. 
 
 I replied to it kindly and promptly, directing my letter to 
 Taunton Tower, as I was advised to do ; but I carried about with 
 me a sick and sore heart from this tune, and the chain I had forged 
 pressed heavily about me. 
 
 " I had written to Jasper of your engagement," my grandmother 
 said, on reading Edith's letter, " shortly before this was written. 
 I would the shock could have been made more gentle to him ; but 
 it is over now, and he will bear it like a man. This giving away 
 our dear ones," she added, with a sad smile, "is one of the most 
 bitter necessities of our earthly condition. In heaven all this will 
 be changed, dear Lilian." 
 
 I did not answer her ; I only pressed my hand to my breast, 
 and groaned an irrepressible groan and a strong hand seemed 
 to grasp my throat. 
 
 Oh, often, often, since that hour, has that iron hand returned 
 with its invisible pressure, irresistible as unseen. Often, in the 
 halls of gaiety or pride in church or concert, or lecture-room 
 in quiet chamber, in crowded thoroughfare often, through long, 
 solitary night, has that grasp of steel maintained its inexorable 
 hold, as though the angel with whom Jacob wrestled were present 
 to me, strong only in endurance, not resistance. 
 
 In proportion as my restless heart swayed me to dissatis- 
 faction and melancholy, did my intellect reach out for new 
 resources. More than ever did I feel the charm the necessity, 
 almost of my grandfather's society, in the desire to escape from 
 myself.
 
 276 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 I have elsewhere said that the very difference of our views and 
 tastes about many subjects, wholly similar as they were concerning 
 others, formed a source of interest and variety that never flagged 
 between us. 
 
 My mind had, I think, something of the " antique" in its very 
 construction ; or, perhaps, my early reading had impressed me 
 deeply and indelibly. I idolized the type the Greeks have left 
 us of the lofty, the pure, the ideal, whether in poetry or art. 
 There was something that thrilled me in all connected with this 
 people. I could almost believe that I had lived among them hi 
 some former state of existence, so vividly did their characteristics 
 stand forth to me from the background of time. 
 
 Not so my grandfather. He laughed at the quaint ignorance 
 of those " refined savages," as he called the ancient Greeks and 
 Romans. He disdained all usages founded on old customs. 
 
 " Go back to the Jews at once, if you want true men of nature's 
 molding bad, bold, unscrupulous ; grander, though, than any 
 that lived after them, if truth be told," he said. 
 
 " Give me Moses, David, Solomon, Joseph an exception 
 Jacob even, if you will have specimens of antiquity ; but spare me 
 your flofid orators, your wreath-crowned generals, your philoso- 
 phers in a nutshell, your gentlemen athletes, in the category of 
 true greatness. And, as for modern times, compare Epaminondas 
 to Washington, Alexander to Napoleon, Homer to Sir Walter 
 Scott, Socrates to Christ ; and where do you leave these ancients ? 
 Immeasurably behind 1" 
 
 " Christ, grandfather, was inspired if no more even you will 
 acknowledge this ; he is out of the question ; nor can we justly 
 call him modern ! Washington was chosen for his mission, there- 
 fore irresistible. Napoleon, too, was a scourge in the hand of
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 277 
 
 the Almighty, we cannot doubt ; yet as men, as gentlemen, 
 what comparison between him and Alexander." 
 
 " Alexander !" he scoffed ; " a braggart, a mere adventurer. 
 Straws show how the wind blows ; a man's character is revealed 
 most clearly often by trifles. Remember the trick about Buce- 
 phalus ; the effort to claim descent from Jupiter Ammon, even 
 at the sacrifice of his mother's fame ; the pretending to drink the 
 cup from the hand of Philip, his physician you know the anec- 
 dote I have never doubted he threw the contents behind his 
 couch. It was a shabby fraud." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, that was such a noble thing ! I could not 
 bear to discredit it. You might as well ask me to disbelieve Sir 
 Philip Sidney's surrender of the draught of water to the dying 
 soldier. It is beautiful it is comforting to believe these things !" 
 
 " Then the slaying of Clitus," he continued ; " the wanton 
 destruction of Tyre, just as though a bad boy were to break up a 
 hive of bees, for the mere fun of the thing, more than the love of 
 honey ; the absurd cruelties afterward (absurd because unneces- 
 sary) ; and to add another instance of his cunning, his collusion 
 with Jaddus, high priest of Jerusalem, when he pretended to have 
 had a vision confirmed by the conduct of this worthy individual, 
 who betrayed, by previous concert of course, his people and 
 stronghold of Jerusalem into the hands of the usurper I These 
 things and many more rise before me when I think of Alexander 
 the sot the sensualist !" He paused, then continued : 
 
 " How was it with Napoleon ? He quieted domestic anarchy, 
 at least ; he crushed foreign despotism, he embellished his country, 
 he repelled its foes, and but for that great mistake, the Russian 
 campaign " 
 
 " Great injustice, grandfather !" I interrupted.
 
 278 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEKIE. 
 
 "Call it what you will, child. All unsuccessful steps are 
 erroneous, of course ; but for that he might have been the 
 Emperor of Europe." 
 
 " Leave out England, grandfather." 
 
 " I do I do," he said, with sudden enthusiasm ; for he loved 
 his country to his heart's core. " Should the whole political 
 world be overwhelmed, England would be the Ararat, whose 
 steep would appear above the waters for the Ark of human 
 safety to anchor against. She is a volcano, child ; fierce fires 
 consume her, but no foreign enemy can work her injury ; and 
 after all, an occasional explosion will throw off the boiling lava, 
 and all go right again and the mountain stand through time." 
 
 " I, too, am English," I said ; " and feel the stirring of 
 ancient blood in my veins ; but, oh, grandfather ! this new land 
 of ours is so much dearer to me I" 
 
 " Little renegade," he said, smiling archly on me ; " Democrat, 
 Filibuster, fit descendant of the Norman pirate ; answer me, 
 Why do you love this land ?" 
 
 "For its magnificence, its strength, its freedom its wide 
 spread happiness its unequalled beauty !" 
 
 I stood beside him as I spoke, and looked into his face almost 
 tearfully ; for the theme moved me. 
 
 "You are mistaken as to one thing," he said. " In Europe, 
 where men accept their positions, they are happier than here. No 
 repining there no discontent, because " 
 
 " No hope of change," I interrupted. " Is it not so, grand- 
 father ?" 
 
 " Well, perhaps so ; but better thus : permanence is next to 
 happiness, you know ; my oracle, Mr. Carlyle, says so." 
 
 " It depends upon what that permanence is," I made
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBD5. 279 
 
 low. " It is the worst of some conditions ; it seems to me that 
 they are fixed." 
 
 " I know I know," he muttered, with agitation. 
 
 " I am speaking generally," I said, catching at the interpreta- 
 tion he evidently placed upon my words. " Not individually ; 
 but, oh, grandfather 1 what a glorious thing it is, that each man 
 should have his opportunity of distinction ! When we think of 
 the old half dead Brahmin government, what shocks us half so 
 much as that " Mark of Caste," to which all its decay can be 
 traced ? No change no progress, no development can come to 
 a nation so governed. I like rotation, grandfather. 
 
 This is but an instance of the manner in which he permitted 
 me to contend with him, however ineffectually, and maintain my 
 own opinions. I think I am constituted strangely. Those that I 
 love have little power to sway my estimate of things. I would 
 sacrifice my life for any of these ; but not my convictions. In- , 
 deed, I have never regarded belief of any kind as dependent on 
 the will, when pure and unprejudiced. It is involuntary a* 
 existence itself.
 
 280 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIB. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 As spring advanced, a change I could not account for, occurred 
 in that lowly member of the household of Bouverie, the reptile 
 " Evil Merodach." What Robinson Crusoe's parrot was to him, 
 was this poor wretch to me in that solitary existence of ours. It 
 is perhaps the worst, most morbid feature of such a life that 
 small matters assume too much importance, interest one too vitally. 
 Convents are agitated to the centre, it is said, by the breaking of 
 an altar utensil, or the construction of a new dish ; and bitter 
 animosities kindled by the least preference manifested by the 
 superior to one over another. So hi that monastic life of ours, 
 the smallest event was matter of discussion or consideration, and 
 the welfare of the meanest creature invested with unreasonable 
 importance. 
 
 I had formed a strong regard for that poor, uncouth tortoise, 
 connected as it was with my grandfather's misfortunes, and em- 
 balmed by a sort of romance which I could not dissever from the 
 Russian prison, the lyre, and the sacrificed master of whom no- 
 thing but the fragment of a name remained Evan Meredith. 
 
 The strange manifestation, too, on the part of the creature of 
 intelligence and attachment had deeply interested me. It seemed 
 at war with its natural torpor and apathy that it should come so 
 freely to the familiar sound of the lyre ; or even of its own name 
 when uttered in musical accents, pitched in imitation of the in 
 etrument with which its existence seemed bound up. 
 
 I had overcome my repugnance to its reptile hideousness and
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 281 
 
 wmld bear to see the misshapen head thrust almost into my hand 
 for crumbs of cake, which I rarely forgot to bring with me, and 
 the grotesque rejoicing before rain-time, accompanied as it was 
 by all sorts of mincing steps and affected airs, never ceased to 
 amuse me. I even fancied that Merodach had a peculiar joy in 
 my presence, evidenced by a more rapid step when I summoned 
 him than when Fabius or my grandfather called him, and a sort 
 of fawning motion of the head. All this ceased suddenly. The 
 creature became dull and dejected, took its food in larger quanti- 
 ties, and at longer intervals than before, avoided the sunlight 
 under the glass where it had loved so much to bask, and remained 
 most of the time sullenly ensconced in its tub, a safe retreat from 
 molestation of all sort. 
 
 " Your poor tortoise is sick, grandfather," I said one day, "or 
 perhaps dying of old age, for you have no means that I know, of 
 ascertaining its present term of life, and it may have been one 
 hundred and fifty years old when you first made its acquaintance." 
 
 " Evil is not a very old fellow I know, Lilian, from unmistak- 
 able signs ; he is sick, however mentally, if not physically ; his 
 soul, as you call it, has departed." 
 
 "Do you mean that a turtle can be demented, grandfather, or 
 become imbecile ? Elephants do, they say ; and I have seen a 
 cat so eccentric as to be probably deranged. But as to soul, 
 grandfather " 
 
 " Reason, then," he interrupted impatiently, "the guiding 
 principle of intelligence, whatever that may be one name is as 
 good as another. ' Evil ' has lost that, and is now no more than 
 animated dust. A most convincing proof to me of the truth 
 of materialism, and the transient and conditional nature of 
 mind."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTEBIE. 
 
 Just at that moment poor Merodach, as if to illustrate hia 
 master's remark, thrust forth his head, covered with a plastei. 
 
 " He has been wounded," I said, " and Fabius is trying to cure 
 him ; I suppose that is what ails him, grandfather." 
 
 " Fabius has renewed the dressing, which constantly comes off 
 in the tub, that is all. The wound was inflicted intentionally, 
 Lilian (though I confess with reluctance on my part), to carry 
 out a great principle of science, of metaphysics even. Give 
 me credit for considerable self-sacrifice in this matter, if yon 
 please. 
 
 " I had been studying Redii, an eminent naturalist, child, and 
 found that by removing the brain of a tortoise, he had convinced 
 himself of the identity of mind and matter. The question is so 
 curious, and this species the only one on which the experiment has 
 ever been successfully made, owing to some obtuseness of the 
 nervous system, I suppose, that enables it to survive the opera- 
 tion, that I was tempted to try it you have no idea how I have 
 been bored for want of an object lately, since my materials for 
 chemical experiments have all given out and the result is de- 
 termination of the exact limit between reason and instinct. Yon 
 see the animal still eats, seeks the water ; these things are instinc- 
 ^ive, but it no longer knows the voice of its keeper, or is alive to 
 sentiments of gratitude and affection ; these things appertain to 
 reason. Now, reason being extinguished through the medium of 
 the brain, its stronghold, the animal retains only the mechanical. 
 But what is the matter, Lilian I Good God ! crying, and for 
 what ?" 
 
 "Poor, poor creature, is this your end?" I could not help ex- 
 claiming in a voice broken with sobs. 
 
 " A very glorious end, Lilian, for a reptile to meet. A
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BO UV ERIE. 283 
 
 famous death shall be Merodach's. Think of it ! Science has 
 made a new convert through this insignificant creature. I am 
 convinced now of what I doubted before, the possibility of laying 
 down the exact limits of instinct, which seems so often merged 
 into reason as to deceive us sometimes in their identity. Ani- 
 mals have both, that is evident soul, as you call it in men, only 
 because greater, more universal " 
 
 " Do not let us argue now, grandfather, I am not equal to it. 
 It was a dreadful thing to do, to torture your poor little faithful 
 companion in adversity, the creature that knew you, that loved 
 you, that confided in you, that came at your call, that fed from 
 your hand, that comforted you in prison ! I hate this terrible 
 thing you call science, that makes life a mere plaything. Why, 
 this creature was bound to you by sacred ties 1 There have been 
 murders from passion and despair, less cruel in the eyes of God 
 than this deed. To take away its limited sense, to make an idiot 
 of it, to torture it, your little benefactor ! How could you do it, 
 grandfather ; how dared you to do such a thing ?" 
 
 He rose, he paced the room, his lips were white with rage, his 
 eye blazed like a phosphoric match kindled in darkness. Yet he 
 was silent. This was but for a moment. He suddenly com- 
 manded himself, and approached me with his brilliant sardonic 
 laugh, speaking through his set teeth, walking as if he would 
 walk over me. 
 
 " Do you bewail thus the fate of every chicken your grand 
 mother's cook wrings the neck of ? Do you reproach Dr. Quin- 
 til thus bitterly when he orders a lamb to be slaughtered for the 
 table ? Or do you reserve for me the stores of your sentimental 
 humanity, your puerile compassion !" 
 
 " This is i different case, grandfather," I eaid, rising in my
 
 284 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 turn, and wiping my eyes indignantly. " Yet, I feel that I 
 transcended my province (you do well to remind me of it) in 
 speaking to you thus. Forgive me, and let me go." 
 
 tie had taken my hand as I spoke. 
 
 " And when will you come again," he said, with a sudden 
 change of mood and manner ; and in that tremulous tone that 
 always moved me so vitally ; " when will you forgive me ?" 
 
 " Not not until Merodach is dead, grandfather," I answered, 
 repelling the tide of tenderness that surged through my bosom as 
 I spoke, and made me feel almost like falling at his feet. 
 
 " But my experiment is incomplete, Lilian. Redii says : 
 ' The tortoise will live six months after its brain has been re- 
 moved ;' and a week only has elapsed, since this operation was 
 performed. This is unreasonable." 
 
 " Farewell, then, grandfather my decision is taken," and I 
 turned to leave the room. 
 
 " You only want to gain your point, like all women, Lilian," 
 he said, swinging on his heel, and walking away. " This is sheer 
 tyranny. Go, if you will, and stay while you choose ; I hope I 
 shall be able to live for a time without yon." 
 
 " I only want to see the poor creature out of his pain, grand- 
 father ; that is all ! When Fabius brings me Merodach dead, I 
 will return never before then." 
 
 I paused at the door to speak these words. He advanced to- 
 ward me, looking steadily in my face, as if he sought to intimi- 
 date me. 
 
 '' Have I heard yon rightly ?" he inquired. " Never ; was 
 this the word you employed ?" 
 
 " Never, so help me God," I said, firmly lifting up my right 
 hand in token of the pledge. Then dropping it, I added : " For
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 285 
 
 your sake, grandfather, I make this resolve, as well as for my 
 own. Your victim must be released before we meet again, in 
 justice to all parties." 
 
 I passed away from his astonished gaze. As I closed the door 
 I heard him laughing and muttering derisively ; bnt that night 
 Pabius stood beside me, with the dead tortoise lying on his hand, 
 and placed a slip of paper on mine, on which was written in that 
 small clear character, I knew to be his own these words from 
 my grandfather. 
 
 " Come to-morrow, as usual ; the obstacle is removed. May 
 no other ever interpose between us. Life is death without my 
 
 chad." 
 
 Without an allusion to the subject of discord, we met again. 
 A week or two later the prepared shell of poor Merodach with 
 its weird, syllabic inscription was hanging on the wall by the un- 
 couth lyre which had governed him in life mute from that hour ! 
 
 My grandfather had said that small acts indicated a man's 
 character, and I believed with him. Carrying out this idea, 
 what did not the wanton destruction of the sole, constant com- 
 panion he had known for years suggest to me ? for he had told 
 me what a sense of companionship even his mute presence 
 afforded him during long sleepless nights ; and how pleasant was 
 the sound to his ear, of the creature stirring the water in his tub, 
 or dragging his slow feet across the floor in the absence of other 
 noises. 
 
 I could not bear to follow out the clue thus thrown down. I 
 could not bear to imagine the terrific past 1 I closed my eyes 
 upon it all, and again resigned myself to that delicious com- 
 panionship, in which my wounded feelhgs found their sweet 
 refuge. X*"
 
 286 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 Yet not without the frequent thought, " What will become of 
 him when I am gone ? Who will console him when my life is 
 removed from his ? How will he bear the knowledge that very 
 soon his eyes shall rest on my face no more ? G od pity my poor 
 grandfather I"
 
 BOOK FIFTH. 
 
 " Oh, touch it not, Philario, 
 Oh, touch it not, this yellow pestilence 
 Laid waste my Eden." 
 
 FAZIO (Jfilman). 
 
 " Mark me, Clotilda, 
 
 And mark me well, I am no desperate wretch, 
 Who borrows an excuse from shameful passion, 
 I am a wretched but a spotless wife." 
 
 MATVBIN (Bertram). 
 
 " Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, and not elsewhere ; 
 For where the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines its pathway,, 
 Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness." 
 
 EVANQELJNK (LonQfellov}

 
 BOOK FIFTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BISHOP CLA *E came as usual in the month of May, bringing with 
 him the small package of gold that was remitted semi-annually 
 from England through him to my grandmother, its ostensible re- 
 cipient. She showed me this before transmitting it to my grand- 
 father. 
 
 " How much this would purchase, Lilian !" she said, " and we 
 need many things that we must still do without." 
 
 " But this is legally yours, grandmother." 
 
 " Not morally, Lilian ; therefore I must not touch it ; and the 
 new piano, and the carpet for the dining-room, and twenty other 
 needful things, must remain matters of anticipation still. Tliis 
 gold, which might surround our lonely lot with comforts, goes to 
 feed that fierce furnace that roars so dismally over our heads, like 
 the fires of hell, Lilian 1" 
 
 I had seldom seen her so excited about temporal matters as on 
 this occasion. 
 
 " Take it to him," she said, lifting the package from the table, 
 and extending it to me ; " and, if you choose, ask him for what 
 you want. Natural affection may for once restrain his self-in- 
 dulgence." 
 
 " I will remonstrate with him," I said, " on the injustice of his 
 course. I will represent your patient care and economy " 
 
 "Do nothing of the sort," she interrupted, "if you value his 
 
 13 *
 
 290 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 affection, Ms esteem ; he would never forgive you perhaps drive 
 you from him ignontiniously." 
 
 "I have spoken to him very plainly on many subjects," I re 
 joined ; " and once or twice I have offended him, I know, but he 
 has always forgiven me freely, frankly." 
 
 " This is a different affair. He amuses himself with your inde- 
 pendence in discussion he has told me so ; but a matter of such 
 delicacy you must not venture to approach." 
 
 Thus warned, I sought his presence, and, after delivering the 
 package of gold, which he received with the glee of a child made 
 happy by a roll of candies, I ventured to prefer my request, intro- 
 ducing the subject nearest my heart in a very artistic manner, as I 
 thought. 
 
 " Grandfather, you have never heard me play," I said. 
 
 " No, child ; how should I, with my sedentary habits ? The 
 mountain will not come to Mahomet, and Mahomet cannot go to 
 the mountain, you know ; but your singing pleases me. It 
 reaches me from below, sometimes." 
 
 "Ah, I did not know that my voice was so piercing. True, I 
 do sing very often without the piano, of late, in my grandmother's 
 room, whence the sound reaches you readily. Our old instrument 
 is ao unmusical 1 It shrieks out, when I strike it, as if it was hurt, 
 and I can but pity the tortured keys. I expect to see the spirit 
 of Clementi its maker, you remember rise to avenge its wrongs. 
 some day. I am quite superstitious about abusing the poor old 
 spinnet any longer." 
 
 " Harpsichord, child give it the true name. It was a very 
 grand one in its day. Well, well, I suppose you want a new one. 
 I am sorry that I cannot gratify you just now. I need what 
 means I have for important purposes, sustained, as I am, you
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 291 
 
 know, almost entirely by that costly remedy, ' the elixir of gold. 1 
 I shall have to make a new supply, before very long, for see, 
 Lilian," he said, lifting the vial before my eyes from its case on 
 the marble slab beside him, " it is more than half gone, and it will 
 take all this gold to make a new supply. Yet, to show you that 
 I am no miser, as my refusal to comply with your request might 
 make you think, I will share with you the inestimable privilege I 
 have extended to no one else, and you shall drink with me here- 
 after, when you will, the draught of life." 
 
 We were sitting in the large circular hall, lit by the great sky- 
 light the sides of which opened within, like those of the cabin of 
 a ship, making no change in the aspect of the roof without and 
 through the dropped sashes, the soft May wind crept wooingly, 
 stirring the long, sable-silvered locks of the prisoner ; while the 
 glory of the vernal sun gilded his pale, refined features. I shall 
 never forget his appearance as he stood before me that morning, 
 holding the flask of amber light in one hand, and the slender 
 Venetian glass he used for this draught daintily above in the 
 other, dressed in his close-fitting black velvet robe, like some weird 
 Italian doctor, offering, perhaps, an antidote for poison, or essaying 
 new combinations of deadly properties for one of the " Medici." 
 
 I waved the glass aside. 
 
 " No, grandfather," I said, laughing, and looking into his face, 
 "keep your precious elixir for those who need it. I have life 
 enough in my veins without any assistance from science." 
 
 His brow suddenly darkened, and his eyes sparkled. His white 
 teeth gleamed. 
 
 " You are afraid of me, girl," he said, " like all the rest ; you 
 doubt, you discredit what you cannot comprehend. Be it so !" 
 
 He was turning away, when my hand arrested him. His words
 
 292 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 had struck one of the subtilest springs of my being. I was not to 
 be defied. 
 
 " I am not afraid of you," I replied, " and you shall see that I 
 am not. Give me the glass now pour." 
 
 " If I knew it were poison itself I would drink it now," I 
 thought, "rather than he should judge me thus." 
 
 " Afraid of you, grandfather ? Oh, no I that could never be 1" 
 I added, aloud ; and I received the glass into which the flashing 
 fluid had been carefully dropped, with a smile of confidence. 
 
 As I did so, Fabius gave, for the first time since I had known 
 him, symptoms of being something more than a mere automaton 
 signs even of alarming vitality. He stepped forward from his 
 obscure corner, his usually imperturbable face was agitated ; and, 
 standing behind his master, he waved his hands wildly up and 
 down, in a menacing and deprecating manner. 
 
 I looked at him with something of derision, his agitation seemed 
 so unnecessary and pitiable, unwonted as it was. I grasped the 
 slender glass, inhaled for a moment the rich, almond-like perfume 
 of its contents, raised it to my lips, and drank them off, with a 
 steady eye fixed on my grandfather's face. 
 
 I was acting out, certainly, that discredited anecdote of Alex- 
 ander and his physician. 
 
 The draught coursed through my veins like liquid fire. I 
 dropped the glass it shivered in fragments at my feet. At the 
 same tune my grandfather's face faded from my sight, and I heard 
 his voice speaking as at a great distance. 
 
 " Child," it said, " did you ever drink gold before ? The es- 
 sence of five sovereigns was in that glass ! Speak ! How dees 
 it sit with you ? Ha ! can it be the dose was overstrong ? Lilian, 
 you are ill fainting. Help, Fabius, she is dying !"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 293 
 
 I heard no more. I seemed in a vast room of purest crystal, 
 domed and pillared with glass, and in the centre of which was a 
 great vessel of the same transparent material, containing a golden, 
 never resting serpent, with a crimson crest, and diamond eyes. 
 Flowers and fruit of the most delicious odors and tempting hues, 
 grew freely in this crystal hall ; and beautiful girls, waving long 
 wreaths of flowers, glided in and out between the plants hi a sort 
 of slow mystic measure. 
 
 The whole scene was flooded with intense sunlight, as was my 
 being with perfect and ineffable delight and dreamy enjoyment. 
 Presently low strains of music seemed to fill the air ; the har- 
 mony increased in volume, swelled, loudened, burst into a crash 
 of stupendous melody, and the scene dissolved as a dream melts 
 away into the harsh reality of daylight. My senses were re- 
 stored, yet still I lay bound hand and foot, in a pleasing 
 lethargy. 
 
 " Her pulse returns, she is saved 1" I heard Dr. Quintil say. 
 " Do not disturb her, madam ; be perfectly composed. I will re- 
 turn promptly with further remedies." 
 
 My grandmother obeyed him, checking her intention evidently 
 of advancing to me, and returning to her chair ; and a conversa- 
 tion, perhaps interrupted by his presence, was, after he left the 
 room, resumed between the speakers. 
 
 " It shall not be repeated," I heard my grandfather say, 
 in his clear and tremulous tones. " Do not deprive me, madam, 
 of my greatest consolation. I promise you it shall never be 
 repeated." 
 
 He spoke as a penitential child might plead. Her reply was 
 sad and stern. 
 
 " If I could be sure of this, Erastus if I could be sure ; but
 
 294 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 that fearful inclination to gamble with life is so strong with you. 
 How do I know at what moment my child's life might be 
 the sacrifice of one of your experiments ? Remember poor 
 Jasper." 
 
 " This is a different case," he rejoined sharply. " It appertains 
 to my own blood. This is my daughter's child, her representa- 
 tive, more sacred to me than my own life, or yours even. What 
 was Jasper to me beyond the worm that crawls ? What could 
 he ever have been ? What blood of mine flowed through his 
 shallow veins ?" 
 
 How his words thrilled me, lying there bound, as with invisible 
 cords, helpless, yet sensible to all that passed. 
 
 " It will not do, Camilla," he continued, " even under circum- 
 stances like these, to refer to him. This child is mine. She has 
 proved her courage and her confidence in me, as no other being 
 has ever done, and I would perish a thousand times before I 
 would harm one hair of her noble and devoted head. I did not 
 dream that the potion she swallowed could have effects like these. 
 It acts so differently on my system." 
 
 " Erastus, it is destroying you, as surely as alcohol ever killed 
 the habitual dram-drinker, or opium its miserable victim. What 
 properties it possesses jn common with these I know not, but I 
 feel that death is in the draught. Think, too, of its wild extrava- 
 gance ! A thousand guineas a year consumed to make this drug 
 of destruction ! What would not this money effect ? Laid 
 aside, it would afford our grand-daughter a marriage portion, or, 
 put into active use, convert these worn lands into fertile grain- 
 fields, drain yon village, so often decimated by epidemic, and give 
 health and occupation to its inhabitants. Given in alms even, 
 what might it not effect ? Think of results like these ! Erastus,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 295 
 
 I must speak to you, painful as it is to both, and silent as I have 
 been too long. I must remind you of your accountability to God 
 and man, and your fearful profligacy in thus destroying your sub- 
 stance, and that of your family." 
 
 " You depart, madam," he answered coldly, " from your long 
 established generosity of conduct, in reproaching thus the captive 
 in your hands. My life is in your power. I have placed it there. 
 You can, any day, by a sign, a word, get rid of the spendthrift, 
 and enjoy his fortune. Nay, without this painful alternative, for 
 such I flatter myself it would be, even to you, it can be com- 
 manded to flow into other channels, and the world will be none 
 the wiser. The bequest was made long since that rendered it 
 legally yours ; and as for me, is not my name written on a tomb- 
 stone?" 
 
 He spoke with an earnest pathos now. 
 
 " She moves," she said, " she revives ; she will overhear you. 
 One word more, Erastus. My, our child must not be tampered 
 with again. She comes to you no more, save with the protection 
 of my presence." 
 
 " Madam, forbear !" he murmured between his set teeth. 
 " Tampered with the words are severe." 
 
 " They are the words for the occasion," she retorted sternly ; 
 " and my decision is taken. Move it who may !" 
 
 " Camilla, for God's sake, be merciful !" 
 
 He laid his hand on her arm imploringly. She shook it off, as 
 though a reptile had touched her, with an expression of ghastly 
 loathing. I saw all this as I lay, helpless, yet perfectly composed, 
 on a sofa. And now, meeting my eye, she came to me, and bend- 
 ing over me tenderly, kissed my cheek, my brow, bathing my face 
 literally with her tears, murmuring low words of caressing affection
 
 296 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BCUVEKEB. 
 
 Dr. Quintil returned a moment later with remedies he had been 
 delayed in finding, and which soon enabled me to rise and seek 
 my apartment, with the aid of his arm, yielding, as they did, a 
 temporary relief. 
 
 My grandfather had thrown himself into a deep chair, and sat 
 with his face averted. I was too weak to speak to him ; but as 
 Fabius opened the door for us to pass out to the stairs, I whis- 
 pered to him, " Say that I will return to-morrow." 
 
 He shook his head significantly at these words, with an omi- 
 nous gravity, I thought ; but this made little impression on me at 
 the tune. 
 
 " I have a right to visit my grandfather, when and where I 
 please," I thought, " an inalienable right which my grandmother 
 will be the first to recognize, when her anger is over. She knows 
 he never meant to harm me, and it was my own fault if I would 
 encounter a new sensation. But Jasper ! What meant this allu- 
 sion to Jasper ? Alas, was it through him those poor lips were 
 sealed in muteness ? No, no, I will not believe this thing. What 
 more ? No child of his ? Of whom, then ? Hers, surely I 
 Oh 1 terrible, terrible uncertainty ; down, down, suspicion !" 
 
 Lying on my couch, in the weakness consequent on this wild 
 experiment, I tortured myself with questionings like these. Ex- 
 cessive languor and debility were with me the successors of my 
 draught of life, and I lay extended, almost helplessly, on a sofa in 
 my grandmother's chamber, for nearly a week after I left the 
 sealed apartments. 
 
 While still unable to join the family at the table, Fabius 
 brought me on one occasion, owing to some indisposition on 
 Bianca's part, the strawberries, which were the only food I 
 craved, from the dessert, and took the opportunity to restore me
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTEBEE. 297 
 
 the duplicate key of the secret door, which he had found, he said, 
 on the floor of the rotunda, after we came downstairs. I had 
 not missed my key before, and somewhat conscience-stricken by 
 my own carelessness, received it silently. The old man lingered, as 
 if expecting some remark. 
 
 " I shall soon be able to return to the sealed apartments. I 
 am so glad to have this," I said. " Tell my grandfather I am 
 only a little weak ; and give him my love, Fabius." 
 
 " He sends you his, Miss Lilian, and hopes you will never for- 
 get him." 
 
 " Forget him I Oh, tell him not to dream of such a thing ; 
 but never mind. I will tell him this and much more to-mor- 
 row in person," I said, rising on the couch. " See, I am almost 
 restored. Tell him this, Fabius, it will comfort him. Say that 
 you saw me sitting up." 
 
 The old man shook his head. 
 
 " You will not come back again, Miss Lilian ; they will not 
 permit you. My master thinks so at any rate, and he is very low 
 indeed about it." 
 
 " But I will return, I tell you. No one has a right to prevent 
 me this. No one can." 
 
 Again he shook his head, and laying his finger on his lip,. 
 looked at me significantly, lifted his eyes mournfully to heaven, 
 and left me bearing off the scarce tasted strawberries hi a con- 
 dition of mingled excitement and bewilderment. I cast myself 
 back on the couch quite overcome. 
 
 " This is too bad," I thought. " I will speak seriously to my 
 grandmother on this subject ; but no. It is but a figment of the 
 old man's scheming brain. What a conspirator was lost in 
 him I" 
 
 18*
 
 298 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTEKIE. 
 
 As I lay listlessly turning the key in my fingers, and revolving 
 the words of Fabius at the same time, I perceived between me 
 and the light, that the wards were full of white matter, which I 
 found on examination to be wax. I thought little of this at the 
 tune, engaged as I was with other considerations ; but this 
 trifling circumstance furnished later a clue to an occurrence which 
 might otherwise have seemed mysterious and even inexplicable. 
 
 I had just removed the encumbering substance, and was about 
 to place the key in my pocket, when my grandmother entered. 
 Her quick glance rested on it at once, and she extended her hand 
 for it. 
 
 "It is just what I want, Lilian, that duplicate key. You 
 have no further use for it, and I will take it into custody 
 again." 
 
 " Grandmother," I said, as I gave it into her hands, " I think 
 you might have left this matter as it stood. I see no reason why 
 free access to my grandfather's apartments should be denied me 
 now more than before. It was my own will to drink the elixir. 
 This shall not be repeated." 
 
 " He has abused sacred confidence in tampering with your 
 safety as he has done. This cannot be reposed in him again, 
 without throwing a weight of responsibility on me that I am un- 
 willing to incur. Yet I by no means object to your visits to his 
 chambers, when made in my society or that of Dr. Quintil." 
 
 " Grandmother, I would so much rather go to him alone. I 
 have heard you say myself, that no conversation was ever spon- 
 taneous between more than two. These visits are so delightful to 
 me, to him ; and as for the elixir, I promise you to taste nothing 
 from his hands, if that will satisfy you. Restore me my key, and 
 take off your interdict !"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 299 
 
 Her brow darkened. 
 
 " My decision is taken," she replied. " Lilian, say no more. 
 You can never see him again without the presence of wit- 
 nesses." 
 
 " Fabius is always there," I persisted. "I have never been 
 alone with him more than a few minutes at a time, since I first 
 went to him ; and by sign and gesture the old man tried to dis- 
 suade me from tasting the medicine. It was but an error of 
 judgment on my grandfather's part, but a piece of defiance on 
 mine, to say the most of it. Oh ! grandmother, revoke your de- 
 cision. Have pity on his loneliness." 
 
 " Pity I" she said, while a stern, sad smile passed over her 
 noble features, leaving them again cold and inflexible. " You 
 have spoken well ! Pity has always been a master passion with 
 me, a master weakness even. What other bond do you suppose 
 can now exist between me and the man you plead for ? You are 
 infatuated, Lilian !" 
 
 " I had given you credit for deeper feelings," I said, coldly, in 
 my turn. "When I saw you ministering to his pleasure in every way, 
 even to change of dress, adorning yourself as you do for his eye 
 only, 1 supposed there might still be some holy regard lingering 
 around the wreck of years. But I see it now. All this is alms, 
 grandmother ; and this is why my presence is so dear to him, so 
 invaluable why it must not be denied to him." 
 
 " Alms 1" she repeated. "That is a strange conceit of yours ; 
 yet perhaps you are right. Compassionate attention is but alms after 
 all. This feeling leads me to surround his limited life with what 
 enjoyment I can afford him. It is a whim with him to like to see 
 me wear the dresses he once admired. It costs me little pains to 
 put them on to please him. I do this as a matter of principle.
 
 800 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 
 
 The changes of fashion are nothing to a prisoner, fastidious 
 though he be, therefore they need no renewing. But there is 
 one dress he shall never see me wear, dearer than all beside," she 
 murmured. 
 
 "No more of this," she added impatiently. The matter 
 is concluded. Let it rest ! Dark thoughts come in troops 
 to me to-day. Would that I could drive them aside thus, at 
 once and forever. But no, this cannot be. Father, thy will be 
 done 1" 
 
 As she spoke these words, murmuring the last, she threw out 
 her arms with a sudden effort, as if repelling the assaults of mate- 
 rial rather than mental foes ; then clasping her hands, she raised 
 them first to heaven, and afterward bowed her head upon them, 
 so clasped, as if wrapped in internal supplication, remaining mute 
 some moments and standing perfectly immovable. 
 
 I can give no idea by a mere description, of the grandeur and 
 significance of this gesture, nor of the impression it made on 
 me of mingled dignity and submission. It stirred me powerfully. 
 
 " Grandmother," I said, bursting through the reserve habitual 
 to our intercourse, in the strong impulse of the moment, " tell me. 
 I conjure you, whence come these dark thoughts that you drive 
 aside like fiends, yet bow before like gods ? What is this sorrow 
 that devours you, and corrodes the existence of all who surround 
 you? Tell me I have a right to know. I am young, I am 
 strong, I am of your blood. Let me share your burden." 
 
 " Peace, Lilian, peace 1" she said, laying her hands tenderly on 
 my head, now bowed before her. " Be dutiful, be obedient, be 
 patient. Rest in the enjoyment of such ignorance as remains to 
 you, and respect the sanctity of my grief. Were I to lift the 
 curtain that hides the past, you would wish it dropped again."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 301 
 
 " It may be ; and yet I am of a nature to prefer certainty to 
 doubt, under most circumstances ; but there are some sick mis- 
 givings now at work in my veins," I said, gloomily, " that would 
 make any explanation merciful." 
 
 " Has he dared to malign me ?" She spoke with quivering lip, 
 and flashing eyes. " Speak ! tell me the truth I" 
 
 " No, no 1 indeed he has not," I hastened to reply. " He has 
 never spoken one word to injure or detract from you, grandmother. 
 In his very schemes of fortune, he makes you his first object. He 
 idolizes you I am sure of that. It is you who fatally misunder- 
 stand " 
 
 " Fatally understand him, you mean," she interrupted, with an 
 almost mocking calmness, "Pass over that assurance, if you 
 please ; and, as to his schemes of fortune, I give you my word, 
 that could these dreams be realized, I would have no part in 
 them. His sorrow, his wretchedness, his degradation, I partake, 
 partly from the nature of circumstances, partly from a spirit of 
 self-sacrifice, that is the best part of my defective character, I be- 
 lieve imbecility, he would call it, probably ; but his prosperity, 
 his enjoyment, I reject utterly. I have eaten with him the bitter 
 bread of life its cates would choke me ! But, to the point. 
 What occasions those misgivings to which you refer, and which 
 seem of recent date ? Explain, explain 1" 
 
 She spoke with an impatient bitterness unusual with her. I 
 hesitated a moment ; then, nerving myself, answered her in low, 
 tremulous tones, at first, that deepened as emotion governed me. 
 
 " Words, grandmother, that were dropped when you thought 
 me unconscious ; words from the lips of both my parents if such 
 indeed you are significant, terrible words I" 
 
 " Child, you are dreaming I What doubts, what fancies, po*
 
 802 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 sess you now ? I can recall nothing of the kind ; this must have 
 been a delusion created by the drug." 
 
 "No, I heard them distinctly. Jasper was spoken of my 
 Uncle Jasper, as I have been tanght to call him ; and his father 
 or he I had thought his father disclaimed him with scorn. ' Xo 
 blood of mine flows in his shallow veins !' were the very words he 
 uttered, and you did not repel the calumny, grandmother, if such 
 it was. What does this mean ?" 
 
 "Jasper is not your grandfather's son, Lilian," she said, col- 
 lecting herself with a strong effort, for she was evidently much 
 affected. "His father was perfection ; how tliink you such a flower 
 could grow from the upas-tree that shadows us ?" 
 
 I started, and, covering my face with my hands, burst into tears. 
 
 " Shame, through you, grandmother ! I had not looked for 
 this 1" I murmured. 
 
 "Xor is he mint!" she continued, taking down my hands, and 
 gazing into my face with her large earnest eyes. " It is time that 
 you should know this, now that it can no longer influence you. 
 Nor is he mine, Lilian, save by adoption. His mother was an 
 angel, I have been told. He sprang from perfect natures on both 
 sides, very different from those you came from, my poor Lilian 1 
 It is easy for him to be faultless, but you " 
 
 "Oh, grandmother," I interrupted, "you have made me so 
 happy !" My arms were around her neck, my face covered with 
 confusion, hidden on her shoulder. " Forgive me," I faltered, 
 "that I dared to doubt you." 
 
 She was silent for a time, and I felt her breast heaving against 
 mine with a storm of mute emotion, which soon subsided, for in a 
 few moments she said to me, in her usual clear and cheerful 
 voice:
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIB, 303 
 
 " Look up, my love look up, and take a lesson from my face, 
 never to be forgotten. Learn better from this hour to read that 
 only certain index to the human heart, the human countenance. 
 Whenever you see eyes directed toward you, clear, steady, proud, 
 honest, true, as all that run may read mine to be, believe that no 
 guilt harbors within, and that however errors of judgment or 
 passion may have disturbed the soul that looks out from such 
 windows, those of craft, perfidy, or shame have never been in- 
 cluded. Believe this, Lilian, whatever others may tell you ; and 
 now make haste, and get your strength, for we are wanted 
 upstairs, and we must go together." 
 
 Then with that strange versatility of manner which might have 
 been derived from the necessities of her position, or was, perhaps, 
 a natural and providential gift in her case, she turned to me with 
 a smile, and the careless observation : 
 
 " I hope, my love, you enjoyed your strawberries. They were 
 the finest I have seen this year."
 
 804 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HAPPY I yes. I had told iny grandmother that her revelation 
 had made me happy, and at first I believed this assertion ; but 
 later I felt that this new and perfect recognition of Jasper's atti- 
 tude toward me was cause of endless sorrow. The feelings so 
 long restrained by a sense of propriety and right, now rushed 
 back to their old place, like dammed waters freed from obstruc- 
 tion, after being forced into a false channel ; and, day by day, my 
 heart shrank more and more from the task that lay before it. 
 
 My grandmother did not suspect this. An engagement so posi- 
 tive as mine was now known to be, seemed little short of marriage 
 itself with her. She was one of those favored mortals who can 
 govern and direct their feelings, and even thoughts. My nature 
 was more impulsive, less under the dominion of reason and of duty 
 than her own infinitely less perfect. Yet the whole falseness and 
 pain of my position were not forced upon me until Jasper returned. 
 
 Owing to circumstances, my summer plans, made so confidently 
 when travelling the year before with Everard Howe, had been 
 wholly changed. It was determined that I should remain quietly 
 at home, engaged, during the months I had set apart for a tour 
 among the lakes, hi those preparations all women love to make 
 when about to confer hand and heart together so inexpressibly 
 painful to me 1 In September, Jasper was to return. In Octo- 
 ber, I was to be married. Such were our present plans. 
 
 It was observed by the whole household of Boaverie, that I 
 grew pale and listless as spring deepened into summer ; and, with
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 305 
 
 the determined blindness of those who will not see, they attributed 
 this to natural anxiety on my part at the approach of so import- 
 ant an event in my life, and concern at the inevitable separation 
 that lay before me from all I had loved so long. 
 
 My grandmother busied herself, with Bianca's assistance, in 
 making up rolls of fine linen and muslin for my benefit. Piles of 
 beautiful old laces and embroidery were brought from their hiding- 
 places of years, to embellish these ; patterns from distant cities, 
 purchased or solicited through the proper mediums ; and an 
 arrangement made, conditionally, with a distant milliner of un- 
 doubted taste, to supply the whole bridal trousseau in autumn, at 
 Dr. QuintiPs expense. 
 
 People that have few wants can afford to be so generous. The 
 man that smoked a pipe for economy, did not hesitate to send 
 carte blanche to this accomplished modiste, when my pleasure and 
 his pride were concerned. "We cannot aim at jewels," he said ; 
 " you will find enough of those in England, I suppose, among 
 family trophies ; but, if a year's income will give you a suitable 
 outfit, you shall have it, Lilian, and a thousand dollars beside, that 
 I have put aside in gold from time to time a sort of caprice of 
 mine, that I am glad of now, since it will fill your purse for pin- 
 money to begin with." 
 
 How could I bear to damp their evident pleasure by any show 
 of discontent ? I tried to subdue all symptoms of this kind. I 
 forced myself to manifest interest, when my heart lay like a stone 
 in my bosom. I was like a poor actress I once saw smiling on 
 the stage, when her baby lay dying at home. We were stopping 
 at the same hotel in adjoining rooms, and came back almost at 
 the same moment to our chambers. 1 remember the peculiar 
 elation of spirits her acting caused. She was a comedian.
 
 306 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 Oh, the sobbing anguish of that night to her ! Oh, the wild 
 shriek at daylight that told me all was over 1 
 
 It was a merciful relief to me to be alone, and so I missed free 
 access to my grandfather's society less than I would have done a 
 few months before. My fate was narrowing around me. There 
 was no outlet for escape it seemed to me, no comfort in complaint, 
 no recourse from the inevitable. I postponed the communication 
 that my grandmother left it for me to make to our beloved 
 prisoner, and which I had been desirous of doing long ago, it may 
 be remembered, on many pretences. 
 
 It would do as well to broach the subject in August, I averred, 
 as we had put it off so long ; he was not strong; the heat began 
 to oppress his delicate frame with unwonted languor, or some 
 other cause less manifest, was doing its work with him. In truth, 
 although he never once alluded to the ban which had been placed 
 on our intercourse, nor relaxed in the cordial courtesy of his man- 
 ner to those who had established this interdict, I thought I could 
 see a slow, physical change passing across him, as over a plant that 
 droops for the want of some proper element of soil to which it 
 has been accustomed. 
 
 " It is providential perhaps," I thought, "that he is prepared 
 in this way for our final separation. It will fall less crushingly 
 upon him, after passing the ordeal of gradual estrangement. I will 
 postpone the final pain, however, as long as possible." Nor could 
 my grandmother shake my resolution on this point. 
 
 I never heard the fires roaring above my head during that sum- 
 mer, and ascertained that his few experiments, all tending to one 
 great purpose, were chiefly performed now in that chemical 
 range I had noticed on the night of my first visit to his apart- 
 ments, lately rendered more complete by additions.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 307 
 
 To these occupations he never alluded now. 
 
 Literature was oftenest his theme, and his eloquent voice waa 
 lifted in praise of his favorite authors, or in scathing criticism 
 levelled against those he scorned or disliked, and these were 
 legion ! He had the art of detecting and hitting all vulnerable 
 points. His Paris arrow was always on the string, and he would 
 strip away the lion's skin or the peacock's plumes from the dis- 
 guised ass or jackdaw, with ferocious delight that withered what 
 it revealed. 
 
 It pained me sometimes to have fond delusions of mine dis- 
 pelled in this sudden way ; but wherever my taste or inclination 
 were deeply rooted, he tried, in vain, to remove them- and thus 
 I learned to separate the real from the false in my own intel- 
 lect. 
 
 His prejudice against American literature was intense, oftenest 
 unjust, for many of our great writers were in thwr zenith then, 
 and it did me good occasionally to break a lance for them. My 
 grandmother seemed much amused at these rencontres. It was 
 only during these playful skirmishes that she relaxed in the 
 severity and gravity of her manner toward him, and seemed to 
 forget the past. And he basked in her transient obliviousness of 
 sorrow, as our poor Merodach had done in the sunshine of the 
 skylight. 
 
 His summer sitting-room was the pleasant circular hall, of 
 which I have so often spoken, every avenue of approach to which 
 was so strictly guarded from below, as to give him that sense of 
 security necessary to all enjoyment. It was here that we usually 
 found him sitting immediately below the skylight, left open for 
 the admission of light and air, and glaring down upon him like a 
 great, ever watchful eye.
 
 808 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 It was here that he read, ate, talked, walked, lived almost , 
 drinking in the hottest rays of sunshine, or revelling in the milder 
 light of moon and stars with equal pleasure. I recollect his 
 almost childish delight one night when " Orion " and " Aldebaran" 
 appeared immediately above his limited circle of observation. 
 His frame trembled with its intense excitement. 
 
 " No wonder the Chaldeans worshipped them," he said ; "they 
 are divine ;" then breaking into involuntary prayer, he cried, " If 
 ever I live again, God, let it be in one of these 1" 
 
 The veriest hind could go forth each night and gaze on hea- 
 ven's magnificence unrestrained ; he with his kingly intellect 
 rejoiced in glimpses of that glorious firmament alone, whose 
 expanse was shut away from him forever. The meanest slave 
 could rove through wood and field when his task was done ; he 
 who had commanded men so long must hide from them now in 
 this narrow sphere of stagnant routine ; his " great, round world," 
 as he called it, in that strange spirit of mocking gaiety that 
 affected me more than any mood of complaint or repining on his 
 part could have done. 
 
 Whatever the errors may have been that consigned him to its 
 limits, he bore with unfaltering courage and cheerfulness then: 
 penalty. Complaint was a stranger to his lips, and he made the 
 best of his position, rendered infinitely more pathetic in my eyes 
 by such determined patience. The greater part of his life was 
 spent hi solitude, necessarily ; and there must have been times, I 
 think, of fierce and almost overwhelming agony to a nature proud 
 and implacable as his own, when he reviewed the past, the van- 
 ished " might have been," and then surveyed the present. Putting 
 aside remorse, of which some persons believed him incapable, the 
 sacrifice of worldly prospects, of freedom, social intercourse, and
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTEKIE. 309 
 
 family affection, and the dark heritage of shame and Borrow he 
 must leave to his posterity, were enough to crush, to almost 
 madden him. Even had these been supportable, the stagnation, 
 the wearing monotony of his existence, to which his burning imagi- 
 nation only added self-torment, must have been infinitely depress- 
 big and crushing, physically as well as mentally. The very 
 luxury of his life was only calculated to enervate and destroy 
 him ; and his hopelessness of any change for the better, was per- 
 haps the worst feature of all. For temporally or eternally the 
 nature of his suffering seemed fixed and unchangeable. These 
 considerations added strength and tenderness to my affection, my 
 idolatry almost for him ; and had he stood forth hi the world, 
 the centre of society, the most admired of men, I never could 
 have reverenced or loved him so profoundly, as from the deep, 
 yearning pity that filled my bosom. 
 
 In feelings like these I often lost sight for a season of my own 
 position, and the poignancy of my peculiar sensations would grow 
 dull and vague, as the bitter sting of his condition glanced to my 
 heart. " Must this always continue ?" I thought ; " is there no 
 leniency in law, no end to punishment. There are terms even in 
 penitentiaries, which, once served out, entitle the prisoner to free- 
 dom. Was our prisoner in for life ? Alas 1 alas !" 
 
 With the end of June came Jasper 1 He stood before me sud- 
 deoly, unexpectedly, one evening, as we sat together on the lawn, 
 before my grandmother's great bow-window. He had dismissed 
 the conveyance that brought him from Crofton at the stone gate, 
 and walked quietly up to the mansion unobserved. 
 
 I pass over the rapture of that meeting. Almost all persons 
 have known, once at least in life, such sensations as moved va 
 then ; and to those who have never experienced such, no words of
 
 310 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 mine could convey them. For these unfortunates, let us persuade 
 oui'selves, heaven preserves some such joyful recognition of kindred 
 spirits, as a compensation for a life of vacancy and monotony 
 here below. 
 
 Little was said at first. Tears, smiles, embraces, spoke the 
 fittest language for the occasion, but we surveyed him from head 
 to foot, again and again, as he stood before us, strengthened, im- 
 proved ; walking now without the aid of cane or crutch, and, as 
 ever, nobly beautiful. 
 
 Dr. Quintil's first remark was characteristic of the philosophy 
 of his life. He had been, I think, more affected by Jasper's sud- 
 den appearance than any of us. He was so silent, so agitated, for 
 a tune, that it distressed me to look at him ; at last, struggle as 
 he would, tears came to his relief, and flowed freely down his face. 
 
 Wiping these away suddenly, and even impatiently, with his 
 banner-like handkerchief did you ever observe, dear reader, that 
 almost all great-hearted men carry these flags in their pockets, 
 whether of silk or linen, ready to be unfurled on all occasions ? 
 he inquired, in a lachrymose and broken voice : 
 
 " Where is your baggage, Jasper ?" 
 
 I could but smile, and I saw the suppressed amusement in 
 Jasper's eye, at the practical inquiry made in such mournful tones. 
 My grandmother laughed out her merry, cordial laugh, so seldom 
 heard, but always so contagious. 
 
 "At Crofton, uncle ; I brought nothing with me but a hand- 
 bag," signified Jasper. 
 
 Dr. Quintil was either unobservant of, or totally indifferent to, 
 our merriment at his expense. 
 
 " I will go at once," he added, in his weeping voice, so signally 
 at variance with the subject, "and send Smith with the cart to
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIK. 311 
 
 fetch it. My dear boy, I am so glad to see you so grown, too, 
 so improved ; straight as an arrow, now; only one thing wanting 
 well, well, it can't be helped." 
 
 He had thrown his arm over Jasper's shoulder, as he spoke, 
 and I saw that the difference that had once existed in their height 
 was greatly diminished. 
 
 Straining him again to his breast a thing he had done half a 
 dozen times before he broke away at last, and went rapidly forth 
 on his errand ; and a few moments later my grandmother passed 
 into the house to hasten supper always a late meal with us for 
 the benefit of her restored wanderer. 
 
 It is a common superstition of hospitable people that all who 
 arrive from a distance are in a starving condition, and must perish 
 if not immediately sustained by food. Jasper had come from 
 Italy, therefore was hungry the inference being that he had eaten 
 nothing on the way. Strange logic, in these days of hotel and 
 steamboat abundance, and roadside feasting, and ocean palaces. 
 
 For the interval of half an hour, we were alone. During this 
 
 
 time I was conscious of talking on in a rapid, excited way; asking 
 
 questions never answered, of course, since it was too dark for 
 tablets and feeling, rather than seeing, Jasper's grave, reproach- 
 ful eyes, as I knew they were fixed upon me, in the dim summer 
 twilight. It was a relief to both, I believe I know it was to me 
 when supper was announced, and we went in to the cheerftil, 
 well-arranged table where frugality was made to resemble luxury, 
 by the aid of taste and care. 
 
 To the simple grace he always said at meals, Dr. Quintil added 
 to-night a devout thanksgiving for the safe return of one dear, 
 long-absent member of the household of Bouverie, to which all 
 hearts, if not all lips, responded a deep Amen !
 
 313 TEE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Two weeks from the day of Jasper's arrival, I glided into my 
 grandmother's room, and laid an unsealed letter before her. 
 
 " You will oblige me by reading this, dear grandmother, at 
 your leisure," I said, " and judging of its propriety." 
 
 "It is to Everard Howe," she observed, returning it to me ; 
 " this form is no longer necessary, my love. I have every confi- 
 dence in your discretion, and the relations between you are so 
 decided now, that in future I decline this office, which " 
 
 "Grandmother, you must read this letter," I interrupted, a 
 little sternly, perhaps. " It contains an important decision." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" she asked, rising from her seat, as she 
 spoke, and laying her hand firmly on my arm, while she peered 
 into my face. I trembled in her grasp, and felt my resolution 
 forsaking me. I was conscious of turning very pale. 
 
 "A glass of water, if you please, for Miss de Courcy," she said, 
 loftily, to Bianca, who crossed the floor at that moment. " Sit 
 down ; be composed, I pray you. This decision ! explain it to 
 me yourself. I I cannot read that letter now." 
 
 She was pale and agitated ; her grasp relaxed, she turner 1 , away 
 from me, and mutely wrung her hands. This action, which she 
 strove to conceal, affected me deeply. I saw her whole heart was 
 set upon this union, so important, as she considered it, for my wel- 
 fare. I saw what agony her apprehensions occasioned her I 
 dreaded the effect of their confirmation. 
 
 I drank the water Bianca brought to me in silence, waited untO
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEBIE. 313 
 
 she retired, then spoke with sudden determination, and with ex- 
 ceeding pain. 
 
 " Grandmother, you understand me, I think. I am about to 
 break my engagement with Sir Everard Howe." 
 
 She did not reply, but her large dilating eye measured me from 
 head to foot, and her nostrils quivered with scorn. Presently the 
 proud lip, so sternly compressed until now, rose in a wreathing 
 smile of bitter disdain. 
 
 "Truly," she said, in freezing accents, "the Greek proverb 
 spoke well, when it said, ' Those whom the gods seek to destroy, 
 they first make mad !' Girl, you are insane ! You are rushing 
 on destruction." 
 
 She hesitated, surveying me sternly, perhaps waiting for a reply, 
 or reading me like an open book, as I sat panting before her 
 partly frightened, partly indignant, as I was. 
 
 " I suppose Jasper is at the bottom of this change," she added, 
 bitterly. '' Poor foolish children, I pity you 1" 
 
 "Jasper has influenced me in no way to make me change my 
 decision," I replied, in low accents, speaking like one in a dream, 
 almost ; " I am acting from my own judgment alone, for our mu- 
 tual happiness." 
 
 " Why was not this thought of before he returned, if this be 
 true ? Why does his presence here occasion this sudden, this un- 
 expected change ?" 
 
 " Because I see how unhappy he is, and I know I have made 
 him so." 
 
 "And is this all?" 
 
 "All ! grandmother? A great deal, I think. Happiness is a 
 very sacred thing." 
 
 "And si) are obligations, Lilian ! Have you never thought of 
 
 14
 
 314 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTEKIE. 
 
 this ? Sir Everard Howe holds your solemn promise your troth, 
 His happiness, too, is at stake." 
 
 " I know I know!" I said passionately, covering my face with 
 my hands, and sobbing aloud. " I have done very wrong. I am 
 wretched, penitent, humiliated, to death. I would strew ashes on 
 my head, creep on my knees before him, do anything in my power 
 to atone for the wrong I have done him ; but, I cannot add to it. 
 grandmother, by marrying him, with a heart wholly given to 
 another." 
 
 " This is the first tune I have ever heard such a confession from 
 a woman's lips, who was not either married, or engaged to, its 
 object," she said, turning coldly away. " It shocks me ; it is un 
 maidenly immodest, even." 
 
 I crimsoned to the temples. 
 
 " Grandmother," I made answer, " I can bear your scorn, your 
 reproaches, but not insult, injustice, like this I do not deserve it," 
 and I felt that my eyes flashed fire. "Never have I been un- 
 maideuly in thought or deed ; but oh, it seems to me, that no act 
 could be half so unseemly, so unwomanly, as to yes, grandmother, 
 I must speak out, whatever you may think about decorum as to 
 lie in the bosom of a man who is not beloved. I am not the 
 shameless hypocrite to do this thing." 
 
 " You have been long in arriving at this conclusion," she re- 
 marked, with biting scorn. 
 
 " It has been, indeed, a long time since the struggle began ; but 
 it is over now," I said. " Almost from the moment of making 
 that engagement, I felt the pressure of the chain that bound me 
 too galling, too unendurable, to be borne. Of late, it seems to 
 nave eaten into my very flesh it cankers there. I must throw it 
 off, or perish I must, indeed, grandmother ! And Jasper 1 it
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 315 
 
 has only been lately, you know, that the truth with regard to our 
 Telationship has been fully revealed to me. Before that, it seemed 
 sinful to love him, even in uncertainty, for some words of his had 
 long awakened a dim suspicion, a dim hope, even in my mind, that 
 no blood flowed between us." 
 
 She caught at the hasty expression, which so imperfectly ex- 
 pressed what I meant to say. 
 
 " Blood 1" she reiterated, "yes, rivers of blood such blood! 
 Oh, God !" and she leaned her pallid brow, now covered with cold 
 dew, forward on her quivering hands, supporting these in turn on 
 the low table before her, so that her face was invisible to me. 
 " How can I tell you what blood, Lilian ?" There was a long, 
 oppressive silence. 
 
 At last she looked up, grave, stern, composed ; pale as marble, 
 save where two crimson spots flickered on her cheeks, like candles 
 on some cold, grey altar-stone, and speaking in accents of deepest 
 agony, in a few low, sorrowful words, she made her revelation. 
 
 Then first I knew what " ban of blood," as Bishop Clare had 
 called it, rose between us. Then first I heard the true name of 
 him I loved, and the circumstances that had thrown his life into 
 the precincts of Bouverie. Then first was revealed to me why my 
 grandfather was an eternal prisoner in those sealed apartments ; 
 and why barriers of ice shut him away forever from the affections 
 of his wife, and him she called her son. 
 
 Oh ! woeful revelation half-suspected before how crushing 
 was your confirmation of all I dreaded, yet long refused to believe ! 
 
 For a tune, I staggered blindly beneath the burden I had as- 
 sumed ; for a tune, I tacitly acquiesced in the justice of my grand- 
 mother's parting words to me, on the occasion of that bitter inter 
 view:
 
 816 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 " Lilian, you see clearly now why it is that you can never marry 
 Jasper, or be more to him than you are." 
 
 But never, for one moment, did I lose sight of the determina- 
 tion which a clear insight into my own feelings had given rise to ; 
 and, without a hope for the future, I threw off the brilliant pros- 
 pect of honor and distinction my proposed union brought with it. 
 I sealed and directed my letter to Sir Everard Howe that day. 
 It would meet him in August, at Taunton Tower, I knew; and it 
 was inclosed to the care of Colonel Reginald de Courcy.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 317 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 As winter comes to the earth binding and controlling ith softef 
 influences in chains of ice, so there comes at times to the human 
 heart a cold and chilling season a suspension, rather than a 
 \eath, of impulse, more strengthening than depressing in the end ; 
 yet full of pain and sorrowful endurance while it prevails. Such 
 was the mood that possessed my being, for a time, after the sever- 
 ing of the tie that had bound me. 
 
 Yet, on the whole, I was content with what I had done con- 
 tent, despite my grandmother's cold and altered brow and manner, 
 and the knowledge that I could never be, with her consent or ap- 
 probation, the wife of Jasper content, in the consciousness of my 
 own redeemed integrity 
 
 To dwell alone, even though enshrined in that strangely stricken 
 household, still in one sense alone ; or, at best, to float on the out- 
 skirts of life, like a dim cloud on the horizon's verge, which 
 shadows the plain below, yet has no part in it ; such seemed my 
 doom ! Yet better this, than a life of hypocrisy and regret per- 
 haps remorse ; better this, than deceit, defiance, or despair, each 
 growing out of the other by irresistible consequences ! 
 
 In the crushing and chilling of my affections, I avoided every 
 one Jasper, most of all. He knew nothing of what had passed. 
 I saw, by his glance, that he missed the spaikling ring from my 
 finger, worn frequently in his presence when he first returned 
 laid aside now forever with the miniature encircled by brilliants, 
 with the Indian shells and shawls, the unstrung pearls, and the
 
 318 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 exquisite fans of carved ivory and nacrework, that from time to 
 time Everard Howe had sent to me from abroad. 
 
 The case of sandal-wood that contained these articles was kept 
 in waiting for an opportunity to return them to his hand. I 
 would keep nothing to remind me of my fault nothing, not even 
 his letters, pleasant as these were to read, and free from that 
 love-sick vein which to me would have made them intolerable. I 
 knew that Jasper suffered, and that he misconceived the cause 
 of my coolness my reticence toward him. His speaking eyes 
 were turned on me sometimes in mute and surprised questioning, 
 then dropped again, as in despair of fathoming the truth beneath 
 their long, dark lashes. 
 
 At last he went away. His pictures had arrived in New 
 STork, and he would go there, he said, to finish, to retouch them, 
 to hang them in some gallery where they might be seen and 
 known, and perhaps find purchasers. Whatever occurred, he 
 would bring them to Bouverie finally, that those he loved best 
 might see them before he parted with them forever ; and certainly 
 he wo aid return in October at furthest. 
 
 I understood the allusion as it flashed from his fingers, and 
 smiled bitterly. Yet I made him no explanation of my changed 
 views. I told no one what I had done. My grandmother and 
 Dr. Quintil might think what they would ; until interrogated by 
 them, I would give them no satisfaction. 
 
 Some days passed before Dr. Quintil made any allusion to the 
 past, and then it was to hold up a letter before me, directed, like 
 ray own, to " Everard Howe." 
 
 " Do you object to this ?" he said. 
 
 " What have I to do with your correspondence ?" I answered, 
 almost bitterly.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEBIE. 319 
 
 " Then, Lilian, I am to understand that all is really over ?" 
 
 I thought the expression of his face did not indicate displea- 
 rare. 
 
 " I am going to write to Madame La Trobe to-day, to send me 
 none of the articles you ordered so generously. I shall never 
 want them now," I answered evasively. 
 
 " Do as you please, you are the best judge," he said. " It is 
 true those who dwell in convents have little cause for fashion. 
 Serge and lawn are all you require in penitential houses." 
 
 And so I wrote so closely does the commonplace tread on the 
 heels of sentiment in this prosaic . orld of ours to a milliner, as 
 my only confidant in this my change of arrangements, for of 
 course she comprehended this immediately, and I received before 
 long her remonstrative reply. Some of the articles, she said, 
 most costly and recherche", were on their way from Europe, among 
 others a superb dress of white Brussels lace. What should be 
 done under these circumstances ? 
 
 I answered, " Let them be sold if possible ; if not, they will 
 be paid for. There will be a settlement of some kind on the first 
 of October. Wait till then. If the worst comes," I thought, 
 " I will sell the jewel my grandfather made from my poor, 
 crushed cross, and so wipe out the debt." 
 
 Fortunately for my quiet, as far as my grandmother was con- 
 cerned, Fabius handed me the post-bag to open on the day that 
 Madame La Trobe's letter arrived. I was alone in the dining- 
 room at the time, and, having quietly read it, committed it to the 
 fire, merely to avoid discussion. There was certainly no other 
 cause for concealment in such a correspondence. And having 
 answered it, the matter ended for the time. 
 
 Two months rolled slowly away. A great restraint rested over
 
 820 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 us all. I felt its presence in my intercourse with every member 
 of the household of Bouverie, with my grandmother, with Dr. 
 Quintil, with my grandfather even ; for, as I said before, whiter 
 was in my heart, and pervaded all things. 
 
 In August, Bishop Clare came, like a thaw in January, break- 
 ing up the icy bondage in one genial, rushing flood, and blending 
 our frozen natures into one stream again. This was effected by 
 no design of his, for he knew nothing of this new condition of 
 things ; the impulse that brought us all together was of course 
 nothing more than our affection for him. 
 
 Like one waking from a long, dull dream, from which it was 
 joy to be released, I threw myself into his arms and wept, the 
 first tears of months. My grandmother, too, gave way to feeling 
 such as she had not exhibited for a long time, and Dr. Quiutil's 
 greeting was more earnest and fervent than usual. 
 
 The good father had cause to esteem his welcome more than 
 usually cordial, if somewhat sad. Later he saw deeper into its 
 source. He was a relief to our overcharged hearts, a safety-valve 
 for feeling, a centre for reunion. 
 
 One day Bianca brought to my room a letter bearing a foreign 
 postmark, that made my heart beat high. The writing, I 
 thought at first, was that of Edith Howe ; but I felt that I must 
 have been mistaken, since the caligraphy of brother and sister 
 greatly resembled each other, when I tore open the envelope, and 
 discovered my own letter within, on the back of which was writ- 
 ten, carelessly, in pencil, in the same hand- writing, " Returned 
 unopened." 
 
 I sat for a few moments, holding it silently in my hands, at 
 first lost in conjecture, at last crimson with indignation ; then 
 opening it, I read it carefully, from beginning to end, twice ever,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 321 
 
 scanning as narr|wly as I could, every expression, every assertion, 
 and recalling with burning scorn, the feeling of deep humiliation 
 under which it was written. 
 
 All this was over now. We stood on equal ground again. 
 
 " Everard Howe, you have relieved me by this insult from every 
 feeling of regret or pain that might otherwise have haunted me * 
 through life." I murmured ; " the mask has dropped away, I see " 
 you as you are 1" 
 
 Reader, had I loved him, the feeling that inspired me might 
 have been different. I might for a moment have reeled under the 
 bitter blow, and felt the iron enter my soul. But in any case, to 
 a nature like mine, the result must have been the same. Reac- 
 tion must have brought disdain, indifference, contempt even. 
 When a proud woman's self-respect is assailed, affection dies for 
 him that deals the blow, whether he be friend or lover. 
 
 I rose, I paced the room. Indignant as I was, a burden still 
 seemed lifted from my life. How I had suffered for that man, 
 doomed by my own act to suffering 1 That cold, relentless an- 
 guish that for weeks, nay months, had clasped me in its bands of 
 ice, was all for him ! All this was at an end. 
 
 I smiled in the fullness of my contempt. I understood it all, it 
 seemed to me. Good Dr. Quintil had gathered my intention, had 
 written of it perhaps to Colonel de Courcy in a deprecating man- 
 ner, or my grandmother even might have condescended to have 
 done this in her earnest wish for what she deemed my welfare 
 The insinuation, or whatever it was, of such an inclination on my 
 part, communicated to him by his relative, had fired the blood of 
 Everard Howe. He had determined to strike the first blow, to 
 throw me off rudely and forever. He had done this because, des. 
 pite appearances and preconceived opinions, he was no gentlemaJ 
 
 14*
 
 322 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 I had arrived at this conclusion, when Bianca fappeared at the 
 door. 
 
 " Miss Lilian," she said, " dinner is waiting ; and here is a 
 
 letter I dropped as I came across the hall awhile ago. Take it, 
 
 but don't stay to read it now. Bishop Clare is so hungry, and 
 
 A your grandmother is strangely out of sorts to-day. You had 
 
 better make haste, I think. 
 
 A glance at the letter revealed the large, clear characters, and 
 foreign postmark, of Colonel de Courcy. Thrusting it in my 
 pocket, with a sick loathing I could not repress, I followed her 
 to the dining-room. There matters wore a gloomy aspect enough. 
 Dr. Quintil was walking the room, as I entered, with unwonted 
 agitation. My grandmother occupied her accustomed seat at the 
 head of the table, with traces of recent tears on her face. 
 Bishop Clare looked far more concerned than hungry, I thought. 
 I, only, preserved an indifferent, almost a defiant air, and took my 
 seat in quietness. 
 
 The meal passed in absolute silence, except when orders were 
 given, or dishes offered. Kever was anything so oppressive as 
 this stillness. Like the thick darkness of Egypt, it seemed to 
 me, it could almost be felt and grappled with. 
 
 The most empty and garrulous talker would have been a relief 
 to me at that quiet table, where all eyes were fixed on me with 
 an unmistakable expression of surprise and suspense. 
 
 " They think I have been justly served, I do not doubt," I 
 thought as I met Dr. Quintil's deprecating glance ; " they are 
 waiting for me to speak, evidently, but that I will never do, until 
 they broach the subject. I will eat if it chokes me, if only to 
 show them that I do not care for his insult, or their unmerited 
 condemnation."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 323 
 
 And so I compelled myself to swallow food, as a child takes 
 medicine, gulpingly : for nnder all strong mental excitement the 
 power of deglutition becomes difficult with some persons. 
 
 The weary meal was over at last. I thought Dr. Quintil would 
 never tire peeling peaches for Bishop Clare, in whom an excessive 
 repugnance existed against touching the furred skin of this fruit. 
 I thought Bishop Clare would never cease to accept and eat 
 them, although I could see that he did this mechanically, as one 
 absorbed in thought. 
 
 At last we rose. The gentlemen went out to smoke or stroll ; 
 Fabius busied himself with his cloth and glasses. My grand- 
 mother gravely requested me to follow her to her chamber. We 
 were alone. 
 
 " Lilian !" she said, when she had seated herself in a great 
 chair by the window, and pointed out to me the opposite seat, in 
 a manner all her own, partly urbane, partly commanding, " Lilian, 
 I scarcely recognize you in the peculiarity, the hardness of your 
 late proceedings. I should think your own impulsive and ill- 
 advised rupture of your engagement would, if nothing else 
 affected you, make you feel this late occurrence. Instead of 
 being softened by it, you seem utterly hard and defiant. Strange, 
 strange girl, shall I ever understand you !" 
 
 " It is the first time, grandmother, that I ever heard it sug- 
 gested that one might be softened by insult. Crushed, humiliated, 
 yes ! To some natures this is possible ; but softened, never ! 
 And as for me, nothing has so relieved me, so assuaged regret, as 
 the conduct you advert to." 
 
 "What conduct, Lilian? What do you mean? Have 
 you read Colonel de Courcy's letter ? Could anything be moro 
 kind, more considerate, more delicate even ?"
 
 324 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 1 1 have not read his letter, scarcely glanced at it," I inten 
 rupted. " I have it here," and I drew it from my pocket, and 
 laid it on her knee. " Nor do I wish to read it. Take it back, 
 I want no explanations, no glozing over, of an insult too gross, 
 too palpable to be palliated. He had no right to reject my letter 
 until he knew its contents. The past alone should have preserved 
 me from harshness, from ungentlemanly scorn like this. I have 
 done nothing to deserve it." 
 
 " He ? To whom do you refer, Lilian ? Colonel de Courcy 
 ought not to have read your letter certainly, nor should Edith 
 Howe. Such a proceeding on the part of either would have 
 been a breach of confidence, indelicate even under the circum- 
 stances, and you know " 
 
 I interrupted her passionately, scarcely heeding her last words. 
 
 " To Everard Howe, grandmother. I refer to him. His 
 hand has dealt this blow, though whence his warning came I shall 
 never know, probably. Some change of mood, perhaps some 
 insight into the real state of affairs in the upper floor of Bouverie, 
 given maybe by the treacherous Smiths themselves who knows ? 
 and after all, who cares, grandmother ?" 
 
 " My child, my poor child ! Can it be possible that you are 
 in ignorance of the sad event ? I thought you would understand 
 at once, even without having read Colonel de Courcy's letter, 
 what had occurred. Lilian, do you not know that Everard Howe 
 is dead ?" 
 
 The word fell on me like a slow, deep tocsin from a tolling 
 bell. I rose to my feet, gazed earnestly into her face, turned, 
 stretched my arms wildly to one who leaned in the open doorway 
 with his sad eyes fixed on me, and falling on his breast as he 
 advanced to meet me, fainted, for the first time in my life.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 325 
 
 To swoon in the full strength of youth and health, is not the 
 trifle that it seems to the old and delicate. With such as these, 
 the temporary suspension of life makes little difference in its dull 
 and stagnant stream. Admirable system of compensation that 
 equalizes suffering as no other adjustment could have done ! 
 
 I struggled back to life, as a strong swimmer gams the shore 
 from deep water. Long before I gave evidence of returning 
 consciousness, I felt the fierce endeavor of the surging blood and 
 reeling brain within ; the hand of Nature slowly winding up the 
 wheels of her powerful machine again. 
 
 I knew that they were all around me, all save one of that de- 
 voted household of Bouverie, and I felt that if that were indeed 
 death, so strangely benumbing, and yet wrenching me with its 
 dull, heavy throes, that its bitterness was wanting among such 
 ministers. I knew that my grandmother bathed my brow, that 
 Jasper chafed my hands, that Bianca knelt at my feet, that 
 Bishop Clare and Dr. Quintil were bending above me. He only 
 was wanting who would have felt my loss more than any of these 
 in his desolate solitude. 
 
 I did not think at the moment of Everard Howe, or his mourn- 
 ful yet unexplained fate ; but as strength returned to me, this 
 thought took entire possession of me, and all my injustice, scorn, 
 and crushing coldness came surging back in waves of sorrow and 
 remorse. Tears slid from my half-closed eyes, and my bosom 
 heaved with sobs. 
 
 " She weeps," said Bishop Clare, " she is relieved. Be com- 
 forted, dearest Lilian. No human power can contend with 
 fate." 
 
 " And his," murmured Dr. Quintil, "was fixed from the begin- 
 ning of time"
 
 326 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 
 
 " You, too, Camilla," said Bishop Clare, speaking in low, clear 
 accents, "must yield your prejudice, your superstition to the de- 
 crees of Heaven. The hand of God is in this blow. Be recon- 
 ciled to what remains." 
 
 She did not speak, but stooping softly down, she kissed my 
 cheek, my brow ; then laid my passive hand in that of Jasper. 
 His lips were pressed to its surface, his hot tears bathed my fin- 
 gers, closed tightly on his own. I did not speak nor move, but 
 shutting my eyes again, gave up my soul to the fullness of its 
 Borrowful yet ineffable joy. 
 
 In that moment of unspeakable happiness, a deep, prophetic 
 vision seemed for a moment to shadow me as with visible wings. 
 For one brief moment the unproved future stretched before my 
 mental gaze, as in the mirage of the clairvoyant. I saw what 
 Byron called a " mass of many images," confused at the time, 
 but separated later, as each in turn met its fulfillment into clear 
 and startling life scenes ; and at the last I saw a pale woman, in 
 widow's weeds, standing alone on the terrace of Bouverie, and I 
 recognized in her face and form, a dim prophetic likeness to the 
 girl called Lilian de Courcy, as she might appear when changed 
 by time and sorrow. Ten years later how was the vision 
 verified ? 
 
 So, after all, this betrothal of Bouverie was a sad affair, 
 worthy of its surroundings ; having its origin in death, and bas- 
 ing its hopes on the power of love to conquer sin and shame. 
 Blood must be washed away by faith and affection ; and the 
 grand word " atonement" carried out in its fullness by two frail 
 mortal creatures, strong only in their trust and love for each 
 other. 
 
 Yet it was without a single misgiving that I undertook my
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEKIE. 327 
 
 portion of this task. That any curse could rest on our innocent 
 affection from the guilty past, I did not believe or for a moment 
 realize ; and yet, that there was a shadow to be removed from 
 it, I saw with loving and hopeful eyes. 
 
 The Greeks poured libations to the unappeased manes of those 
 who died by violence, and so quieted those restless ghosts. 
 Might not we, by lives of piety and devotion, expiate the crime 
 of one and the suffering of another, and make feeble amends for 
 that noble and sacrificed life whose tide still swelled the veins of 
 Jasper? Might not we, with the blessing of God, pour such 
 libations and aspire to do this thing ?
 
 32b THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEREE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 COLONEL DE Conner's letter to me was a model of dignified 
 propriety and consideration. I did him justice at last. My letter 
 had reached Taunton Tower just before the sad news of Sir 
 Everard Howe's sudden death arrived there ; sudden and violent, 
 for he had been crushed by a fragment from an impending cliff 
 (that had hung there since the creation, waiting, perhaps who 
 knows otherwise ? for him to pass beneath it before it fell), while 
 taking a quiet evening stroll on the island of St. Helena. 
 
 His lifeless body, crushed to shapelessness, was removed with 
 difficulty from beneath the mass that had so long overhung the 
 quiet pathway he was tracing, when the sudden call for his soul 
 was made, through its unexpected fall. Others that walked there 
 in company with him were spared. One had lingered behind to 
 pluck a flower one straggled on before without a motive so 
 work the inscrutable decrees of fate ! 
 
 Reader, believe me, when I tell you that I deplored the death 
 of the man who had so generously offered to share his love, his 
 prosperity with me, with tears as sincere and manifold as though 
 he had been my brother. How cheerfully I would have welcomed 
 the mortification of the returned letter, to know that he lived 
 again ! How insignificant seemed this incident now, in view of 
 the awful, changeless truth ! From whatever effect that letter of 
 mine might have exerted over his feelings, he was spared at least 
 by this untimely death. He died, believing, trusting in my affec- 
 tion ; and those that loved and honored him, still trusted in it, and 
 in me. My heart was wrung by the letter of Edith Howe, in
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 329 
 
 which she poured forth on me, as from the floodgates of her sor- 
 row, all her reliance, her confiding sympathy. My determination 
 was taken then, painful as was the task, to undeceive those rela- 
 tives who claimed me still as a sacred portion of their dead. 
 
 Colonel de Courcy's generous offer to settle a provision on me 
 as the widow of his ward, had been declined, of course, as was 
 simply right and natural, with gratitude not unmixed with pride. 
 But this greater obligation of sisterly tenderness, could not be so 
 treated. I had no right to receive it on such grounds ; and so, 
 sending back the box of sandal-wood to Edith Howe, with all its 
 precious contents, I wrote the accompanying letter : 
 
 " BELOVED EDITH 
 
 " For such you must always be to me, not only for the 
 sake of the friend who is gone, but from the confidence, the frank- 
 ness, the affection, with which you have treated me from first to 
 last I send you back this box, because my conscience tells me it 
 justly belongs to you. You will be surprised when you examine 
 its contents, and find among them the ring of troth, the miniature 
 your brother gave me, with many of his valued and interesting 
 letters. You will say, ' Surely these are justly the property of her 
 who was plighted to him as his betrothed wife. What whim is 
 this that possesses her?' Bear with me, dear Edith, and you 
 Khali know that I am impelled by no caprice to return these things, 
 but from a deeper movement of my soul, that urges truth and 
 honor as primal duties. Before I heard of your brother's death 
 months before I had made up my mind to surrender all claims 
 on his affections ; and the letter you returned to me conveyed to 
 him my regretful determination. 
 
 " Its causes I cannot tell you now, but certainly they had no
 
 330 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 root in any fault of his. Time may, or may not, manifest to you 
 some of these. All are in God's keeping ! But this much under- 
 stand. I find myself so bound up hi this mournful household of 
 Bouverie, that I cannot any more break through the bands that 
 bind me in its midst, than can a prisoner through his fetters. 
 
 " Yet the chains that hold me here are light and loving, flexible 
 as strong ; made up of affection, of respect, of sympathy, of deep- 
 est pity, even of all that restrains and binds the human heart 
 most closely, and makes it more than death to sever them. We 
 lead a solitary life. It would be as ungenerous for me to separate 
 my fate from theirs I dwell among, as for a member of a ship's 
 company, lying becalmed in some desolate sea, to take the life-boat, 
 and flee away in search of shore and cheerful companionship. If 
 I ever entertained it, I have abandoned all such idea now. My 
 fate compels me here, and I abide its issue. 
 
 " Yet, if you feel, sweet Edith, that I have not forfeited all 
 claims on your friendship by this confession, continue to write to 
 me. Your letters will be a solace to my loneliness, and in inform- 
 ing me of your happiness increase my own. 
 
 " For crushing as is your sorrow now, you will still be happy. 
 Life lies before you, fair and beautiful, as a great plain, above the 
 horizon of which the sun has just risen. A cloud is passing now 
 across its disc ; but this will fleet away, and the golden glory of 
 your morning time again illumine every object. 
 
 " Think not I am insensible to your brother's death, because I 
 have not dwelt on its melancholy details more, or offered you the 
 usual tribute of consolation. Few events could afflict me more ; 
 but I do not know whether, under the circumstances, you would 
 find this acceptable from me, or believe in the sincerity of my 
 grief or sympathy. I cannot lay myself open to doubts of this
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 331 
 
 kind from any one I call ' beloved,' and from whom I demand 
 esteem as my right, even if denied affection. Your treatment of 
 this letter, dear Edith, will decide my future expressions. 
 
 " I am devotedly yours, 
 
 "LILIAN HE COUBCT." 
 
 Tune passed, and no answer came to this letter. It seems 
 that it was a great shock to Edith Howe, and that she resented it 
 bitterly But later, when the edge wore off her feelings, she saw 
 the truth and justice of my proceeding, and manifested this 
 change in a manner which I should anticipate events by recording 
 here. 
 
 In accordance with some feeling of which I could not divest 
 myself, I refused to marry Jasper under one year from the tune 
 of hearing of Everard Howe's death. Indeed, to me it was suf- 
 ficient joy to see him, to be near him, to be sure of his affection. 
 The love I bore him was rooted in my very being, and sufficed, as 
 it existed, for my happiness. I should have been content to live 
 beside him forever in the same relations that we then bore to each 
 other ; but the thought of change, of separation, of divided feel- 
 ing, must have killed me. With him it was something different. 
 He grew restless under this probation, and sought a vent to his 
 impatient spirit by frequent visits to the studios of the cities, and 
 by renewed efforts in his own sphere of art. 
 
 Early in the month of September of that year, I accompanied 
 Doctor Quintilian and Jasper to the city in which the pictures to 
 which I have alluded were to be exhibited. My ambition for 
 him was fully gratified by the eulogiums I heard lavished upon 
 them, standing as I did in the crowd, an eager but unobserved 
 listener and spectator. Alas ! those pictures shared the fate of
 
 332 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 the classic halls they helped to ornament, and live now only in 
 memory, their material part having been recently reduced to 
 
 Indulge me, reader, in the ineffectual effort I am about to 
 make to bring'them before you by description. They were sug- 
 gestive pictures, and as such, difficult to convey to the imagina- 
 tion by words alone, for a suggestive picture is, after all, a mere 
 pedestal for fancy to rest on, while she plumes her wings for flight. 
 He called them " Regret," and " Endurance." The first con- 
 sisted of a single figure, that of a woman, young, worn, yet 
 beautiful, bending above a letter. He represented her standing 
 by a window reading it, dreaming over it rather, in the dying 
 light of day, evidenced as this was by the lengthened shadows 
 and moted sunbeams that flecked the floor. 
 
 It is evidently an' old letter (I use the present, for the picture 
 still lives before me), taken from a package of such on a table near, 
 and that it has touched some mighty chord of feeling is evinced 
 in every lineament of the sad, I had almost said quivering coun- 
 tenance. The parted and depressed lips seem just to have uttered 
 a name, or an exclamation ; the emotion of the word yet lingers 
 about them with a sort of tender anguish that cannot be described 
 nor yet mistaken for any other phase of feeling. 
 
 One hand is clenched upon the sill as if to poise the otherwise 
 faint and yielding form ; the other grasps the letter with a half- 
 trembling eagerness, strangely enough conveyed, by that im- 
 movable attitude, to the eye and mind of the spectator. 
 Out of the past " Regret " has arisen ! 
 
 Jasper had chosen the figure of a man to express " Endurance," 
 a word that to his mind seemed to carry the union of Fortitude 
 and Forbearance.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 333 
 
 The face, a very grand one, looks out upon the gazer, I see it 
 still in my mind's eye, dear reader, though fire-consumed in sub- 
 Btance, so again I use the present tense for that which is 
 materially a part of the past alone full, calm, and glorious, with 
 its expression of lofty resignation. The physical perfection of the 
 figure commanded unusual admiration : but to me this was sub- 
 ordinate to the sentiment it so successfully conveyed. 
 
 The scene lies in a prison by the barred window of which the 
 man is sitting, resting one arm on a table on which are placed a 
 Bible, a loaf, and pitcher. The other hand seems to waive aside 
 the key which female fingers are extending to him through the 
 bars. This slender hand, exquisite hi beauty and expression, 
 belongs to the muffled form of the woman without the grating, 
 and alone indicates her station. On the floor of the dungeon lies 
 an unsheathed sword, on which the foot of the prisoner is care- 
 lessly placed. A ray of light from the window streams first on 
 the head of the martyr, then slanting off, gilds the open page of 
 the book of life, suggesting his determination. He will endure. 
 
 Of the draping, coloring, arrangement of lights and shadows of; 
 this picture, I am not artist enough to speak knowingly, possess- 
 ing as I do only the inner, not the outward artistic eye. But 
 the approbation of connoisseurs was too favorable not to arouse 
 the enmity of artists as a class, though there were individual ex- 
 ceptions among those who had achieved fame, and who no longer 
 shuddered before the very shadow of a rival
 
 334 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ONE evening, on returning to our hotel, I found my bed and 
 table encumbered with packages that had been sent in by Madame 
 La Trobe. It was too vexatious. 
 
 " She might have waited at least for the first of October to 
 have arrived, before forcing these articles upon me," I thought, 
 with tears in my eyes. " What shall be done ? How shall I 
 arrange this matter, without applying to Doctor Quintil or Jasper, 
 to meet the bills for a trousseau ordered for such an occasion ? I 
 wish I had asked for my diamond before I left home. I might 
 have sold it for this purpose ; but, as it is 1" 
 
 I sat down, quite oppressed by the extent of my pecuniary in- 
 volvements, quite uncertain what to do. I would not, for the 
 world, have opened one of those tabooed packages. At length 
 lights were brought, and the sound of the gong startled me from 
 my reverie. 
 
 On going to the toilet-table to smooth my dress and hair, I saw 
 a long envelope lying upon it, addressed to me. I opened it, and 
 found Madame La Trobe's bill receipted by Doctor Quintil 1 In 
 the next moment I went, with tears in my eyes, to answer his 
 friendly, peculiar knock, gentle, oft-repeated, at the door. 
 
 " Not ready for supper yet, Lilian ! Why, how is this ? Cry- 
 ing, too, I protest. Silly child, you are homesick." 
 
 " Not at all ; only vexed that all these things should have been 
 forced on you," and I pointed to the package. "I wrote to 
 Madame La Trobe hoping to prevent this."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD 05 BOUVEEIE. 335 
 
 "I know all about that," he said, placidly ; "she showed me 
 the letter yesterday, when I called to try and hurry her a little, 
 thinking you might need some of the matters on hand at once, and 
 there is no use now, you know, waiting for the first of October. 
 Many were unfin shed ; but I decided to take them home with us, 
 in consideration of some change of fashion that might occur before 
 next year. But such as you need now, I commanded to be made 
 up at once your lace dress, for instance." 
 
 I clung to his arm, half laughing, half crying. " What a man 
 you are, to be sure," I said, kissing his large brown hand he 
 never wore gloves, only carried them, and his skin tanned readily. 
 " How generous you are how mysterious, too. But what in the 
 world made you suppose I wanted my lace dress now, if ever t 
 Don't you know, dear Dr. Quintil, I would not wear that dress 
 to be married in, now, for the world ; it would be ominous, and 
 how will it ever be useful to me for any other purpose 1" 
 
 " I will tell you after supper. But make haste now, and com- 
 plete your toilet a pretty one let it be ; the ladies in the parlor 
 are elegantly dressed, I can assure you, yet I did not see one half 
 as good-looking as you are. See, I have brought you a comb, set 
 with turquoise, to suit your eyes, Lily; and this little black lace 
 scarf" drawing the articles, as he spoke, from his capacious 
 pockets, and unwrapping them " they say it is the fashion ; 
 ' Guipure point,' they called it, I believe, at that store with a 
 Jewish name, I forget what, now Judah or Levy, or some such 
 Hebrew cognomen. Jasper says these will go well with your blue 
 organdi he wrote the name, so I remember that ; so hurry, love. 
 I shall be back hi twenty minutes, and I am famishing for a cup 
 of good black tea." 
 
 I was ready when he returned, and we descended to the suppur-
 
 336 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 room, where Jasper joined us ; and where, weary with a day of 
 city strolling, we all did ample justice to the somewhat slender 
 fare. 
 
 " No biscuit !" reiterated Dr. Quintil, as the waiter made the 
 communication that the establishment was minus the desired arti- 
 cle ; "I really thought this people had become civilized by this 
 time. Why, what is a man to live on ? Cold bread, and no bis- 
 cuits ; and tea made with lukewarm hydrant-water. Milk, instead 
 of yellow cream, too, Confucius ! what a supper !" 
 
 Yet he ate heartily of what was set before him, and went in 
 good spirits to the drawing-room with me, whence Jasper soon 
 vanished to fulfill an engagement. 
 
 "And now, I will tell you, Lily, what we want with the white 
 lace dress immediately. We are going to a grand ball, to- 
 morrow night, given by the queen of this city. You did not know 
 this was a monarchy before ?" 
 
 " No, indeed," I said, laughing ; " but your queen has not called 
 upou me, and I, you know, am a sovereign likewise, and must wait 
 for this ceremony." 
 
 "Not at all. This queen does not visit, she only receives, 
 which is a great deal better. Besides, she is an old and intimate 
 friend of mine, royal as she is. Before she ascended the throne, I 
 studied medicine with her husband (just think of a doctor's wife 
 being a sovereign), and she has not forgotten our former affection. 
 You need not look at me in that quizzical way, I never was the 
 least bit in love with her, I assure you." 
 
 " Dear Dr. Quintil, I never dreamed of such a thing. As well 
 suspect the Pope himself of any impropriety of this sort. But, 
 tell me, how came she to be queen ? Who elected her ?" 
 
 " The fact is, this city is a peculiar one, and cannot get along
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 337 
 
 without a ruler. Other cities are governed by an oligarchy, and 
 matters of etiquette are put to the vote. Not so here. This 
 community requires absolute despotism to move it from its 
 frigidity. There must be one sovereign, be he or she log or 
 stork one, and one only the appointed of fashion, the layer- 
 down of law. When King N B was deposed that 
 
 man of rare accomplishments and genius ' alas ! we shall not look 
 upon his like again 1' there was an interregnum, during which 
 mediocrity became omnipotent ; but, after an interval partly 
 from charity, partly from ambition this large-hearted and ener- 
 getic woman took in her own hands the reins of government, and 
 has shown herself a second Semiramis." 
 
 " What a singular arrangement," I said, humoring his jocose 
 mood to the utmost. " But this lady, has she still a husband, 
 and if so, why is he not king as well ?" 
 
 " Why is not Albert king of England, Lily ? Come, do not 
 attempt to " prove me with hard questions." Enough ; she reigns, 
 and you are bidden to her court to-morrow night. See here, I 
 have the invitation in my hat," and he drew out the cards for the 
 coming ball ; " but better than these, I had a verbal invitation 
 first, and such a greeting as almost overpowered me. By the by 
 I must not forget to get pumps and white gloves to-morrow," 
 looking wistfully at his hands. " Oh, dear, what an expense to be 
 sure ! Well, well, it can't be helped, a great bore nevertheless." 
 
 " If you say another word about expense, I will send every- 
 thing back to Madame La Trobe in a magnificent rage. You are 
 nothing but a mean miser, and treat yourself worse than a slave. 
 I will not stand by and see such a worthy man abused and 
 slighted any longer. My patience is exhausted, so go to-morrow 
 betimes, and array yourself in a full suit of fine black broad- 
 
 15
 
 888 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 cloth, and get a new hat instead of that old slouch, which looks 
 ashamed of itself, as if it was trying to slink out of sight, and a 
 fashionable vest and neck-cloth, and a dozen medium-sized pocket 
 handkerchiefs, without borders, and patriotic emblems, hem- 
 stitched, too, so as never to be again mistaken for flags of truce 
 or Fourth of July trophies when you draw them out of your 
 pocket, and wave them as you always do. Do all this, or I go not 
 a foot to the ball, and you and your queen may deplore my ab- 
 sence together." 
 
 He laughed at my assault, and would promise nothing, but 
 finally complied with every requisition, and like all clumsily made 
 men, was incredibly improved by his new, well-fitting garments 
 and careful toilet. He was really handsome. 
 
 I was ready at ten o'clock, when Jasper brought my camelias 
 and bouquet. Curls when natural are not difficult of adjustment, 
 and my coiffure was made as usual by my own hands, two white 
 camelias forming the only addition to the profuse tresses that 
 crowned my head, my only point of personal pride. 
 
 I wore the superb white Brussels lace dress, that Dr. Quintil 
 had given me, over white satin, with shoes and gloves to corres- 
 pond, and my mother's pearls completed a costume which, in my 
 innocent delight, I thought could scarcely be surpassed. Jasper's 
 artistic eye was satisfied with the effect of the whole, and Dr. 
 Quintil hovered round me in a perfect flutter of satisfaction. 
 
 But when I entered the crowded and magnificent apartments, I 
 passed completely out of myself, and ceased to admire or question 
 of my own attire. Had I worn the simplest muslin gown, I am 
 sure it must have been the same, so entirely does the power of 
 losing self-consciousness belong to and constitute a part of the 
 poetic temperament best gift after all of imagination.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 339 
 
 It was some time before we could find the mistress of the revels. 
 She had gone I believe into the conservatory with some valued 
 guest, and we had time to walk around the house before she re- 
 appeared. I had imagined her a stately, beautiful woman, like 
 my grandmother, perhaps, and the shock of her presence was 
 almost unendurable at first, bearing with it as it did a great dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 It was a matter of real concern to me that this woman should 
 be of a piece with all of her magnificent surroundings. There 
 seemed a fitness wanting between that hard-featured, homely face, 
 suffused with purple, and bearing the lion's mark almost in its 
 deeply traced lines, and that huge ungraceful figure, of which the 
 mottled arms and neck were exposed in youthful fashion. Be- 
 tween these and the superb dress of Genoa velvet and lace, and 
 exquisite gems that adorned her person, there seemed a strange 
 discrepancy. Feathers drooped from her hair, and she bore in 
 her hand a fan made of plumes of the richest dye, ornamented 
 with a bird of Paradise, with diamond eyes, and claws set with 
 rubies. 
 
 But her cordial greeting soon effaced the impression of her 
 physique, and before long she managed so to interest and engross 
 me that I forgot to remark her features. Her unaffected kindli- 
 ness of manner toward Dr. Quintil would alone have won my 
 good will ; she drew him out as no one had ever done before. 
 She brought old scenes before him, and the present passed out of 
 sight. 
 
 He tore himself away at last abruptly, and unwillingly I could 
 see, and went to join her husband, who sat alone to-night in his 
 library, unable or unwilling to join the revels ; and then it was 
 that the full charm of her manner and conversation fell over BW
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 irresistibly. Starting at last as if afraid of having bored me, she 
 said, " You do not dance, Miss de Courcy ; how is this ? Are 
 you a church member ?" 
 
 " No, madam," I replied, "not in the fullest sense at least. I 
 have never learned to dance, except in the careless and impulsive 
 fashion of all joyous children. I should be a source of merri- 
 ment to your guests were I to attempt this now." 
 
 " I am glad that you do not," she rejoined ; " selfishly glad I 
 mean, for I wish to talk with you awhile ; but I do not mean to 
 monopolize you very long, there are too many eager aspirants for 
 an introduction to you to permit me to do this." 
 
 " I will beg you to permit me to remain a stranger here to 
 night," I said. " After a tune, Jasper will return my escort 
 here, Dr. Quintilian's nephew, and of the same name and we 
 will go together through your magnificent conservatory, of which 
 so far I have only caught distant glimpses. In the meantime do 
 not let me detain you a moment longer than convenient. I can 
 amuse myself perfectly well as a ' mere looker-on in Vienna.' " 
 
 " You are one of the few young persons I have heard make 
 that quotation perfectly," she rejoined, looking steadfastly at me. 
 " Accuracy is better than dancing. Most persons lug in ' Venice' 
 at the last." 
 
 "Solitude affords opportunities for details," I replied, "that 
 city-bred people lack, but certainly it has its disadvantages. I 
 should certainly like to dance well, better than anything else I 
 think ; I should enjoy the exercise, and the social blending and 
 exhilaration it occasions very much, but circumstances did not 
 permit me to take lessons." 
 
 " You certainly do not mean pecuniary circumstances," she 
 Baid, after a moment's pause. " Pardon me; I know the subject
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTEBIE. 341 
 
 is a delicate one, but I feel a deep interest in Doctor Quintilian 
 from old association, and for some reason (more difficult to define) 
 in you ; I had heard that your grandfather left a good estate ?" 
 
 My lips moved but I did not reply. I was so startled by this 
 unexpected opening of a subject usually forbidden ; I understood 
 so little of that supremacy of position which makes a question 
 graceful from one, which from another would seem impertinent. 
 
 " We are not poor," I said at last in suppressed accents ; " but 
 we lead a life of monastic seclusion partly from choice." 
 
 "And partly" she interrogated, looking fixedly at me. 
 
 " From necessity," broke from my incautious lips almost indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 " And this necessity is not poverty, you say. What then, Miss 
 de Courcy ?" she persevered. 
 
 " Forgive me, madam, if I beg to change this conversation^ 
 You are too well bred, too merciful to wish to prolong it, when I 
 assure you it gives me pain. I must decline explaining what 
 necessity." 
 
 " My dear, I honor your frankness, and I am glad you under- 
 stood me so well. I am abrupt, inquisitorial even sometimes, I 
 suppose ; but I never mean to be impertinent. Yet, perhaps, if 
 you knew the world a little better, you would know how to waive 
 replies without so positively declining them." 
 
 " I am quite rustic, I know," I said, looking up, crimsoning 
 and smiling at her kind reproof, kinder even in manner than 
 words, " and naturally rough and plain spoken ; but, like your- 
 self, I never mean to be rude, however impetuous I may seem. 
 There are chords, however, that vibrate very harshly under the 
 slightest touch," I added. 
 
 " I know 1 know," she interrupted ; " one ought to be very
 
 342 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 careful with strangers. I am not sufficiently so, I suppose ; but 
 I have been very much spoiled by an over-indulgent society." 
 
 " Doctor Quintil told me that you were considered the queen 
 of this city," I said, gravely. 
 
 " My dear, are you in earnest, or only ironical ?" she asked, 
 much amused. 
 
 " I only repeat what he told me. I understood him to mean 
 that your influence was unbounded. Of course, the word ' Queen,' 
 was metaphorical. I conceived his meaning perfectly, I think." 
 
 " It has its limits, Miss de Courcy in my expenditure," she 
 added, between her set teeth. " Yet I have good friends ; fast 
 friends that must not be suspected. The world is not wholly 
 false. There are some who may be trusted some few," she 
 sighed ; "at least I am willing to think so." 
 
 For a moment a cloud came over her countenance, from which 
 the purple hue of excitement had now subsided, and she seemed 
 lost in thought. 
 
 " Oh, those were happy days !" she said, musingly ; " happy 
 days, when I suspected nobody. Now, I dare not confide 1 the 
 supremacy of interested motives is so great. Still, let me not 
 complain; there is much to enjoy." 
 
 " To be the cause of so much enjoyment to others is in itself 
 a privilege," I ventured to say. " What a beautiful ball this is I 
 what a brilliant assemblage 1 I have never imagined a gayer, 
 more sumptuous entertainment !" 
 
 " With such an imagination as you possess, this is conceding 
 much ; Doctor Quintil has told me of your powers." 
 
 " Oh, Dr. Quintil overrates me to my own confusion," I said, 
 coloring. " He is so modest for himself, it is strange he should 
 be so boastful for me, who am almost a part of himself.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 343 
 
 " You have a right to talent," she resumed, " if indeed, it be a 
 heritage. Erastus Bouverie was a man running over with it." 
 
 My hand was on her arm in a moment, then as quickly re- 
 moved. I looked into her face. 
 
 " You knew him then !" I said. " Tell me did you did you 
 admire my grandfather ?" 
 
 " Extremely, every one did ; but how pale you are how you 
 must love his memory ! How you must (let me speak out, Miss 
 de Courcy, since I have gone so far) deplore his unhappy fate ! I 
 honor such feeling." She spoke with earnestness. 
 
 I turned to conceal my emotion. I saw Jasper approaching 
 us, and with a strong effort recovered my composure. I rose and 
 took his arm at once. " We will go through the conservatories, 
 with your permission," I said ; " I feel that I have trespassed too 
 far on your time and attention already." 
 
 " We shall meet later in the evening, I hope," she said, smiling. 
 " Promise me that you will not leave the house without seeking 
 me again. I have a little project for you." 
 
 I gave the desired promise, and then free as air in that un- 
 known society we roved through the plant and picture rooms, 
 through hall, and dancing-saloon, and corridor, enjoying, admiring 
 everything, coveting nothing. For did we not possess in the 
 affection we gave each other, more than all earth's magnificence 
 could purchase or supply? 
 
 I remember that Jasper made a sketch of the exquisite Mexican 
 plant, the Annunciata, I believe, though I am not certain of the 
 name, which represents a snow-white dove nestling its head be- 
 neath its wing, concealed, at first from view, by four white over- 
 lying petals. 
 
 There, too, was tlwp superb Victoria Lily, almost covering the
 
 344 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEKIE. 
 
 basin that contained it, hollowed and cemented in the flcor of the 
 green-house ; and a stranger to me then, the night blooming 
 Ceres, that night unclosed her reluctant bosom to the gaze of 
 the crowd, and gave forth her balmy vanilla breath. 
 
 I was conscious of undivided enjoyment in all these things. 
 They were so beautiful so new ! they filled every sensuous requi- 
 sition of my being, these and the clear-pealing music, and the light, 
 alternately brilliant and sabdued ; and the fair and richly 
 apparelled women, and graceful men, mingling in dance, or waltz, 
 or gallop, and the magnificent and lavish banquet at the end took 
 captive my senses, and made me for a tune the slave of luxury. 
 
 I have been at the state entertainments of the rich and fashion- 
 able since theu ; but never at one that combined every requisite 
 of enjoyment as did that first ball of mine. But the mortal part 
 of her whose queenly hand provided all this splendor, this pleasure, 
 now feeds the worm ; and he whose firm manly arm I leant on 
 through that long evening of enjoyment, is dust and ashes no, 
 a glorious angel now ! 
 
 Peace to such thoughts, such memories ; let me proceed. My 
 story grows upon my hands. I had thought to confine it to the 
 house of Bouverie ; but the wish to record that fairy time of my 
 life is so strong with me, that I cannot resist the inclination. 
 Have patience, " wedding guest," the mood will pass 1 
 
 When I next saw the lady of the revels, she stood in a small 
 apartment containing a piano, and some smaller instruments 
 of music. The baud was playing on a distant staircase, there was 
 an interval in the dancing, and couples promenaded through the 
 long corridors and parlors without restraint, conversing gaily. 
 
 She had sent for me to meet her in the music-room, and 1 came 
 with Dr. Quintil and Jasper, at her bidding*
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOCTERIE. 845 
 
 11 1 have heard that you have a beautiful voice," she said ; 
 " and I want to hear you sing. Let me have the pleasure of 
 hearing a sweet, natural voice again ; an unadulterated voice, so 
 to speak. I weary of artificial singing." 
 
 " Mine is wholly uncultivated," I replied ; " my grandmother 
 has been my only teacher." 
 
 " Your grandmother 1" she started ; " Mrs. Bouverie survives, 
 then. I thought you lived alone with Dr. Quintilian ? Tell me," 
 she added, after a pause ; " is she still beautiful ?" 
 
 " More beautiful than any one else that I have ever known, 
 even in her age." 
 
 " Yet she is never heard of, and dwells, I suppose, in absolute 
 seclusion. Of what use is her beauty ? An ugly face like mine 
 would do as well to hide. Tell her I say this, and that she 
 wrongs society. But I am trifling with what time remains to us. 
 Come," and she led me to the piano. " Music is my passion, 
 vocal music especially; in hearing this only I forget myself. What 
 will you sing, Miss de Courcy ?" 
 
 " I hardly know. The songs I sing are simple ballads chiefly, 
 some of them old and mournful ; they would not please you, ac- 
 customed as you are to the finest music." 
 
 " Give me something in a minor key, first ; something slow and 
 sustained ; this tests the truth of the voice best." 
 
 I sang as she bade me, an air of Mozart's, to which I had set 
 a few original words that happened to suit the measure, fill'ng the 
 whole music without repetition. They were these : 
 
 LIFT NOT THE VEIL. 
 
 Lift not the veil with careless hand, 
 That hides a form of frozen clav ; 
 15*
 
 S46 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 Nor touch with truth's enchanted wand, 
 The glittering garments of the gay 
 Lest shrinking from the test supreme, 
 They drop to ashes like your dream. 
 
 Believe me what you see me now 
 
 Elate in beauty, proud of mien ; 
 Nor rend the garland from the brow 
 
 Of her your love hath crowned a Queen ; 
 That poisoned chaplet, in your wine, 
 Would give to death, your faith divine. 
 
 Alas ! for life ! Alas, for love ! 
 
 If aught beyond the present fling, 
 Their garden wealth of flowers above 
 
 The shadow of a blighting wing ; 
 Could'st thou behold the arid past ; 
 Thy soul would feel the desert blast ! 
 
 Then question not, of hidden thought ; 
 
 Of memory deep, or vain regret ; 
 Enough ! The flashing smile you sought, 
 
 Is yours to worship ; then forget ; 
 The dance, the song, the glance are thine ; 
 But dreams and solitude, are mine. 
 
 " There are resources in your voice that are not developed by 
 that air, those words, subdued and tender as both are," she said, 
 when I had finished the little- strain. " Do not leave the piano ; 
 sing something else. I like your voice, I enjoy it ; this is much 
 for me to say, but there are depths in its musical capacity that 
 even you are unacquainted with, I think." 
 
 She mused awhile, and I ran my fingers over the keys in uncer- 
 tain chords, not liking to refuse her, and yet still more disliking to 
 comply with her request.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 " And now another song, Miss de Courcy a soprano strain 
 something more varied and passionate, if you please." 
 
 " I will sing you then a favorite song of Dr. Quintilian's ; 
 indeed I found the score among some old music of his, in manu- 
 script, but not his own, I assure you," I added laughing. " I 
 think the air is Italian," and I sang the song which suited my 
 voice better than any other, the simple words of which I had 
 composed. 
 
 When I looked up after finishing it, I saw that the room, 
 empty when I began, was densely thronged. My first effort had 
 brought no listeners, no commendations. Yet here was the un- 
 doubted tribute of hushed admiration. Was it the song ? Was 
 it the singing? Both appeared indifferent enough to me. I 
 never knew more than this. I can say with all sincerity, I never 
 eared. i ; lf , t j 
 
 Yet it oppressed me to hare that silent throng about the piano 
 I tried to make my way to a window I saw beyond ; I was 
 checked at every step by introductions, by murmured compliments, 
 by insinuations rather than open expressions of admiration that 
 confused and annoyed me. 
 
 " I did not come here to amuse these people," I sj^id to Jasper 
 in whispered tones, as he made his way to me at lasti " I care 
 neither for their admiration nor mockery, whichever this may be. 
 I ought not to have been subjected to this I, a stranger. Take 
 me away !" 
 
 And tears of pure vexation stood in my eyes. The window 
 opened to a verandah into which we passed unobserved. In another 
 moment we stood out in the clear, cold moonlight, beneath the 
 eye of heaven. The buzz of the multitude came from within, and 
 the gaslight streamed from the windows. But we were as com-
 
 348 THE HOUSEHOLD OF OTJVERIE. 
 
 pletely shut away from that artificial life as if sea& bau divided 
 us from it. 
 
 We stood for a time enjoying that deep, sweet, intense solitude, 
 the more perfect for being so near a crowd ; then turning, as we 
 became aware of the lateness of the hour, sought a private en- 
 trance to the hall, througt which we were to find our final egress. 
 As we passed the window of the music room, from which we had 
 lately emerged. I heard the voice of our hostess say in loud, un- 
 decided tones : 
 
 " There never was but one voice like that before, and that be- 
 longed to Madame Malibran." 
 
 " Oui Madame," was the sharp reply of the man, " bearded 
 like a pard," we saw shrugging his shoulders by the piano. 
 " Mais que voulez vous ? Elle a des larmes dans sa voix c'est 
 vrai ; cependant, c'est une voix sauvage, tout a fait, tout a fait." 
 
 The criticism died into thin air, both really and metaphorically, 
 and I should have forgotten it long ago but for the amusement 
 it caused Jasper. The literal translation was often afterward 
 applied to my voice by him. 
 
 Before we left the city on the following day, I received a 
 superb bouquet of exotic flowers from royalty, together with a 
 note containing an invitation to return in the winter and make 
 a visit at her palace, and take lessons from able artists in vocal 
 and instrumental music, at her cost, for old acquaintance sake. 
 
 The well-intended and liberal offer was declined, but never for- 
 gotten. She believed evidently, despite appearances, in our 
 poverty, and sought to remove one of its harshest stings, the 
 necessity of neglecting talent. Who shall say this woman was 
 not generous, or deny her the possession of heart, even in the 
 midst of fashionable frivolity ? v
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 849 
 
 I have said truly, that the words of the second song were 
 simple, yet perhaps they caught something of the tenderness of 
 the sweet old strain to winch they were wholly adapted, and 
 thus I venture to insert them here : 
 
 NEVER AGAIN, MINE OWN. 
 (Italian air.) 
 
 Never again, never again mine own, 
 
 Shall our fond voices blend in speech or song; 
 Murmur of mine, whether of ruth or wrong, 
 
 Shall haunt thee with its wild and thrilling- tone 
 Of tenderest pity, or of deepest pain, 
 
 " Never again, mine own, never again." 
 
 When you behold the dim and dying moon 
 Fade in the glory of the vernal day, 
 Or watch a pale rose on its pendent spray 
 
 Wave in the nightwind of the balmy June, 
 
 They will renew to thee the solemn strain 
 " Never again, mine own, never again." 
 
 When a white dove against a stormy sky 
 
 Flies with its cleaving pinions, fast and free, 
 Or the wind moaneth in the aspen-tree, 
 
 Tossing its ghostly, silvery leaves on high, 
 Thy soul will yearn to join the old refrain, 
 
 " Never again, mine own, never again." 
 
 For well I loved these tokens, they to me 
 Were linked with aspirations far and dim, 
 And stirred my being as a choral hymn, 
 
 Lofty and sorrowful of things to be 
 For me the flower shall wave, the moon shall wane, 
 
 " Never again, mine own, never again."
 
 850 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 But unto thee their presence shall be fraught 
 With a strange tenderness, a new regret ; 
 They shall remind thee how we loved and met, 
 
 How parted, with what depth of patient thought. 
 
 I bore, as I shall bear, thy cold disdain, 
 * Never again, mine own, never again."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 891 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 How joyous was that return to Bouverie how fond was our 
 welcome how delightful our reunion ! We returned laden with 
 presents and with news. No one was forgotten. Jasper brought 
 his mother a superior timepiece ; Dr. Quintil, a long-desired carpet 
 for her dining-room, humbly and gratefully receiving the well- 
 worn, cast-off floor-covering for his particular sanctum, where, he 
 earnestly affirmed, a new carpet would " make him miserable !" 
 
 " Think of the inevitable tobacco-stains, and then imagine the 
 feelings of an economist like myself, in seeing a Brussels tapestry 
 so disfigured. I tell you, this well-worn ingrain is a perfect God- 
 send, for mine has just taken French-leave, and a new one would 
 set me crazy." 
 
 So he had it his own way, and we humored the humorist 
 Dame McConnick and Bianca rejoiced in brown merino dresses, 
 and high-topped combs the last worn by the singularly hideous 
 and eccentric person first mentioned, among her grizzled locks (in 
 defiance of all known laws on the subject, with the teeth stuck in 
 the wrong way), so that she looked like a stag of ten on high- 
 days and holidays ever after. 
 
 For my grandfather there were books and engravings, and an 
 exquisite snuff-box ; and for Fabius, a cane and a beaver hat the 
 last so speckless, and fitting him so admirably, that, to use Bianca's 
 expression, " he looked as though he had been born with it on his 
 head," an expression that we considered quite Shakspearean, re- 
 minding us, as it did, of " to the manor born," and scarcely more
 
 'i52 THS HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 obscure or metaphorical. These presents were valued none the 
 less for their perfect inutility. 
 
 As for Pat McCormick, who possessed a dreary taste for music, 
 we made him happy with an accordeon. from which he pulled un- 
 willing melodies, tortured and transmogrified by the process so as 
 to be scarcely recognizable by ears polite. Among the sheep and 
 swine of Bouverie he was, however, evidently accounted a second 
 Orpheus. They gathered about him in astonished admiration. 
 and "Days of Absence" became a watchword to all recreant 
 animals of this description, that restrained enterprise, and recalled 
 them to a sense of their present condition. Much depends, how- 
 ever, on a sympathetic audience, in achieving any artistic 
 success. 
 
 I noticed that the fastidious ear of " Violet Fane " was fear- 
 fully pricked, whenever Pat began to draw out his " linked sweet- 
 ness ;" and the lugubrious wail of the " Soldier's Tear," suddenly 
 commenced by him after leading the creature to her master, and 
 committing the carelessly received reins to his hands, leaving his 
 fingers free to touch his accordeon, had nearly put an end to 
 Jasper. 
 
 After the first glow of meeting was over, I perceived again, as 
 upon a former occasion, traces of unusual depression about my 
 grandmother. There was no reason for this that I could fathom. 
 Health reigned in her household, and a more than usually boun- 
 teous season blessed the laud. 
 
 Before long this was explained in the following manner. 1 
 found Dr. Quintil walking the floor very impatiently, one morning, 
 with a perturbed countenance, as I entered the dining-room. 1 
 stopped, and gazed at him with evident concern, then turned to 
 withdraw.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 353 
 
 " Come in, Lilian," he said ; " it will relieve me to tell you of 
 my annoyance ; and you must learn to bear your part of every 
 burden of Bouverie, now that you are identified with us all for life. 
 I find that during our absence, that scoundrel, Smith, has been 
 harassing your grandmother's life out ; and his last demand has been 
 flatly she fears, injudiciously refused, fco that there is no telling 
 what may come to pass." 
 
 " What was the demand, Dr. Quintil, and what does he dare to 
 threaten her with ? The wretch knows nothing !" 
 
 " More than we have supposed, I fear, Lilian. Heaven knows 
 there may have been treachery somewhere, though I hardly think 
 that. We certainly have used every precaution ; and, if we fail, 
 God help us ! we cannot, at all events, reproach ourselves." 
 
 " Does he want money, or what ?" I asked, in a husky voice, 
 while mjr heart sank within me with a sick foreboding. 
 
 " Do not be frightened," he said, approaching me kindly, and 
 drawing me to a seat, "or I shall regret having made any commu- 
 nication to you on the subject. Ii is such a comfort, when a man 
 is in trouble, to be surrounded with cool, courageous women. 
 The time to be nervous is when all danger is over." He smiled, 
 to reassure me. 
 
 " You apprehend danger, then ?" 
 
 "Inconvenience, rather than danger," he replied. "Smith 
 boldly declares his belief that there is a concealed inmate at Bou- 
 verie, and demands five thousand dollars as the price of his secrecy. 
 On receiving this, he swears to return to England, and to reappear 
 no more on this side of the Atlantic, as well as to preserve his 
 discovery for such he has the temerity to call itinviolate. He 
 has the impudence to talk about the injury his character would 
 sustain, should the matter ever be brought to light, and, for the
 
 864 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIK. 
 
 6rst time since we left her, has accosted your grandmother on 
 the subject." 
 
 " He has spoken before of his conviction to Biauca, you re- 
 member." 
 
 " I recollect it well ; but his insolence in approaching Mrs. 
 Bouverie surpasses everything ! I half believe I should be justi- 
 fiable in shooting him like a dog. I certainly shall and I have 
 sent him word to that effect if he ever addresses another syllable 
 to her on any subject except that of his garden. But I do not 
 wish to shed blood, if it can be helped. It is a necessity I recoil 
 from." He shuddered. 
 
 " Give him the five thousand dollars, then, and let him go ! If 
 you will advance it, I will give up my inheritance when I become 
 of age, to repay you. Anything is better than this torture." 
 
 He hesitated. " I cannot command this sum just now," he 
 said. " What I have, is loaned out for a term of years, with the 
 exception of a little gold ; and I spend every cent of my income 
 I save nothing. Besides, Lilian, where would the matter end ? 
 Would he not, like the leech's daughter, still cry ' give, give ?' 
 Your grandmother, it is true, might, by mortgage on this pro- 
 perty, realize this sum, were it judicious^ to do this ; but the in- 
 terest, if not kept down, would soon eat up Bouverie, and that is 
 her whole estate. At his death and hers, you receive your grand- 
 father's income (you know the estate from which it springs cannot 
 be alienated, though he had the right to divert it, as he did, by 
 some intricate management of the eccentric Ursa Bouverie, during 
 her life) ; and I believe, though death stared him in the face, Mr. 
 Bouverie would never consent to lend himself to such a sacrifice, as 
 he would be obliged to make personally, to silence Smith. Yet, I 
 may be mistaken."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 355 
 
 " Shall I broach the subject, Dr. Quintil ?" 
 
 " No, decidedly no ; it would be better to remove him if it 
 same to that. We could all remove to Italy at a far less sacri- 
 fice, by proceeding cautiously in the matter, and with the assist- 
 ance Bishop Clare would and could give us. There we could live 
 in comfort, and unknown." 
 
 " Such determined hostility, it seems to me, would track us 
 even there. We cannot resist this wretch ; let us try to compro- 
 mise." 
 
 " That would be to acknowledge the truth of his accusation, 
 and so place ourselves eternally in his power. We must repel it, 
 now that we have gone so far, and by additional caution elude 
 further observation on his part. He will not move in the matter 
 just now I think, and Bishop Clare will soon be here ; then we 
 can sit in council, but for the present we must not alarm Mr. 
 Bouverie." 
 
 "Do you think that were the sum he asks granted him a 
 fortune in his condition Smith would forfeit his part of the 
 agreement, and return for more ? Is that your idea, Dr. Quin- 
 til?" 
 
 " I have come to the conclusion that we should only be able to 
 purchase temporary security by making terms with him. The 
 better plan, it seems to me, for the present at least, is to pay him 
 good wages, and keep him in our employment. When he finds 
 he cannot intimidate us into concessions, he will come to his 
 senses. He has already been the gainer by preserving silence. 
 Your grandmother has not dared to refuse him any advance to 
 his wages demanded so far, for some tune past. He knows this, 
 but presumed too far at last." 
 
 " How has he behaved since then ?"
 
 356 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 
 
 " Oh, very humbly. Perhaps after all, her impulse, for the con* 
 sequences of which she trembles, taught her to treat him as was 
 best for such a reptile. Now if he were only an American I 
 might deal with him ; but what can one do with a grovelling 
 foreigner ?" 
 
 " Or even a Catholic," I suggested. " Bishop Clare could con- 
 trol him in that case." 
 
 " Yes, would that he were a Catholic, Lily ; something might 
 be made of him then." 
 
 At another time I might have smiled at this incautious admis- 
 sion of an avowed Calvinist, but matters were serious now too 
 menacing for mirth. 
 
 Soon after this conversation, letters arrived from Colonel de 
 Courcy and his attorney, acquainting Dr. Quintil with the death 
 of Lady Constance Torrlngton, and my consequent inheritance of 
 her private estate." This was small in English eyes, but to me, 
 with my habits of frugality, five thousand pounds was a brilliant 
 accession, and, added to the small independence that I already 
 possessed, would make me comparatively rich. 
 
 Yet every shilling of this should go in my grandfather's service, 
 if needed to defend him from persecution, as soon as I could com- 
 mand it. I was determined on this, and I knew that Jasper 
 would not oppose the desire of my heart. 
 
 He had enough I knew to support us both in modest comfort ; 
 his talents would ere long bring him wealth and honor, I firmly 
 believed. I felt certain now that if we could temporize witb 
 Smith, he might finally be purchased by the settlement of an an- 
 nuity, the payment of which should be conditional on his silence, 
 the capital to be his finally ; that is after the expiration of my 
 grandfather's natural life.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTERIE. 357 
 
 llie possession of the means whereby to protect my grand- 
 father's existence from annoyance and even danger, brought a 
 glow to my heart and cheek, and reacted on all around me. Yet 
 I was not insensible to the mournful fate of that relative, from 
 whom circumstances had divided my career. 
 
 Death was, however, preferable to the life she had led. She 
 had been, for years in a nervous condition, bordering at times on 
 insanity, caused, it was supposed, by her domestic sorrows, but of 
 these no one knew more than the garrulity of servants, or the un- 
 disguised harshness of her husband made evident. 
 
 The charm, whatever it was, that attracted her to him in the 
 beginning, sealed her lips, and riveted her chains through life. 
 Had children been born to her, an alleviation of her grief might 
 have been afforded by maternal care and affection. Or even had 
 I gone to her as a daughter, some consolation might have risen 
 from our intercourse. 
 
 Sometimes I think my duty pointed that way, although I 
 shudder to think of the thorny path I must have trodden in its 
 performance. Again, I feel convinced that an all-wise Providence 
 shaped my destiny, and that no human intervention could have 
 changed it from its course. 
 
 Colonel de Courcy was necessarily trustee until I attained my 
 majority, and he wrote to Dr. Quintil, as my legal guardian, to 
 apprise him of the steps he had taken. He mentioned me with 
 cold courtesy, made no allusion to Edith Howe, waived all 
 knowledge of my grandmother's existence, and seemed to 
 have drawn back into his shell, as if regretting that he had 
 ever compromised his dignity by venturing so far from its narrow 
 limits. 
 
 More than ever now I felt that an impassable barrier had risen
 
 358 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 between me and Taunton Tower ; more than ever I surrendered my 
 whole being to those around me. 
 
 There was a strange joy to me in the feeling that one house 
 contained all that I loved or cared for in this world. I that 
 was born ambitious, through the power of happiness and affection 
 became totally indifferent to every promise of fame, or voice of 
 society. 
 
 It was pleasant to hear, and see, and enjoy these things at a 
 safe distance ; to skim the papers, to read of distant pageantry 
 
 and luxury, and fashion. Of what the beautiful Mrs. C was 
 
 doing in New York, or the brilliant Madam J in "Washing- 
 ton, or the plain, little queen and her stately court in England, or 
 the French elite in Paris. 
 
 My grandmother was infinitely amused by the vivid delight I 
 took in all these descriptions of people, who moved before me, 
 like characters hi novels, real in imagination only therefore 
 more real to me than if I had connected with them any personal 
 identity. 
 
 " If you could only see them, Lilian, as they are for these are 
 flesh-and-blood characters, after all how your interest would 
 slacken in them, and their affairs ? I have seen enough of the 
 world to know, that, with a moderate share of good looks, some 
 tact, more self-possession, a taste for dress, and a capacity for flat- 
 tery, a very ordinary woman may lead society. Aye, lead those 
 a thousand tunes more gifted, more beautiful, more refined, than 
 herself for women of the latter stamp rarely possess the practical 
 audacity necessary to put themselves forward hi the full glare of 
 the public eye. 
 
 "Blunt nerves, and universal good nature, must belong to the 
 leader of society who makes her way to such position by dint of
 
 f THE HODSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 359 
 
 her own determined assurance. There are, indeed, rare instances 
 where women of the highest caste are borne up by the force of cir- 
 
 Icumstances to the topmost rung of the ladder ; but it is not with- 
 out immense sacrifice and suffering that they maintain themselves 
 on this giddy height. 
 
 /*"* " The fatal facility of being bored, so common with high-strung 
 v people, makes it almost intolerable to them to come in daily 
 ^smiling contact with the cold, the mean, the common-place. How- 
 ever dear the admiration of the few friends she esteems may be 
 to a woman of high culture and sensibility, the approaches of the 
 fawning flatterer, or the airs of self-constituted importance, are 
 equally distasteful and fatiguing. 
 
 " So, Lilian, this hard world-service does not repay its votaries 
 after all, unless they are coarse enough, and hard enough, to go 
 ungalled from the harness." 
 
 I smiled at my grandmother's little lecture. "Actors are very 
 weary, often," I said, "when spectators are quite fresh, and full 
 of delight in their performance. So, at this safe distance, it is 
 pleasant to look on, and trace the career of people so removed 
 from us that they appear no more than histrionic characters. 
 And, in spite of all you say every word of which, I know, is 
 wrung from deep experience I am so self-willed that I cannot 
 help admiring a woman, self-poised enough, and resolute enough, 
 to lead the many-headed monster. I think the same sort of 
 intellect is required for this, that makes men rulers in higher 
 places." 
 
 " Lilian, mere success is not worthy of admiration, in any case, 
 unless based on high motives. The greatest men of this world 
 have probably been unsuccessful ; the noblest women I have ever 
 known, have been obscure. ; Circumstances have so much to du
 
 360 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVEKIE. 
 
 with success,/ See how they threw up to the very crest of the 
 wave, that bold, bad man, Napoleon Bonaparte. An exhausted 
 horse can be managed by a child. Caesar, you know, cried, 
 ' Give me some drink, Titania,'like a sick girl, when ill in Spain 
 so Shakspeare says ; and nations have their tunes to be sick, and 
 accept any leader that presents himself. I have long ceased to 
 merge merit in success." 
 
 " Then you won't think the less of me, grandmother, if my book 
 falls flat from the press. I am so glad of that !" 
 
 " Your book, Lilian ?" 
 
 " Don't you know about my book of poems, that Dr. Quintil is 
 going to have published, and that Jasper and he like eo much 
 but, of course, they are very partial critics and that my grand- 
 father says is nothing but a bundle of sticks, strong only in com- 
 panionship very ill-natured, was it not? and that you, dear 
 grandmother, have never read a line of ?" 
 
 " Oh, Lilian, don't venture on such a step you are too young, 
 too inexperienced, to write well. You know I have always dis- 
 couraged this inclination on your part ; but, if you will write, take 
 tune and thought, at least." 
 
 " Grandmother, I have, to write." 
 
 " My dear, where is the necessity ?" 
 
 " Here," I said, laughing, pointing to my brow and breast. 
 " Don't you know that poets write because they must, not because 
 they can ? You remind me of Talleyrand's reply to the man who 
 was urging him for employment, because he said he must live : 
 ' Mon ami, je u'en vois pas la ndcessiteV " 
 
 She smiled. "Ah, Lilian, you worship fame this is your ne- 
 cessity, I fear." 
 
 " I expect none," I answered earnestly. " My name will never
 
 T3E HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 361 
 
 be known in connection with these poems, nor suspected ; yet, if 
 approved, it will be pleasant for all around me to know that I 
 possessed some power ; and, if they fail, I know you will think 
 none the less of me for such failure. SSo I shall placidly await 
 the issue." 
 
 16
 
 302 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUFERM. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ALL this time the subject of so much anxiety kept on the even 
 tenor of his way above-stairs, passing the mellow, melancholy 
 autumn hours as best he might, in books, in thought, in work, of 
 his peculiar kind in society, such as his house afforded him, and 
 in dreams of that brilliant future, which, like the Aurora of the 
 northern heavens, flushed with its rosy light the long and dreary 
 night of his captivity. 
 
 It strikes me now as something strange that my grandfather 
 never seemed to connect any idea of change with my condition. 
 Had he made up his mind that my individuality was to be merged 
 in that of others, and that the names, so dear to woman's heart 
 those of wife and mother were never to be applied to me ? Or, 
 did he foresee, as a blind necessity of my position, that end from 
 which he recoiled with such bitter and ineffectual pain, when 
 forced on his notice at last ? 
 
 Was it from such apprehension such certainty, almost that 
 he seemed to ignore Jasper's very existence, so that I never ven- 
 tured to breathe his name before him, or allude to his genius ? 
 And yet I felt that he must have known of his presence, his ab- 
 sence, of his return, of his vocation, of his peculiar devotion to me. 
 Even Fabius, the uncommunicative, must have signified, in time, 
 something of all these things, either by direct or indirect allusions, 
 or by accidental remark, never lost on one so quick, so apprehen- 
 sive, as my grandfather. This matter remains, must ever remain, 
 mysterious to me. 
 

 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 363 
 
 It will be remembered that since the experiment of the 
 " draught of life," my visits to my grandfather's apartments had 
 been made in the company of others only. To this arrangement 
 he had ventured no remonstrance ; nor, since the first ineffectual 
 effort to change my grandmother's resolution on this subject, had 
 I offered the slightest opposition. It was in the month of Sep- 
 tember that, for the first and last tune, I broke through the some- 
 what arbitrary, yet acknowledged law that had heretofore re- 
 strained me, and went alone to the sealed apartments of Bouverie. 
 
 At the termination of a meal, Fabius, who had purposely de- 
 tained me for a draught of water I had asked for, pretending 
 that it was not properly iced, until my grandmother and Dr. 
 Quintil had left the room, placed very mysteriously in my hand a 
 Blip of paper containing a few words in the well-known caligraphy 
 of my grandfather characters so clear and even I have never 
 seen elsewhere out of print. 
 
 " Lilian, can you come to me ?" ran the message. " I must 
 see you alone, once more. This is no whim, but an urgent 
 necessity, such as may never occur again. Be secret, and meet 
 Fabius in the plant-room at midnight. He will conduct you." 
 
 For a moment I hesitated. Although I had given no promise 
 to that effect, my unresisting obedience seemed a tacit agreement 
 on my part to fulfill my grandmother's wishes ; and I felt it was 
 wrong to violate this, however unwillingly accorded. Yet to dis- 
 appoint him, whose claims on my duty seemed also undeniable, 
 was hardest of all. For a moment there was a struggle. 
 
 I looked up, still holding the paper in my hand, still undeter- 
 mined what to do. The old man was intently watching my face. 
 perhaps, reading my internal conflict in its expression. When 
 bis eyes met mine he went on again with his work, that of clear-
 
 364 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 ing away the table-service, as if perfectly indifferent to mj 
 decision. 
 
 Yet, when I said at last : " Fabius, I will go I" he could not 
 conceal his satisfaction. 
 
 " I will meet you in the plant-room, with a lantern, at twelve 
 o'clock, Miss Lilian. You shall not go up that steep ladder in 
 the dark this time." 
 
 " Be punctual ; I will be there," I said, somewhat impatient 
 
 
 of his allusion to my willful adventure, which I supposed to be a 
 
 secret, at least from him. 
 
 He looked wistfully at me for a moment, laid his finger on his 
 lip, then taking up his tray of glass, left the dining-room. 
 
 " Fabius is growing garrulous," I thought; " what will happen 
 next ? and after all, what can my poor grandfather want ? Per- 
 haps, he has heard of Smith's proceedings ; perhaps, he contem- 
 plates an escape. Great heavens ! where is all this to end ? 
 How I wish Jasper were at home. Alas ! he has grown so 
 necessary to me, that my powers of thought are crippled in his 
 temporary absence." 
 
 That night my grandmother detained me long in her chamber, 
 talking to me more openly than she had yet done of her contem- 
 plated arrangements for my comfort. I scarcely knew what I 
 was saying when called upon to reply, and felt unutterably re- 
 lieved when at last she dismissed me with the words : " Sleep 
 soundly, dearest ; it is almost twelve o'clock !" 
 
 It was not her custom to enter my room after I had retired for 
 the night, and the door, except in warm weather, was usually 
 closed between us, so that I ran little risk of being discovered ; 
 yet, the certainty of this would not have deterred me from the 
 course I pursued. At twelve o'clock I found Fabius waiting for
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 865 
 
 me in the conservatory, with the key of the basement ladder- 
 room in his hand, and a few moments later, I stood, after clam- 
 bering cautiously up the stairway, breathless with excitement in 
 my grandfather's presence. 
 
 He was sitting in his great chair in the centre of the hall as I 
 entered it, near the round table with its scarlet cloth, on which, 
 as on the first night of my secret visit to his chamber, a lamp and 
 candles were burning. The night was chill for that usually 
 clement season, and he was dressed to meet its requirements, in 
 that warm dressing-gown of crimson and purple flowered brocade 
 which had invested him, in Pat McCormick's eyes, with the 
 dignity of a king ; nay, the Pope himself. It certainly became 
 him well, and brought into almost startling relief his intense 
 pallor, and rich flowing steel-colored hair, and the flashing bril- 
 liancy of his eyes. There was an expression on his face that I 
 
 had never seen it wear before, and which for a moment held me 
 
 
 silent and spell-bound before him. He looked to me like a man 
 
 over whom some great change was passing even then, a change 
 that might be called a crisis, such as that which comes to a 
 young man suddenly stricken into age by the agency of fear or 
 grief. Or rather to my excited fancy he appeared that night in 
 his wanness and solitude, like one spared from a shipwreck or an 
 earthquake, or a volcanic overflow ; one of many to testify by 
 the anguish of his physical change to their otherwise unre- 
 corded horrors. 
 
 There are times, I believe, in the lives of men, when their fate 
 draws near to them, and its shadow rests above them, however 
 distant may be its consummation. 
 
 "Who has not seen a vulture swoop above its prey, and then 
 soar away again with its wide outspread wings as if destined
 
 366 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 never to return ? Who does not know that after it has ex 
 hausted itself in upper air by graceful and manifold gyrations it 
 will descend once more to seize that which it merely shadowed 
 before ? 
 
 Look back, you who writhe in the talons of the inevitable, and 
 recall the dark forebodings which the dusk shadow of its wings 
 long since has shed above you, and recognize the intention of 
 your doom. 
 
 " Lilian," he said, " you have come, I knew you would. You 
 are punctual, too a king's virtue, child. Have you been secret 
 as well ?" 
 
 " I have obeyed you, grandfather," I replied, a little coldly 
 perhaps. 
 
 He took my hand, he gazed upon my face, he murmured of the 
 pleasure my prompt acquiescence with his wish had given him, of 
 the joy my presence always afforded him. 
 
 Touched and grateful, I knelt before him, on his low footstool, 
 and kissed his hands. 
 
 He held my wrists in his grasp, silently for a time. I felt that 
 he was counting my pulses. 
 
 "There is health enough in these young veins," he said, "to 
 justify me in making the request I have sent for you to prefer. 
 The rich life-blood abounds here even to superfluity. Lilian, you 
 have blood, and to spare." 
 
 " Blood, grandfather," I repeated, struggling slightly to with- 
 draw my arm. " You do not want my blood, I hope ? Is he 
 insane after all ?" was the rapid thought that swept through me, 
 " and is this & part of the past, so long esteemed as crime, mero 
 madness at last ?" 
 
 He relinquished his hold immediately, and said with evident
 
 ; THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 367 
 
 mortification, " You surely do not think I mean to harm you, 
 Lilian ?" 
 
 I stood before him with my head cast down, as the guilty stand 
 before their accusers. 
 
 " No, no indeed," I murmured, " I know you would not harm 
 me, unless unless" 
 
 " Unless I were mad, Lilian ; is that what you would say ?" 
 he asked, still surveying me with his piercing, reproachful eyes ; 
 then waiting a moment for a reply, which never came, he added, 
 " you are right there ; but I am not mad have absolutely no 
 capacity for madness, child. Listen, I only ask from you one, cup 
 of that generous blood, that flowed from my veins in the begin- 
 ning." 
 
 " This is a strange fancy of yours, grandfather a horrible 
 fancy. Do you drink blood ? Are yon a vampire ?" I tried 
 to smile, but shuddered in the attempt. " I must not seem 
 afraid," I thought, " for if this be mania, such evidence would in- 
 crease it ; and yet how can Fabius seem so unconcerned, if he 
 meditates any horrible thing ? Perhaps they are going to unite 
 and sacrifice me." 
 
 In spite of my better resolution, I felt myself trembling at the 
 thought of playing the part of an unwilling Iphigenia. Fortu- 
 nately, this passed unobserved. 
 
 " Hear me dispassionately," he said ; " then decide as yon will. 
 I ask your assistance in the preparation of a remedy, on which 
 my feeble life depends. I have been in the habit of drawing 
 from my own veins, or those of Fabius, the required amount of 
 fluid to complete my preparation ; but since my long illness, my 
 strength has failed. His, too, declines, and unless the properties 
 of perfect health be found in the blood thus used, it is of little or
 
 368 THE HOUSEHCHJ) OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 no avail. To-day I threw three hundred sovereigns, the last of 
 my treasure, in the crucibles. All this will be wasted, unless I 
 obtain the necessary ingredient wherewith to divide the smolder- 
 ing mass from the ethereal spirit that makes the elexir." 
 
 " Why not use the blood of a lamb, or of a goat, grandfather ; 
 or beef's blood, as I have heard they do in sugar refineries? 
 These can be easily procured, and human nature spared the horror 
 of such an experiment." 
 
 " Because the chemical affinities are all wanting in these that 
 success depends on ; but, Lilian, I will not urge you further ; I 
 will not ask again, even to save my own life, for a gill of the 
 blood I gave you." 
 
 I was nerved to sudden determination by these words. 
 
 "Be sure you take no other, grandfather," I said, hazarding a 
 feeble jest to raise my own courage. " Spare my De Courcy 
 blood, I implore you ;" and baring my arm, I stretched it forth, 
 and turned away. 
 
 A small porcelain urn was brought forward, and Fabius 
 breathed a vein with a dexterity that manifested practice. I had 
 just began to feel slightly faint and giddy, when my grandfather 
 staunched the orifice, and bound my arm himself with bandages, 
 in readiness for the occasion ; first touching the wounded vein 
 with a liquid which removed soreness from the arm, and prevented 
 all subsequent inconvenience. 
 
 " Aye, Lilian, this will do," he said ; " this young and ruddy 
 blood is what I needed. Do you know, child, that the time is 
 not far distant when he who can afford to purchase such relays 
 for his veins weekly, or even monthly, may put off death indefi- 
 nitely ? The surgeon will let young blood into the old man's 
 veins then, as easily as the barber trims his beard now, and it will
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 369 
 
 be a part of the received hygeian system to do this, indispensabl6 
 even to the toilet of every sexagenarian." 
 
 He held the all but transparent cup between his eyes and the 
 brilliant lamps. " It is perfect," continued he, "every globule 
 round as a drop of rain. I fear I have not spared your De Courcy 
 blood, as you requested, however. I think I discern a mixture ; 
 but come, you shall see the charm work. Medea was a bungler 
 compared with Erastus Bouverie !" 
 
 He led me to the crucible, red hot over its charcoal furnace, 
 and lifting the lid, showed me the dull, yellow, molten mass within. 
 
 " Now look, Lilian." 
 
 He took from the marble slab, or counter, as I have elsewhere 
 called it, a vial of white, liquid, which, when opened, emitted the 
 odoriferous, and, to me, grateful and reviving smell of almonds, and 
 bending over the crucible, poured in carefully about half the con- 
 tents of the bottle, quickly replacing the close-fitting glass stopper. 
 
 Instantly the seething mass stood still, a few large bubbles 
 rose, flashed, dispersed, and a dull violet flame seemed to flit and 
 flicker over the surface. 
 
 " Now, Lilian, all is ready. Look attentively, and behold the 
 crisis !" His face was rigid as steel, as he dashed in the blood. 
 
 The flame died out, the whole mass seemed to shudder and re- 
 coil ; then separate as instantaneously as I have seen the curd and 
 whey of milk divide under the action of an acid, or, to use a 
 grandiose comparison, as earth and sea might have divided in the 
 beginning of time. A mass of substance was precipitated to the 
 bottom of the crucible, and oh, wondrous vision ! in the clear, 
 amber-colored fluid above, myriads of tiny serpents of flashing 
 light seemed gliding, quivering, coiling in ring after ring, and 
 springing in spiral movements to the surface ! 
 
 16*
 
 870 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 " It is the vital principle at work," he said, in suppressed tones, 
 "electrifying the duller agent. The combination will be more 
 than usually perfect. The blood of genius works well ! Fabius, 
 extinguish the fires." His voice was low and husky. 
 
 He spoke no more until this was done; then steadily and slowly, 
 and with every nerve strained to its fullest tension in the anxiety 
 of the moment for much depended on the accuracy of this move- 
 ment he poured into a silver bowl the wonderful elixir, prepara- 
 tory to sealing it in crystal vials. 
 
 "And now, Lilian, see what remains." I looked ; the crucible 
 was two-thirds filled with dull, yellow dust, not unlike flowers of 
 rolphur, gritty to the touch, and unsightly to the eye. 
 
 " Is there no value in this ?" I asked. 
 
 " No more than in ashes nay, scarce as much. Three hundred 
 sovereigns gone to make one pint of elixir *a costly remedy; but 
 what is gold to life ?" He gazed at me with his flashing eyes, his 
 unspeakably brilliant smile. 
 
 " Life 1 Oh, there is magic in that word beyond any other 
 that the cunning brain of man has devised as a vehicle for thought. 
 It includes all things it is a circle, complete in itself. It is a 
 thing to worship, to preserve beyond hope, or fame, or honor, or 
 love, even the only direct manifestation of Godhead we possess I 
 Life, as we know it here I mean, child, in connection with this 
 fine sensitive frame, with all its wonderful combinations of nerve, 
 and fibre, and capacity of sensation and resistance life, as we 
 know it, whether in its fullness or its poverty. Better than 
 any glory the filmy future promises. Who wants immortality 
 at the expense of such a present ? Who desires, save your 
 priest-deluded enthusiast, to be that qualmy thing, an angelic 
 essence ? Then, in striking contrast to all this power, this con-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 371 
 
 Bciousness, this capability of enjoyment or of suffering, look at 
 death I" 
 
 As if he saw the grim spectre of his fancy before him, he gazed 
 intently forward, his voice dropped into a hoarse and suppressed 
 key, and he shook his head mournfully. " The grave ! How 
 terrible it is dark, narrow, cold the end of all 1 No wonder 
 that Hamlet shrank from suicide. Nothing beyond, Lilian ; 
 nothing beyond. Soul, as you call it, sense, genius, power, enjoy- 
 ment, all merged in that last necessity, the worm." 
 
 " Grandfather," I said, firmly, " death has no horrors compared 
 to a belief like this. Your ideal surpasses God's actual." 
 
 "And you, Lilian," he said, turning suddenly upon me, with his 
 mocking smile, "what is it you believe, after all such is, I think, 
 the popular word for delusion a word of very deep and different 
 significance, however, when properly employed." 
 
 " That I shall live forever and ever, as you believe that you are 
 living now. It seems to me that my delusion gives me an advan- 
 tage, grandfather, over yours." A bitter sarcasm, no sooner ut- 
 tered than regretted. 
 
 " I do believe you are in earnest, child," he said, after gazing 
 at me attentively for a moment, without noticing my significant 
 speech ; and, turning on his heel, he began to walk the room 
 slowly, musingly; uttering, from time to time, the words, "Strange, 
 strange, if true." 
 
 " Grandfather," I said gravely, and with a courage that seemed 
 to me came from something beyond myself, "this life that you 
 worship so cannot be long with you ; then comes the great begin- 
 ning ! Oh. grandfather, make friends with the future, so soon to 
 be your eternal present. Make your peace with God, so soon to 
 be your visible judge. Try and believe that the worm is not the
 
 372 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOtTVEEIE. 
 
 end of all, and that one sinful human soul is more valuable in his 
 sight than the bright sun himself." 
 
 "And do you believe this, Lily?" he said, his Voltaire-like 
 smile quivering a moment across his face, then giving way to a 
 deep gloom as sudden as a storm-cloud. 
 
 " Child, child, you would esteem me a bad man, I fear, if you 
 knew all, and yet I think you love me. How is this ?" 
 
 " Not half as much, grandfather, as he who died for you, for me, 
 for all !" 
 
 M Do not preach to me, child," he said ; " you reverse the order 
 of things. Suppose you carry the matter out, however, before we 
 part, "he added, after a slight, almost embarrassed hesitation, "for 
 it is late, Lilian, wearing on to day. It is customary for the old 
 to bless the young ; but, to-night, Lilian, you shall bless me, if 
 you like," and he bowed his head before me, speaking carelessly, 
 yet not without emotion. 
 
 I scarcely knew whether he were in earnest or not ; this 
 mattered little I was, and laying my hands upon his lion-like 
 head, I said : 
 
 " In the name of Christ, I do bless you, my beloved grandfather." 
 
 He started from his drooping attitude, much affected by my 
 earnestness ; and, taking my hands in his, he spoke to me hi these 
 deep, pathetic accents that gave his voice such power to search 
 the soul. 
 
 " Child, you have blessed me, truly, with blessing never spoken 
 until now. Before I knew you, my life was a barren waste, a 
 stagnant, green-scummed pool 1 New and rich treasures of enjoy- 
 ment has your simple affection laid open in the blasted nature of 
 Erastus Bouverie, from sources unsuspected before. Receive my 
 thanks I have no more to give you."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 373 
 
 He towered above me in Ms princely stateliness, he kissed my 
 brow with the calm yet tender salute of paternity, then first be- 
 stowed ; then held me long before him, while he gazed fondly, sor- 
 rowfully, on my face. 
 
 What thoughts swayed him then ? What prophetic knowledge 
 of his doom lowered above him what dark and unavailing regret 
 rose from the depths of the past ? All these seemed to me de- 
 picted on his pale and mobile features, as he stood rapt in 
 dreams above me. 
 
 "Go," he said, at last, " and forgive me, my love, that for this 
 once, and from a great necessity, I have trespassed on the laws 
 that ought to govern you. Come no more, except with the con- 
 sent of those guardians who are fittest to advise you now. From 
 me, you know, Lily, the right, the glory has departed. Call me 
 Ichabod !" 
 
 The acknowledgment cost him dear, although he tried to smile 
 in making it. I read it in his face, his faltering voice, his un- 
 availing effort at gaiety. It quite unnerved me, excited as I 
 had been before. I clung to him, weeping childishly. 
 
 Forgive me, Jasper, if for that moment, I felt that I could sur- 
 render even my hopes of happiness through thee, to serve, to save 
 him, the only earthly father I had ever known. 
 
 Forgive me, my Creator, if I made too much an idol of this thy 
 stricken yet stately creature, fallen like the son of the morning, 
 yet oh, a monarch still ! 
 
 END or VOL. L
 

 
 THE 
 
 HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ---- THE ELIXIR OF GOLD. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. C. A. WARFIELD. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "A DOUBLE WEDDING; OR, HOW SHE WAS WON." 
 
 TWO VOLUMES COMPLETE IN ONE. 
 
 "Par over all there hung a cloud of fear: 
 A tense of mystery the spirit daunted, 
 And said as plain as whisper in Hie ear. 
 The place it haunted." THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 "I'll keep this secret, 
 As warily as those that deal inpnison 
 Keep poison from their children." WEBSTJU. 
 
 " ' I shuddered at the sight,' 
 Said Margaret, 'for I knew it was his hand 
 That placed it there.'" WORDSWORTH. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 I
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHEBS, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 i. C. A. WARFIELD'S BEW WORKS. 
 
 Each is complete in one volume, cloth, price $1.75. 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE; or, the Elixir of Gold. 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING; or, HOW SHE WAS WON. 
 
 From Marion Harland, author of "Alone," "Hidden Path" etc. 
 " As to Mrs. Warfleld's wonderful book, the ' Household of Bouverie,' I have read it 
 twice the second time more carefully than the first and I use the term ' wonderful,' 
 because it best expresses the feeling uppermost in niy mind, both while reading and 
 thinking it over. As a piece of imaginative writing, I have seen nothing to equal it 
 since the days of Edgar A. Poe, and I doubt whether he could have sustained himself 
 and the reader through a book of half the size of the ' Household of Bouverie.' I was 
 literally hurried through it by my intense sympathy, my devouring curiosity it was 
 more than interest. I read everywhere between the courses of the hotel-table, on 
 the boat, in the cars until I had swallowed the last line. This is no common occur- 
 rence with a veteran romance reader like myself." 
 
 From Gail Hamilton, author of "Gala Days," etc. 
 
 " ' The Household of Bouverie ' is one of those nuisances of books that pluck out 
 all your teeth, and then dare you to bite them. Your interest is awakened in the first 
 chapter, and you are whirled through in a lightning-express train that leaves you no 
 opportunity to look at the little details of wood, and lawn, and river. You notice two 
 or three little peculiarities of style one or two 'bits' of painting and then you pull 
 on your seven-leagued boots, and away you go." 
 
 From John G. Saxe, the Poet. 
 
 " ' The Household of Bouverie ' is a strange romance, and will bother the critics not 
 a little. The interest of the book is undeniable, and is wonderfully sustained to the 
 end of the story. I think it exhibits far more power than any lady-novel of recent 
 date, and it certainly has the rare merit of entire originality." 
 
 Pram Cfeorge Ripley's Review of "The Household of Bouverie," in Harper's Magazine. 
 "'The Household of Bouverie ' betrays everywhere a daring boldness of conception, 
 singular fertility of illustration, and a combined beauty and vigor of expression, which 
 it would be difficult to match in any recent works of fiction. In these days, when the 
 most milk-and-watery platitudes are so often welcomed as sibylline inspirations, it is 
 somewhat refreshing to meet with a female novel-writer who displays the unmistakable 
 firo :f genius, however terrific its brightness." 
 
 J&&~ Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of either one, or both 
 of the above books, will be sent at once to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, on 
 remitting their price in a letter to the Publishers, 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 
 
 306 CHESTXIT STUF.ET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
 
 BOOK SIXTH. 
 
 " I'll dwell alone, alone, 
 
 And uone shall touch me none shall look oa me; 
 Pll dwell aloft oh, I shall pass my time 
 In solitude apart a man forbidden !" 
 
 BARRY CORNWALL. 
 
 " Lend me thine hand, 
 And pluck my magic garments from mi 
 Lie there mine art." 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 " T wEl obey the officer. 
 
 Yet but a word canst tliou endure it, deaiest : " 
 
 FAZIO, 
 
 " Madam, he has escaped." 
 
 MIBANDOL 
 
 Full many a miserable year has past, 
 She knows him as one dead or worse than dead." 
 
 BEBTKAM.

 
 BOOK SIXTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON a memorable evening, in the last of September, a fortnight 
 after my clandestine visit to my grandfather's chambers the 
 comet, then our wondrous visitor from space, was first unveiled 
 to my gaze, in its full splendor and sublimity. 
 
 I use the term unveiled advisedly. For ten days before that 
 night the face of the heavens had been covered with clouds, and 
 behind these the small nebulous plume, so faintly traced on the 
 sky before they gathered over it, as to be scarcely distinguish- 
 able from a floating mist, had gained in size and grandeur and 
 brilliancy, until at the first withdrawal of the curtains it burst 
 upon us, in plenitude of power and beauty, the most splendid 
 vision my eyes had ever witnessed. 
 
 The impression it made on my mind can never be effaced, or 
 surpassed even by a successor of superior size and brilliancy, if 
 such be possible. It seemed a direct and manifest herald to the 
 world from the throne of the most High a spark, perhaps, from 
 the glorious crown itself, to rouse the drooping energies of such 
 as doubted, and bring more thrillingly close to the Creator those 
 who believed. 
 
 A great silence, a sort of trance-like ecstasy fell on me in the 
 presence of this glorious stranger, and enjoyment uninterrupted 
 by thought or memory a new and exquisite sensation that with 
 me can never be repeated. Nor was it, until the comet wheeled
 
 6 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 down behind the western horizon, or rather faded ghostlike beneath 
 its verge, that I turned from the contemplation of the heavens 
 to seek my pillow. 
 
 The household belowstairs had long been rapt in slumber 
 when I lay down, not to sleep, for I was too much excited for 
 this ; but to lie with closed eyes and suspended life in that quiet, 
 rigid attitude which might, by a careless observer, be mistaken 
 for one of repose. 
 
 A superficial slumber must at last, however, have supervened 
 on that intense nervous condition ; for I thought that my grand- 
 father was bending over my bed, and that Fabius stood near him, 
 holding his dark lantern. 
 
 I started from my pillow, roused by the sound of parting foot- 
 steps, a faint light pervaded the room, which came from the taper 
 in my grandmother's chamber. I had a perfect recollection of 
 closing the door of communication between our apartments, 
 when I laid down, to exclude this light; it now stood open. 
 
 " She has been in my room," I thought ; " the parting steps 
 were hers. I have been moaning in my sleep again, I suppose; 
 or, perhaps, she is lonely, and wants to hear me breathing near 
 her. Something unusual has occurred ; what can it be ? Or, was 
 this a vision of sudden death ?" I continued ; " Is my grandfather 
 stricken in his solitude and has his spirit come to warn me ?" 
 
 The thought brought the cold dew to my forehead, and I sat 
 in my bed with my fingers clasped over my face. In another 
 moment my head was raised, and my hands were extended in 
 terror. I was startled by the clang of a door sharply shut, and 
 the grating noise of a key turned suddenly in a lock that of the 
 secret stairway I well knew, from the direction of the sound. J 
 sprang to my feet, and rushed into the adjoining room.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEETB. 7 
 
 The taper was burning near the hearth, on which a few Inlands 
 still smoldered. The room was unoccupied, save by the sleeper 
 in the bed, whose deep stertorous breathing filled th: silence. 
 There was something alarming to me in the anusual sound. I was 
 by her side in an instant, vainly essaying to rouse her, the veins 
 in her brow were swollen, and her lips and neck were hot while 
 her clenched hands evidenced some internal struggle. 
 
 I then, for the first time in my life, perceived the peculiar smell 
 of chloroform (familiar to me since then) and I knew that some 
 powerful agent had been employed to produce the effects I wit- 
 nessed. I should have flown to the wing in quest of Dr. Qnintil 
 in another moment, had she not commenced to recover slowly, as 
 from a deep sleep. My voice seemed to have reached her ear, 
 for, spreading out her hands, like one groping in darkness, she 
 said 
 
 " You are here, Lilian, I think." 
 
 " Yes, grandmother, by your side and you are better !" 
 
 " What is this, Lilian ? Am I blind again ; where is Erastus T 
 I saw him bending over me with his terrible battery, I believe 
 before the darkness fell on me. How has he dared to enter my 
 chamber ? Who admitted him ? oh, surely ! not you not you, 
 my Lilian ?" 
 
 " Grandmother, you must not even dream of wronging me 
 thus. I am quite incapable ;" sobs choked my utterance. 
 
 " I know it, darling. I speak wild words, but I feel so 
 strangely here," and she pressed her hand upon her brow. " Per- 
 haps this is death, Lilian ; or perhaps God is afflicting me with 
 madness at last, and I have only imagined that he was near me ; 
 but even these are better to meet than blindness again." 
 
 " Grandmother, you have been shamefully drugged and robbed.
 
 8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEREE. 
 
 I fear." And as I spoke, I glanced at the open secretary drawer, 
 in the lock of which the keys were still swinging. " Look at 
 those keys in motion yet ; the matter is very recent." 
 
 " Examine the drawer, Lilian (it was that in which her jewels 
 were kept), and ascertain my loss." 
 
 I obeyed her, and as I remained silent, she asked me again a 
 little impatiently : 
 
 " Lilian, what has my loss been ?" 
 
 I replied in low and sorrowful tones, at once that revealed to 
 her my own convictions, and awoke or confirmed her own. 
 " Grandmother, your diamonds are gone. All else is untouched." 
 
 She made no remark ; she did not even utter an exclamation, 
 but lay quietly for some moments, then calling me to come to 
 her, she said : 
 
 " You will find all the outer doors locked I think, Lilian, one 
 key of the secret stairs is under my pillow, the other carefully 
 put away in my bureau these are out of the question how this 
 entrance was effected is a mystery to me." 
 
 " I think I can afford you a clue," I said, after some hesitation, 
 and I told her of the wax I had removed from the wards of the 
 duplicate key, which Fabius had restored to me. 
 
 She listened with grave surprise. 
 
 " I regard this simply as a business matter," she said. " I 
 attach no sentiment to it, none at all ; do not feel for me on that 
 account, no act of his could astonish me. The lock was a curious 
 one, made with a view to my security, not his, since egress was 
 always afforded him through the basement floor had he been 
 imprudent enough to take advantage of the privilege, or base 
 enough to break his solemn oath. Mr. Bouverie is a voluntary 
 captive in this house."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. fl 
 
 There was something so dry, so cold in her accent, that it 
 struck to my heart. I remained silent, but my tears flowed 
 abundantly. 
 
 " Do not give way to such emotion, Lilian ; it is useless. We 
 will allude no more, if you please, to the events of this night. We 
 will try to forget them, darling. Now retire." 
 
 I hesitated. She waved her hand, and I obeyed her. The 
 door stood open between us, bnt I heard no further sound ; 
 yet I think she framed her resolution that night to see him no 
 more ! 
 
 How strange it is, that entire separation of the outer and inner 
 life, so sternly forced upon us in all times of sorrow and suffering ! 
 
 The external management of matters was quite unchanged by 
 the internal revolution that had taken place in the bosoms of 
 more than one member of the household of Bouverie. 
 
 I remember that on the morning after the occurrence that 
 changed the whole current of affairs with us, the different methods 
 of making coffee were discussed with great animation by Dr. Quin- 
 tilian and my grandmother, and a final preference given to the old 
 Virginia plan. 
 
 I could not enter into this. I was silent, heart-struck. Their 
 calmness was incomprehensible to me. 
 
 In the meantime Dr. Quintil changed the lock of the secret 
 stairway with his own hands, having in reserve another, different 
 from the first, yet equally curious and complicated. Interior 
 bolts were also added to every door in the chamber. His face 
 was a shade paler, a thought sterner than usual, and this was all 
 that betrayed any connection of ideas on his part, between the 
 mechanical act he was performing and the crime that pre- 
 faced it. 
 
 1*
 
 10 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 While he was working, I saw Bianca, who sat at her sewing in 
 my grandmother's room, steal one frightened, furtive glance 
 toward him one, and one only unobserved by any one else, 
 but which revealed plainly to me her knowledge of the whole 
 transaction. 
 
 As to Fabius, his usual imperturbability sustained him well he 
 still went and came like a shadow wearing always the same im- 
 passive face, intent, as usual, on the performance of his duties, 
 and providing, according to custom, the choicest dainties the 
 house afforded for his master's table. 
 
 He did not seem to remark the cessation of intercourse between 
 the lower and upper floors of Bouverie. Yet once or twice each 
 day, I caught his eye fixed earnestly upon me, with an expression 
 of inquiry and anxiety not to be mistaken, even in its glassy in- 
 expressiveness, and blue vacuity. 
 
 There was a stern sorrow in my grandmother's face, in spite of 
 her declared indifference, and an avoidance of all interchange 
 of glances with me, that made me afraid to question her de- 
 cision. 
 
 That she had arrived at one, I, who knew her moods so well, 
 could scarcely doubt. What this was I could only blindly con- 
 jecture. Was it only for a given space that she would refrain 
 from his presence just to give him time for consideration and 
 repentance, which bitterly as he disavowed its possibility in his 
 nature, was, as I believed, already at work in his heart ; or had 
 she assumed the sternest prerogative of justice known to human 
 nature in her absolute despotism, and sentenced him to solitude 
 forever I 
 
 But no, this should not be. Every voice of my soul cried out 
 against it. For a time I would forbear, and obey. It was right,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 11 
 
 it was just, he should suffer for his great wrong-doing ; it was 
 best for him. Weeks, months even might pass, however my 
 heart might secretly bleed, before my lips should unclose to plead 
 for his pardon ; but if refused then, I would openly rebel. 
 
 I would go to him in the face of authority, and in spite of 
 bolts and bars, though Jasper's self opposed it, I would go. He 
 should not live and die alone, while blood of his flowed in my 
 veins. I would give up all, every one, to protect and comfort 
 him. I would do this as surely as Christ had died for me I 
 
 Think not I was insensible to the magnitude, to the dishonor- 
 able nature of his crime, greatly as it was aggravated by ingrati- 
 tude. I am almost afraid to confess, that even after my ears 
 were opened to the details of his former transgressions, this act 
 remained the crowning shame of his life in my estimation. Hor- 
 rors there were, far greater injustice, more outrageous, but nothing 
 before descending to the same type of baseness. I could not, I 
 did not wish, to extenuate his error. It stood out in revolting 
 distinctness before me. But I had pitied and loved him too well 
 to forsake him now. 
 
 The affection I bore him could not be shaken by sin and shame 
 it had become one of the pillars of the temple. 
 
 Do not lay down my book oh ! dispassionate reader in deep 
 disgust at unreasonable sentiments like these. Give vent to your 
 impatience, and then proceed. I think I hear you say : 
 
 " I am weary of this morbid sacrifice of the noble many to the 
 wicked one. Why should a high-souled woman, a pure and ear- 
 nest man, a youth gifted by nature, warped by human cruelty 
 alone, a girl, gay, ambitious, attractive perhaps, and full of warm 
 affections, be immured and tortured, for the sake of a reckless vision 
 
 ary, who had evidently forfeited his life to the laws of his countr/ 
 
 17
 
 12 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 " Why should gold, that might have sustained all three in modest 
 plenty, even luxury, be poured into the crucibles of a dreamer, 
 that one useless life might be amused or fed 1 Is there any jus- 
 tice in this, any fitness, any propriety ! Why should one being be 
 Buffered to pursue and trample another into dust, through a 
 whole life, if not to revive the old belief of an evil genius, and to 
 make us doubt the mercy, nay the very existence, of a just God ! 
 
 Why should " 
 
 Pause here, dear reader, you are becoming excited ; or, if you 
 will continue, " Strike, but hear me 1" 
 
 I should be sorry to part with you before the conclusion of my 
 simple narrative, so bear with me, I pray you, as patiently as you 
 may, and think, oh, think, of fhe motive 1 
 
 In the great hand of the Father, when the balance of good and 
 evil is finally adjusted, and all finite reasoning is laid at rest forever, 
 which think you will weigh down the scale, motives or deeds ? 
 Our best actions fail sometimes ; they disappear, they leave 
 no trace, or do injury instead of the good intended ; but the 
 motive springs immortal, as soul from body, to dwell with God 
 forever. 
 
 What a noble, tender compassion animated that mournful 
 household of Bouverie ! How great, how delicate, how forbear- 
 ing, how Christlike was their pitying generosity ; and if it erred 
 on the merciful side, and carrying indulgence and sorrowful re- 
 spect too far, sacrificed joy, hope, and glory to what might be 
 termed a mere chimera, what then ? 
 
 Were those enthusiasts of virtue less virtuous because they 
 exceeded the common opinion of utilitarianism ; or less worthy 
 of the martyr's crown, than those who have relinquished all for 
 country, creed, or philosophy ?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 13 
 
 Was this sacrifice any less acceptable to the Reader of all 
 hearts, than if it had been made for a great good, or distin- 
 guished sufferer ? 
 
 I do not pretend to answer these questions of my own asking, 
 nor to claim for myself any portion of the merit, if such there 
 were, thus suggested. 
 
 Sympathy and impulse guided me alone. Whatever good I 
 did was from affection, not principle. Yet such as it was, and 
 from whatever motive it arose, it has reacted on my life, and 
 been lavishly returned to me, in the strength, the tenderness, and 
 the pity thus roused, in a heart naturally wanting perhaps in 
 these attributes of grace.
 
 14 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE month was nearly gone the month, it might be called, of 
 probation which I had placed as the limit of my silence, on a 
 subject that moved me deeply, and those golden days were come 
 when summer, turning on her reluctant path, like Ruth departing 
 from the field of Boaz, looks back, and thrills the heart of 
 Autumn with her beauty. 
 
 There is a bewildering charm in that hazy, Indian summer time 
 to me, which takes me captive, soul and sense, and fills me with a 
 sweet and dreamy enjoyment, not unmixed with melancholy. 
 
 At no other season, in this favored medium clime of ours, do 
 flowers wear so full and perfect a loveliness, and ever-blooming 
 roses, above all, develop then, with a slow perfection that we 
 seek in vain, even in the balmy days of June. 
 
 "We shall not have you long," I thought, as I filled my 
 basket with tea roses, from the flower-beds in front of the house, 
 on one of those gorgeous October mornings of golden beauty, 
 Such as Claude Lorraine never painted, nor imagined, peculiar as 
 they are to this peculiar land. 
 
 " Poor Heliotrope ! we have no hot-house for you, and the 
 first frost will blight your abundant bloom, and stifle your sweet 
 odors forever ; but spring will bring back our roses. I think I love 
 you more, sweet violet flower, for this rare susceptibility of yours, 
 and he with whom your ' nerve-thrilling perfume/ as he called it, 
 is almost a "passion, shall have his fill of it to-day, for the last 
 time perhaps, and know, through you, that he is forgiven, re-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 15 
 
 membered by cne at least of this sad, strange household of 
 Bouverie." 
 
 Even as I murmured words like these, a report burst on my ear 
 and filled the calm, hazy atmosphere, loud, distinct, sonorous as 
 that of a cannou. 
 
 Again and again did that startling explosion jar and confound 
 my senses. I dropped my flowers. I looked up to see from the 
 safe distance at which I stood from the mansion, the glass dome, 
 that capped the central hall, hurled violently from its position, 
 accompanied by clouds of vapor, and shivered into a thousand 
 fragments fall headlong to the earth. 
 
 At the same moment, a portion of the front wall of the upper cir- 
 cular hall tumbled forward in a confused mass of stone and mortar, 
 leaving a chasm open to my eye, as I still stood rooted to the spot, 
 through which most of the interior might be distinctly discerned. 
 
 In that rapid glance of pain and terror, I saw my grandfather's 
 form, erect and pale, leaning against the opposite wall of the 
 apartment, with closed eyes and blood-bedabbled hair. 
 
 " He is dead," I cried, " dead by his own hand, dead in de- 
 spair !" and shrieking wildly, I fled to the house, now ringing with 
 the awful cry of fire. I rushed through the open door of the 
 hall into my grandmother's chamber. . 
 
 It was deserted ; the door of the secret door stood open. I 
 turned to ascend it, and met Dr. Quintil, and Jasper, bearing the 
 insensible form of my grandfather between them, followed by his 
 pallid wife. 
 
 They passed, as by previous consent, through the large cham- 
 ber, into mine, and laid him on my bed. Even in that moment of 
 consternation, the desire to conceal, to save him from danger, waa 
 the first consideration.
 
 16 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 My grandmother stood mutely wringing her hands. Dr. Quin- 
 til turned to me. 
 
 " Everything depends on yon, Lilian," he said ; " I must go to 
 the roof with Jasper, and try to extinguish this fire ; keep the 
 door fast. Let no one enter, not even Bianca." 
 And so speaking, he darted away. 
 " Stay is he dead ?" I cried. 
 " Not dead, only stunned ; he will revive." 
 " Can nothing be done ?" I inquired, murmuring wildly after 
 hun ; " you have given us no directions I" 
 
 " Go back to your post, and be patient. Let nature take her 
 course," he said a little sternly. 
 
 And he flew, followed by Jasper, up the stairs that led to the 
 sealed chamber, as if his own words had lent him wings. 
 
 " How heartless his conduct is !" I murmured, as I took my 
 stand by the bed, on which reposed the still insensible cause of 
 all this disturbance. " What matters the safety of the house, 
 compared to his ? He will die for want of attendance ! Ah, me ! 
 can nothing be done ?" And I busied myself in chafing his cold 
 brow and hands with the cologne-water that stood on my toilet- 
 table the only remedy at. hand. 
 
 " I have his medicine here, Lilian ; I secured it as I passed the 
 slab on which he keeps it and when he is able to swallow, I 
 shall administer it. It may have efficacy for him, and a crisis 
 approaches." 
 
 My grandmother spoke with a strange calmness, that irritated 
 instead of soothing me, excited as I already was. 
 
 " But suppose he never revives," I rejoined. " What then, 
 grandmother ? His pulse is a mere thread and he looks like a 
 corpse even now ; something must be done."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 17 
 
 " We have the physician's directions, Lilian, to trust to nature. 
 The fulfillment of these is easy, and satisfies conscience at least 
 after all, he is in the hands of God !" 
 
 There was a sad irony in her tones that jarred on every nerve 
 of my brain. 
 
 " She is willing he should die," I thought ; " how horrible I 
 She would do more than ' satisfy conscience,' to save her tortoise- 
 shell cat ! Oh, heavens ! has it come to this ? And he her 
 husband ! But I will wrestle for him with death itself," and 
 throwing myself on my knees by his bed. I prayed as I never 
 prayed before ! 
 
 I prayed with my whole mental and bodily energy, with wojds 
 of tire, with streaming eyes, with trembling limbs, with dew- 
 covered face, and inward sacrifice ! I rose from my knees both 
 strengthened and exhausted. 
 
 By this time the house was filled with people, brought together 
 by various motives, curiosity; perhaps, being the predominant 
 one. 
 
 Our nearest neighbors consisted of a class of poor tenantry, 
 who cultivated the vast estate of the " Dugannes," long absent 
 in Europe. The gardener, Smith, and his wife, had, under the 
 pretence of rendering us assistance, brought with them a host of 
 those busy idlers, for such they proved themselves on this occasion. 
 
 The fire was got under before they arrived, and they might 
 with propriety have withdrawn again, had not the spirit of pro- 
 crastination and investigation possessed them. The faculty of 
 inquiring into the business of others, does, indeed, seem to be a 
 sixth sense with the vulgar, who revive on all possible occasions, 
 the old inquisitorial torture of the question, with exquisite im- 
 provements suggested by local circumstances.
 
 18 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 The pyramid of Cheops was not more an object of curiosity to 
 a thorough-going traveller, than was this mysterious mansion to 
 the crowd of long-exiled intruders who filled it now, and who per- 
 sisted in the right of search a self-constituted police, leaving no 
 cranny unexamined no loop without a doubt dangling there- 
 from, in token of their sagacity. 
 
 We heard the tramp of busy feet passing and repassing the 
 murmur of suggestive voices ; but every effort to enter my 
 chamber (our only remaining fortress now) was successfully 
 repelled. 
 
 " You cannot enter, Mrs. Bouverie desires to be alone," was 
 the only answer I vouchsafed to their urgent and oft-repeated 
 applications for admission and they were forced to retire dis- 
 contented, and half-satisfied of what they burned to know. 
 
 Yet enough was evidenced in these upper rooms, supposed to be 
 long abandoned (recently inhabited, it was apparent, to the least 
 observing), to confirm those floating suspicions that had long 
 wanted concentration only, and which the dignity and reticence 
 of my grandmother's character had hitherto held at bay. 
 
 Every precaution, suggested by care and interest, became now a 
 fatal witness against us and when the dead body of poor old 
 Fabius was found, and dragged out by his half-distracted wife 
 from beneath the ruins of the chemical apparatus, and afterward 
 triumphantly borne forth and exhibited by the officious Smith, to 
 the excited crowd, as an evidence of some diabolical instrument- 
 ality at work, and the presence of an unseen, or concealed party, 
 illegally protected in the house of Bouverie, curiosity and conjec- 
 ture threatene*d to carry everything before them. 
 
 It was at the moment that Smith was addressing the crowd, 
 Mark Antony-like, pointing out the ghastly wound on the old
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OP BOTTVEBIE. 19 
 
 man's head that had killed him inflicted, probably, by a gas-pipe 
 that had burst beside him, one of the scattered fragments of which 
 he brandished above his head and that Bianca was unconsciously 
 lending effect to the scene, by hanging, in wailing agony, over the 
 body of Fabius ; that Dr. Quintil, having finished his work on the 
 house-top, stepped quietly in front of Smith, and stood in their 
 midst, with that cool and commanding air he knew so well how to 
 substitute, at times, for his usually unostentatious demeanor. 
 
 The expression of his eye seemed to act like a charm on Bianca ; 
 her outcries subsided into low, whimpering sighs, and she sat down 
 quietly in a corner, quite out of sight ; while Dr. Quintil, still 
 standing in front of the " British lion," on the broad steps of en- 
 trance, signified, by an imperative wave of the hand, and the usual 
 preparatory clearing of the throat, common to all unexperienced 
 orators, that he desired to address the audience. 
 
 He was greatly respected among the neighbors for his manli- 
 ness, and humanity, and spotless integrity of character ; and had 
 been frequently solicited (in vain) to fill their magisterial chair. 
 
 When he commenced to speak to them, therefore, in low but 
 distinct tones, and with the firm manner peculiar to him when 
 aroused to action, they yielded him immediate and respectful at- 
 tention. 
 
 He told them that he deplored more than any one could de- 
 plore it, excepting the afflicted wife of the deceased, the fatal 
 accident that a misguided passion for science had occasioned to 
 the poor, faithful old man, whose body they had just beheld. 
 
 At this moment, Jasper and Pat McCormick were seen quietly 
 lifting up the body of Fabius, assisted by Bianca ; and, in another, 
 they had disappeared within the mansion with their burden, not- 
 withstanding the deprecating growl of the lion.
 
 20 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEEIE. 
 
 Meantime, the American eagle continued to expand his wings 
 before his hereditary foe. 
 
 " In all times, my friends," he said, " the devotees of science 
 have loved to carry on their experiments in solitude or retirement. 
 For years, the upper story of the house of Bouverie has been set 
 apart for purposes like these. Acids and gases have been em- 
 ployed in these labors, requiring the utmost care and precaution 
 on the part of those who handled them ; and, so far, employed 
 without injury or inconvenience to any one. Those only who love 
 chemistry for its own sake, can appreciate the motive of these ex- 
 periments ; it is needless to explain them now. Indeed, at a time 
 like this, and filled, as I am, with horror and regret for the occur- 
 rence of this morning, I do not feel able or willing to enter into 
 unimportant details, however interesting you might find them, for 
 the love of knowledge is common, I well know, to all intelligent 
 minds. 
 
 " I desire that an inquest be held over the body of Fabius, 
 should you deem this necessary after the haste you have manifested 
 in removing it from the place in which the investigation should 
 properly have been conducted. I doubt not that he met his 
 death from the exploded gas-pipe, a fragment of which " turning, 
 and taking it from Smith's hands " I find hi opportune readiness 
 for the illustration of my opinion. I think, when you examine his 
 wounds, you will probably agree with me about this ; but, should 
 there be a dissenting voice among those appointed to conduct the 
 investigation, I hope I shall hear of it at once, so that no unjust 
 censure may attach to any act of mine. 
 
 "And now, I will ask you, my friends, having rendered us all 
 the assistance possible under the circumstances, to withdraw, in 
 accordance with those laws of humanity and delicacy familiar to
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 21 
 
 all noble minds, and leave us alone again with our dead and with 
 our ruins. The mistress of this mansion is ill, from distress and 
 horror at the catastrophe which cuts off the life of a faithful ser- 
 vant under peculiar circumstances, which, however accidental, are 
 not, I assure you, unconnected with pain and self-reproach." 
 
 And here he bowed, and laid his hand on his heart significantly, 
 pausing for a moment in his harangue, as if to fix attention on 
 himself as the delinquent. 
 
 " I wish, principally on her account, to restore the mansion as 
 speedily as possible to its customary condition of silence and re- 
 pose. Smith will entertain at his cottage those who have so 
 nobly come forward in our cause, with that hospitality and profu- 
 sion no one so well understands as a thorough-bred Englishman, 
 grafted on our American tree. The means for this shall not be 
 wanting." And, as he spoke, Dr. Quintil stepped aside, so as to 
 reveal the burly form of the Englishman, who had resolutely kept 
 his ground, and handed him a well-filled pocket-book, amid the 
 murmured approbation of the crowd, now moving slowly off. 
 
 Smith, who had evidently been waiting for his turn to speak, 
 received it sullenly enough, and followed in silence the retreating 
 stream, some loiterers from among which lingered about the pre- 
 mises, either from idleness or design, until nearly sunset. 
 
 "That speech was terrible work, Jasper," said Dr. Quintil, 
 wiping his excited face, as he drew the ponderous bolt across the 
 door of entrance, and shut out, as he hoped and supposed, all 
 further intrusion. " Terrible work ! I came near breaking down, 
 once or twice, and my brain reeled like that of a drunken man." 
 
 "You made sad work of figures," wrote Jasper', "in that last 
 flight of yours, that daring metaphor than which nothing since 
 the days of Daphne has ever seemed to me half so miraculous !
 
 22 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 Think of grafting poor Smith bodily- turning his own horticultu- 
 ral proficiency against him, and compelling his solid British flesh 
 and blood to enter the tough bark of our American tree! By 
 the by, what peculiar species is that which typifies our country ? 
 Did you mean birch, or ash, or hickory, or was it a general hit ?" 
 
 But I am anticipating in telling this piece of folly here, so 
 irrelevant to the crushing circumstances around us, and yet so 
 necessary, perhaps, to sustain those who indulged in it, and which 
 did not reach my ears for days after. While all this speech- 
 making and diplomacy were going on, my grandfather had slowly 
 revived, and recognized the faces bending over him, although still 
 in a state of extreme exhaustion and bewilderment. 
 
 " Where am I, Camilla 1" he murmured. 
 
 " In Lilian's room. A fearful accident has occurred above- 
 stairs we were obliged to remove you," she replied. 
 
 "Ay, I know I know," he said, feebly. " I remember now 
 failure, destruction, retribution, perhaps, if there is such a thing ! 
 God knows 1" 
 
 " Erastus, does your strength return to you !" asked my grand- 
 mother, after a long silence, during which the voices and tread of 
 a retreating crowd came very gratefully on our ears. " Do you 
 think you could rise, sustain yourself on your feet, walk, even, if 
 it were necessary ? Do you think you could do these ?" 
 
 He replied only by a sorrowful shake of the head. 
 
 " Here is your elixir, Erastus," she said, extending it to him, 
 speaking still in those measured tones that fell so coldly on my 
 ear. " I found it safe in the general ruin around it, and saved it 
 for you, for an emergency like this. Perhaps it may benefit you, 
 accustomed, as you are, to its use. Taste it now, for it is all-im* 
 portaut you should rally a crisis approaches."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 23 
 
 He took the rial from her hand with a sort of spasmodic 
 greediness, and, raising it to his lips, drank a few drops ; then, aa 
 if changing his mind, waved it away, and turned his head 
 aside : 
 
 " Why should I care to collect my strength ?" he said. " My 
 last experiment, for the sake of which I forfeited so much that 
 was precious to me, is a failure ; and, like poor Keats, my name 
 shall be ' written in water.' Camilla, let me die I" 
 
 " Would that you could, Erastus, for your own sake, and that 
 of all connected with you. But I know too well the tenacity and 
 elasticity of your constitution to hope for such a result. You 
 will revive, but, perhaps, too late to save you from the scaffold." 
 
 " Of what are you thinking, Camilla ? Surely, you would not 
 betray me !" 
 
 j j There was a world of scorn in that monosyllabic word, 
 that showed how his question had stung her. 
 
 " No, no not that. I do not mean that, of course," he said, 
 embarrassed by his own hasty misconstruction of her meaning. 
 " But why refer at all to so bitter a possibility, Camilla ? Why 
 think of it even ?" 
 
 " Probability I certainty ! say rather, Erastus. Do you not 
 know that the existence of a concealed inmate in the sealed 
 chambers of Bouverie has been brought to light by the events of 
 this morning ? The house has been full of strange, inquisitive 
 eyes. Can you be so blind to your true position as to suppose 
 curiosity will not find its own means of gratification ? or that 
 another day will be suffered to pass without the presence of the 
 police in this house ? Weak, unfit, as you are at present God 
 knows above any other being I have ever known ! to contend with 
 such disastrous circumstances, you must go forth alone, and seek
 
 24 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 shelter and concealment elsewhere if, indeed, egress be still per- 
 mitted to you by your foes." 
 
 " Camilla, I had not thought of this." 
 
 The shock unnerved him. He covered his face with his hands, 
 and burst into a passion of weeping. My grandmother looked on 
 tmmoved. But, with me, his mood was contagious. I clung to 
 him with convulsive sobs, partly of ill-repressed indignation. His 
 weakness seemed my strength. 
 
 " He shall not go forth alone," I said ; " I will share his exile. 
 I am young, strong, hardy I will go with you, grandfather, and 
 serve you always, as Fabius did." 
 
 " Good child unmerited devotion I poor, sacrificed old man !" 
 were the broken words I gathered from his grief. 
 
 " Be calm, Erastus ! the circumstances which surround you 
 must be met with calmness," said my grandmother, in her cold, 
 grave tones. " Go, Lilian you only unnerve him go, breathe 
 the fresh air, and take needful refreshment, you are pale and ex- 
 hausted. Go 1" she repeated, seeing that I hesitated, " this is no 
 longer a request, but a command, Lilian, necessary for the good 
 of all. I insist on obedience." 
 
 I withdrew, chilled and pained by the severity of her manner, 
 out of keeping, as it seemed to me then, with the sorrow of others, 
 the result, as I now know, of that stringent necessity that called 
 for the exercise of every power she possessed, and nerved her into 
 sternness as the best defence against despair. 
 
 My first thought, on leaving my grand-parents, was of poor 
 Fabius.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I FOUND Bianca sitting alone by her dead husband, in one of 
 the chambers of the wing assigned to their use. The old man 
 looked as if in a happy sleep ; the expression of his face was per- 
 fectly natural scarcely more imperturbable in death than life. 
 The injury which killed him had been received on the back of the 
 head, and the careful hand of affection had effaced all traces of 
 violence. 
 
 The faithful wife had laid her rosary on his breast, and bound 
 his nerveless hands with faded ribbons. In his thin white hair she 
 had placed a wreath of everlasting, of gay colors, which I recog- 
 nized as one that had long hung beneath her image of the Virgin. 
 The quaint and unsuitable head-dress was shocking to me ; but, to 
 her, it was only an emblem of future immortality. 
 
 Two consecrated candles, of white wax, were burning at his 
 head, two were at his feet ; and there he lay, the victim of fidelity I 
 
 " Oh ! God, if this were all I" I thought " if this uncertain 
 life were all, what confidence could we feel in our Creator ! 
 Where would be his justice, his mercy, his affection ? The author 
 of this evil lives, and is kindly cared for his faithful tool lies here 
 a mangled corpse !" 
 
 " Poor old man," I pursued aloud, " you are gone where fidelity 
 is rewarded, not despised gone to the land of peace and compen- 
 sation, where I hope to meet you, gentle Fabius, when this weary 
 pilgrimage is over, and we are all laid at rest 1" My tears bathed 
 his insensible waxen face.
 
 20 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 " He loved you well, Miss Lilian," said the poor weeping wife ; 
 " next to the master that destroyed him, he loved you ; but those 
 who serve the Evil One have never a better reward than this 1 I 
 knew how it would be, long ago. Oh ! those diamonds, Misa 
 Lilian it all came of them ! First, there was the long imprison- 
 ment in Russia, because Mr. Bouverie told the Czar he could 
 create diamonds, and then failed to come up to his contract, after 
 consiunliig I can't tell how many jewels ; then all the trouble that 
 followed ! uh, better, better by far, that the master had never 
 come home again, than to do as he has done ! Better had he 
 died, sure enough, as we heard he did." 
 
 " Bianca, had he never returned, you would not have known 
 your husband. Would you be willing, in order to wipe out your 
 sorrow, to give up all memory of Fabius ?" 
 
 "No, indeed, Miss Lilian, Fabius was the only person that 
 cared for me for myself alone ; and these ten years have been 
 happier to me than all that went before." 
 
 "When did my grandfather first know Fabius, Bianca?" I 
 asked, willing to waive the subject first suggested. 
 
 " In his boyhood, Miss Lilian, when he lived with Madam Am- 
 brose, his aunt; the master's parents died when he was a baby, I 
 have heard, and old Ursa Bouverie and his sister took care of 
 him. Fabius was butler to Madam Ambrose. She was a grand 
 lady once, though afterward she was reduced, by her husband's fail- 
 ure and death, to keep a young ladies' school for her support ; and 
 he says she was an angel almost, not a bit like any other Bouverie 
 he ever heard of, so between a devil and an angel his chances lay 
 the master's I mean." 
 
 " Go on, Bianca." (She had murmured the last words.) 
 
 " Tes indeed, Miss Lilian, he was mighty fond of Madam
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEEIE. 27 
 
 Ambrose, and lived with her until she died, and then passed into 
 your grandfather's service, and went with him to Russia, and 
 shared his captivity there, as one may say he did here, and wor- 
 shipped him, almost sinfully I think, and always told him so ; for 
 I am sure, Miss Lilian dear, it must be witchcraft, or something 
 like it, that could make anybody love that cruel, crafty, selfish, 
 spiteful man," glancing at me sidewise. 
 
 " Bianca, have a care 1" 
 
 " I can't help it, Miss Lilian ; a body must speak sometimes, 
 or die. Oh ! my poor, dear Fabius, there you lie without so 
 much as a priest's blessing, or the comfort of a last confession, 
 and the simple idiot that has not sense enough to hatch a lie, tells 
 us he saw the black spirit flying out of the dome when the ex- 
 plosion took place, with something white in his claws ; and I 
 know I know," sobbing bitterly, " it must have been my poor, 
 doomed husband's soul !" 
 
 " Bianca, this was a pure invention of that fanciful fool. There 
 was black smoke and white vapor passing out together, but with- 
 out form or substance ;" and I described the scene as I had wit- 
 nessed it from the lawn, not omitting the appearance of my 
 grandfather, as I had seen him, pale and bloody, leaning against 
 the walls of the rotunda. 
 
 This account seemed to tranquillize her a little, although she 
 still lent her share of faith to Patrick's relation. She was not 
 the only one who had been mistaken in the opinion, that fools are 
 not the most prolific, if not the most successful liars. The daring 
 mendacity of persons whose understandings are below mediocrity, 
 and their surprising cunning in sustaining their own fabrications, 
 are among the few proofs I know of that system of compensation 
 so fondly upheld by certain philosophers.
 
 28 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 
 
 Before I left Bianca, she made me sing to her a simple hymn, 
 she singularly loved, that I had found, music and words, among 
 my mother's papers, arranged, I have ever believed, by herself. 
 
 The low, solemn music, the earnest words, seemed to comfort 
 her. I left her somewhat composed, and made my way through 
 the pantry, that communicated between her room and the dining- 
 room, where I supposed by this time it was now dark the rup- 
 per might be served. 
 
 I had eaten nothing since breakfast-time dinner had been neg- 
 lected in the trouble of that day. The consequences of excite- 
 ment and fasting were beginning to evidence themselves in my 
 giddy head and palpitating heart, and I was glad to find the 
 table spread, and the tea-urn steaming on the lighted board. 
 
 How material we are, even in our deepest affliction, and how 
 keenly and cunningly the neglected physique resents the slights 
 offered it by the preoccupied spirit 1 
 
 Imagination itself is but a kite, of which the body holds the 
 string, and which an aching finger, or a dyspeptic attack, or cold, 
 or heat, or hunger, can lay flat on the ground beside us. 
 
 Shelley forgot to eat at times, his biographers say, but his 
 body never forgot that it had not eaten, they add, and fainted 
 under the load his mind tried to impose on its injured yoke-mate. 
 But this is no time for disquisition." 
 
 My grandmother and Dr. Quintil were already seated at the 
 table, when I entered the dining-room, on which Dame McCor- 
 mick, assisted by Patrick, was coarsely and carelessly piling the 
 viands and breads she had prepared for the evening meal. 
 
 Fortunately for herself, she could not hear her own noisy 
 ministry, but vanishing soon, with a scowl and a harshly-banged 
 door, she left Patrick to complete her disorderly arrangements
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 29 
 
 I sighed as I thought of Fabius, the quiet, the neat-handed, in 
 contrast to all the fuss and folly of his successors, yet could 
 scarcely refrain from smiling the next minute, at the ludicrous 
 awkwardness of Patrick McCormick, and his still more ridiculous 
 self-complacency, as he darted aimlessly to and fro, with officious 
 absurdity. 
 
 " Where is Jasper ?" I asked, as I seated myself at the table, 
 and glanced across it at his empty place. 
 
 " I have sent him for Bishop Clare," was my grandmother's 
 reply. In the meantime, " Father Conrad, " hearing accidentally 
 of our calamity, at Croften, has been kind enough to come to as 
 in our affliction. 
 
 I looked in the direction her eyes suggested, and now perceived, 
 for the first time, that a stranger was seated in the chimney- 
 corner, in the great old-fashioned chair my grandmother usually 
 occupied. 
 
 " This is my granddaughter, Father Conrad," she continued in 
 a mechanical way, adding, as she saw me about to rise and go for- 
 ward to greet the stranger with, the reverence due to his vocation, 
 " Sit still, Lilian, for the present. Let Father Conrad rest and 
 warm, and you can persuade him afterward to have a cup of 
 tea." 
 
 A husky voice from the person alluded to declined the tea em- 
 phatically, and apparently for the second time, and a fit of cough- 
 ing and wheezing succeeded this impatient and spasmodic refusal 
 of tendered hospitality. 
 
 A strange, half sad, half amused expression flitted over my 
 grandmother's face, as these uncultured sounds met her ear, then 
 died away again into gloom and dejection. 
 
 Jt was indeed almost impossible to look at the grotesque object
 
 30 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 before us, without feeling an inclination to smile. Often as Jas- 
 per had alluded to the strange appearance of his old Latin 
 teacher, I was not prepared for anything quite so absurdly ugly 
 as the reality presented ; and from the very first I viewed him 
 with instinctive mistrust. 
 
 From my position at the table, I was able to scrutinize his 
 whole appearance, as I sat at supper, and I found myself drawing 
 a slightly ironical comparison between Bishop Clare and his sub- 
 stitute. 
 
 " Can this old man, after all, be an emissary of Smith ?" 1 
 thought, as I recalled the accounts I had heard of his mercenary 
 and sensual nature, mixed with a certain kindliness and sagacity 
 that gave him wonderful influence with the lower orders of his 
 countrymen ; " or is his errand here truly one of mercy ?" 
 
 " He comes to see about poor Fabius," whispered my grand- 
 mother, as if reading my doubts in my countenance, " perhaps to 
 watch to-night with Bianca ; he means well, we must be civil." 
 
 All this tune I felt that my eyes were fastened, almost as if by 
 fascination, on the uncouth priest, who sat in u perfectly uncon- 
 cerned attitude, stretching his large feet, covered with coarse, 
 dusty shoes, to meet the warmth of the ruddy fire, and blowing 
 his nose, from time to time, on a great yellow bandanna handker- 
 chief, spotted with red. 
 
 The association of ideas connected with this stentorian per- 
 formance, would certainly have marred my appetite under other 
 circumstances, but I was absolutely faint from hunger, and could 
 not afford to be fastidious. 
 
 But I forget ; I have not yet described the peculiarities which 
 so attracted, yet repelled me. 
 
 His head was large and tonsured, and surrounded with a fringe
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJ7EBIE. 81 
 
 of white hair ; his nose, short and thick, and purplish at the end, 
 with open, upturned nostrils, and his cheeks flabby and furrowed. 
 His upper lip was of monstrous length, and his chin of dispro- 
 portionate shortness, while the loss of teeth, indicated by his 
 indistinct and mumbling voice, might have occasioned or greatly 
 increased both of these defects. His stout and round-shouldered 
 figure was arrayed in a priest's long, straight coat, made of some 
 coarse, black material, from the loose sleeves of which his large, 
 ungloved hands protruded. The power and vigor of his native 
 constitution was plainly evidenced by these coarse and blunt ex- 
 tremities, from which the sinews and veins rose like whip-cords, 
 distinctly visible even from a remote seat, and in the uncertain 
 light of an unusually dim lamp and smoldering coal fire. 
 
 Immediately after supper, Dr. Quintil withdrew, indicating, I 
 thought, by a glance, the necessity of his absence, and its cause, 
 as well as the importance of self-command in our case. My 
 grandmother remained near the table, apparently busying herself 
 with the tea-things, and showing Patrick how to dispose of them, 
 and how to regulate the temperature of the tea-water, which he 
 had brought scalding hot. I rose to assist her, as I usually 
 did. 
 
 " I would prefer," she whispered, " that you tfould talk to the 
 old man ; I cannot make the effort to-night. Engage his atten- 
 tion if possible. Perhaps after a while he may go to Bianca's 
 room." 
 
 " God speed him 1" was my mental rejoinder, as I took a chair 
 near him, and prepared to obey my grandmother's request, with 
 a heavy and reluctant heart. 
 
 "You have had a long, fatiguing walk, Father Conrad," 1 
 said, "that is, if you came from Croften on foot," and I glanced
 
 32 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 at his dusty shoes, as evidences of the correctness of my supposi- 
 tion. " I am sorry it did not give you a better appetite for your 
 supper." 
 
 " My cough troubles me, my daughter," was the wheezing 
 reply, enlivened with an Irish brogue, of the most unpleasant 
 description that which contracts instead of broadening the 
 vowels. " I am but poorly jist now ; besides I had a crust of 
 bread in my pocket, lift from my breakfist, and there were wild 
 greepes ou the road, and the two formed a repast fit for a mon- 
 arch if monarchs could only think so," laughing low at this 
 sotto voce reflection of his, " and surely good enough for a poor 
 anchorite like myself." 
 
 " I should call that very poor living, Father Conrad," and 
 I recalled with a smile Jasper's account of his voracity and 
 gourmandise. " Why, the birds fare as well 1 I had no idea 
 that your religion helped to sustain the body as well as the 
 soul." 
 
 "Oh, it does wonders, my dear," he replied; and again he 
 laughed that little, low, wheezing laugh, that jarred me into 
 silence again. 
 
 " I am talking nonsense," I thought, " and the old man sees 
 my object perhaps. What shall I say to him ? Good heavens, 
 will he never go ! Oh, If Bianca would but send for him. I 
 feel, I feel more and more convinced he is here for no good 
 purpose." 
 
 As I recovered from my conflict of feeling, and prepared to 
 renew my efforts to entertain him, I looked up, and caught. 
 through the blue, iron-rimmed glasses he wore, the gleam of his 
 deep, dark eye, fixed suspiciously on me. It was averted in a 
 moment.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 33 
 
 " Would you like to look at the newspapers, Father Conrad ?" 
 I asked, thrilled and terrified even by his furtive vigilance, and 
 utterly at a loss for subjects of conversation ; " if so, I will fetch 
 them to you, and place candles beside you." 
 
 " No, my dear, it is not worth while to trouble you," was his 
 indifferent rejoinder ; " my eyes' are weak, I seldom use them by 
 night, except when I read my Yulgate ; and, at the bist of tunes, 
 newspeepers are bothersome things to me. I am a man of peace, 
 you know, and the poleetical and releegious squabbles of the world 
 in no wise intreest me, taken up as I am with one great considera- 
 tion alone." 
 
 " I suppose you admired the comet very much, Father Conrad, 
 as a part of religion even," I observed, driven to desperation for a 
 theme of conversation, after another hiatus hi the dialogue, during 
 which I caught again that furtive, momentary glance darted at 
 me, and then withdrawn. " Even we poor worldly-minded people 
 were much impressed," I added, shivering almost with the unde- 
 fined apprehensions that oppressed me in connection with this 
 unbidden guest. 
 
 "Yes, my dear," was the careless answer, "I may say I ad- 
 mired that nebulous body you call a comet, as one might admire 
 a fixed rocket, which it greatly resimbled ; but you are mistaken 
 about my releegious feeling connected with such a mere matter of 
 moonshine as that. It is the inner, and not the outer, heaven that 
 concerns an anointed priest of God." 
 
 I was quite silent, with mingled disgust and conjecture, when 
 he relieved me somewhat by requesting me to shade the lamp 
 dun enough before, I thought, in the absence of the skillful hand 
 of Fabius as his eyes were weak. 
 
 "And now bring me yonder footstool, my dear," he continued,
 
 34 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 when I had placed the green reading-shade over the lamp, and 
 again approached him, and he pointed to one of embroidered vel- 
 vet, on which he soon proceeded to place his clumsy, dusty feet. 
 " There, that is quite comfortable ; now you may join your 
 mother, and help in the dish washing, if you choose, for, with your 
 permeesion, I will settle down for a little nap. The old man is 
 tired." 
 
 "And infinitely tiresome," I thought, as I withdrew, thus sum- 
 marily dismissed from further attendance on the greatest bore I 
 had ever encountered. I could not repress a laugh, however, as I 
 turned a moment later to look at him, and saw that he had 
 spread the yellow bandanna over his head, as if to insure a more 
 quiet enjoyment of his repose, while his head bobbed about like a 
 buoy at sea. 
 
 "Lilian," my grandmother said, in a low voice, "my expecta- 
 tions are more than realized by the occurrences of the last hour. 
 Either your grandfather is beyond " 
 
 She was interrupted by a loud and sudden knocking at the front 
 door. The words died on her lips, and the half-smile from ho* 
 face, now blanched with terror. 
 
 "I knew it would be thus," she whispered, hoarsely; "the 
 officers are here !" 
 
 Again the loud impatient knocking was heard without, a^com- 
 pauied now by voices, among which we distinguished that of Dr. 
 Quintilian. 
 
 " Patrick, open the door," said my grandmother. " Lilian, be 
 firm our trust is in God." 
 
 She dashed the tears from her eyes with a rapid motion of her 
 hand, and, with that surprising self-control that belonged to her, 
 busied herself with apparent unconcero in wiping the tea-cup she
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 35 
 
 held ; bat still the deadly pallor continued, and still the old man 
 slept on. 
 
 " He is their accomplice," I murmured ; " I am sure of it now 
 this slumber is but feigned, he will wake presently. Thank 
 God ! the spy has learned little to report." 
 
 By this time footsteps were hi the hall. In another moment, 
 the door of the dining-room was thrown wide open, and Dr. 
 Quintil entered, pale, but resolute ; and fixing his grave eyes on 
 my grandmother's face, seemed by their expression to exhort her 
 to be calm. Two men followed almost immediately on his steps, 
 dressed in rough coats and slouched hats, atd carrying riding- 
 whips in their hands. They bowed, as they came in, but did not 
 uncover their heads, and stood stolidly waiting for Dr. Quintil to 
 announce their errand. 
 
 " These gentlemen," he said, addressing my grandmother, and 
 laying an involuntary stress on the word so misapplied, "bear a 
 judicial order for the arrest of your late husband, Brastus Bou 
 verie. The opinion seems to have obtained ground that he stW 
 survives. They demand to search your premises." 
 
 She smiled a cold, derisive smile, and her cheek, until then so 
 pale, flushed again in the fullness of her wounded pride, and the 
 strong effort she was making to command her feelings. Yet she 
 replied, after a moment's hesitation, still continuing her occupa- 
 tion, as if indifferent to their presence : 
 
 "Let them proceed to their task at once, if it needs must be," 
 and with a stately, yet not uncourteous, gesture of the hand, she 
 indicated the direction they should take. 
 
 They seemed to be involuntarily impressed by her mien, her 
 manner, her beauty, perhaps, still so remarkable, and which 
 
 claims, wherever it exists, so large and unjust a share of man's! 
 18
 
 36 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKEE. 
 
 respect. They removed their hats simultaneously ; and one of 
 them, the leader, stepping back, as they were about to leave the 
 room, in a rough but manly voice made a half apology for his 
 proceedings : 
 
 " We have come, madam, to fulfill the law, not to trouble you 
 and yours/' and he glanced at me, trembling and tearful as I was. 
 " This is a notion your gardener, Smith, has set afloat ; but no 
 sensible man puts much faith in it. Facts are still fresh in this 
 neighborhood, about Colonel Bouverie's suicide ; but, you know, 
 as the warrant is out, we must proceed, and plant guard over the 
 house until it is satisfied." 
 
 As he spoke, he surveyed her keenly, hoping, perhaps, to gather 
 something to aid his investigation from her face or manner. 
 
 " Certainly," she replied, returning his glance calmly, and even 
 haughtily. " I understand all this you are but an irresponsible 
 instrument of the law ; proceed, but get through, I beg, as soon 
 as possible. I confess the matter annoys me," and she resumed 
 her occupation, that of wiping a small china cup, with a cool in- 
 difference that surprised and almost shocked me knowing, as I 
 did, how much she was perplexed and agitated and completely 
 deceived him, I think." 
 
 As Dr. Quintil closed the door after the officers, the cup 
 shivered in her grasp, and blood flowed from the lacerated 
 fingers that had closed over it with such spasmodic strength. 
 
 And still the priest slept on his real or simulated slumber. 
 " Oh, would that he were gone 1" I whispered, as I bound her 
 hand with fragments of my handkerchief. " Let us arouse him ; 
 and send him to Bianca !" 
 
 " Not yet," she replied, in low accents ; "not yet ; but, 
 Lilian, can it be possible that you are in earnest, in making such
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEBIE. 3T 
 
 a suggestion ? Do you not know every outlet, even that to the 
 pantry, is guarded now ?" 
 
 "My grandfather," I whispered; "what of him? has he 
 escaped or will they apprehend him ?" 
 
 " God knows, my child, what his fate may be," she murmured 
 softly then gazing wistfully in my face, she added : " You give 
 me reason to hope that all may yet go well with him. I could 
 not have believed it before." 
 
 " You speak in enigmas, grandmother explain yourself." 
 
 " Hush, Lilian, he will hear you. Let us be silent, my love 
 guarded for the present. There are watchful eyes and ears about 
 us ; come, assist me to put away the tea-service the task will 
 compose us both, and when they return, it will be best they should 
 find us occupied. 
 
 The minutes rolled heavily away ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty- 
 five were gone, and in five more, just as the clock struck the 
 half-hour after eight, the officers reappeared, headed as before, 
 by Dr. Quintil. 
 
 " There are traces of recent occupancy in those upper apart- 
 ments, long supposed to be disused," said Hernshaw, the principal 
 officer ; " but we find no occupant." 
 
 "What traces do you speak of?" asked my grandmother, 
 sharply ; " you found bedding stored there for safe-keeping a 
 chest of clothes belonging to Colonel Bouverie, in old tunes and 
 whatever the fire has spared of furniture and cabinets deposited 
 there in memory of the past. You have found neither linen nor 
 papers to warrant you in the belief of recent occupancy ; and Dr. 
 Quintil has sufficiently explained to you, I cannot doubt, the facts 
 connected with the chemical apparatus, to convince you that our 
 safety was concerned, in banishing that to the upper story."
 
 38 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 She had, indeed, used well the few hours of privacy she had 
 obtained that day, in causing the personal effects of my grand- 
 father, those in constant use, to be destroyed or effectually con- 
 cealed, so as to give his chambers the appearance of long-deserted 
 premises. But as a small leak will admit the sea into the 
 doomed vessel and sink it so had one oversight on her part, 
 confounded all her caution. 
 
 A pair of gloves had been dropped in his hasty flight, and of 
 these Hernshaw had possessed himself. Worse than all, with the 
 exquisite care and detail my grandfather bestowed on every object 
 around him, he had written his name on the lining, with the date 
 of the present year. It was his fancy to do things in this way, 
 and his habit in cold weather to wear kid-gloves, when reading, 
 or handling metallic-instruments, that chilled his sensitive frame. 
 
 From his capacious pocket Hernshaw now drew these gloves, 
 and coolly, without remark, held up the signature and date for 
 my grandmother's observation. 
 
 He had struck the mark this time she trembled and grew 
 pale ; falsehood was not her element, she was silent, and con- 
 founded by this slight circumstance. 
 
 " It is probable," he said, " from all that I can ascertain, that 
 your charge, whosoever he be, has escaped, and I must be moving 
 off in brisk pursuit ; but before I go I have still one duty to 
 perform. Who," and he turned curiously to the object of his 
 investigation still glancing furtively at my grandmother across 
 his shoulder with evident suspicion. "Who is that old man 
 sleeping by the fire ?" 
 
 The question seemed to arouse her to strength and indignation 
 even. 
 
 " He calls himself Father Conrad, a stranger, so far to me an
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 39 
 
 intruder even," she replied, in rapid and haughty accents. " His 
 errand here is one of mercy to our afflicted servant, and duty to 
 the dead. I have no more to say about him ; examine him if you 
 like what remains, you can find out for yourself." 
 
 Hernshaw seemed baffled again he had evidently counted on 
 some discovery in that quarter, aided by the abruptness of his 
 onset. He stood for a moment evidently disconcerted by her 
 manner. 
 
 " I have heard of Father Conrad but I have never seen him," 
 he remarked, at last. " Here, dements," and he turned to his 
 more silent and retiring comrade. " Come forward, and identify 
 this man ; you know the father 1" 
 
 At this moment, as if to assist their investigation, Father 
 Conrad stirred in his sleep. His head dropped forward on his 
 breast, and the bandanna slipping from its place as a veil, 
 assumed the position of apron, and fell over his knees, leaving 
 the tonsured head and ludicrously homely face, with its hanging 
 nnderlip, fully exposed to view. 
 
 " This certainly is Father Conrad " said Clements, approach- 
 ing him cautiously, and punching the smoldering coal-fire into a 
 momentary bituin'mous blaze, so as to obtain a better light for 
 his investigation : " Father Conrad, by all that's holy 1" he 
 reiterated ; " and yet," he added, in subdued tones, " I could 
 have sworn I saw him starting off in the Mapleton coach from 
 Croften, at five o'clock this afternoon. It beats the bees 1" 
 
 " The convent lies on that route, you know," interposed Dr. 
 Quintil ; "he must have received intimation of our necessity 
 before he arrived there and changing his mind, turned on hj,s 
 path. He is evidently travel-worn." 
 
 Clements glanced at his dusty shoes. " He sleeps as if he was
 
 40 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 either drank or very tired," lie muttered ; but Hernshaw stirring 
 the sleeper rudely with the butt-end of his riding-whip, said in a 
 loud, authoritative voice, which cut short all further temporizing : 
 
 " Rouse up, old man, and speak for yourself ! How do you 
 reconcile these points ? Explain quickly I must be going how 
 was it ; how was it, Father Conrad ?" 
 
 " I cannot go," said the priest, muttering in his disturbed 
 slumber. " I tell you it is too far to walk to Bouverie this 
 evening." 
 
 " Wake up, I am in a hurry, I tell yoa," said Hernshaw, la/ing 
 his hand on the priest's shoulder, and shaking him slightly. 
 " Come, give a satisfactory account of yourself or prepare to go 
 with us." 
 
 " Are you riding, gentlemen ?" inquired the old man, straight- 
 ening himself in his chair, and adjusting his spectacles, with the 
 air of one just roused to a clear sense of his situation. " If so, I 
 will be glad of a lift to Croften ; I am foot-sore and fairly broke 
 down, and have been sleeping in my chair, I believe ; but I 
 forget I must attend to my little beesness here first ; perhaps 
 you could wait for me an hour or so, to obleege me ?" 
 
 While the priest spoke he grasped his yellow bandanna in his 
 great shrivelled hands, and looked steadily at the officer. 
 
 " I am glad of this delay," I thought ; " it will give my grand- 
 father more tune to elude his pursuers. With God's help, he will 
 reach St. Stephen s before morning and once there, Bishop Clare 
 will protect him with his life." 
 
 A brief murmured consultation was going on between the 
 officers, while these thoughts passed through my mind, which 
 ended in Hernshaw's turning respectfully to my grandmother, and 
 signifying his intention to depart.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 41 
 
 " Clements will go at once to the convent," he said, " and un- 
 derstand the cause of Father Conrad's mission here, as some 
 doubt seems attached to it. Until this matter is made clear, we 
 must plant a guard over your house, as well as to prevent the 
 return of the fugitive. At daylight, or as soon as his apprehen- 
 sion is certain, your premises will be vacated ; but I hope, truly, 
 madam," he added, with a tone of courtesy in his voice, " that 
 nothing will occur to distress you further under your own roof." 
 
 He withdrew, followed by Clements, and a few moments later 
 the closing of the hall-door, and the drawing of the ponderous bolt 
 across its leaves by Dr. Quintil's hand, announced their final 
 departure for that night ; but we knew that armed sentinels 
 paced the pavement in every direction, and guarded every avenue 
 of egress from Bouverie. 
 
 " Oh, what shall be done, Paul ?" said my grandmother, as 
 Dr. Quintil ree'ntered the apartment, and she threw herself 
 wildly back in her chair, as though, after the miserable nerve 
 tension of the last hour, she could no longer restrain her feelings, 
 even in sight of the dozing priest, half-conscious witness as he 
 was of her proceedings . 
 
 " Where shall we turn ? We cannot save him now flight is 
 impossible." 
 
 Dr. Quintil made no reply ; but proceeded at once to bolt and 
 lock all doors leading from the dining-room, first stepping into 
 the pantry to secure that of the outer-court ; after which he 
 threw up the sashes to try the fastenings of the shutters, and 
 drawing these dowu again, examined the catches above them 
 which held them firmly in their place. 
 
 " Lend me your pin-cushion, Lilian/'' he said ; and, on receiving 
 it, he proceeded to mount on a chair, and lap across, and pin
 
 42 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 together, with the utmost precision, the plush-lined damask cur- 
 tains from a point as high as he could reach above him to the 
 floor below, after effecting which, he turned to us with something 
 like satisfaction in his countenance. 
 
 " We are free from all possible external observation, now, at 
 least," he said, " and we have breathing-time ; this much we have 
 accomplished this much, if no more." 
 
 " Oh, Qnintil, I am in despair ! there is no hope none he 
 must be apprehended." 
 
 " Grandmother, remember he, may hear you," and I pointed to 
 Father Conrad, who again sat gently nodding in his chair. " I 
 thought the priest was to go to Bianca ? why this delay ? They 
 will certainly permit him to pass to her room under escort ?" 
 
 "It matters little, child, who hears me now! At daylight the 
 officers will return, and the desperate game be over. All is lost, 
 unless he escapes to-night 1" 
 
 " Can it be that he is still concealed at Bouverie ?" I asked, 
 with eagerness. "I thought he was safe I thought you inti- 
 mated as much before the officers came in ; I supposed him 
 beyond these walls at least, on his way to Bishop Clare, perhaps ; 
 and I trembled, lest riding in the same direction, they might over- 
 take him." 
 
 " No, no, Lilian, he was too weak to hazard this too weak 
 to walk to stand, even ; but can you be serious, Lilian ? Have 
 you suspected nothing?" And she rose, and stood eagerly 
 before me. 
 
 " What, grandmother ?" 
 
 In another moment she stood behind the father, and unfastened, 
 as one might do a child's pinafore, the clasp that held on the 
 singular vizor he wore.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEK1E. 4:3 
 
 " No exclamations, Lilian !" she said, as she held up before me 
 the gutta-percha mask face, tonsured head, wig, spectacles, and 
 all, in one piece revealing, as she did so, the closely-cut, steel 
 grey hair and refined features of my grandfather composed in deep 
 sleep beneath. 
 
 " Oh, wonderful ! was ever disguise like this ?" I could not help 
 saying aloud, as I gazed with uplifted hands on the totally un- 
 expected revelation before me. 
 
 " Was ever character so sustained ?" added Dr. Quintil. 
 
 " He sleeps profoundly at last I he is so sick so feeble !" 
 my grandmother said, laying the mask aside, and gazing on his 
 face with deep solicitude. " Let him find repose while he can, in 
 every interval of danger or distress ! Unrest enough there is in 
 store for him. Oh, Quintil, what trials, lie before him 1 God 
 pity us all, if, indeed, as I have thought sometimes," (she murmured 
 the conclusion of the sentence,) "he has not utterly withdrawn 
 from us." 
 
 " He is better," said Dr. Quintil, corning forward, and gazing 
 earnestly on his fixed, sleeping countenance, " much better ! His 
 wonderful recuperative powers have come to his assistance, and 
 we have reason to hope that he may yet be able to effect his 
 escape before the return of Hernshaw." 
 
 " Not with that armed police without, Quintil ! No, Paul, he 
 is doomed ! The bolt so long suspended falls at last, and we are 
 crushed." 
 
 " I can heal the steps of the watch on the pavement without," 
 t said ; " may they not hear our voices as well, and learn our pro- 
 ceedings thus ? May they not, having knowledge of these, force 
 an entrance even ?" 
 
 " The entrance could only be made by violence," said Dr. Quinti),
 
 44 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 " our voices they cannot hear beyond an inarticulate murmur 
 I have ascertained this already by experiment. ; and, for the first 
 man who lays a hand on any inmate of Bouverie, I have this in 
 readiness." 
 
 And the man of peace drew from his bosom a deadly weapon 
 then recently perfected, I believe, since commonly known as a re- 
 volver with an expression of face that indicated sufficiently his 
 
 / . 
 determination to test its powers, if needful. 
 
 He had purchased it when Smith commenced his system of an- 
 noyance, and had become a proficient in its use. The gutta- 
 percha disguise had also been provided at this period, with refer- 
 ence to the plan of securing Bishop Clare's assistance, should our 
 flight to Italy be determined on as a measure of security from 
 Smith's persecutions. It was supposed that, as Father Conrad, 
 my grandfather could gain the sea-coast unmolested, and, dropping 
 his disguise there, proceed unquestioned with his family. 
 
 It was with the hope that through his agency this might still 
 be effected, that Jasper had been sent to Bishop Clare, with the 
 request that the real Father Conrad might be immured for a few 
 days in the walls of St. Stephen's. It has been seen how this plan 
 failed. 
 
 A mask which Jasper had prevailed on his old Latin teacher 
 to permit him to mold in plaster of Paris, intending it, as he did, 
 for a study of Silenus, had served as the model for this disguise. 
 Dr. Quintil had carefully superintended the coloring and accesso- 
 ries of the face in a distant city, and with such success that the 
 German notion of the " double" might have been impressed on the 
 father himself, could he have seen his effigy. There never was 
 anything so life-like as this imitation. Even in daylight the 
 practised eye could scarcely have detected aught unnatural. The
 
 very hands of the coarse old man were imitated in gloves of 
 gutta percha a material then little known to perfection, and the 
 making up of the figure was also strictly accurate. My grand- 
 father had known Father Conrad from his boyhood, and had suc- 
 cessfully imitated his peculiarities a thousand tunes before he ever 
 dreamed of making these available for his own safety. Such is 
 the history of this transaction, in which a philosopher so success- 
 
 
 
 fully played the mimic, and which, improbable as it seems, is sur- 
 passed every day in common masquerade. 
 
 But my digression lengthens. I forget the anxious group left 
 standing all this time around the chair of a calm sleeper in the 
 dining-room at Bouverie. I forget that the reader forms one of 
 these. 
 
 Suddenly the actor starts to his feet, throws off the cumbrous 
 coat, with its manifold stuffings, that concealed his slender figure, 
 and, with the flashing eye, and brilliant smile, that betrayed his 
 simulated slumber, stands erect, elastic, in his strange mixture of 
 youth and age, before their astonished gaze : 
 
 " Uprose the Dervish with that burst of light, 
 Not less his change of form appalled the sight ; 
 Uprose that Dervish, not in saintly garb, 
 But like a warrior bounding on his barb." 
 
 "Yes," he said, "you are right, Quintil, I have marvellous 
 recuperative powers, thanks to a medicine worth more than your 
 whole pharmacopoeia, and in spite of vigilance and debility, I will 
 go forth this night, and elude pursuit and vengeance. Give me 
 your weapon, Quintil. I shall readily learn its management, and 
 take your disguise again, I pray you, as a grateful token from 
 Erastus Bouverie to Father Conrad. The old fellow will regard 
 it suspiciously, I imagine, as a snake might look at his cast skin,
 
 40 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 ana I would not wear it again, I assure you, to be the holy friar 
 in substance as well as shadow. No, come what may, I will meet 
 fate as I am, henceforth a man, molded in the image of his 
 maker (that maker Lucifer himself, who knows ?) yet a goodly 
 man, not an incubus. Bear with me, Camilla," he said, as ha 
 saw grave displeasure written in her face ; " should I collapse, 
 there is an end of me. By the way, what an inopportune visit 
 the old fellow made to Mapleton to-day ; but for that Croften 
 coach, we should have had no trouble. After all, what did 
 they suspect ? They did not doubt his identity it seems what 
 then ? 
 
 " Grandfather, there was an unaccountable mistrust in my 
 mind with regard to you all the time, and yet I did not dream of 
 disguise. I believe we are instinctively impressed sometimes 
 beyond our own reason. These men felt this, and could not 
 account for their own misgivings." 
 
 " Just so, Lilian, that is the philosophy of it, I doubt not. I 
 could not help laughing though in my sleeve at the way you flut- 
 tered round me, love, like a fascinated bird. I can scarcely 
 account for your stupidity on this occasion, but it gave me fresh 
 confidence." 
 
 " Oh, who could dream of such a disguise ? It seems so daring, 
 taken from life as it was, and so wonderfully perfect. You see it 
 baffled even the detectives." 
 
 " Yes, but you, Lily, who know every turn of me ; it was 
 passing strange that you should be deceived. I begin to feel like 
 the little woman, of whom the legend says that the peddler ' cut 
 her petticoats up to her knees,' whereupon she lost all confidence 
 in her own identity." 
 
 " Your little dog barked at you, grandfather, and you question,
 
 fHK HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 47 
 
 is this I ? Yery complimentary truly." He laughed ; in another 
 moment deep gloom covered his countenance. 
 
 * 
 
 " A truce with this nonsense, dearest, -we must part ! It wears 
 on to ten o'clock, I see by this timepiece. Farewell, darling, 
 pray for me," he whispered, and he drew me convulsively to his 
 heart. " You, too, Camilla noble, injured wife farewell 1" 
 and he extended his hand to her timidly. She folded hers, and 
 turned weeping away in silence. 
 
 " Will you not speak to me, Camilla, even to wish me well, on 
 this last, last occasion ; perhaps God only knows we may never 
 meet again, Camilla? It might be a satisfaction to you to 
 remember that we parted friends." He paused, waiting vainly 
 for a reply. 
 
 " Go then," he said, " in mercy go," seeing that she remained 
 implacable, yet deeply afflicted. " Do not unman me now, unless 
 indeed you wish that the hangman's hand should nestle here " 
 And he grasped his slender throat with a bitter laugh. 
 
 " Quintil, a purse of gold nothing else will answer my need 
 so well just now and in thirty days at latest it shall be returned 
 to you. And now leave me, all, save Dr. Quintil. Food, rai- 
 ment, and money, he will provide them all. Go," he continued, 
 as we still lingered, uncertain how to proceed, " believe me, it is 
 best that I should be alone. As for the four trampers without. 
 they do not cost me the shadow of an anxiety." 
 
 And as he spoke, he waved his hand toward the hall door, a& 
 if dispelling a mere figment of the imagination, adding, with a 
 laugh : 
 
 " We shall know how to deal with them, eh, Quintil I"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WE left him, in what anguish of heart can better be conjec- 
 tured than described. Yet we knew that the desperate course 
 before him, whatever it might be, was the only one that remained 
 for him to adopt. The fear of bloodshed was uppermost with me. 
 I listened through the night for those sounds of conflict and 
 strife, that I feared must usher in any attempt of his to leave the 
 mansion. But all was quiet, and in the morning we heard with 
 great relief that he was gone. 
 
 Dr. Quintil told us afterward, that on Hernshaw's reappearance 
 at daylight, the men he had left hi charge of the house presented 
 themselves before him, with some improbable story of having 
 been beguiled into a cellar by an old, deaf woman, who offered 
 them hot coffee, "just at the cold turn of the night," as one of 
 them expressed it, and confessed that one after the other they had 
 availed themselves of her offer, and afterward fallen asleep, each 
 at his separate post, feeling very " strange and drowsy like ;" 
 " but the truth is, I imagine," said Dr. Quintil, with a quaint 
 Bmile, " the wretches were probably drunk, and in order to 
 shield themselves, assigned to Dame McCormick a part she had 
 scarcely sagacity enough to play, that of a siren and skillful 
 chemist." 
 
 " But you know all about it," said my grandmother ; " you 
 can tell us exactly how it was, if you choose." 
 
 "It is one of those mysteries that can never be cleared up," 
 said Dr. Quintil gravely, " but certainly preferable to bloodshed
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 49 
 
 in any case. Mr. Bouverie had possessed himself of my pistol, 
 and could not have been deterred from using it, had not pacific 
 measures been adopted. Jasper will probably bring us informa- 
 tion on his return of his safety." 
 
 In this hope the day wore on. In the evening Jasper came, 
 bringing back the letter my grandmother had written to Bishop 
 Clare the news of whose absence from home fell like lead on our 
 hearts. 
 
 He had waited for Bianca, who had gone to St. Stephen's 
 early in the morning, for the purpose of interring Fabius and 
 whose nervous condition required assistance and as " Violet 
 Fane " was lame from over-exertion, he had left her in Croften, 
 and taken his place by Bianca's side in the returning vehicle, in 
 which Pat McCormick had driven her away hi the morning. 
 
 " And where is Pat ?" asked my grandmother. " Did he not 
 return with you ?" 
 
 " I am sorry to say," wrote Jasper ; " that Hernshaw, with a 
 sagacity worthy of a better cause, has possessed himself of this 
 knavish fool. This evening, when we reached Croften, we found 
 him waiting for us, evidently. He took Patrick aside in my 
 absence, and I have little doubt bribed him to undertake the part 
 of guide to a party of scouts, going out in search of Mister 
 Bouverie. I did not know of this at the time, having stopped to 
 speak with Father Conrad, who had just returned hi the Maple- 
 ton stage and to explain to him as well as I could, the necessity 
 of his silence hi this matter. 
 
 " When I approached the buggy (having by this tune determined 
 to take my place in it, and make Pat stay at Croften with Violet 
 Fane, until I could return for her, or he could lead her home) he 
 had disappeared ; out not without remonstrance from Bianca.
 
 50 THE HOUSEHOLD CiF BOUVERIE. 
 
 She had urged him not to accompany Hernshaw, threatening, 
 and dissuading him by turns from pursuing this treacherous 
 course, and for all answer, he had rolled his goggle eyes at her 
 and drawing from his bosom a worn red morocco ball (attached 
 to his neck by a leather guard-chain) he had pressed it reverently 
 to his lips then dropped it back into its hiding-place. She does 
 not know what to make of this piece of torn-foolery ; nor do I." 
 
 " To me, it gives some faint re-assurance," I said ; and I 
 related as briefly is I could the occurrences connected with the 
 " Bible-ball," a? he had called my " lively bouncer," the subject 
 of such ardent admiration on his part. But for my knowledge 
 of his avarice and hoarding propensities, I should have wondered 
 at the preservation of the plaything he had coveted a mere relic 
 now of childish tastes. Alas ! these very qualities aroused equal 
 anxiety as to the motives which had influenced him to follow 
 Hernshaw. What dependence, after all, could be placed on the 
 consistency of this poor half-saved creature ? what reasonable hope 
 based on his fidelity ? 
 
 My strongest trust in his failure to identify him, grew out 
 of the reflection, that he had seen my grandfather, both imper- 
 fectly and casually ; but this, after all, was a slender hope, on 
 which to hang so important an issue. 
 
 " I will go myself, said Dr. Quintil, this very night to St. 
 Stephen's (perhaps much further) and ascertain the truth, if pos- 
 sible. Have the horse you drove fed and watered, Jasper or, 
 do it yourself, my boy, in the absence of all assistance and 
 hitch him to the buggy. Bid Dame McCormick give us an early 
 Bupper, and I will go to Croften before bed-time, and reach St. 
 Stephen's before midnight. I cannot doubt that Mr. Bouverie i3 
 there. Old Christina would receive him, and conceal him '-even
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OJ BOUVERIE. 51 
 
 in her master's absence, she had known him always, she would 
 rejoice in his safety ; but whether he is safe for more than a day 
 or two, even in the bishop's house, I doubt. If not, I must as- 
 sist him as well as I can to make his way to the nearest seaport, 
 and, in anticipation of such a necessity, put me up a valise full of 
 linen, Lilian, love, both for myself and him !" 
 
 The needful arrangements were made as speedily as possible, 
 and in the twilight Dr. Quintil departed, cheering us to the last 
 "with hopeful suggestions, and sanguine anticipations ; yet, leaving 
 us, after all, infinitely dispirited and depressed, as we looked in 
 the face the array of facts before us. 
 
 The conduct of Pat McCormick (poor idiot as he was) was the 
 last drop that made our cup run over for he formed, after all, 
 an integral part of our isolated household, and was bound to us 
 by every tie of gratitude and long association, if not of affection. 
 It was vain, however, in the extreme deafness of the dame, and 
 our own helplessness in this case, to lift up our voices and reveal 
 his treachery and our suspicions. Strangely enough, she did not 
 seem to miss him, and we came to a half-conclusion, that she was 
 not unacquainted with his proceedings. 
 
 " I never liked her," said my grandmother, " she is intimately 
 connected with my sorrow and early wrong, yet I did believe she 
 would die a martyr's death rather than lend herself to injure a 
 Bouverie, one of a race she idolized." 
 
 \ 
 
 We were surprised to see Dr. Quintil alight from the buggy he 
 had driven away, two days after his departure ; still more surprised 
 to see that he was accompanied by Patrick McCormick, who, in 
 his usual capacity of hostler, took charge of the horse at once, 
 and disappeared into the region of the stables, as if nothing had 
 occurred to interrupt the customary discharge of his duties.
 
 52 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 Dr. Quintil could give us no satisfaction on the subject ever 
 present to our thoughts. Mr. Bouverie had not reached the 
 house of Bishop Clare, whose absence it was now ascertained 
 would be of some weeks' duration, nor had he been heard of or 
 seen by any one able or willing to impart such knowledge, or 
 of whom such inquiry could with propriety be made. 
 
 The police, still scouring the country, had failed to discover any 
 traces of his presence, and had dropped Pat McCormick as an 
 incumbrance, after having been misled by him in several instances, 
 and even lost in the paupau jungle for a whole day, time of 
 course irretrievably wasted. So, whether intentionally or not, 
 Patrick had been of service to us it seemed ; and as responsibility 
 seemed out of the question in his case, it was thought best to 
 make no allusion to the past, .and suffer him to fall into the estab- 
 lished routine of duty again without remark. 
 
 " I found him at Croften on my return," said Dr. Quintil, 
 " lounging by the tavern pump, with the usual expression of vacuity 
 on his face, which gave way to something like pleasure when he 
 saw me approaching. Without any explanation of his conduct 
 (poor wretch, could he make one were he to try ?) he advanced 
 and loosened the reins of my horse, and gave him water ; then 
 came to me, with a proposition to drive me home, as his ' mammy ' 
 would be wanting him he reckoned, and maybe ' Miss Lilian.' 
 
 " I did not question him then, but as soon as we left Croften, 
 I plied him as skillfully as I knew how, with all manner of interroga- 
 tories. To not one of these did I receive anything like a satisfactory 
 or direct answer ; and yet the impression is strong in my mind that 
 he had seen Mr. Bouverie, and knows perhaps the place of his con- 
 cealment. But, after all, I may be mistaken in my notion of his 
 instinctive fidelity. I find myself catching at straws all the time."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 53 
 
 " He will suffer ; he has suffered already from cold, fatigue, 
 and hunger even he so frail, so little used to hardship, so fond 
 of luxury ! Would that the worst were over, and that I knew 
 his fate : or, better still, that the grave contained us both 1" and 
 my grandmother wrung her hands bitterly. 
 
 " Be patient, madam, and nerve yourself to bear whatever may 
 betide. You have at all events the consciousness of duty ren- 
 dered. This is but the end of the beginning !" 
 
 " I will try my skill as inquisitor," I thought, as after this con- 
 versation I left the room in search of Patrick, by this time 
 released from his stable duties, and probably subsiding into his 
 softer vocation of kitchen help or scullion. 
 
 I was not incorrect in my estimate of time and occupation as 
 applied to him. I found him seated by the kitchen hearth, eating 
 a late breakfast (it was almost our dinner-tune), which he was 
 bedewing or rather salting with his tears. 
 
 He dried his red, preposterous eyes with the corner of a 
 blue rag, protruding from his pocket, as he saw me standing 
 before him, and attempted to rise, still clasping his plate on his 
 knees. 
 
 " Sit down, Pat," I said, " as you are eating, and never mind 
 your bow this time." 
 
 He obeyed me silently, while the dame, whose back was turned 
 to me, and who was unconscious of my presence, continued to 
 blaze away at him, while she washed her potatoes. 
 
 " And if you open your mouth to a living sowl, as much as to 
 the misthress herself, I will pin your tongue to the biscuit-board 
 and keep it there this time till the bishop comes. 'Twas me that 
 get Herushaw after you, and if they knowed it, the poor, onesided 
 ereathures that they are, they'd be thinking everything but the
 
 54 THE .HOT! BEHOLD OF BOUTEEIE. 
 
 truth ; and lie to pay us gowld, too ! What would it seem like ? 
 But I might as well talk to the owld tom-cat as to you, or to 
 Father Conrad himself, whei^ he gets to the apple brandy. Now 
 mind, Pat McCormick, what I have said to you this day, for it 
 isn't after repairing it I'll be, in any way but one. Do you see 
 this ?" and she drew from the fireplace a red-hot rod of iron she 
 had been heating there, the remains of a poker probably, and 
 turned holding it in her band in a menacing attitude toward her 
 delinquent kinsman. 
 
 Poor Pat crouched. "Oh! don't, mammy, don't," he 
 howled, upsetting his precious plate in his terror, and breaking it 
 on the hearthstone, then clinging wildly to me. 
 
 " Oh, it is you, Miss Lilian 1" said the hag, in a deprecating 
 way. " I have to settle with Pat, you see, for moving off without 
 lave or license, you know ; and me without a sowl to split a 
 stick of wood for me, or scratch a potatoe for two long days ! 
 If the misthress don't take him in hand, I must," and she turned 
 away, again muttering, to her kitchen table and vegetable 
 duties. 
 
 I took advantage of this cessation of hostilities to open my 
 negotiation with Pat, now dolefully collecting his scattered 
 breakfast from the hearthstone, with the aid of a scoop made of 
 one hand, and the largest fragment of his coarse, blue-edged 
 plate, and blubbering woefully as he gathered up his food. 
 
 " Don't cry, Pat, it isn't manly," I said ; " you know you iro 
 1 policeman now. Didu't you go out with Hernshaw ?" 
 
 A pawky smile flitted over his purple countenance, and the 
 blue rag was again in requisition. 
 
 "Any way, I corned back without him, if I did follow after 
 him a while," he replied, in an apologetic tone.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 55 
 
 "I know that," I said, "and we are all glad to get you back 
 again. But, Pat, where did you leave the master ? You under- 
 stand me, Pat the pretty old play-actor man you told me about 
 once, that lived up-stairs?" I waited breathlessly for his long 
 delayed reply. 
 
 " What would you give me to tell you ?" he asked at last, wall- 
 ing his eyes at me awfully, after a solemn pause, and afterward 
 standing perfectly mute before me, with his hands clasped, and 
 those animated gooseberries of his fixed hypocritically on the 
 floor. 
 
 " Oh, anything, Pat anything in the world -just name your 
 price," I answered, eagerly. 
 
 " There is a heap of things you wouldn't give me to save life ; 
 you just talk this way, Miss Lilian, to fool me, 'cause everybody 
 calls me simple, but my pay has to come first." 
 
 " Certainly, Pat, certainly," I broke in, all impatience. " Just 
 say what you require, and I think I can promise it shall be 
 yours." 
 
 " Will you give me the picture that hangs over your bed, of 
 the old saint-lady ?" he asked, in solemn accents, glancing at me 
 slily. He alluded to the portrait of my Grandmother De Courcy, 
 I knew. 
 
 "Anything else, Pat anything else." 
 
 " Will you give me your little chest, made of the blessed cedar 
 lined with white velvet, and full of pretty things ?" 
 
 " Pat, is there nothing else you want ? and how on earth do you 
 see these things ?" 
 
 " I bores holes in the window shutters, and peeps of nights, 
 when the candles are burning, and I sees everything," said th*-. 
 wretch, with a leering self-complacency. " But I know'd you was
 
 56 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 only fooling me, Miss Lilian I know'd that, all the time !" And 
 he shook his head drearily. 
 
 " No, Pat, I was not fooling you, nor thinking of such baseness, 
 but you ask impossible things ; think of something else," I said, 
 suppressing, as well as I could, my impatience, and my feeling of 
 intense provocation. 
 
 " That little ring on your finger will do me to put on my guard- 
 chain," he said, pointing to the leather string around his neck, 
 and eyeing invidiously the emerald hoop Jasper had given me re- 
 cently, while he smiled furtively perhaps at the certainty he felt 
 that I would refuse him again. 
 
 " I must make my own terms with you, Pat, I see," I answered, 
 provoked almost beyond endurance ; " you are too exacting. See 
 here, you shall have this crimson scarf," unwinding one from my 
 neck, " and a new breastpin, and a silk pocket-handkerchief for 
 Sundays, and a great picture-book, full of saints and martyrs, and 
 a whole box of raisins out of the store-room, and money as well, 
 if you will only tell me, Pat and cross your heart for the truth 
 where you left my precious grandfather !" 
 
 He hesitated. I thought his avarice would overcome his fear 
 of the dame, and waited anxiously for his decision. 
 
 " Will you let me kiss your foot besides, if I tell you what I 
 know, Miss Lilian?" asked the wretch, with imperturbable gravity. 
 Had he said my hand, I think I would have consented, in the 
 agony of my anxiety. What was there, after all, more than the 
 hand-licking of a dog, hi this whim of an idiot scarcely a human 
 being? 
 
 " Tell me first, Pat," I said, faintly. 
 
 "A bargain's a bargain, and as good for me as foi you you 
 want to fool me again. I know'd you did, all the time I"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 57 
 
 " I will go and get you all I promised, and return," I said, 
 knowing the matters mentioned were at hand. " Be prepared to 
 tell me the truth nothing else will answer. Stay here until I 
 come again I shall be back soon," and I turned from him. 
 
 " I will trust you for them articles, Miss Lilian, and tell you 
 all I know now, if you will let me kiss yoar foot, before you go. 
 Mammy says to kiss a lady's slipper, with her foot in it, cures the 
 ring-worm," and the monster grinned, pointing, at the same time, 
 to a round red blotch on his chin. 
 
 " There, then 1" I said, extending my foot impatiently; "make 
 haste, and tell me everything." 
 
 He knelt down, and, after putting his hands for a moment to 
 his eyes, and mumbling a few unintelligible words, he extended 
 them like wings, in the most ludicrously provoking manner, and, 
 bending over it, kissed my foot as reverently as if it had been a 
 saint's relic. 
 
 " Speak, speak 1" I said, stamping impatiently, "as he delibe- 
 rately rose, and stood before me. " Tell me all you know of the 
 absent come, Pat, begin. Where is my dear grandfather?" 
 How I loathed the wretch by this time ! 
 
 " I never know'd you had one," he replied, with that peculiar 
 drawl of his, assumed, I believe, in his idiotic cunning, whenever 
 it answered his purpose best, at the same t:me glaring upon me 
 with his vacant eyes, like some bewildered owl just brought out 
 of darkness. 
 
 "Tell me whatever you know," I rejoined, commanding myself 
 as well as I could, "about the old play-actor man that lived up- 
 stairs the man that wore the crimson gown, that you took for 
 the Pope don't you remember, Pat ? The man you went with 
 Hernshaw to catch ? You saw him, Pat, face to face I knotf
 
 58 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 you did where is he ? Speak, boy, speak 1" and, as I saw the 
 stolid shadow deepening over his imbecile face, as if what little 
 intellect he had was creeping or being driven out of sight, the 
 provocation of the moment, and the wish to rouse him up to reply 
 to me, caused me to seize his shoulder, and shake him sharply. 
 He uttered a hideous cry such a cry as a sloth might render forth, 
 when, swinging slowly from limb to limb of a Brazilian forest, the 
 apprehending hand of the traveller is suddenly laid upon him a 
 cry of mingled fear, and helplessness, and defiance not of pain. 
 
 The shrill and unnatural sound pierced the dull ear of Dame 
 McCormick ; she turned full upon me just as I was putting forth 
 my hand to grasp him again, to try, this tune, if possible, to stop 
 his yells. 
 
 " Wretch I" I said, " if you don't stop screechipg, and reveal 
 instantly what you promised to tell me, I will have you beaten. 
 You shall speak I" 
 
 " I didn't promise nothing but what I know'd," he said, sud- 
 denly checking his cries. " And I don't know nothing, and I 
 can't make up anything," he whimpered, with a piteous expres- 
 sion. " Oh ! Lordy, the witches are after me again ! Mammy, 
 mammy," elevating his voice, " save me !" 
 
 " You had better lit that boy alone, Miss Lilian !" blazed out 
 the deaf old virago, now standing with her arms akimbo, glaring 
 fiercely at me. " He is none of your nagur to be shaked and 
 twitted ef he is simple, and it's what your mother would niver 
 have done, little nor big ; but you're a Byrne every inch of you : 
 there's no Bouverie blood in you, and I always said so, for true 
 blood will speak and tell its own tale, and you ought to know ty 
 this time " 
 
 But I fled before the gathering storm, and was glad to escape
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 59 
 
 from lightning as well as thunder, scarcely repressing a smile, 
 sadly provoked as I was, however, when I reflected that Pat 
 bad confounded me with the supernatural torturers of his exist- 
 ence, and called his Sycorax to the rescue. 
 
 " I should bear the name of ' Cutty Sark,' if I were to tell 
 this," I thought, "for a month at least, Jasper is such a tease. 
 So considering the failure, and the mortification, and the absolute 
 supremacy of Pat's cunning over my intelligence, I think I had 
 as well keep the whole matter to myself." 
 
 I need not say that from this tune Pat was no favorite of 
 mine, and that whatever repugnance I had felt to him before, 
 was increased, by his deceit and impertinence, tenfold. I ignored 
 him altogether, a matter which seemed to escape his attention, for 
 nothing could exceed his absurd obsequiousness around my chair, or 
 about my plate, or whenever comfort of mine was concerned. My 
 growing distrust of him was confirmed, when, a week or two later, 
 Bianca detected him stealing, and through this detection gamed 
 insight into the systematic pilfering which had been going on in 
 the pantry and store-room, ever since Pat McCormick was ad- 
 mitted as a table attendant. 
 
 He bore an unblushing front, however, under the shame of this 
 exposure, or perhaps his imperfect nature scarcely conceived the 
 import of such a word. Disgusted as I was with him, I could 
 hardly repress a smile occasionally, at the absurd earnestnesa 
 with which he performed his functions, and the self-complacency 
 of his whole demeanor. He could not by any admonition be 
 prevented from breaking repeatedly into the conversation, and 
 expressing his own very peculiar opinions on certain subjects. He 
 had a romantic project on hand, often repeated to my extreme 
 
 discomfiture, of finding out and exterminating the cat, which, iu 
 19
 
 00 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 accordance with the nursery legend to that effect, he believed to 
 have possessed herself of and eloped with Jasper's tongue ; and 
 he persisted in blowing his breath on the grey streak in my grand- 
 mother's hair, and even trying to brush it off with his napkin, as 
 he stood in his white-aproned dignity behind her chair, under the 
 deeply-rooted impression that it was a colony of ashes which he 
 held it his duty to disperse. When Dr. Quintil said grace, his 
 closed eyes and moving lips, and overdone devoutness were irre- 
 sistibly ridiculous, and at such tunes he held his salver clasped to 
 his breast, like a shield of defence against the arrows of the evil 
 one, while his horse-shoe mouth expressed a strange mixture of 
 sanctity and silliness. 
 
 My grandmother bore with surprising equanimity his alternate 
 mistakes and absurdities. Anything was better to her than the 
 presence of strangers, and respect for Bianca's recent grief, for- 
 bade her attendance at the table. 
 
 Indeed, at such a tune of absorbing anxiety, details were over- 
 looked or forgotten, and discomfort placidly submitted to, which, 
 at any other, would have been fruitful cause for irritation. For 
 still the days rolled by, and still there came no tidings of the 
 fugitive, hi whom so many hearts were bound, each in its separate 
 fashion of love, pity, or interest
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 10 sm>.ad-<4 ov^^f .'K-vi,--,,;,- 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 YET, as far as she was able, the mistress of Bouverie extended 
 her care, as usual, over all necessary provisions for the comfort 
 and welfare of those around her. Her very flowers were not 
 wholly forgotten. I remember that she desired me to go and 
 superintend Pat in the task of laying and pegging down her roses, 
 as the clouds of November gathered over the heavens, and 
 threatened to cover the earth with snow, succeeded probably by 
 hard frost. 
 
 " We shall lose them else, Lilian, and we have no one to lift 
 them now," she said. 
 
 This task, a delicate one, as all flower-fanciers know, had 
 devolved yearly on Smith, who, although still an occupant of the 
 cottage, was no longer in my grandmother's employment. Some 
 unexpired contract gave him the right to remain there until 
 Christmas ; but Dr. Quintil had sternly forbidden him to show his 
 face on the precincts of Bouverie again, beyond his own inclosure, 
 an edict obeyed as strictly, as he knew it would have been 
 enforced. 
 
 In compliance with my grandmother's request, I approached 
 the flower-beds on which Pat was working, and after giving him 
 directions, stood watching him, as he threw the rich leaf-mold 
 lightly over the pegged-down trailing limbs of the still green 
 Solfaterre and Augusta roses, seldom naked in our half-southern 
 clime until January, even when exposed to the utmost rigors of
 
 (J2 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 the season. This promised, however, to be one of unusual gloom 
 and severity. 
 
 The sternness of my manner seemed to force conviction on his 
 dull faculties that I was displeased with him ; and his penitential 
 glances betrayed that memory was at work to reproduce the 
 cause. He sought in vain to beguile my icy mood at first, by 
 skillful allusions to my favorite flowers. 
 
 " See, Miss Lilian, the white lilies is peeping up again ! I 
 wonder will they put on their white foolscaps in snow-time, like 
 the bad school-boys ? They turns their foolscaps upside down, 
 Miss Lilian, to catch the rain and sunshine that's all the same as 
 meat and drink to them, Dr. Quintil says." 
 
 " Be quiet, Pat, and proceed with your work. I have nothing 
 to say to you." 
 
 " Here's a double violet, Miss Lilian must I cover that too ? 
 Maybe you'd like to pull the flowers first, they smells so good, and 
 there are plenty under the leaves, all hid away, like pritty little 
 children under their mother's apron. I have seed 'em when -I 
 came along hide just so ; and oh, Miss Lilian, here's a slip of 
 sweet-smelling stuff I planted this spring, hid away under the rose- 
 bush, as green as grass, with a little weed growing out of it 
 smell it, Miss Lilian." 
 
 He referred to a sprig of lemon verbena, a leaf of which he now 
 extended to me somewhat timidly unnoticed, of course. 
 
 " Cats love to smell this," he said, " as well as humans ; they 
 goes all around the flower-beds hunting it, and sniffing it, like 
 ladies. They are mighty genteel things, any way, cats is, Miss 
 Lilian, and keeps off witches," he said, dropping his voice, with an 
 expression of grotesque awe. 
 
 This last theory about cats was entirely new to me, though I
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 63 
 
 recognized the truth of Pat's first description of their habits, and 
 had laughed more than once at the quaint affectation of their odor- 
 seeking fastidiousness. 
 
 " Pat, once for all, you must not dare to speak to me at all, 
 after your shameful behavior, or Dr. Quintil shall know it," I said. 
 " Work in silence, sir !" 
 
 He continued for some time to spade diligently, after this de- 
 cided rebuff, apparently humiliated by my treatment, and keeping 
 his eyes steadily fixed on the ground. 
 
 At length, as if determined to dare all hi one more venture, he 
 thrust his hand into his pocket, and, drawing out a huge ring, ex- 
 tended it toward me, between his first finger and thumb, as deli- 
 cately as a dancing-master could have done, with the words, "Miss 
 Lilian, will you trade ?" 
 
 I glanced involuntarily at the ring he held, as he spoke, and, in 
 another moment, had snatched it from his fingers, and was eagerly 
 examining it. I knew at once it was my grandfather's I had 
 seen it, on more than one occasion, lying on his secretary, and 
 could not be mistaken. It had contained an onyx seal, and, in 
 the ulterior, I now found an inscription confirming my suspicions' 
 Engraven in fine Roman characters were the words : 
 
 "THE CZAR TO BOUVEBIE." 
 
 " Boy, where did you get this ring ? Pat, answer me, did he 
 send it to me by you ? Is it a sign of distress or safety ? Oh, 
 God ! I wish I knew 1" and in my sorrowful uncertainty the tears 
 rolled over my cheeks. 
 
 " I found it in the ash-pit, Miss Lilian," he said, speaking with 
 more intelligence than usual, and apparently humanized by my 
 distress. "I thought you would like to have it, because it be-
 
 64 THE HOUSEHOLD OF -BOUVEKIE. 
 
 longed to him," and he glanced at the circular hall and dome- 
 now undergoing repairs with as much significance as he could 
 manage to throw into his scattered physiognomy. 
 
 It was a massive ring, beautifully chased and molded, with the 
 double-headed eagle of Russia carved on each side of the large 
 cavity from which the seal had disappeared. 
 
 " Where is the seal, boy," I asked, sternly, " that fitted this 
 circle when you found it ? I want that, also it was very wrong 
 of you to remove it. You must give it up, Pat, or you will have 
 to be punished," and I handed him the ring. 
 
 " Do you think I'm a thief, Miss Lilian ?" he asked, coloring 
 violently, and struggling for a moment, as if with feeling he was 
 trying to repress. I had not anticipated such sensibility, nor 
 could I very well reconcile it with his recent conduct under similar 
 charges, and even detection. 
 
 "I found this ring where I told you, Miss Lilian, and a 'finder 
 is as good as an owner,' mammy says ; and I'll hold on to it, if you 
 won't trade," and he stuffed it again into his pocket, and proceeded 
 with his spading. Not, however, without glancing at me, from 
 time to time, to watch the effect of his strategic assumptions of 
 indifference. 
 
 " That ring is neither yours nor mine, Pat. It belongs right- 
 fully now to your mistress," I said, at last ; " yet, rather than give 
 her trouble about it, I will trade with you, as you call it, for any- 
 thing reasonable. What will you take for the ring, Pat ?" 
 
 "A free pardon, Miss Lilian," he said, humbly again extending 
 it toward me. 
 
 I received it silently ; then reflecting on Dr. Quintilian's sus- 
 picions and my own, I determined to make one more effort to 
 gain the truth from the simpleton.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 65 
 
 "Pat," I said, "I will forgive you on one condition only for 
 I am very angry with you, and shall always remain so, unless you 
 agree to what I propose ; you must tell me al|, everything, about 
 
 l fi 
 
 the man you called a king when you saw hna upstairs in his 
 crimson gown. The master of Bouverie, you know him that 
 went away you must tell me where you saw him last, and where 
 you left him, and what he said to you ; if you want to save his 
 life, you must do this. Then you shall have your free pardon, 
 Pat you shall, indeed, and a great deal more." 
 
 " Don't you know Dr. Quintil is after him to kill him, or to give 
 him up to them officers ?" he whispered, rolling his eyes frightfully, 
 while his face assumed its deepest purple hue. 
 
 " You are crazy, Pat absolutely crazy ! Dr. Quintil, on the 
 contrary, would die to save him." 
 
 " He is just fooling you and the mistress, Miss Lilian. Didn't 
 I see him carrying them policemen all over the house to hunt for 
 him ? And didn't he go after Hernshaw, in his' buggy, to help 
 him find the master, and get the gowld ? Mammy know'd he 
 always hated him, and now he'll never rest till he gives him up to 
 the carrion-crows that's what I calls 'em !" 
 
 " Tell me, then, Pat," I said, as calmly as I could, almost 
 frantic with anxious curiosity, as I was, yet perceiving the utter 
 inutility of reasoning with him about his absurd suspicions im. 
 movable, like other figments of his imperfect brain. "Tell me, 
 then, what you do know about him ! I love him, Pat I'm very 
 unhappy because he is gone, and suffering, perhaps. And I will 
 promise you, on your holy cross, not to tell any one what you tell 
 me, except my grandmother." 
 
 " She hates him too !" be said, with his simple leer. "Both on 
 'en? hates him ! but I will tell you all I know, Miss Lilian, if yon
 
 66 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 will promise to believe me, and never ax me another question 
 while you live " 
 
 I agreed briefly to both propositions, preposterous as they were; 
 impossible, in one sense. 
 
 " Don't tell nobody, Miss Lilian." 
 
 "No, indeed, Pat," I said, my heart beating wildly in my 
 throat with anxiety and suspense. " Speak ; don't keep me 
 waiting ;" and in my agony I clasped my hands almost prayer- 
 fully to the provoking idiot, who had played so cruelly with my 
 feelings. 
 
 " Listen, then, Miss Lilian !" 
 
 " Boy, I am listening !" 
 
 " Well, then, if I must speak, I must ; but I mint to hould my 
 sacrit," he said, breaking out into a fierce Irish accent ; as he 
 did occasionally, when not under restraint. 
 
 " Whin the house-top was blow'd up he flew up in the air, and 
 the witches resaved him in their arms, and he is safe now wid the 
 blessed Vargin herself. That's all, Miss Lilian !" 
 
 And he looked at me with an expression of subtile foolishness 
 if such a thing could be. Junius Brutus never played his part 
 better ! 
 
 It was more than I could bear. 
 
 " You unmitigated fool ; you incorrigible, preposterous ape 
 you imp in human form !" I exclaimed, in an uncontrollable fit of 
 impatience and rage. " I wish it was no sin to torture flesh I 
 would wring this secret, if secret you have, from you, at the stake 
 itself." 
 
 He did not understand the full meaning of my words, evidently 
 for, at first, a flickering smile played over his grotesque features ; 
 hut, as he read the import of my angry speech in my stormy
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEBIE. 67 
 
 countenance, he gave way to a fit of childish llubbering sitting 
 down finally, and covering his face with his hands, while the big 
 tears literally tumbled from between his parted fingers. 
 
 The exhibition was simply disgusting to me ; at another time 
 it might have seemed ridiculous, touching never ! 
 
 I turned coldly away. 
 
 " Go on with your work, boy," I said, sternly ; " and take 
 this to pay for your ring-finding ;" and I tossed him an eagle, I 
 carried about me as a pocket-piece. 
 
 Looking back as I entered the house, I saw him still sitting on 
 the ground, in the same dejected attitude. 
 
 " The money will comfort him," I thought ; " and make 
 amends for all, poor avaricious fool ! He knows nothing, that 's 
 evident ; and, like many of his betters, affects a knowledge he 
 does not possess as a means of power. Yet, how completely he 
 has baffled and fooled me, as he would say ! Ay, to the very 
 top of my bent !" 
 
 That night a piece of gold was laid under my plate, at ihe 
 supper-table an ' enigma to all, save Pat and myself and tht 
 swollen features of the incubus betrayed traces of recent grief, 
 and sullen discontent.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHEN we were alone in her chamber, I related to my grand 
 mother, all that had occurred from first to last between Pat 
 McCormick and myself, and ended by giving her the ring. 
 
 She received it with evident emotion. " Times are changed, 
 Lilian," she said, " since the greatest monarch of his day placed 
 this ring on your grandfather's hand with his own royal fingers, 
 in the presence of his court. The stone that occupied that vacant 
 circle there, was the most magnificent diamond my eyes ever 
 rested on. Its brilliancy was magnetic, and it had a peculiarity, 
 whether from some flaw or intentional sitting, I never knew, from 
 which it derived its name of the ' Gnome-Bye I' " 
 
 I was startled, and uttered a hasty exclamation. 
 
 " Yes, it was a strange name," she pursued, wholly unconscious 
 of the cause of my amazement ; " but had you seen the singularly 
 perfect, almost human eye within, from which issued on every 
 side small glancing rays of light your astonishment would have 
 reached its climax. It was the most exquisite accident (if such it 
 were) nature ever pleaded guilty to ; but I incline to the belief, 
 that a skillful lapidary was at the bottom of the optical illusion 
 for such your grandfather seemed to consider it and that it was 
 a mere reflection of the eye, without the color that gazed into its 
 depths." 
 
 " What became of the stone, grandmother ?" I asked, sup 
 pressing my own experience, with regard to it. 
 
 " Your grandfather had divested it of its setting, and replaced
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKEE. 69 
 
 it with an onyx seal, which he had fitted to the aperture. I am 
 of the opinion he did this with a view to snch an emergency as 
 the present for he had the stone in his vest-pocket when he left 
 us. At least I recognized the small mother-of-pearl box set with 
 turquoise, in which he always kept it and he said, putting his 
 baud upon it : 'I have something here that may serve me in an 
 hour of need. I had intended to dispose of it differently had cir- 
 cumstances favored ; but necessity knows no law. It may glitter 
 yet on the brow of a queen, for all I know !' " 
 
 " Had he no other resources ?" I inquired. " Was this his sole 
 dependence ?" 
 
 " None, except the gold he received from Dr. Quintil that 
 green purse, with its contents, was part of a marriage gift Paul 
 meant for you, dearest. His semi-annual remittance can be 
 received from Bishop Clare, it is true, and thus the obligation 
 can be easily discharged. But under any circumstances, you 
 would prefer to have it thus bestowed, we know." 
 
 " Unquestionably ! But how is he to be provided for in 
 future, should he remain absent some years even ?" 
 
 " His income, which, from the necessity of the case, must first 
 pass through the form of coming to me, will hereafter be remitted 
 to him in the shape of bills, and directed to him under his 
 assumed name. He will receive it thus through the hands of his 
 banker, in whatever city he takes up his abode regularly. I am 
 thankful he has this certain means of support in his life-long 
 exile for, Lilian, he can never return here." 
 
 " Never return ! Oh, grandmother ! shall we never see him 
 again ?" 
 
 " Why should you wish it, child ? This is no place for him. 
 He can neither find welcome nor safety here again " She hesi
 
 70 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 tated a moment. " He has forfeited a thousand times over all 
 claims on me, on all of us. I care, disinterestedly of course, for 
 his safety, but this is all. 
 
 I remained silent. After a pause, she continued, still speaking 
 with that gloomy composure that had rarely forsaken her since 
 the night of his departure. 
 
 " I have little doubt that he has made his way to some near sea- 
 port, and taken passage to Europe. We shall not hear from him 
 probably until after his arrival, and then only through Bishop 
 Clare, since letters directed to us openly from abroad might 
 awake suspicion. This step is one he should have taken ten 
 years ago, and would have spared him, and all of us, infinite 
 shame and anguish. It is the only one that now remains 
 practicable." 
 
 " And you, grandmother, will you continue to live here 1" I 
 asked, in cold surprise. 
 
 " Certainly, Lilian ; I hope you do not suspect me of the folly 
 of flying in his footsteps ! I might have I'.onsented to go to 
 Italy, had this exposure never occurred, and have continued my 
 cares for his comfort there, feeling at the same time assured that 
 Jasper would be benefited by the surroundings of art, and my 
 own life prolonged, and yours brightened by the influence of 
 climate and the freedom from scrutiny. Dr. Quintil, too, would 
 have found a thousand sources of enjoyment denied to him now, 
 and that dreary captivity have been ended for us all. But many 
 little obstacles rose constantly in the way of this arrangement, 
 and before measures could be concluded on lo, the catastrophe ! 
 Henceforth your grandfather must dwell alone." 
 
 "Grandmother!" I burst forth, "have I heard you aright? 
 Have you indeed a heart of stone, as you once told me you had ?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 71 
 
 'Asbestos purified and hardened Ij fire,' you cake lit in your 
 mocking mood. Alas ! how little I believed you then to be in 
 earnest 1 I will not believe it yet, if I can help it. Tell me that 
 your words were those of haste, and not of fixed determination 1 
 Speak to me ! Would you abandon your husband ?" 
 
 I stood before her in the earnest excitement of the moment, 
 and bent upon her inquiring, perhaps angry eyes. 
 
 " He has chosen his fate, he has made it," she murmured. 
 l - Let him go 1" 
 
 " Is this the time to flinch from his side !" I pursued, " in his 
 infirmity, his sorrow, his approaching age ? Oh, God I is it of 
 stuff like this the human heart is made? I cannot no, I can- 
 not believe in this resolution of yours, because its very foundation 
 is so unstable. Who loves you as he loves you ? To whom else 
 are you half so dear, so necessary ? What will his fantastic life 
 be in the great whirl of Europe, accustomed as he is to be daily, 
 tenderly cared for with the irresponsibility almost of a little 
 child ? A bubble crushed in a moment, a* broken reed, a useless 
 toy applied to stern purposes. Such will his life be, grandmother. 
 Turn out your caged mocking-bird to-day to the winds and thf 
 hardships of a precarious existence, and the attacks of its kind 
 unused to self-protection, and where will it be to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Lilian," she said, with a flashing eye and rising color, " it ia 
 too much a habit of yours to measure your own weakness with 
 my strength." 
 
 " You overrate your own strength," I interrupted " your own 
 cruelty rather," I murmured, not unheard by her. " Call it what 
 you may, whether it be love, or pity, or hatred even, the senti- 
 ment that binds you to this exile has hold of your heart-strings. 
 Oh 1 your course has been so firm, so noble, do not forsake it
 
 72 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 now ;" and as I spoke, I threw myself on my knees by her chair, 
 and buried my face in her lap. " Go to him, and comfort him, as 
 you only can comfort," I continued, looking up. " By his very 
 errors and misfortunes, I conjure you to finish your good work, 
 and follow him to the end of the world if it be needful. Leave 
 not your task incomplete the task that God has assigned to 
 you. Such a beginning is worthy of a noble ending. Say that 
 y:>u will proceed, dear grandmother." 
 
 " No more of this," she said, and with a stern, strong grasp 
 she brought me to my feet. "You preach well, Lilian ; by whom 
 have you been ordained ?" She smiled bitterly. 
 
 " By natural affection," I said, swallowing my indignant tears ; 
 " and through that by God himself." 
 
 Something in my manner seemed to change her mood, for drop- 
 ping the sarcastic bitterness with which she had last spoken, she 
 added in low accents : 
 
 ''You do not love Jasper, Lilian, or you could never wish for 
 your grandfather's return." 
 
 " Not love him ! Oh, you know that I do love him more than 
 my own life." And I stood mute and tearful before her, my 
 head bowed 011 my breast. 
 
 " Do you not know, my child, that as his wife you would incur 
 the hatred, nay the curse of Erastus Bouverie ? Do you suppose 
 the old leaven is dead, or that it would be even safe to trust 
 yourself in his presence after such a marriage ? Oh, child, you 
 little know all the perfidy, all the cruelty that dwells enshrined in 
 one, of whom you in your young romance have made a hero ? Of 
 one so unfortunate, so doomed, that his sorrows seem, at times, 
 even in the eyes of his victims, to wipe away the long score of his 
 crimes. Lilian, do you recall the first curse of Moses on the land
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 73 
 
 of Egypt? Time was, my child, when the man you plead for 
 had power like this, and the very water I raised to my lips seemed 
 tinged with blood to me by acts of his." 
 
 " Have pity, grandmother ! I discard all other claims," I 
 said, thrilled by the mysterious horror of her allusions. " Duty, 
 affection, habit, I surrender these in my appeal for him ! I 
 agree with you they are justly forfeited ; but give at least what 
 you daily ask from God mercy, compassion. Do not for- 
 sake your husband in any mistaken interest for me, for others. 
 Long before you knew Jasper, he had been your first object ; 
 long before the waves of destiny threw me helplessly at your feet, 
 he was your habitual care and charge. We two can struggle on 
 alone, if indeed you forbid us to follow you, but your place is at 
 his side here and hereafter." 
 
 She gazed at me long and earnestly before she replied to this 
 passionate outburst of mine, made with clasped hands and stream- 
 ing eyes. At one time, great tears gathered in her eyes, at 
 another, cold flitting smiles quivered across her face ; but when 
 she spoke to me she was calm, and sad, and determined, as one 
 who rises from a last vigil by a coffin now closed forever, 'stamped 
 with the great seal of the inevitable. 
 
 " Lilian," she said, " do you suppose that there is any sugges- 
 tion possible to your young, inexperienced mind, that has not been 
 more than once revolved by mine ? that has not become familiar 
 even to my thoughts ? You appeal to my compassion. Have I 
 not proved the nature of this to the full extent of human capacity 
 and heavenly requirements ? I have pitied him, do pity him, mor- 
 bidly, perhaps ; but I also am beginning to pity myself. I feel 
 like that ' Bertha in the lane/ in the new poem of Elizabeth Bar- 
 ret, you were reading to me lately, when she 'pitied her own
 
 74 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 heart, as though she held it in her hand !' Like her, I seem to 
 stand apart, and contemplate the ruins of my own nature, as with 
 foreign eyes. I pity that shattered life that abides in my withered, 
 dissatisfied heart. I pity the being who might have been so 
 good, so gay, so happy, who is so sad, so cheerless, so bereft ! 
 There are tunes when a rebellion takes place in our own nature 
 against all the laws that rule it, and the shallow despotism of 
 habit and of circumstance is overthrown. I feel this now every 
 drop of blood in my veins cries out within me for peace, for rest, 
 for freedom, for relief, for a new order of things, a fresher life, a 
 nobler influence ! Henceforth I will seek my own happiness, and 
 find it where I can. I will separate the tangled warp of his fate 
 irom the woof of mine, and weave fresh flowers on its barren 
 surface." 
 
 Oh, vain, vain words, to which no reply was possible ! words 
 destined soon to find their own best refutation. Who talks with 
 any real belief, in any such thing, of that mere chimera of human 
 vanity the free agency of man ? /Are not circumstances our 
 laws and motives, our masters ? Who holds the clue to these ? 
 Would any one be what he is, could he be otherwise by a mere 
 act of volition ? Can any one account for his condition, or half 
 the causes that led him to it ? We can, indeed, hi looking back 
 over the past, see points in our career where we think that we 
 could have paused or proceeded ; but how many more do we be- 
 hold, past which we feel that we have been borne as on the rush- 
 ing wings of fate itself, without consent or premonition of our 
 own? / 
 
 How reconcile these apparent inconsistencies? How decide 
 where fate, where will, predominated ? How separate the volun- 
 tary from the necessary, or the impulsive from the resistless?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKEE. 75 
 
 Answer these questions, oh sophist ! who, in thy little range of 
 liberty, darest assert absolute freedom, and pardon me this homely 
 illustration of my conception of a mighty truth. 
 
 There is a hen tied to the old apple-tree, in my garden, by a 
 string twelve feet long. Within the limits of this string she can 
 scratch, cluck, fret, gather together her chirping brood. Beyond 
 it, a higher power than she can conceive of, has ordained that she 
 cannot pass. The string, and the shadow of the apple-tree, are the 
 boundaries of her lot absolute, stringent, indisputable facts, 
 neither to be overcome by her capacity, nor yet by that capacity 
 comprehended. Yet this is a wise and even benevolent arrange- 
 ment, in which her best interest is considered, as well as that of 
 the owner of the garden. Lives there a being who does not 
 recognize his limits hi circumstances, and where, then, is free 
 agency ? 
 
 Cease, cease to believe, oh children of the dust 1 that it lies in 
 your power to sever wholly any link that fate has woven, around 
 you, even when you seem to have cut it away forever 1- Natural 
 affection is a zoophite, and puts forth ever-renewed tendrils. Do 
 not suppose that you can cast forth to scorn, and to shame, the 
 friend, the brother, the child, the wife, the husband, unavenged, 
 who have ceased to be true, or worthy, or beloved. 
 
 You may indeed remove from your own home their existence, 
 forbid their names to be mentioned before you, and drive back 
 their memories to the very inmost recesses of your heart. But 
 there are times when the door of that stony sepulchre opens, and 
 the procession glides forth with unspeakable horror and ghostly 
 recognition. /As well cut off your hand, and expect to supply its 
 place with a thing of wood, as to replace that which is implanted 
 in your life with external influences. The hand is gone ! You
 
 76 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEREE. 
 
 have done with it forever ! Not so the aching stump still puts 
 forth its imaginary fingers to taunt you with the poverty of its 
 substitute, and to remind you of its past ministry, Jrt 
 
 Yield, then, with humility born of your faith hi the inevitable, 
 and, with the dignity of non-resistance to the fierce current that 
 dashes over you, go down with the boat intrusted to your charge 
 to the bottom of the deep, rather than stand alone on the grey 
 rock of selfish isolation, and witness its submergment. 
 
 The community of suffering is a terrible but established law. 
 Its justice we do not see, its compensation we know not here 
 may never know ; but this it is given to us to feel, thai, those who 
 stand aloof from it are accursed, even here on earth, and worthy 
 of the cleaving curse hereafter. 
 
 Let us take comfort in the belief that our Creator has im- 
 planted 110 instinct in vain, and that pity and fidelity, even when 
 affection is dead, form a noble part of duty. 
 
 Let us believe, likewise, that we owe something to the past as 
 well as present; and that having once loved, is an anchored obliga- 
 tion to the heart that loves no more. 
 
 Cut loose from this fast principle, the ship of life drifts carelessly 
 along, and finds no more a harbor in which it can abide, and cast 
 its anchor ; and the shores of life fleet by it like a dream. 
 
 This noble ancestress of mine had acted up to every precept of 
 her conscience, every murmur of the finer instinct of compassionate 
 forbearance, every god-like principle of mercy and self-sacrifice. 
 Was she to abandon all these now, for the hollow semblance of 
 ease and prosperity that remained to her ? Was she to look back 
 from the plough, on which she had so long laid a guiding hand, and 
 forego the golden harvest of self-acquittal ? No, this should not 
 be. Every voice of my soul cried against it. God himself would
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 77 
 
 interpose, and prevent the imperfect consummation of a great be- 
 ginning. I felt that, by means unknown to her, she would yet be 
 compelled to proceed in the same pathway. 
 
 From this tune forth my grandfather's name was mentioned no 
 more between us two, during those long days of silent, wearing 
 anxiety, whose shadow lies over my being to this hour those 
 days which intervened between that repudiation of allegiance on 
 her part, and the startling revulsion of feeling which prostrated 
 all rebellious resolutions in one unguarded moment.
 
 
 ^nsrs'tor- 
 
 - 
 
 u . *--:<;.!' 
 
 h- ! vrff -KJY 
 
 ,-:! .jji.'lt 
 
 .o n-'*wfn<
 
 BOOK SEVENTH. 
 
 ' Tbe calm of that old reverend brow, the glow 
 Of fta thin silver locks was like a flash 
 Of sunlight in the pauses of a storm." 
 
 SAMOK (llilmany. 
 
 " A moment stop ! my lord, my lord 
 Spare him I kneel to you and wet the ground 
 With tears." 
 
 " No more of that, I am a desolate man 
 Much injured, and my heart is cold as lead." 
 
 MIRANDOLA (Barry Cornwall). 
 
 " Remorse is as the heart in which it grows, 
 If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews 
 Of true repentance ; but if proud and gloomy, 
 It is a poison tree that pierced to the utmost 
 Weeps only tears of poison." 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 14 My Aureole my forgotten, ruined Aureole 1 
 Thy days are gone, all gone ; how grand thou wert I 
 
 I want to be forgotten, even by God." 
 
 PAJUCBLSCS (Browning).
 
 .T 
 
 ' 
 
 n jmais fn K-: 
 
 tiij )-n ; 
 
 ".*- 
 
 JMTO 

 
 BOOK SEVENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ri> Ia:s ,bs&:;!q-:il =i?iTR rm.ftrf 
 
 NOVEMBER closed in with an austerity rare in that mild climate, 
 and at that usually open season ; snow had fallen, succeeded by 
 severe frosts, and the blighted dahlias and chrysanthemums, sad 
 effigies of autumn, stood brown and leafless in the garden, from 
 which all summer-bloom had long departed. Cold and constant 
 rains, and bleak northeast winds combined to make us prisoners 
 in the house, and wholly dependent on such resources as we pos- 
 sessed within ourselves ; these, even, were seldom called upon. 
 
 The time dragged heavily on, even to those in whom youth and 
 hope infused their own elements of elasticity and enjoyment ; but 
 to her in whom these were dead how leaden were its footsteps 
 how darkly measured its progress ! We knew that the utmost 
 vigilance still prevailed with regard to my grandfather's move- 
 ments. We had been subjected several times since he left us to 
 the shame and inconvenience of a renewed search through our 
 premises, and house itself. 
 
 Its roof could no longer afford him an asylum; he was by 
 necessity an outcast. Strange, strange indeed it was, that while 
 all who might have been conceived to feel interest in his arrest 
 all that he had injured or offended remained quiet, or enlisted 
 their best energies in his behalf, mere outsiders, who could have 
 no possible concern in his past or future, were mad in the pursuit. 
 
 The public mind had "taken on" a great excitement. There 
 
 si
 
 82 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 was something so strange, so romantic, the papers said, in the 
 idea, that a criminal ten years concealed not twenty miles from 
 the court-house in which sentence of death had been passed on 
 him should, by a catastrophe, wholly unaccountable and unex- 
 plained, be brought to light, as by the hand of Providence 
 itself I 
 
 " The very stones were displaced, and the massive walls of his 
 hiding-place rent open, that justice might be satisfied, and the law 
 fulfilled !" said one eloquent sectarian sheet ; and the druids of 
 the press generally made their circles of stones, and attired them- 
 selves in woad-colored weeds, and prepared with unaffected and 
 pious delight, to offer human sacrifice. 
 
 It was while this tide of persecution surged high, and my 
 grandmother's condition was one of extreme nervous prostration, 
 that Bishop Clare came to Bouverie. How we all welcomed 
 him, our strength, our protection, our only earthly consolation, 
 we felt him then; the friend who could be relied on through 
 danger, through suffering, through disgrace, through death itself; 
 the pure, the strong, the humble, the immaculate old man ! 
 
 He had not seen my grandfather, had not heard of him, save 
 through the voice of public rumor. It seemed that Erastus 
 Bouverie had not aimed after all to reach St. Stephen's, or so 
 aiming had failed and taken a different direction. Our friend 
 (our only one) had come immediately on his return from a 
 distant part of his diocese, to see what could be done ; what he 
 could do. Alas ! he found himself powerless, at least for the 
 time, and could only conjecture and console. 
 
 He believed, as my grandmother did, that his consummate ad- 
 dress had carried Erastns Bouverie safely through his f oes to the 
 sea-shore, and, that assuming an alias, he had sailed for some
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 83 
 
 European port. In the meantime, he advised Dr. Quintil to 
 convert the gold he brought with him, and gave into his hands, 
 into bills, that could be sent abroad at an hour's warning, when- 
 ever letters arrived directing their destination. 
 
 " The first communication will probably come to me, to prevent 
 suspicion ; but you shall have it as soon as a horse can gallop 
 from Croften thither ; and in the meantime keep up your spirits, 
 Camilla never more needed than now," he said, turning to my 
 grandmother, " and look fate full in the eye. It is like a lion, 
 believe me ; it quails before the resolute." 
 
 " Do you separate fate from God, that you speak of it thus ?" 
 I asked, impulsively. 
 
 The question seemed to trouble him. 
 
 " I mean," he said, " that courage disarms destiny of its 
 harshest sting, that is all. I do not recognize the Greek theory 
 of a blind necessity. Understand me fully, Lilian, on this 
 point." 
 
 " Yes, I know," I said : " The beaten slave creeps close 
 to the whip, to break the force of the lash ; this is what you 
 mean 1" 
 
 " We should not compare our Creator to a hard task-master, 
 my daughter," said the mild priest. " He is ever merciful Are 
 we not told in words of almost scriptural beauty, that he ' tempers 
 the wind to the shorn lamb ?' Does not holy writ itself declare, 
 that ' he counts the sparrows as they fall ;' that he numbers 
 1 the hairs of our heads ?' What infinite care, solicitude, affec- 
 tion, do not these sacred words convey ?" 
 
 " It is all mystery," I murmured ; " but oh, there is so much in 
 life that is hard to bear." 
 
 "And but for this, dear Lilian, who would seek heaven, and 
 20
 
 84 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 learn to welcome death ? Could all be young, happy, prosperous, 
 the arms of Jesus would be stretched in vain." 
 
 " We are not consulted on the subject, or perhaps human incli- 
 nations would be found at variance with these received opinions. 
 There are few so base as to wish to outlive their happiness. I, 
 for one, pray to die before any one of those I love." 
 
 "And yet it is your doom to survive them all," he rejoined, 
 turning upon me sorrowful eyes. " You will yet find yourself 
 alone with God !" 
 
 " Let him take me rather in the very zenith of my happiness, 
 while the cup mantles to my lip, if such a thing can ever be. I 
 ask to die before I am desolate and old," I said, passionately. 
 
 " He will do what is best for you, Lilian be sure of that ; nor 
 have you any right to question his justice, whatever may betide. 
 But I, who judge well of probabilities from experience, looking on 
 your lithe figure and healthful face, and a certain look of power 
 that accompanies intense vitality, may safely, I think, prophesy, 
 without an accident, long life for you." 
 
 " Life ! Ah, father, mine will pass with theirs I love, no 
 matter how long my frame survives them, for life is far more than 
 mere existence/and we may die young, yet seemingly live to be 
 very old." 
 
 "Ah, Lily, that is one of your poetical ideas ; the reality is, 
 that as long as the brain thinks, and the heart beats, we live, and 
 are bound to our fellow-beings." 
 
 " You would have made a poor St. Simeon Stylites, father ; yet 
 see how Tennyson has immortalized him lately. Isolation is not 
 your theory." 
 
 "He had a good constitution, certainly, that Simeon Sty- 
 Utes," broke in Dr. Quintilian. " The facts, if true, as recorded
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 85 
 
 by Tennyson, are worth preserving, if merely as matters of medical 
 interest. I wish you would look among the archives of the 
 Fathers, dear bishop, and see if any faith may be placed in these 
 Assertions of that English romancer and rhymer Lilian is so crazy 
 about." 
 
 " There certainly was such a saint," replied the bishop ; " but 
 I remember very little more about him than his name, and that 
 he lived on a column for thirty years, provided for, probably, by 
 his friends below, in a precarious manner ; but whether he 
 had" 
 
 "An umbrella ?" broke in Dr. Quintil, irreverently. 
 
 " The success imputed to him in prayer I know not," proceeded 
 the bishop, gravely, as if he had not heard the interruption, yet 
 flushing slightly in spite of self-command, at the irrelevant inter- 
 polation. 
 
 All this time my grandmother sat like one in a dream, gazing 
 into the fire. The immovable attitude she maintained, her bowed 
 head, her clasped hands, her feet placed closely together, yet care- 
 lessly extended, all denoted the deepest dejection, the most self- 
 absorbed indifference to what was going on around her. 
 
 From this mood she was aroused at last by a conversation 
 which, begun in undertones by Bishop Clare and Dr. Quintil, had 
 loudened as it proceeded, until it reached my ear, and finally 
 hers. They were agitating the possibility of Mr. Bouverie's arrest, 
 should he not have made his escape, as they both fondly persuaded 
 themselves, however, he had done. They were revolving, as a 
 desperate resource, under such circumstances, an appeal to the 
 governor in his behalf. 
 
 " It is no shame to be refused in such a cause, and names shall 
 be appended to this petition that were not affixed to the other-
 
 86 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 those of Paul and Jasper Quintilian," were the first distinct words 
 I heard. 
 
 The bishop started. " I had not thought of this," he said j 
 " there certainly is a difference. Such magnanimity ought nay, 
 must make its impression on any man of feeling." 
 
 " It may," said Dr. Quintilian ; " we can say no more. I know 
 the man I know his uncompromising nature, when once aroused 
 to enmity, and his almost Jewish opinions on the subject of retri- 
 bution. I confess I am not sanguine. Had this necessity arisen 
 in Governor Leadbeater's term, there would have been far greater 
 prospect of success. Even then we should have had much to con- 
 tend against ; but there, at least, there was no personal dislike." 
 
 "It is a bitter grudge, I know," resumed the bishop ; "and 
 whether founded in wrong or right, almost a part of his being 
 now, I fear. Yet there are other considerations that may weigh 
 with him the prosperity of a family, the long lapse of time, the 
 ancient friendship for Mrs. Bouverie." 
 
 "That will not weigh one grain in the balance with James 
 Staunton," said the person last mentioned, rousing at last from 
 apathy, and speaking with earnest vehemence. "Innocent or 
 guilty, as Mr. Bouverie may have been, of offence against him, his 
 convictions are immovable on that point, and he regards me, I 
 well know, as the blameless cause of all. As well seek to animate 
 with feeling this marble hearth beneath my feet, as the heart of 
 our enemy with mercy for our sorrows. But why agitate the 
 matter at all ? He is gone, and no eyes of ours shall behold him 
 more. Let us forget let us try and forget his very existence. It 
 can never be more to us again than these ashes." 
 
 "You are right, perhaps, my daughter," said the bishop, in 
 slow, severe, accents, "to doubt the existence of mercy in the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 87 
 
 heart of the foeman of Erastus Bouverie, since by his own hearth- 
 stone such sentiments are expressed." 
 
 The rebuke seemed to sting her to whom it was addressed, but 
 for all answer she turned on him a look a gaze, rather so sad, 
 so speaking, that the tears sprang to his eyes as he met it, and 
 understood its significance. 
 
 " Tou who know all," it seemed to say, " I thought at least 
 you would do me justice 1" and the sad eyes drooped again on stone 
 and ashes. 
 
 Cold as she seemed to be, that she was not insensible, the phy- 
 sical change that she had undergone denoted. No brilliant crim- 
 son now illumined her olive cheek, clear, pale as marble. No 
 sudden fire flashed from her dark eyes, lighting them up as with 
 the glory of youth. No gorgeous dress gave variety to her appear- 
 ance, and well became her stately mien and aspect. That 
 " masquerade of solitude," as she had called it once, was over now 
 forever ; but with it seemed to have vanished much that was real 
 and invigorating. It was a motive, at all events, for exertion and 
 personal interest that could never be restored. Her rounded pro- 
 portions were shrinking visibly away, even in the two short weeks 
 of anxiety she had experienced, for her food remained almost un- 
 tasted before her, and sleep was fast becoming a stranger to 
 
 her eyes. 
 
 She was suffering far more than any of us, despite her stoical 
 mood, her uncompromising sternness, and the body betrayed the 
 soul. Where was all this to end ? What was the true condition 
 of my grandfather, and when should we learn it ? Alas, a dark 
 suspicion began to be rife in my heart a suspicion never breathed 
 to any one but Jasper and hardly allayed, when after many 
 days of active search and riding through the woods that lay be
 
 68 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVER1E. 
 
 tween Bouverie and Croften, he came to the conclusion that the 
 doubt I entertained was impossible, and a mere matter of morbid 
 imagination. It seemed to me that he might in his feeble con- 
 dition have fallen and died untended in the forest. For a long 
 time I could not bring myself to' believe that he was safe. When 
 I heard the wind howl, and the ram fall, I shuddered with the 
 thought that he was exposed to both, ill, or dying, or dead ; and 
 1 fancied the cold, uncared-for corpse, lying perhaps at the foot 
 of a tree, among the drifting leaves ; then the later horrors, the 
 slow decay, the vultures, the long, dreary winter, wrapping the 
 dishonored remains with snow ; the spring bringing them to light 
 again ; the bleaching bones, the discovery perhaps at last made by 
 wood-choppers or wayfarers, and the identification through means 
 of some shred of clothing, or the indestructible " gnome eye " itself 
 in its jewelled box. These visions pursued and tortured me. They 
 were dispelled at last I believe by the very shock to my nervous 
 system, which might have been supposed to have confirmed them ; 
 and again I began to lend confidence to the hope that he had 
 escaped and baffled his pursuers. 
 
 
 10,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 89 
 
 339<iJ>fi{I 3 Rsm'-wq tows Awnte Jwrs ^tor 9r j j j n<K j 6 bofosdw 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LATE one afternoon, I took advantage of my grandmother's 
 absence from her chamber, to ascend the spiral stair again that 
 led to the sealed apartments of Bouverie. The secret door, long 
 locked, was open now to all. The repairs necessary to the dome 
 and walls had just been completed, the furniture had been 
 replaced ; all was silent and little changed save in the absence of 
 life and occupancy the rooms presented. But every one knows 
 the mighty difference created by this void ; the cold, the sicken- 
 ing aspect of a chamber recently abandoned. The chairs arrayed 
 in rows, the fireless hearth, the unincumbered tables, the prim 
 mantel, the stripped or unpressed bed, the drawn-down curtains, 
 and perhaps the forgotten and faded flowers ; we have all felt, 
 more or less, the power these things have over our spirits, and 
 how irresistibly they remind us of desolation and death. 
 
 It was, however, some moments before I put a foot in the 
 chamber my grandfather had last occupied the winter chamber 
 into which he had recently removed and which was still secured 
 as when he left it, with the close inner shutters and nailed-up 
 jalousies. I paused in the rotunda. The skylight was open to 
 admit the air needful for drying the fresh plaster of the room, 
 and it gave admission to a few gleams of sunshine that had 
 broken through the clouds, so densely piled all day in the north- 
 eastern heavens, less heavy toward the west. My entrance 
 alarmed some birds that had taken refuge in the hall, and I in 
 turn was startled by their wild and sudden fluttering, as they
 
 90 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTIVERIE. 
 
 wheeled about the walls, and struck such pictures as had been 
 hung on the uninjured portions of these, their sharp beaks sound' 
 ing on the glass that covered them with a clear, clicking regu- 
 larity, and their winnowing wings filling the silence with murmur- 
 ing musical vibrations. There stood unstirred the cabinet of 
 corns and minerals and medals ; and the fearful apparatus, appa- 
 rently uninjured, that had played such a frightful part in our 
 tragedy ; the copper vessels glowing hi the red sunshine of even- 
 ing, as though heated by the fires beneath. 
 
 But the soul of all these suggestive attributes was wanting. The 
 active step, the graceful form, the expressive voice, the glance, 
 the smile of alternate power and witchery, where were they 
 now ? Alas, I shuddered at the bleak anguish my conjectures 
 awakened ! 
 
 " Grandfather !" I half exclaimed, " if indeed you are dead, 
 and spirits be permitted to revisit the earth, return and speak to 
 me ; do not fear to startle me ; I am nerved to bear anything 
 rather than this wearing anxiety. But come to me as I knew 
 you, not in wan, ghostly presence, awful, shadowy, and mysteri- 
 ous, or perhaps indeed my brain may shrink and reel in spite of 
 the strength I feel to meet the truth ! Come in familiar guise, 
 and tell me how it fares with you, dear grandfather 1" 
 
 Even as I murmured these excited words, I passed into the 
 inner chamber, and stood at first, almost blind, in the dusky twi- 
 light. The great bedstead loomed up with its heavy drawn 
 curtains, like some gigantic pall against the wall. The table, 
 cleared fr.om its litter of books and papers, stood bare and mas- 
 sive in the centre of the floor. In the corner of the fireless 
 hearth was the accustomed chair in which he loved to sit, large 
 and cushioned, and covered with brown Russia leather, emitting
 
 TUB HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 91 
 
 a faint, odorous smell. It seemed more than aught else identified 
 with him, and I approached it now as if it were a familiar friend, 
 on whom I might lean and make my lamentations. 
 
 God of heaven, it was occupied ! and by whom ? Had my 
 wild invocation been answered ? Dressed in his rich robe of 
 flowered brocade, his hands crossed upon his breast, his head 
 covered with a white napkin, so as to be invisible to me, sat 
 oh, could I doubt the familiar presence ! my grandfather, in the 
 attitude of a calm sleeper. I shrieked and called his name, 
 standing with clasped hands, half frozen with terror before the 
 chair. 
 
 The figure rose. I saw no more, but turned and fled to 
 the outer hall, where I sank half fainting on the sofa. The 
 cowardice, natural to all mankind, had for the time asserted its 
 supremacy, the dread of the supernatural, and conquered the 
 courageous teachings of affection and constancy. 
 
 I lay with my face hidden among the cushions, too much 
 alarmed and bewildered to determine on any course of action, yet 
 gradually nearing the conviction that what I had seen was no 
 shadow, and trying to gain courage to investigate the matter 
 more closely, when I heard my name called by a familiar voice. 
 
 " Miss Lilian," it said, " don't be frightened ; it was only me." 
 
 " You, Bianca ! Is it possible. But what is this mummery 
 for ? How could you contrive such a plan for startling me ? 
 What brings you here ?" I added, a little sternly. 
 
 " The same, maybe, that brings you, Miss Lilian sorrow and 
 memory." 
 
 She stood before me with her downcast eyes, her deprecating 
 humility ; yet I could not help feeling that she was an intruder. 
 I said, with some bitterness
 
 92 
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 " I should think you of all others would shrink from these 
 chambers, Bianca." 
 
 " Oh, no, Miss Lilian. It is a comfort to me in some sort, to 
 see the very place where my poor Fabius met his death ; a com- 
 fort too to cry alone sometimes, out loud. In my room I cannot 
 do this. Up here I disturb no one." 
 
 " Poor, poor Bianca !" I said, suddenly smitten with pity and 
 remorse for my hardness, and extending my hand to her. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Lilian, dear ; I come here to try and realize things 
 a little. My trouble is now, that I cannot believe that Fabius is 
 dead. I find myself laying out his clothes, and watching for his 
 step sometimes ; and it seems to me that I am dreaming a dull 
 dream, and will soon wake up, when I try to bring the truth 
 before me." 
 
 " Yet I cannot see how wrapping yourself hi my grandfather's 
 dressing-gown could assist you to realize the past," I added, with 
 another touch of asperity. " That I should think, Bianca, might 
 be held sacred to his memory at least." 
 
 " I was cold, Miss Lilian," she said with simplicity ; " and I 
 wrapped myself in it, and sat down hi the great chair to cry, and 
 perhaps I fell asleep ; I don't know. But when I saw you I felt 
 startled. Were yon long there, Miss Lilian ?" 
 
 " Not long, Bianca ; but I confess you startled me hi turn, 
 with that white napkin spread over your head like a ghost." 
 
 She smiled faintly. " Did you take me for the spirit of poor 
 Fabius himself, dear, dressed in his master's gown ? Ah, child ! 
 ghosts never appear dressed in gay garments like that ; but 
 always in solemn black, or white, or grey sometimes. I mind 
 when the talk was out about your Grandfather Byrne's walking, 
 (a soldier he was, child, and wore his epaulets when he fought
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBEB. 98 
 
 the English, and dressed as gay as any other officer) that those 
 who saw him said he appeared in his grey undress frock, without 
 a color. That is the fashion among spirits, it seems." 
 
 She was cut short by the brisk tinkling of the hall bell, a sound 
 rarely heard at Bouverie ; and went hastily to answer its sum- 
 mons. 
 
 Our visitor was Father Conrad in person. I forgot to say that 
 the bishop's stay had been limited to a few hours by stringent 
 circumstances ; and that during this time Pat McCormick, from 
 whom he still hoped to extract a confession that might throw 
 some light on the fugitive, had been vainly sought for. 
 
 The dame, herself, lay ill with rheumatic fever, and it would be 
 doing injustice to a post to have compared her deafness under this 
 aggravation to its own proverbial obtuseness. The effort to make 
 her hear had been found wholly fruitless ; but she still retained 
 the gift of speech, and she used it to signify her desire to see 
 Father Conrad, " whose power wid his hands," the dame stated, 
 gave him the advantage over every physician in allaying pain, and 
 inducing slumber. 
 
 Pat had been dispatched for this unconscious mesmerist, and, 
 as under these circumstances the bishop could learn nothing from 
 either the dame or her grandson, he promised to return speedily, 
 and in the meantime, to pursue his investigations elsewhere, with 
 all the diligence he possessed. 
 
 His mind was, however, I saw clearly, pretty well made up as 
 to the probability, if not certainty, of my grandfather's escape, 
 and his safety from his pursuers.
 
 94 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 i*rf) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHEN I went into the dining-room, where my grandmother and 
 Dr. Quintil were seated with the eccentric priest, the scene of the 
 disguised fugitive seemed to be enacted again before me. Again, 
 the dim light of the lamp and smoldering fire diffused a partial 
 radiance through the room, and the table spread for the evening 
 meal boasted its steaming urn and supper appointments, made this 
 tune, however, under Bianca's careful superintendence. 
 
 And again, in the deep chair, the uncouth form of the father 
 appeared, complete in every attribute, even to the yellow bandanna, 
 spotted with red, and the blue spectacles, and if possible, more 
 of a caricature in reality than his own effigy. But, unlike his 
 representative, he did not decline the tendered cup of tea, nor 
 pause with this ; but drawing up a chair (for none had been 
 placed for him, either through accident or design), commenced an 
 attack on the provisions, which threatened to carry famine into 
 the fortress, and which brought up unwonted smiles to my grand- 
 mother's lip. 
 
 " Are you not going to give the snake his cast-off skin, ac- 
 cording to directions ?" I whispered to Dr. Quintil. 
 
 " He has heard of it, and asks to see it," he replied ; " but it 
 would be too severe a shock to him I fear. He would never for- 
 give us." 
 
 " Do you think he never saw a mirror, that his ignorance of his 
 own appearance is so profound ?" I asked. 
 
 " He has forgotten the first tune he saw one probably, and has
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKLK. 95 
 
 grown accustomed to his reflection in the glass, but this would be 
 a vivid and unexpected reminder of the truth." 
 
 I could not help laughing at the idea of such sensibility on his 
 part, such vanity rather, for he certainly was hideous to me, if 
 man ever was. The gutta percha mask was perhaps a flattered 
 resemblance, hands and all, for the originals were embellished 
 with filthy nails and snuffy thumbs. " He^could not be ignorant 
 of his own appearance," I thought. I was soon undeceived. 
 
 " And have you iver feenished my porthrait, Mister Jasper V 
 he asked at last, with his peculiar and unpleasant brogue, most 
 wonderfully imitated by his representative, even to the snuflfle. 
 
 Jasper confessed his want of perseverance in this case, with 
 courteous regret. 
 
 " Feenish it, feenish it, Jasper, it will make your fortune ! St. 
 Silenus (he was a popular Greek saint, I believe) has never been 
 properly represented more's the shame ; and stick to your 
 oregeenal design, and introduce the sacred ass and panniers. He's 
 nothing without his emblems." 
 
 I thought at first he was jesting, but there could be no doubt 
 of his earnestness when he added : 
 
 " Throw in the greapes, too, Jasper, they are emblems of the 
 sacred wine, you know, and the blood of the vigitable creation, 
 so to speak ; and I think if you catch my best expression, you 
 will find yourself far on the road to feem." 
 
 " And what do you consider your best expression, father?" 
 asked Dr. Quintil, with humorous hypocrisy. 
 
 " Well, I should say, my binivolint expression, which my con- 
 gregashon considers the most suitable to my style of fatnres, a 
 leetle too harsh otherwise ; such as illumines me countenance 
 when I spake a blessing, or discoorse of the promised jyes
 
 96 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIK. 
 
 Misther Mountjoy a celebrated artist of Baltimore, leedies" 
 with a diffusive bow, " has tould me that at such moments I re- 
 minded him of St. Peether, as painted by Rubens, I believe, but 
 maybe the name was Salvador Rosy," looking up as if to invoke 
 the truth from heaven. 
 
 "The likeness is remarkable," continued Dr. Quintil drily, " to 
 the style of saints painted by the latter artist ;" adding, sotto voce, 
 " drunken old bandits might pass as saints among the ferocious 
 ones you know, Lily." 
 
 "Were you ever told you were like St. Panza, father?" he 
 inquired, elevating his voice again ; then dropping it, he added, 
 " Sancho, I believe, means saint in Spanish, but I am not certain, 
 Lily." 
 
 " I don't remimber, I'm sure ; but I've been tould so often of 
 my resimblance to these holy personages, that I am more and 
 more convinced of the nature of my vocation ; and what is still 
 more remarkable, my tonsure is a natural one, Dr. Quinthil. I 
 have the happiness to be bald by neeture, which I think always 
 a special mark of superhuman preferment." 
 
 " It has astonished me, father, that a man of your gay and 
 engaging appearance and manners should have chosen so severe a 
 life ; but I see now why it was ; you preferred to serve heaven 
 to devoting yourself to the ladies, among whom you might have 
 been so popular ; it was because of these signs of vocation of 
 which you speak. Truly a great sacrifice," and he shook his 
 head. 
 
 " If you could have seen the fair crachure whose heart my pri- 
 ferince broke, you might see so indeed," he remarked with a blast 
 of his nasal trumpet, which resounded far beyond the depths of 
 the bandanna handkerchief, and was meant perhaps to be seuti-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 97 
 
 mental. " I think Miss Lilian resimbles her grately," he said 
 gravely, yet with a quiet, humorons twinkle in his eyes at my sud- 
 denly evinced annoyance, " but maybe she was the prittiest afther 
 all," he added, by way of bringing me to my senses again, " espaa- 
 cially in regard of the hair." And he leered maliciously at me. 
 He had fathomed my weakness at once. 
 
 " Do you think Dame McCormick will live through the night, 
 Dr. Quintil ?" I asked, with a serious air, in my anxiety to rid 
 myself of this terrible old bore, whose propinquity was becom- 
 ing intolerable, yet scarcely able to repress a smile. 
 
 " I can't tell, upon my word," he answered gravely. " When 
 I last saw her she raved wildly at me for offering her some senna 
 tea, and made threats which I considered dangerous in her con- 
 dition of mind. She is evidently flighty, and the last sounds she 
 uttered as I left the room were an imitation of the peculiar notes 
 of her favorite fowl." 
 
 " God bliss me, I must see to this," bustled the priest. " She 
 may want the extrame unction this blissed night, for otherwise 
 the dame is well prepared to die, having confissed reglar these 
 tin years back, and mighty free confessions, too, she makes." And 
 he left us hurriedly. 
 
 " Of course when the dame reiterated the syllable 'quack' half a 
 dozen times, Lily, she was not applying it to me at all, but speak- 
 ing wildly, remorsefully perhaps, in the language of a race she 
 has injured deeply, during her long kitchen experience. I did not 
 for a moment appropriate the appellation, although it was accom- 
 panied by a shower of senna tea hurled at me, teacup and all, as 
 I retreated briskly behind the open door. I narrowly escaped a 
 deluge." 
 
 " What a virago she is, to be sure !"
 
 98 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 " A part of our fate, I do believe," he rejoined, " and am 
 therefore submissive. Yet how have we earned such an infliction ? 
 It is a very mysterious order of Providence to me, that such an 
 old witch should be thrust upon us by circumstances and made a 
 part of our very lives, an instrument of daily torture." 
 
 " She is what they call a ' cross,' I suppose, in the cant of com- 
 mon folks. What a Frenchman would call a cross ' bonne.' " 
 
 " Aye, a very cross cross, Lily, a sort of double cross, harder 
 to bear than common crosses, and that I am very sorry we ever 
 came across." So ended this cross fire. 
 
 There were subjects on which the dame did not touch, however, 
 as we found later, in all of her " free confessions," as he called 
 them, even to Father Conrad. 
 
 This man, so ignorant of mythology as to confound Silenus 
 with a saint, and think himself complimented by being likened to 
 him ; so limited, too, in information as to appear almost idiotic 
 on some subjects, and whose common conversation betrayed both 
 vulgarity and egregious vanity, was in the pulpit a successful and 
 fiery speaker, for the lower orders at least ; among whom his 
 practical benevolence made him idolized, and for whom he did not 
 hesitate to perform the most devoted offices in times of sickness 
 and adversity. He was besides a thorough rudimental Latin 
 scholar and effective teacher, and his success as a political ally 
 made him sought by partisans of desperate causes, and filled 
 his purse slily yet unceasingly ; a purse which he in turn clenched 
 avariciously, and opened prodigally, as suited his different 
 moods and interests best. He was said to be a humorist, ard if 
 so, we were probably the party quizzed. This much is certain. 
 He now occupies a secure and confidential position in his 
 church, aud was considered an able if unscrupulous man ; useful
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. &J 
 
 as a tool or factotum in that comprehensive institution, where 
 every man has his peculiar and appointed path of duty, and 
 is appreciated according to his zeal and fidelity in his own de- 
 partment, however lowly or unimportant that mav seem to the 
 uninitiated. 
 
 "''= :; 
 
 

 
 190 THE HOUSEHOLD O1T BOCTVfiaiS. 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 AND now thirty days were come and gone, since, in the silence 
 of the night, and by means never fully explained to us, the Master 
 of Bouverie passed from its walls, and baffled the sentinels beneath 
 them. Still no tidings of his fate reached us ever so remotely, 
 and the reasonable conviction strengthened that he had gone 
 abroad, as time passed, and pursuit failed rather than faltered ; 
 for still the bloodhounds of the law were out, stimulated afresh by 
 the large reward recently offered by the governor for his appre- 
 hension, and still our solitude was threatened and even invaded by 
 their presence. 
 
 Something of security, however sad and unsatisfactory, had 
 commenced, nevertheless, to replace the nervous anxiety of our 
 earlier condition. We began to assure ourselves of his safety, and 
 to look forward to letters confirming our convictions ; and, 
 although the subject was never discussed, barely alluded to, from 
 some tacit understanding among us, yet a secret gratulation pos- 
 sessed every spirit, and betrayed itself in renewed interest and 
 occupation. 
 
 The cold, grey shadow was slowly being lifted from my grand- 
 mother's face. I had even seen her smile, and something of appe- 
 tite returned to her ; again the pleasant evening intercourse was 
 resumed, and the long neglected lamps, which seemed in honor of 
 Fabius at first to have grown dun and sepulchral, were retrimmed 
 by Bianca, to shine in all their pristine brilliancy. The friendly 
 game of chess or backgammon, the chat over the newspapers, the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEBIE. 101 
 
 discussion of books and politics, again came to our assistance, and 
 helped to dissipate the mournful monotony of our existence. The 
 social wound seemed to be healing. 
 
 " This is something like old times," Jasper wrote to me, in the 
 Bhort-hand that flashed from his fingers almost with the rapidity 
 of spoken words. " If it were not for the presence of that goblin, 
 Pat McCormick, at the table, and the absence of good old Fabius 
 heaven rest his soul ! I could realize that matters were un- 
 changed, and that a vision had possessed us. Say, Lih'an, was it 
 not all a dream ?" 
 
 " A dream, Jasper ! Oh, would that I could think so 1 A 
 terrible night-mare even, from which it were happiness to awake. 
 You, who never knew him, can realize nothing of these horrors. 
 Yet you must not undervalue our suffering, nevertheless." 
 
 " I have forgiven him," he wrote, " I pity him, I would save 
 him, for your sake, at the risk of my own life. Christ, himself, 
 could ask 110 more of me." 
 
 As I read these words with eyes moistened with tears, Pat 
 McCoTiuick opened the door, cap in hand, and covered with snow, 
 and, standing without, thrust in his red and grinning face. 
 
 "He's done come, Miss Lilian," he said, pointing backward 
 with his thumb ; and before I could utter a word of question or 
 surprise, my grandfather stood before us. 
 
 "Qnintil, your gold, untouched 1" he said, throwing the purse 
 forward on the table. " Camilla, my love, I have come back to 
 die with you," and he advanced feebly toward her, extending his 
 hands. 
 
 " Oh, Bouverie ! oh, my husband 1 art; you here ?" she ex- 
 claimed, as rising to meet him, she threw her arms around his 
 emaciated form, and drew him to her close embrace. It was th
 
 102 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 first time I had ever heard her accord him that sacred title, or 
 witnessed the slightest endearment between them. 
 
 All barriers seemed prostrate now. They stood together, locked 
 in each other's arms, her heavy sobs, and his deep-drawn breathing 
 alone breaking the oppressive silence. Dr. Quintil seemed deeply 
 agitated, his color went and came, his hands were clenched, his 
 manly breast heaved almost as with convulsive emotion. 
 
 Was he grieved ? was he angry ? was he yielding only the 
 meed of sympathy ? Or did dark and stormy memories sweep 
 over him, at that moment, with waves that carried all before them 
 in their irresistible strength ? I never knew. 
 
 Jasper and I stood apart, hand clasped in hand, not without 
 tears and choking emotion, speechless, pitying spectators of a 
 scene no words could describe, no heart withstand, no witness 
 ever forget. 
 
 Even the poor idiotic medium of so much uncomprehended emo- 
 tion blubbered in unmeaning sympathy, gaping against the wall 
 in his snow-covered garments for c. time, then slipping quietly 
 away. 
 
 When at last my grandmother drew her unexpected guest to a 
 seat by the fire, and had resumed her own beside him, still silent 
 and weeping, my grandfather extended his hands to me, speaking 
 the one word that was ever the sweetest music to me, in his soul- 
 Btirring voice " Lilian !" 
 
 I was at his side in a moment, kneeling beside him, embracing 
 him, kissing his hands, weeping wildly over him, with such unut- 
 terable compassion ! 
 
 When I looked around again, Jasper had withdrawn, nor did 
 he ever again stand in my grandfather's presence. For an instant 
 this disappea ranee pained me 1 had hoped so much from the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 103 
 
 Influence of the moment ; but, recovering myself as quickly as I 
 could, I looked earnestly at the pallid face before me, faltering 
 forth almost involuntarily the feelings with which it filled me. 
 
 " You are ill, grandfather oh, so changed !" 
 
 He smiled that brilliant smile, so irrelevant to all the features 
 of his condition and ours ; then bending his head low, he whispered 
 in my ear : 
 
 "Ay, darling, I am ill, even unto death ; but so happy to be at 
 home again that everything else is forgotten." 
 
 In truth, thin as he ever was, he was now worn to skeleton lean- 
 ness, and the articulations of his hand bones were almost as distinct 
 as if no flesh had intervened between them and the shrouding skin. 
 
 " Erastus, how much you must have suffered," my grandmother 
 said, at last, "to be willing to place yourself again hi voluntary 
 jeopardy. Oh, Bouverie ! I had hoped you were by this time on 
 the high seas, on your way to merge your existence in some great 
 European city, where loss of identity might be safety. This waa 
 your wisest course ; why have you not pursued it ? Oh, why 
 have you returned to dare your doom ?" 
 
 " To be with you, Camilla, until death," he made answer, in 
 his clear pathetic tones. 
 
 " Erastus, this was madness 1" 
 
 " What else remained ?" he asked. " Would you have had me 
 die without seeing your face and Lilian's again ? I felt that I 
 could dare any fate rather than forego such a privilege." 
 
 " Why did you not send for us sooner than run such fearful 
 risks ? You have been ill ; where hr .ve you lain concealed ? 
 Who tended you through your illness ? Have you found friends, 
 or has Bishop Clare at last But I see that you are exhausted : 
 do not speak yet. Later, you will tell us everything."
 
 104 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 She bathed his brow with the cologne I handed her, then rose 
 to seek a reviving cordial, and some food suitable to his delicate 
 palate, and placing them before him, she pressed him to partake. 
 
 He drank the cordial ; but put the conserved fruit and biscuit 
 aside. " I cannot eat," he said, as he laid back his head in the 
 deep-cushioned chair he had last occupied as Father Conrad ; and 
 taking her hand, drew it across his brow, then pressed it to his 
 lips. " But I am strengthened now to answer your inquiries. 
 No ; do not withdraw your hand ; it is life to me to hold it again, 
 and if truth be told, such gift will not long be mine, on any 
 terms." He held her fingers now pressed closely to his bosom. 
 
 She bent over him tenderly, anxiously; I saw that her tears 
 fell fast. She recognized, perhaps for the first time in his case, 
 the truth that lay veiled beneath his careless manner and reckless 
 words. The awful and unmistakable shadow was over him at 
 last. 
 
 And now again came the inquiry, made this time in low and 
 tear-stifled accents, for which he seemed to wait before com- 
 mencing his recital. 
 
 " Erastus, where have you been concealed all this time ?" 
 
 " In a cave in the woods of Croften," he replied. 
 
 " I have not been out of sight of the chimneys of Bouverie 
 since I left you ; that is, I should not have been but for the 
 intervention of the forest, still partially clothed with leaves. 
 Often in my boyhood, I have stood in snow-time on the rising 
 ground above the cave, and seen the dome of Bouverie through 
 the naked branches. It was comfort to me to remember this, 
 even when hidden away in the depths of the cavern. My old 
 shelter from storm and cold availed me well in the extremity in 
 which I found myself on the first morning of my flight. Day
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 105 
 
 broke over me in its vicinity, and fainting nature warned me to 
 proceed no further. I was ill, overpowered with mental and 
 physical wretchedness, and putting aside the dense brushwood 
 that grows about the mouth of the cavern now, and makes it so 
 secure a hiding-place, I went into its depths. 
 
 I made my bed of the leaves that had drifted in from tune to 
 time through the interstices of the undergrowth, and coiled 
 myself upon it, covered with my cloak (yours rather, Quintil) and 
 infinitely chill and miserable. 
 
 I was too ill to eat what food I had about me, and but for the 
 medicine I carried, must have sunk at once under the accumula- 
 tion of evils that crowded thick about me. At last I slept. 
 When I awoke, a cheerful fire of fagots was blazing in one 
 corner of the cave, which partially illumined its walls, and an 
 uncouth lad was standing between me and the flames. He was 
 one of a party of scouts, sent out in pursuit of me, and he had 
 been " promised gold," he said, to find and secure me, so that I 
 might fall into the hands of Hernshaw. 
 
 A day had elapsed, it seemed, since I had left Bouverie ; a day 
 of miserable unconsciousness of time to me. This much I had 
 gained at least. But to be trapped in a cave after all like a 
 hunted hare, pooh it was too dispiriting ! I raised myself on 
 one arm, and grasped my revolver. The prince of pistols was 
 dry, and in readiness I knew. I pointed it to the unconscious 
 boy, my finger was on the trigger when " 
 
 " Oh, grandfather!" I interrupted ; "would you have killed our 
 poor, faithful fool !" I clasped my hands. 
 
 " When I reflected," he continued, as if he had not heard me ; 
 " that the report might summon those who were without, uncon- 
 scious still, probably, that I had been discovered, I lowered
 
 106 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 the weapon again, as the thought occurred to me. There wai 
 still time to act. 
 
 " ' What brought you here ?' I asked ; ' and how do you know 
 who I am ? What makes you suppose that I am Mister 
 Bouverie ?' 
 
 " 'Oh, I knows you, Master Boobery,' he answered, and he gave 
 some confused account of having crept up a dark ladder, after 
 Fabius, I believe ; and having seen the old ' Play-acter man,' as 
 he called me, ' in his red gownd, and the moon and stars around 
 him ;' and I soon found that he was the idiot grandson of our old 
 cook, Polly McCormick (a child, as I remember him, of whom I 
 had heard you speak so often since, Lilian), and some vague hope 
 of inherited fidelity, as well as avarice, began to animate my bosom. 
 
 " ' Boy,' I said ; ' the officer.8 have offered you gold to find me, 
 and tell them where I am. I will give you all this ;' and I held 
 up your purse, Quintil, through the open meshes of which the 
 gold sparkled temptingly ; ' if you will hide me from them.' 
 
 " 'An't you done hid already ?' he asked, with a vague smile, 
 as he peered into my face. ' Who can find you here but the 
 witches ? But the gold you will give me that anyhow,' he 
 added eagerly, extending his hand. 
 
 " Even in my feeble condition the mixture of the Yahoo princi- 
 ple in the poor, faithful, yet witless element made me laugh. It 
 was a splendid study for the satirist, or mental philosopher. How 
 Swift would have enjoyed it 1 
 
 " 'Yes, boy, if you will stay with me and take care of me, until 
 I am able to go back to Bouverie. I care not who finds me 
 then !' for, Camilla, I had abandoned all idea at once and forever 
 of further flight, and a determination to bide my fate, had taken 
 full possession of me"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 107 
 
 " Oh, Bouverie !" she groaned ; "what recklessness you hare 
 manifested throughout." 
 
 " Can you not understand the feeling," he asked, gaily ; " that 
 makes a man walk up to a cannon, when its mouth is pointed to 
 him, and he sees no way of escape ? But for your sake, my wife, 
 my daughter, my friend (ay, Quintil, let me call you such), I 
 would not turn on my heel to avoid the severest penalty of the 
 law. There has been a great revulsion of feeling on that subject 
 in my breast lately ; but let us not talk of this to-night. Put 
 aside all thought of to-morrow in this happy hour, and believe me, 
 that I have courage now to meet any doom fate has in store for 
 me. Shall I proceed in my narrative." Her mute assent en 
 couraged him ; yet, he paused awhile before he continued. 
 
 " My adventures have been few a trip to the cave of Croften, 
 and back again, comprises them all. I began to fear, however, 
 that my old safe hiding-place was no secret, after all, until Pat 
 partly reassured me, by telling me he had discovered it accident- 
 ally by trailing a wounded rabbit with his dog ; and that he had 
 entered it now to elude the officers, after losing them in the 
 paw-paw jungle hard by. He only wanted to rest and warm, as.-j, 
 he had often done before, until night should come, so that he 
 might creep out 'unbeknownst,' and go back safely to Bouverie ; 
 and he drew out a crust and a bone, which he offered to sharo 
 with me, and a few potatoes which he thrust into the fire to roast, 
 and sat down patiently to watch. 
 
 '"I keeps my walnuts and hickory-nuts here,' he added, point- 
 ing to a dark pile in one corner; ' and nobody ever steals 'em, bo- 
 cause " open sesame " is the word. I hearn Miss Lilian reading 
 about it to Dame Bianca, and I know it's all true. Shall I fetah 
 Mrs Lilian to wait on von ?' he. said, turning suddenly to me 
 21
 
 108 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIK. 
 
 " ' Not for the world, Pat. No one must know where I am ; 
 but you must stay with me as much as you can.' 
 
 " 'I must tell mammy/ he said, after a long fit of musing. ' If 
 I don't, she won't let me come back no more ; and what 'ill I do 
 for victuals if I stay here all the time ? I'll go back home, and 
 come again to you, and no one but mammy will know.' 
 
 " 'Tell your mammy what you will, Pat,' I said, in perfect des- 
 peration, and, catching at the clue Lilian had given me to his cha- 
 racter, I added, ' but if you open your mouth to any one else, I 
 will command all my witches to catch you, and peel every particle 
 of your skin off. Do you hear me, Pat ?' 
 
 " ' I hears you, Master Boobery,' he replied, with unaffected and 
 fearful reverence. 
 
 " ' But, on the contrary, if you hold your tongue, and do what 
 I wish, you shall have the gold,' and I jingled it before him, eo 
 that the red light of the fire flashed over the coins. ' I am a 
 powerful witch myself, you know, Pat,' I added. ' You saw how 
 easily I threw off the top of the house the other day.' 
 
 " He seemed, after this, to be absorbed in a fit of deep musing, 
 shaking his head from tune to time, and glancing at me. I lost 
 dght of him at this crisis ; a deep sleep fell over me, and, when I 
 waked up, another day had passed Pat told me this, for my run- 
 down watch had long been silent during which he had gone 
 home, and returned in darkness, bringing with him some ' yarbs,' 
 as he called them, which his mammy thought would do me good ; 
 some bread and tea, and other simple refreshments. A tin kettle 
 was simmering on the fire, and 1 found myself covered closely 
 with blankets. Great exhaustion had by this time taken posses- 
 sion of me ; I thought myself dying. I dimly recollect struggling 
 against the stream of tea which the lad insisted on pouring down
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIK. 109 
 
 iny throat from the spout of a pitcher, and afterward dozing off 
 under the regular patting of his hands upon my shoulders, and the 
 mysterious hushing of his voice like the buzz or drone of a jews- 
 harp. It is probable that I lost consciousness then for several 
 days. Indeed I remember little more until I commenced to revive 
 as from a deep sleep, and soon afterward knew by sensations of 
 lassitude, and the presence of profuse perspiration, that the fierce 
 fever was broken, under which I had been laboring. 
 
 " When I commenced to regain my strength, which was not 
 until after the lapse of weeks, the good creature tempted me with 
 the choicest dainties of your store-room, Camilla, stolen by his 
 mammy's orders, he said, and a few bottles of Quintil's best port 
 wine, soon brought me to my feet again. I have never been a 
 wine-bibber, so wine is the true medicine for me that nature in- 
 tended it to be universally ; but perhaps, after all, the elixir was 
 the best agent in restoring me, as long as it lasted. You must 
 fill my vial again, Lily, from the gallipot in the iron cupboard in 
 the winter bedroom. It is safe, I suppose ? But I digress ; let 
 me conclude. To-night, Pat led me home, covered with blankets, 
 and lying, rather than sitting, on Dr. Quintil's gentle horse. 
 
 " As we emerged from the forest, a band of mounted men 
 dashed by me ; but, taking me for a woman, probably, hi my long 
 wrappings, they did not accost us ; or, perhaps, in their mad haste, 
 did not even perceive us. Yet, Pat tells me, these were Hernshaw 
 and his band." 
 
 " They will be here," said my grandmother, "before many days 
 many hours, perhaps and arrest is death I Oh, Bouverie, why 
 did you place yourself in such peril again ?" and she wrung her 
 hands bitterly. 
 
 "Camilla," he said, in a voice of touching tenderness, "
 
 110 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 I entreat you to suffer me to enjoy the infinite happiness that fills 
 my being to-night, and which is worth to me more than the whole 
 existence of the last twelve years. There is an essence of time as 
 well as of roses, my love, that compresses years into moments, even 
 as it takes whole gardens to yield a vial of otto. Such is this 
 night to me." 
 
 Even as he spoke, alarming symptoms became manifest. It 
 was with difficulty that Dr. Quintil kept off the impending swoon, 
 and recalled his fast fleeting pulse by the use of stimulants and 
 restoratives. 
 
 " He is exhausted," he said. " Let a bed be prepared let him 
 rest." 
 
 " Yes, a Christian bed would seem a paradise to me," he mur- 
 mured, reviving wonderfully under the stimulants that had been 
 administered. " Paradise ! after the hard bed of leaves to which 
 my frame has been consigned of late. But oh, Camilla, not 
 there !" and he pointed upward with a wild energy, and a quiver- 
 ing hand. " Place me no more, I entreat you, in that great lonely 
 room that living sepulchre, nor on the hearse-like bedstead, 
 where I have spent so many wretched, sleepless nights, haunted 
 by those faces those terrible shadows, and wrestling on, like 
 Jacob, till the dawn. Let me lie where I can hear human 
 breathing, and call on those I love, should the death struggle 
 come over me. You will not refuse me this boon, Camilla ?" 
 
 " Oh, no no no, Erastus ; for God's sake be calm. I can- 
 not, cannot bear it nor can you 1" 
 
 So speaking, she left the room to make preparations manifestly 
 for his comfort. Bianca had been summoned before, and when I 
 entered my grandmother's chamber to assist if possible in her 
 arrangements, the attendant was pntt.ing the eider-down quilt of
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. Ill 
 
 blue satin, he loved for its warmth and lightness, on the couch, 
 which had been stretched before the blazing wood fire for our 
 wanderer's reception. 
 
 My grandmother was walking the room when I entered, with 
 her head thrown back, and her hands clasped behind it tightly, as 
 if to sustain it, her handkerchief was thrown over her brow and 
 eyes, while bitter groans escaped from her pale and parted Hps. 
 It was as if the great deeps of her soul were broken up, and the 
 tempest surged at last with unrestrained power. I had never seen 
 her exhibit emotion like this before, and I shrank from the room 
 appalled. 
 
 It was not many moments, however, before she followed me, 
 calm, collected, almost cheerful hi appearance, as she extended 
 her hand to the worn sufferer hi the chair, and offered her assist- 
 ance to lead him to his chamber; and in the low, soft bed, of 
 which I have spoken, we laid his ill and emaciated frame to 
 rest. 
 
 Throughout that weary night, and many more, we watched 
 beside him, for he was racked with fearful coughing spells, and 
 almost insupportable pangs at intervals, and consumed by fever, 
 which left him toward morning ever languid and exhausted. His 
 present sufferings demanded all our care, and shut away more 
 effectually than aught else could have done our anxiety for the 
 near future so laden with our doom. 
 
 Thus passed a day and night, at the expiration of which 
 '3ishop Clare came again to Bouverie. 
 
 " Throw open the window, and glorify the room," said genial 
 Sidney Smith ; and truly as seemed the radiant revivifying sun to 
 him did the coming of Bishop Clare appear to us, the sad and 
 grief-bewildered denizens of Bouverie.
 
 112 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 Oh ! sympathy oh, genuine, disinterested friendly fellowship, 
 is not your price above rubies ? What other salve does earth 
 contain for the wounded spirit or the blight of misfortune ? How 
 could we live and bear our troubles, but for the pitying tenderness 
 of our fellow-creatures ? How but for such visible types of him 
 believe that our Lord himself had love and mercy for us ? 
 
 What could Bishop Clare do for us now ? What had he ever 
 been able to do ? and yet what power there was in his presence 
 to comfort, to uplift ! He would not forsake us, we knew, though 
 all the world forsook, nor despise us, though beaten down by the 
 fiercest rains of adversity. In the great sorrow that brooded 
 above us all, Dr. Quintil even clung to him as a little child. 
 One man like this will redeem the charge of perfidy that so many 
 love to bring against their fellow-creatures, with what bitter 
 show of justice we are all made to feel at one time or another of 
 our lives. 
 
 What if a few be mean, and false, and ungrateful, and forget- 
 ting noble trust and benefit, embrace the earliest opportunity of 
 bestowing the Judas kiss, or repeating the sin of Peter ? 
 
 Let us not for the sake of such as these repudiate our belief in the 
 existence of sublime sentiments and fast fidelity. Whatever a 
 man feels in his own breast, that also let him believe may be met 
 with among his fellow-men, whether of good or evil. I have no 
 power to say " I would give my life for my friend," and disbelieve 
 another man who makes the same assertion, any more than a 
 murderer, by the very molding of his nature, would be permitted 
 to discredit the existence of a fellow-Cain. 
 
 Whatever God has made me, that am I compelled to believe 
 my brother to be, until I find him otherwise. No shame then in 
 being deceived by reposing too much trust and affection, what-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIB. 113 
 
 ever the confusion and the disappointment may be in finding such 
 confidence betrayed ; but infinite shame in deceiving, in over- 
 throwing the altars on which such incense of sweet sacrifice has 
 been laid ; in stripping life bare to the shivering skeleton within, 
 and rending away all that renders social existence beautiful or 
 even bearable. 
 
 The recreant to friendship wants opportunity only to betray his 
 country and his God ! And when I speak of friendship, I mean 
 that noble fidelity of affection that forsakes not the unfortu- 
 nate, nor the misguided, even though the whole world forsakes 
 them. 
 
 I mean that patience that forbears ; that tenderness that for- 
 gives ; that mercy that extenuates ; and wanting these, there is 
 DO sacredness in friendship, no meaning in the word. ,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIB. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WITH that wonderful vitality, which seemed in his case almost 
 a physical will, my grandfather rallied, when hope was nearly 
 extinct if hope indeed migjit be called that mixed emotion with 
 which we regarded his condition and was able again to enjoy the 
 social intercourse afforded him by the presence of those he loved, 
 and even to speak with renewed energy of his plans for the 
 fu'.ure. His sanguine temperament, momentarily relieved from 
 the pressure of pain, rose with a sudden rebound that went far 
 beyond any possibility that existence contained for him, and 
 saddened those who had craved for his last hours a meeker 
 mood, a more earnest recognition of his true state, temporal and 
 eternal. 
 
 He would soon be well enough to leave Bouverie, he thought, 
 and journey by slow stages to the Atlantic coast. There would 
 be no difficulty in arranging this transportation. He had a plan 
 that would baffle any detective, that he would make plain when 
 ready to put it into practice. He would take ship as soon as 
 possible for a group of islands in the Pacific Ocean, on one of 
 which he had lingered spell-bound for days, when sent out on 
 a scientific voyage by government. It was there that he would 
 lay down his hearthstone, and begin a new life, surrounded by 
 all he loved. 
 
 His brilliant imagination revelled in describing this lovely 
 land, with all its resources of fertility, scenery, and climate. 
 He gave, with wonderful effect, those verses of Tennyson, from
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 115 
 
 ' Locksley Hall," which present so exquisite a picture of a tropic 
 island. 
 
 He spoke of the natives, few and kindly, as fit proselytes for 
 Bishop Clare ; yes, he should go, we will all go, and form an 
 Utopian colony and be happy and prosperous, and great together. 
 He would build a palace large enough to contain us all, a kind 
 of mimic Alhambra, beautiful exceedingly ; the walls and ceilings 
 of which should be relieved with branches of coral, unchanged by 
 the hand of man, and the floors paved with lava. 
 
 The balmy and elastic air was life-giving, and his bleeding lungs 
 would heal kindly under its genial influence. Bishop Clare, even, 
 should grow young again, and life, long happy life, should still be 
 ours ! 
 
 He painted his glowing pictures with a master's hand. It was 
 almost impossible at times to resist the earnestness of his convic- 
 tions. He did not seem to look upon his arrest, should it take 
 place at all, as a matter of more than temporary inconvenience 
 Some strange obliquity in his nature, prevented his mental vision 
 from embracing his true position, whether before God or man. 
 Like all sophists he had persuaded himself, that what he wished 
 for was right and even possible. He did not look in the face the 
 offended majesty of the law, nor hear the awful verdict ringing in 
 his ears : " Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood 
 be shed !" 
 
 And while we trembled at every approaching footstep, every 
 shadow on the threshold, he remained composed and almost 
 defiant before the danger that menaced him continually. At times 
 I fancied that he enjoyed a sense of relief iu the feeling, that 
 concealment was no longer practicable ; and that to be again thy 
 acknowledged centre of his family, even for a few days, was inovo
 
 116 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEBIE. 
 
 precious to him than years of such existence as he had known in 
 the upper chambers of Bouverie ; a fleshly ghost whose claims to 
 humanity were ignored by law, and tolerated only by his own 
 household. 
 
 In the temporary freedom from suffering that he enjoyed, my 
 grandfather did not forget his promise to Pat McCormick, nor 
 his obligations to the dame. He counted out from the pile of 
 gold the bishop had brought him, the exact number of coins con- 
 tained in Dr. Quintil's purse, and bestowed them on Pat, who did 
 not fail to exact the purse also (the meshes of which, woven of 
 green and silver, had particularly pleased his fancy), as part of the 
 contract. During all his years of concealment, Dame McCormick 
 had never seen her master, though cognizant of his presence in the 
 house. He had been her idol from boyhood, yet she had never 
 breathed his name through that long ten years' captivity ; wait- 
 ing anxiously, it seemed, in the hope that he would ask for her 
 some day. 
 
 That day had come, and she looked upon the wreck of her poor 
 old doting dream. There was a woful stare on her haggard face 
 as she stood by the couch, and clasped the long bony fingers of 
 its occupant. Once she lifted her knotty left hand to shade her 
 eyes, as if to reassure herself of the truth of the vision before 
 her ; then timidly extending it, touched the extreme ends of the 
 long steel grey locks spread over the pillow, and withdrew a 
 again with a deep-drawn sigh. 
 
 "You find me changed, Polly," he said, understanding the 
 sorrowful pantomime. 
 
 " And it's better, I am, Master Erastus," she replied, with a 
 little sudden courtsey. 
 
 " She does not hear you, grandfather," I whispered, account-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 117 
 
 ing thus for her erratic answer. " She is stone-deaf, as the say- 
 ing is." 
 
 " My God, how hideous she has grown 1" he murmured, as he 
 withdrew his hand with a fastidious disgust, that did not escape 
 her attention. " Does the soul always turn inside out in this 
 way, I wonder, in old age ? If so, how shall I look at seventy, 
 Lily ? Nay, how must I look even now ?" 
 
 "Oh, grandfather !" 
 
 " Tell her to go, child ; and give her that gold-rimmed eye- 
 glass, if you choose ; anything to please her, so that she goes 
 speedily, and I never, never see her again !" He waved his 
 hand. 
 
 She understood the signal, perhaps, for when I turned toward 
 the place she had occupied to give her the eye-glass, as he de- 
 sired, she was gone. A moment's consideration, however, showed 
 me a better substitute. 
 
 A shell snuff-box lay on the stand beside him, and cramming 
 this with the gold-pieces that were still piled there, I went after 
 her. 
 
 " Lily," he cried ; " this is sheer extravagance, not to be 
 thought of ; come back !" 
 
 " No, grandfather, the poor old creature shall have what she 
 loves most, for nothing else, not even this perhaps, can heal the 
 wound you have inflicted. Let me give her the gold." 
 
 " Do as you will, then, but remember we shall want a great 
 deal of money for our travelling expenses our tropical flight, 
 you know. 
 
 I hurried away. 
 
 Bianca, who, it may be remembered, had ever held him in 
 aversion, was now my grandfather's constant attendant. She
 
 118 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEKIE. 
 
 was certainly most dutiful in her ministry ; but I remarked that 
 she never lifted her eyes to his face, and spoke to him as seldom 
 as possible. Her Spanish nature rose up against him with its 
 implacable tenacity of sorrowful resentment, and to her he 
 could never be again other than the destroyer of her husband's 
 life. 
 
 Oh, God I how heavily the current of lost human life was set- 
 ting against him now ! That life he worshipped so, as an 
 abstract thing, had so adored in his own veins, yet so recklessly 
 disregarded when it came between him and his purpose, whatever 
 that might be. What a strange mixture he was of bareness and 
 tenderness, of persuasive gentleness, of unscrupulous cruelty, of 
 delicate and lofty refinement, and of more than savage treachery 
 and tyranny! How entirely the word "fascinating" fitted him 
 whose manner was full of witchery, overcoming as it did in all 
 who knew him, that instinctive warning that rises up in the heart 
 of most men in the presence of evil 1 
 
 Yet warped, as he undeniably was, I do him the injustice to 
 speak of him as wholly evil. His eyes had never rested with 
 impure glances on a woman's face, his self-love had never led him 
 to take pecuniary advantage of any man, nor his lofty position to 
 depart from courtesy toward his meanest dependent. These 
 things were born in him, with the noble blood that on one side at 
 least flowed through his veins ; they were instincts that he blindly 
 obe) cd he was thus far a gentleman. 
 
 For the rest he had cultivated the Eugene Aram spirit, until 
 his sophistry knew no limits, and his hand had been tainted more 
 than once I fear with the crowning sin of humanity. It will be 
 seen hereafter, what peculiar passion had fostered this destructive 
 element, and there may be some who, after reading these pages,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIK. 119 
 
 will arise from their perusal with the comforting conviction that 
 Erastns Bouverie was a madman ! 
 
 But I who kiiew him well, know also that there could be no 
 question in his case of mania, unless indulged propensity be 
 worthy of the name. 
 
 I who idolized him have no such excuse to offer. The splendid 
 fabric of his mind was built above an earthquake, and might at 
 any moment have rocked to ruin from the beginning ; the rum 
 not of madness but of wrong doing. Insanity was impossible 
 with hmi in the very nature of things. There was something too 
 coolly impetuous, too philosophic, too self-contained, too sarcastic 
 in his turn of mind to assume the shape of madness, even when 
 most perverted. 
 
 It is a common error to suppose that insanity and imagination 
 go oftenest together. I for one have rarely seen them allied. 
 The boiler seldom bursts that possesses a safety valve. The 
 inmates of lunatic asylums are usually persons of finely strung 
 nerves and limited ideality, the most unfortunate of all combina- 
 tions. It is the effort of the dumb to speak that oversets the 
 brain. When imagination is true it is very stable, as well as 
 very demonstrative. Could anything have driven Voltaire crazy ? 
 Was not Byron the coolest of practical self-lovers? Who 
 so rational as epicurean Tom Moore? Who so real as loyal 
 Walter Scott ? Who so self-poised as Wordsworth and 
 Southey ? 
 
 Overwork did indeed soften the brain of some of these, but 
 that might come from any continuous exertion ; nursing the sick, 
 setting up type, reading too continuously, digesting ill, being 
 annoyed by debt, puzzling out problems. Madness is a thing 
 apart from this physical condition, as I Consider it. The idea of
 
 120 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIK. 
 
 Pope going crazy, or Shakspeare, or old Sam Johnson, queer 
 as he was, seems so preposterous that it makes one smile to think 
 of it. 
 
 And as for Charles Lamb, the home hero of the age, the here- 
 ditary taint took the form of genius with him evidently, and 
 found its safety valve thus, or he might have been as wild as 
 Bridget Elia. Cowper, too, was half saved from madness by his 
 genius alone. 
 
 There stands before me, as well as I can remember, but one 
 exception to this ordinary rule in the history of the gifted, in 
 the person of Dean Swift. He rises to my imagination like a 
 gigantic blasted oak-tree, standing out lone and lightning scathed 
 in the midst of a bare and desolate heath, a mystery and a warn- 
 ing. Some cleaving curse was there. 
 
 But I will not continue a theme so distasteful, nor stand longer, 
 scalpel hi hand, trying to dissect a character so inscrutable as that 
 of the hero of this story. Has it not fallen to the lot of some who 
 read these pages, to meet in their own peculiar walk of life a 
 nature of which his may stand for a type at least ? 
 
 Is he the only man who has consumed gold in the furtherance 
 . of selfish pursuits, that rightfully belonged to those around him ? 
 Is he the only man who has sacrificed his enemies unscrupulously, and 
 thrown shadow and mysterious wretchedness over the hearts of 
 his friends ? Is he alone in having been a fascinating egotist, 
 courteous yet crushing in all of his requisitions ? Is the want of 
 Belf-reproach, and conscientious scruple that existed in his case 
 peculiar to him, or a part of all self-worship ? 
 
 To those who reject him as a reality let him stand as a repre- 
 sentative at least of a class of men not common in our country 
 as yet, but indissolubly connected with all societies where refine-
 
 JTHE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEEIE. 121 
 
 ment and sophistry make an artificial atmosphere around the 
 human soul. 
 
 Whoever reads these pages, will read the work of one no 
 longer among the living, and in whose veins will perish the last 
 drop of the blood of Bouverie. 
 
 Something of the great spirit of truth and disinterestedness 
 with which we must appear before the judgment bar is infused, I 
 think, in all narratives between whose publication and their author 
 the grave must throw its interposing shadow. 
 
 With any other feeling than this at work, it would be inex- 
 cusable in me to portray things precisely as they were, or to 
 undertake such examination into character and motives as I find 
 myself pursuing now. 
 
 Yet some idea of my devoted love for him I censure and scru- 
 tinize, may be formed from the assertion I am about to make 
 incredible and monstrous as it might seem to many, true as it cer- 
 tainly is. 
 
 I hold myself perfectly willing in spirit, as I would have done 
 in flesh, to share any punishment of Erastus Bouverie that eternal 
 justice may yet conceive necessary for that final expiation, if by 
 such division of suffering I may shorten his term of probation, 
 or assuage his sorrowful remorse, even by one hour, one pang. 
 
 For such is my comprehension of the fire hereafter, and the 
 torture of the offender against divine patience, and such my 
 understanding of all deep affection worthy of the name.
 
 122 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 CHAPTER TL 
 
 FIVE days had passed since the return of the fugitive, yet were 
 we undisturbed a matter of surprise to all but one of our house- 
 hold. 
 
 " The excitement has died away," my grandfather said, one day. 
 " Even that scamp, Smith, has relented, or come at last to a sense 
 of his true interests. Lily, I shall be suffered to die in peace." 
 
 " I trust so, dear grandfather," I said, weeping, as I clasped his 
 extended hand. 
 
 " Pshaw, child, crying again ! Why, what a literalist you are 1 
 Don't you see how much better I am how much stronger ? I 
 ate a pint of jelly to-day, the food of athletes, you know, and I 
 shall be on my feet again, as vigorous as a panther, before two 
 weeks. Then we must get away from this place. If the worst 
 comes to the worst, I will go disguised as Mrs. Smith." 
 
 " What an idea, grandfather," I said, in as cheerful a voice as I 
 could command. 
 
 " We have only to outbid the governor, you know, to secure 
 Smith's services again. I have a great mind to send for the 
 fellow, and have a talk with him, and bring him to a sense of his 
 duty. I think I could whistle him back again readily enough, and 
 then a golden chain would do the rest, and bind him fast, you 
 know. My plan would be to take him as my travelling com- 
 panion, for a time." 
 
 I listened hi silence there was no use in arguing about so futile 
 a scheme.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 123 
 
 " Mrs. Smith is tall and thin, Lily, I believe ; about my figure, 
 is she not ?" with a grim, satiric smile. 
 
 " Yes, as far as stature goes, nearly so ; but the hair, grand- 
 father, and the squint, and the ferrety red eyes. What will you 
 do with these ?" 
 
 " Oh, a veil, Lily a deep blue veil doubled like that you 
 wear to protect your complexion when you run out in the grounds; 
 that will do the business completely. I flatter myself I am not 
 unlike, in general mien and bearing, the gardener's consort, and, 
 with a little practice, could succeed, I fancy, in imitating some of 
 her ladylike peculiarities." His eye glittered with laughter. 
 
 " Patience, dear grandfather ! do not talk of this. Let us rely 
 rather on the forbearance of our fellow-creatures, this time, and 
 the incalculable love and mercy of God." 
 
 He groaned and turned away. 
 
 Alas ! I knew not then that the precincts of Bouverie were 
 strictly guarded, and that it was to Governor Staunton's merciful 
 wish to spare our feelings that we owed this temporary security. 
 I knew not that my grandfather's convalescence, should it ever 
 take place and to the wonderful recuperative powers of his con- 
 stitution no change seemed impossible would be the signal for 
 fresh intrusion 011 the part of the police, and the certain arrest of 
 him who, hi the eyes of the law, stood forth a condemned criminal. 
 
 As he grew better for he certainly did improve rapidly for 
 some days, after his first severe attack was over he resumed his 
 old habit of reading voraciously whatever came in his way. I 
 found him, on one occasion, turning the last leaf of " Morley Ern- 
 stein " then a late publication, I believe. 
 
 " It is a beautiful allegory, Lilian," he said, " and treated with 
 much delicacy and power."
 
 124 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVER1E. 
 
 "Allegory, grandfather ! I have not looked upon it in this 
 light." 
 
 " Certainly, child there is but one hero. The good and evil 
 genius of a human soul are typified as Morley Ernstein, and 
 Count Lieberg. After a time the baffled fiend disappears, 
 and the good angel triumphs. It was otherwise with me," he 
 added, in low accents. "The dark spirit had it all his own 
 way in my case. My G-od if such there be why was this 
 permitted ?" 
 
 He remained mute after these words, with his eyes closed, and 
 his hands clasped. I might have believed, had I not known him 
 too well, that he was engaged in prayer. However it was, he 
 wrestled mentally, that was evident, and sorely too, for the cold 
 drops of perspiration gemmed his brow. 
 
 In consequence of communications made to Bishop Clare and 
 Dr. Quintil by Jasper, who had informed himself of the active sur- 
 veillance held over Bouverie, it was' determined that the plan 
 agitated once before, should now be carried out, and that an ap- 
 peal on my grandfather's behalf should be again made to Governor 
 Staunton. This measure was concluded on, without the consent 
 or even knowledge of the person most interested, as the only 
 course remaining open to his friends, and steps were taken to put 
 it into immediate effect. 
 
 A petition was drawn up by Dr. Quintilian, and signed by all 
 the inmates of Bouverie. My grandmother then requested Bishop 
 Clare to become its bearer. 
 
 " No, Camilla," he replied, advancing to the sofa on which 
 I was sitting by Jasper, and extending his hands toward us as if 
 in benediction ; "I depute this office to that youthful pair. 
 There is strength in youth, and innocence, and beauty, to move a
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOtJVEBIE. 
 
 heart that might be steeled against all appeals from age and its 
 dreary attendants." 
 
 " It would ill become Luther's son," broke in Dr. Quintilian, 
 " to appear in such a cause ! If needs be, Lilian must go alone." 
 
 He spoke angrily, his calm eye flashed, and he waved his hand, 
 as if putting the suggestion Bishop Clare had made fiercely aside. 
 I rose, and approached him. 
 
 " Let it be as you have said. I will go alone, if you think it 
 best." 
 
 He was walking the floor rapidly now, but stopped, as I laid 
 my hand on his arm, and looked into his face. It was much 
 agitated. 
 
 " No, Lily, no that would never do," he whispered, huskily. 
 At this moment I felt Jasper's arm encircling me, and learned his 
 determination first from its firm pressure, and, later, from the rapid 
 gesture of dissent he made to Dr. Quintil. 
 
 "Not such were the teachings of Christ, your Master, and 
 mine, Paul Quintilian," spoke out Bishop Clare. 
 
 " Has nature no voice must she never be heard ? must a man's 
 whole life be spent in crushing out the mighty instincts given to 
 him by his God as his birthright ? Do years of self-denial go for 
 nothing, that fresh sacrifice is demanded every day ? You go too 
 far in the exercise of your priestly functions, sir ! You ask the 
 impossible you press me to the wall, Bishop Clare, and I turn 
 at the utmost limits." 
 
 He had thrown off my hand unconsciously, and, in another 
 moment, had left the room. 
 
 My grandmother was in tears, Jasper cold and stern, the bishop 
 confounded. I, only, I think, entered into his feelings, and com- 
 passiojiated his struggle.
 
 126 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE, - 
 
 But nothing would have induced me to accept the companion- 
 ship of Jasper, without his full consent who had devoted his life 
 to him as few fathers would have done. It was in vain that 
 Jasper urged his perfect right to act as he pleased in the matter, 
 and his duty to my grandmother and to me as paramount to any 
 other. I was inflexible ; and it was arranged at last that I should 
 go with Bishop Clare, and present the petition as the nearest 
 relative of the unfortunate Master of Bouverie. 
 
 The subject was not suggested again to Dr. Quintilian, and 
 Jasper, I knew, had his own resolutions formed, from the peculiar 
 expression of his face, and the increased rigidity of his always too 
 firmly compressed lips ; lips that had never been agitated by a 
 sound, nor relaxed by a burst of laughter. 
 
 A few days more passed rapidly away, during which the simple 
 preparations for my short journey were completed ; for the 
 capital town in which Governor Staunton resided was only twenty 
 miles distant from Bouverie. 
 
 And now the eve of that day had arrived, on which the im- 
 portant step was to be undertaken. Still the uncle and nephew 
 had come to no understanding, and my fears for the result of 
 what I knew Jasper's course would be, almost overpowered me. 
 Could Dr. Quintilian forgive such open rebellion as he meditated ? 
 Would the old fond feeling ever be revived between them, should 
 this occur ? 
 
 I confess I trembled for its consequences. How greatly I warf 
 relieved need not be asserted when I received the following 
 note, handed me by Bianca, who marvelled when she saw me 
 weeping. "'Has anything more occurred, dear Miss Lilian," sho 
 said, as I hastily wiped off the tears, and folded away the pro 
 cious lines.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 127 
 
 " Ob, nothing, nothing, Bianca ; only I am very grateful, very 
 happy, indeed. Dr. Quintil consents that Jasper shall go with 
 me to entreat for my grandfather." 
 
 " Oh, is that all, Miss Lilian?" she bridled slightly, and mut- 
 tered as she left me. "I thought Dr. Quintil was more a man 
 of his word than that comes to. Jasper, indeed ! Time enough, 
 I think, when he comes to his speech again, that he robbed him 
 of to " 
 
 Her words grew inarticulate as the door interposed between 
 us ; but her grumbling voice was heard for some moments more 
 before it died away. Then I drew out again and reread the dear 
 characteristic note, more fondly than ever did maiden passionate 
 love-letter, or graceful billet-doux : 
 
 " Dear Lilian," it ran ; " I have come to my senses at last, 
 and look upon matters with the eye of a Christian, I trust, after 
 days of bitter disquietude. Child, child, may you never have to 
 wrestle with malignant feelings as I have done, or find such diffi- 
 culty in conquering the serpents of your heart. 
 
 "I see plainly now that it is simply Jasper's duty as a man and 
 a gentleman to go with you, who are more than life to him. I 
 have very nearly reduced him to the sin of disobedience, I fear, 
 against his father's representative on earth by the perverse course 
 I have " been pursuing. I am heartily ashamed of myself, and 
 regret the past. But I say this to you and Jasper only, I have 
 no such concessions to make to your grandmother, or Bishop Clare. 
 
 " Enough ; I withdraw all objection to Jasper's presentation 
 of the petition. Yet, for the first time in my life, I confess, 
 Lilian, that I rejoice that his poor lips are sealed. Darling, for- 
 give me, " Yours eternally, 
 
 " PAUL QUJ.VTILUN n
 
 128 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 EARLY in the forenoon of a fine December day, Pat McCormick 
 led two caparisoned horses to the front of the house of Bouverie, 
 and stood patiently awaiting the coming forth of their riders. 
 One of these horses was a stately coal-black creature, of Andalu- 
 sian breed, with the quivering nostril, the kindling eye, the small 
 and lofty head that speak so unmistakably of blood and pedigree. 
 He was equipped with a lady's saddle, and scarlet reins, and had 
 been my birthday present from Dr. Quintil, in the month of May 
 in tli at year, when I celebrated my eighteenth anniversary of life. 
 He called him " Ivanhoe." The other horse was the doctor's 
 own gentle, but strong and steady beast ; bay in color, heavy and 
 compact in form, and fitted either for saddle or harness ; " Cedric " 
 by name. He had been caparisoned for Jasper's use, his own 
 beautiful grey mare, " Violet Fane," having been badly lamed 
 some weeks before, at the time of his ride after Bishop Clare. 
 
 It was a frosty, sunshiny day, bracing and beautiful, and some- 
 thing of the character of the weather had infused itself into my 
 veins, I believe, for I never felt more calm, more strong, more 
 courageous, than when I undertook that journey. Alas ! before 
 it ended, doubt and weariness, and despondency had replaced 
 these exhilarating sensations ! Dr. Quintil helped me to the 
 saddle. " You look like victory herself, this morning, Lilian," 
 he said ; " God speed you, darling." He wrung Jasper's hand. 
 " You will go," ho said, " to-night, to the house of Mr. Clavering, 
 and give him this letter ; it explains everything. He lives so
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 129 
 
 quietly, he may not have heard of this matter at all. I think he 
 will sign our petition, and I know that in old times he was 
 beloved by Staunton. Be this as it may, he will receive you 
 kindly for my sake, and to-morrow you can proceed to finish your 
 mission. I think, Jasper, you remember his residence ; we were 
 once there together. Take care of Lilian; farewell, and once 
 again, God speed you both." 
 
 He waved his hand. We bounded off, and soon losing sight 
 of the green lawn, and white chimneys, and dome of Bouverie, 
 we found ourselves on the high road leading to the capital, whither 
 tended our pilgrimage. > i v . 
 
 Before I left my chamber, I had stood for a few moments sur- 
 veying my appearance in the psyche glass it contained, with an 
 innocent satisfaction that I recall now with a smile, not derisive, I 
 hope, as if the young girl who thought herself so fair in her dark 
 green habit, and grey beaver bat, weighed down with sweeping 
 plumes, under which heavy braids of brown hair wei"; brought 
 low on her crimson cheek and arching neck, were other than the 
 pale, grave woman who writes these pages, dressed in mourning 
 garments of woe and widowhood. Yet, smile as I will, I cannot 
 disown the identity of these two, even while I disclaim the joy- 
 ous vanity of youth and energy. The same devoted heart beats 
 in my bosom now as on that glorious winter morning, and for the 
 self-same objects, the same deep love controls me that nerved 
 me then to dare and to encounter fatigue and adventure for the 
 sake of those dear to me, and to feel that the sun shining above 
 us was not more life-giving, more effulgent than the face of him 
 who rode beside me. What if the shadows of green graves lie 
 between us now, and the world, like a great panorama, passes 
 before me, only a sojourner and a spectator therein ? The time
 
 130 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 will not be long, however lengthened my life may be, before th 
 eternal haud shall gather together and unite forever the scattered 
 elements, dead and living, that composed the household of Bou- 
 verie, and I try to remember that my noble grandmother esteemed 
 patience a " God-like quality," and the apostle among poets has 
 said, thinking evidently with aer, "Those also serve who only 
 stand and wait." 
 
 The lamps wtre burning in the streets of , when we rode 
 
 wearily through them, not having left our saddles since we sprang 
 into them at Bouverie, nor broken bread since morning. The 
 , usidence of Mr. Clavering was in a remote suburb of the town, a 
 dark grey mansion, cloister-like in its appearance, surrounded 
 with old trees, and inclosed with stone walls, surmounted with 
 iron railings. A brisk summons at the gate brought after a time 
 an old servant to the door, shading a light with her hand. 
 
 " She looks like the hag in the cave of Gil Bias in your pic- 
 lure, Jasper," I said. " I am afraid of her." 
 
 Dismounting hastily from my horse, and leaving the reins in 
 his hand, I went up the steps to make known our wish to see Mr. 
 Claveriug. 
 
 " We are from Bouverie," I said ; " tell him so, and let some 
 oue see to our horses. Mr. Quintilian is holding them." 
 
 " Deil a body is there to see to onything here but me and the 
 master," she said. " The beasts maun go to the stables, and 
 Jasper maun tak' um his ain sel'." 
 
 " Jasper 1 how do you know his name ?" I asked. " This is 
 strange indeed." 
 
 She laughed a sort of chirruping, fairyish laugh. 
 
 " He gev me twa pieces of gold *o sit for him," she saic. 
 ' whilst he painted me as a wiicb. I believe, and never aoak once
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYERTE. 131 
 
 while he was employed for good or bad. A silent chiel he is. 
 But come in off the steps, and Mister Jasper, just proceed, if you 
 please, to the near leevery, while I tak' the young leddy into the 
 master's study." 
 
 So saying, she drew me in the hall, and shut the door. 
 
 " This way, Miss Bouverie, this way, if you please ; don't 
 stumble now ; the place is littered up a little, for the master 
 always goes in the back gate, and ye mind we see little or no 
 company." 
 
 " Miss de Courcy," I said, loftily. " Tell Mr. Clavering my 
 name before I enter. I am Lilian de Courcy." 
 
 " Gude sakes, what a name ! Did ye cam' from the auld 
 country, lassie, and are you of the auld blood ?" and so question- 
 ing, she threw open the door of a small but brilliantly illumi- 
 nated apartment. 
 
 The only inhabitant of this room, evidently the master so often 
 referred to, sat comfortably ensconced in a great cushioned chair, 
 by a table piled with folios and fossils. He was a spare, tall 
 man, evidently approaching middle age, grave-looking and slightly 
 bald, yet decidedly handsome, with the remains of soft, waving 
 dark hair, falling in almost womanish locks about his cheeks. 
 He rose to receive me, still slightly mystified, apparently by my 
 unexpected appearance, with a shy and stately courtesy peculiar 
 to the refined who live greatly alone, and possessing a strange 
 charm for me whenever I observe it. 
 
 " Sit down, Miss de Courcy," he said, placing a chair for me 
 opposite his own, and near the blazing coal fire, and bending his 
 calm, inquiring eyes upon my face. I stretched my hands and 
 weary feet with almost childish eagerness to receive its hospitable 
 
 warmth. 1 did not reflect for a moment how strange my advent 
 22
 
 132 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 must seem in his house, forgetting that my name was probably 
 unknown to him, and that the letter of explanation was still in 
 Jasper's pocketbook. 
 
 " I am cold," I said, " and weary, having ridden a long way, 
 and ill I believe, at least giddy," leaning back with a feeling of 
 utter wretchedness, while my whole position flashed suddenly be- 
 fore me with mortifying distinctness. I burst into irrepressible 
 tears of mingled pain and mortification, and sobbed bitterly for a 
 few moments. Old Janet approached me, so I believe did her 
 bewildered master. 
 
 " Dinna greet, lassie," she said, kindly. "The youth, Jasper, 
 will soon come back. She is from Bouverie, Mr. Clavering," 
 added she, addressing herself to him, " and the young man has 
 ta'en the horses to the leevery. Dr. Quintil's nephew, I mean 
 the painter laddie, ye maun remember." 
 
 " Is it possible !" said Mr. Clavering, with real concern. " Is 
 this Mr. Bouverie's grand-daughter, of whom my friend Dr. Qum 
 tilian has spoken so often ? Forgive me, dear young lady, I had 
 no clue to your name or errand here before." 
 
 " I am so weak," I said, looking up and smiling in his face, 
 " so nervous, I am quite ashamed ; but the long ride, and the 
 very awkward position in which Jasper's absence has left me, must 
 plead for me." 
 
 He took my hand, and murmured a few words ; then suddenly 
 dropping it, conferred apart with Janet, who disappeared, re- 
 entering a few moments later with coffee, and a chafing dish of 
 toast. I had leaned back again in my chair in the interval, quite 
 faint and overcome, and he sat quietly waiting for me to revive 
 under the influence of the much needed refreshment of the steam 
 '.utf raociia. I drank it eagerly.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 " I am quite myself again," I said, putting the cup aside ; 
 " thank you, no toast yet, dame," as Janet pressed the food upon 
 me. " I will eat after a while, if you please, when Jasper comes. 
 He, too, is weary and fasting." 
 
 " And here he is at last," said Mr, Clavering, answering the 
 brisk sound of the bell himself, and leading Jasper in, a moment 
 afterward, quite triumphantly. 
 
 The letter was read while we partook together of the hospitable 
 fare to which Janet made substantial additions read with a 
 grave and earnest aspect, and a slight trembling of the expressive 
 lips. Mr. Clavering laid it aside and alluded to it no more that 
 night, as was best for all ; but before retiring he calmly affixed 
 his signature to the petition inclosed within. " Tune is the best 
 expiation," were the remarkable words he spoke as he returned it 
 to Jasper. Words that bore a whole world of mercy and of 
 hope for the offender here and hereafter, if true in themselves, and 
 briefly revealed his own opinions on the great subject of human 
 punishment. 
 
 Shall I ever forget that evening, prolonged as it was, uncon- 
 sciously by all, beyond midnight, and full to overflowing with the 
 delightful remark and reminiscence of one who was a host in more 
 significations than one ? Was it possible, I thought later, that 
 we had never known Mr. Clavering before ? Was he not rather 
 an old and life-long acquaintance, knit to us by ties of habit, 
 taste, and affection ! What a charm there was in his mild, frank 
 deferential manner, in the expression of his large, beaming eyes, in 
 the infinite sweetness of his slow, sad, unfrequent smile. How fine 
 were the tones of his voice, what a ring of true coin there was 
 about them ; how just, now noble his sentiments ; how lofty and 
 deep his ideas, how profound his culture ! I was lost in admira
 
 134 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOZTVERIE. 
 
 tion. Accustomed as I had been to vigorous thought and bril- 
 liancy of imagination, and extensive information in the minds 
 around me, I had not yet met with one that seemed to unite all 
 these qualifications of greatness in such perfect equipoise. And 
 yet this man lived alone, and devoted his msatal energies to the 
 investigation of old bones and uninteresting rocks, and petrified 
 animal remains, and prided himself (with all those intellectual 
 riches I have mentioned) on the poor title of first geologist of 
 his State 1 He who was born a poet, who might have been a 
 statesman ! 
 
 " What painting are you employed on now, Jasper ?" he 
 asked ; "I know you are never idle." 
 
 " I am painting a Magdalene," was the answer. 
 
 " The subject is exhausted, Jasper," said Mr. Clavering. 
 " Think of the many Magdalenes that the piety or superstition 
 of the old masters has given to the world ;" and he ran over with 
 surprising facility a list of these, giving as he went, a few words 
 to each, descriptive of its peculiarity of style or expression, and 
 ending by preferring one of which I had never heard before. 
 " The work of one Battoni, a life-sized picture in the gallery of 
 Dresden ; not so remarkable for executive power as beauty of con- 
 ception, an angelic calmness being diffused over the whole exqui- 
 site figure, which lies at length upon the ground, reading an open 
 Bible." 
 
 " Describe your Magdalene to Mr. Clavering, Jasper," I said, 
 with a feeling of natural pride. He smiled, but wrote as I 
 requested. " Mine is a modern Magdalene," he began ; "I 
 have discarded the old idea entirely of voluptuous fullness and 
 mere physical beauty. I have tried to merge all expression in one 
 of penance and rapt religion. The picture is a small one, of the
 
 TFFE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 135 
 
 Cabinet or Wilkie size. It represents the moment when Mary, 
 after pouring the ointment on the Saviour's feet in the house of 
 Simon the Leper, sits humbly on the ground before him. The 
 hair with which she has wiped his feet, hangs long and lank 
 around her emaciated figure, pale, brown, and massive. Her 
 clasped hands inclose her knees, her face is bowed nearly over 
 them ; in the hands alone have I permitted a suggestion of the 
 original beauty of form to appear, otherwise concealed by the 
 dark blue dress she wears. The forehead is thin and spacious ; 
 the large blue eyes sunken and dim, looking out as if on space, 
 transfixed by the promised hope and glory beyond the world 
 The outline of the nose is Greek, with the thin, dilating nostril, 
 expressive of spirit and sensibility. The cheeks are worn, the 
 lips despairing and partly open, showing the square cut corners 
 and original fullness of form, which we can but associate with 
 impulse, and even imagination, such as must have been hers, 
 though merged at one time into sensuality by the force of educa- 
 tion and circumstance only, we must believe. For the nature of 
 Magdalene was tender and noble, poetic even, we have reason to 
 think, from the glimpses we have of her, and the devoted charac 
 tei- of her pure and perfect love for Christ. There are other 
 figures of which I will not speak now, having barely sketched 
 them in ; but that of Magdalene is nearly finished, and is meant 
 to be the principal one of the group." 
 
 " I like your conception," said Mr. Clavering, " and I hope I 
 shall like your execution as well, Jasper. Did you finish 
 Silenus ? 
 
 " No," said Jasper, smiling, signifying the word by a shake of 
 the head, then writing rapidly: "Bishop Clare objected to the 
 picture because I had beguiled poor Father Conrad, uumtention-
 
 136 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 ally, I assure you, with the idea that I was about to paint him as 
 ' St. Silenus,' aiid he had consequently made himself so ridiculous 
 in the convent by reporting that he was to be painted ' by that 
 pious young artist, Jasper Quintilian, as the most worthy and 
 notable Greek saint Silenus, seated on an ass,' that for the best 
 interests of religion, Bishop Clare begged me to desist, at least 
 until the matter was forgotten." 
 
 " The old man is ignorant and even sensual," said Mr. Claver- 
 ing, " at least in his love for the table ; but he is useful in his way, 
 and controls the Irish around us in a manner that benefits the 
 citizens generally. Otherwise I should vote him a nuisance." 
 
 " You are no Catholic, I know, Mr. Clavering," wrote Jasper ; 
 " no friend to the institution at least." 
 
 " I think," said Mr. Clavering, smiling slowly, " that we do too 
 much confound this religion with its abuses. It is very compre- 
 hensive, it meets every requirement of human nature, physical or 
 spiritual. ' If I were not Alexander, I would be Parmenio.' " 
 
 " I understand you. If you were not a Unitarian, you would 
 be a Catholic. Yours is a cold belief, that suits better a geologist 
 than a poet or a painter ; and yet I believe you, too, are one of 
 these." 
 
 " The time is past, Jasper! the time is past when ' golden exhal- 
 ations of the dawn,' made my path radiant, and when, dove-like, 
 over a waste of waters the sweet spirit of poetry brooded in my 
 breast. Sorrow, such as befalls few men, crushing, obliterating, 
 sudden, was succeeded by that secondary state of happiness in 
 which routine and occupation insure tranquillity, and even peace, 
 a word of wider signification. The compromise with grief was 
 gladly accepted. I a in thankful to the mighty consideration of 
 him who suffers substitution like this, yet I do not believe that I
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 187 
 
 have enjoyed such life as my original capacity might have grasped. 
 I have sat frugally at a board of bread and water (spiritually 
 speaking), understanding well that a goblet of wine and the deli- 
 cate fruits of the earth would have filled my table and needs 
 better. Had I written out my own heart as Byron did, I might 
 have been esteemed a poet still ; but I shrank from this. I 
 covered close the outcries of its agony, as Othello controlled 
 those of Desdemona, and hi the smothered strife imagination died 
 like her a violent death. Jasper Miss de Courcy it was my inex- 
 pressible grief to have occasioned the death of the woman who 
 was to have been my wife." He hesitated a moment, then went 
 on in low, sorrowful tones. " We were sailing together on a 
 summer lake, by mismanagement of name the boat was upset, and 
 she was lost ' drowned drowned !' as Shakspeare has it," he 
 said bitterly, "and I oh, my God ! by no act of my own, thod 
 knowest well, was shamefully rescued I" 
 
 He rose, he walked to the window, and looked out upon the 
 night through the parted curtains. When he returned, all 
 traces of emotion had disappeared from his calm, grave counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "The only question that remains to be solved now, Jasper, 
 is the one of fate," he said with perfect composure. " Was this 
 intended and predestined, was it accident ? On the solution of 
 this enigma hangs the. happiness, earthly and eternal, of Ernest 
 Clavering." 
 
 " It was fate 1" I answered impulsively. He had not addressed 
 himself to me, but Jasper made no reply. " Your destiny. Ac- 
 cept it, Mr. Clavering. and be happy." 
 
 " Why what a Calvinist you would make, Miss de Courcy ?" he 
 said, half smiling at my earnest advocation of my favorite doc-
 
 138 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 trine. "Yet it is a comfort to hear this instinctive counsel from 
 your lips, for surely with one so ^oung, it could scarcely be a 
 matter of deep consideration. And now," taking down a new 
 volume from his book-case, " I will read you what Mr. Bulwcr, 
 the most fascinating and metaphysical of novelists, says on this 
 subject, in this beautiful work of his," and he read with striking 
 power and beauty " The Vision of Arbaces," in the " Last days 
 of Pompeii," then among the latest works of the author. 
 
 I can give but a glimpse of this evening, so memorable to me. 
 The impression of pleasure it conveyed seemed not to have been 
 made on my heart alone, as shah 1 be seen hereafter. I number 
 yet, 1 hope ever to number, Mr. Clavering among my few friends 
 (the word has a deep sacredness to me), and if I give in these 
 pages an insight into deeper feelings on his part, it is not for the 
 gratification of vanity or woman's pride, but merely to fulfill the 
 truth. 
 
 I had put aside for one evening the burdensome anticipation 
 of the morrow, and yielded my being fully to the current of social 
 enjoyment ; but when the morning broke, with the recurring con- 
 sciousness of the task that lay before me, I rose sorrowful and 
 pale, as a prisoner on the day of execution. I could not eat, nor 
 speak, save in monosyllables, at the breakfast board, but Mr. 
 Clavering, with native delicacy, neither pressed the one upon me, 
 nor gave occasion for the other; yet I felt tha.t his calm observant eye 
 was upon me often, with an expression of solicitude and compas- 
 sion. He had caused our horses to be brought to us while we 
 breakfasted, and when they were announced he did not seek to 
 detain us a moment, merely requesting us to return to his house 
 and take refreshment after the interview, if possible, and pressing 
 onr hands with a murmured blessing as we parted.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVBKDC. 139 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE residence of the governor was a little beyond the town 
 limits, and lay in an opposite direction from Mr. Clavtring's 
 abode. It was placed at some distance from the road in a finely 
 wooded park, through which walks and drives were cut, and 
 beyond which lay greenhouses, and gardens, and meadows, bounded 
 by the blue, distant, curving river. Nothing could be more 
 cheerful than the aspect of this residence to an unprejudiced eye. 
 No prison-house in a narrow city court could have seemed more 
 gloomy, more repellent to mine. As it broke upon my view from 
 a sudden turn of the road, pointed out by Jasper, a feeling of the 
 crushing responsibility resting on us fell over me, and a blind mis- 
 giving made me sick and faint-hearted. 
 
 " Oh, Jasper !" I said, " we have undertaken too much ; we 
 shall fail, we shall fail 1 I have no words for an occasion like 
 this. Go on with the petition, and leave me here ; I shall only 
 embarrass you." 
 
 We were now standing by the gate, lofty and massive, and it 
 was necessary he should dismount to open it. Before leaving his 
 horse he turned and gazed steadfastly, almost reproachfully at 
 me, pressed his hand on his heart and lips, pointed to heaven, 
 shook his head mournfully, and then calmly proceeded to open 
 the leaves of the gate, and led the horses through, for I had 
 dropped my reins, aud now held my hands pressed tightly over 
 my face, feeling as I did the full force of his rebuke. 
 
 As I heard the leaves of the gate clash together behind us, it
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVKBIE. 
 
 seemed to say to ire, with its harsh, grating sound, " There is no 
 retreating now ; your fate incloses you." I rallied with a strong 
 effort, took the reins from Jasper's hands, and cantered through 
 the grounds by his side, gathering courage and dream-like compo- 
 sure at every step that brought me nearer to certainty. I scarcely 
 knew how to command myself to dismount calmly and enter the 
 house, and even give our names to the attendant. The governor 
 was at home, and we were ushered at once into his presence. 
 
 He was standing on the rug of the drawing-room or hearth as 
 we entered, engaged in reading a newspaper. Chairs placed in a 
 circle around the blazing coal fire, showed that he had not been 
 long alone ; the occupants had probably gone out on hearing of 
 the approach of " strangers on important business," for thus we 
 had heralded ourselves. 
 
 He advanced toward us with extended hands as we reached the 
 middle of the room, and, with a face beaming with cordial kind- 
 ness said, " Give me your names, my young friends my servant 
 announced them indistinctly ; and, if my memory serves me, we 
 have not met before." 
 
 I could not speak to him for the stricture in my throat ; and, 
 for all answer, Jasper placed the petition in his outstretched 
 hands, instead of accepting them in greeting. He took it 
 gravely, scrutinized the direction, stepped back to his standing- 
 place on the rug, waved his hand to us to follow him, pointing 
 courteously to chairs as we did so, and immediately commenced 
 the perusal of the document. Too much excited to sit down, we 
 Ktood on either side of him, both reading the face invested with 
 such awful attributes of authority, the power of life and death, as 
 if from its lineaments and expression we could gather the doom 
 before us.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOCVERIE. 141 
 
 It was an open, stern, handsome face, as one might wish to see, 
 looking far younger than it was, as I knew later ; not of the 
 highest order of intellectual refinement, but benevolent, intelligent, 
 and true. The figure that upheld that manly head was tall, ro- 
 bust, and commanding, with something of the military mold 
 about it, revealing, far more than the countenance above, a deter- 
 mined and even inflexible character. As he read on, the beaming-, 
 candid expression he had worn in the beginning became clouded, 
 his brows contracted, his lips quivered with emotion of some sort 
 pity, I trusted it might be and a dark red flush came to his 
 sunburnt cheek, the muscles of which twitched nervously. Strange 
 contradiction of feeling ! as I saw his agitation increase, mine 
 diminished. We were approaching more nearly to the same level, 
 and I began to feel a power within me, unsuspected until then, to 
 cope and contend with a strong nature even to the bitter end. I 
 drew my long habit back from my feet, so as to lie like a train 
 behind me, and leave my steps unembarrassed. I swept back my 
 hair, I clenched my riding-whip with both hands across my knees ; 
 the outer movements corresponded with the internal resolution, 
 and I felt nerved as with steel to die in the struggle, if needs were, 
 rather than yield the point dearer than life itself. Resolution 
 how impotent, when power and prejudice were its opponents ! 
 
 When he had finished reading the petition, the governor turned 
 to Jasper, now standing pale and steadily before him. 
 
 "Are you Jasper Quintilian?" he asked. 
 
 He was answered by a bend of the head. 
 
 "Are you awa.re," he continued, in cold, constrained accents, 
 " that a paper like this was once before presented for my signature 
 -offered, and rejected ?" 
 
 AgaVi the silent bow was the ouly I'e
 
 142 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIH. 
 
 "A longer list of names was then appended than I find here 
 now; yet there are two, that, but for convictions of my own, 
 might outweigh a legion those of the son and brother of the 
 murdered man ! Truly, a strange proceeding, reversing all prece- 
 dent known to me in my whole experience of life, and running 
 counter to the natural laws that govern mankind. Most extra- 
 ordinary 1" 
 
 " This is the spirit of the Christian law," I ventured to say ; 
 " higher than any law of Nature herself." 
 
 He turned to me almost fiercely men like him can so ill bear 
 the suggestions of women. 
 
 " You are, I suppose, the Lilian de Courcy mentioned here as 
 the grand-daughter of Erastus Bouverie ?" and he laid his quiver- 
 ing finger on the petition. " Much cause have you to pray for the 
 life of him who tore mother and child apart, and exiled you and 
 yours ! How can this be accounted for ? It is infatuation it is 
 misjudged devotion, weakness, or worse." 
 
 I saw the change in Jasper's face at these words, and, laying my 
 hand on his arm, I grasped it tightly ; then stepping between the 
 two excited men, I spoke a few sentences in subdued accents, 
 faltering between each in the agony of my suppressed emotion. 
 
 " I came not here to reason, Governor Staunton affection and 
 ties of blood are things beyond human understanding nor yet to 
 venture upon equal ground with you. Yours is the power we 
 are mere suppliants. Yet, in old times, there was a sanctity at- 
 tached to that attitude, which protected " I could not pro- 
 
 Deed, but stood silent and panting before him. 
 
 His manly nature was touched Lie took my unresisting hand, 
 now hanging loosely at my side, and held it a moment. 
 
 " Forgive me, if I have been wanting in any way to you, uiy
 
 \ 
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOU7EK1E. 143 
 
 guests," be said ; then looking at Jasper, he added, " speak to me 
 yourself, Mr. Quintilian ; matters of this sort are best discussed 
 between man and man. We must spare this young lady." 
 
 " He cannot speak he has never spoken," I said. " Oh, do 
 you think I would be so unwomanly as to take the words from his 
 lips if he were capable of uttering them ? This is a last necessity 
 with me." 
 
 "A stringent one, indeed," he said, gravely. "Under these 
 peculiar circumstances, your friends should not have sent you here 
 to give, and receive, so much inevitable pain." 
 
 " You do not mean," I whispered, "oh, you cannot mean " and 
 losing sight of all ceremony in the strong excitement of the moment, 
 I laid my gloved hand on his arm, and looked anxiously into his face, 
 speaking now with vehemence " that you would refuse me, us, all 
 that love him, the remnant the bare, worn remnant of my grand- 
 father's most miserable life ! I have read you wrong, if a cruel soul, 
 like this, abides under lineaments like yours. Oh, reflect, you who 
 have walked in the day all your life without a pang of shame, or 
 any need of disguise or concealment, on that long, long hiding away 
 from the face of his fellow-men he, gifted, great by nature, above 
 any of them ; on the stagnant present, on the hopeless future, on 
 the remorseful past, that made up my grandfather's existence. 
 Think, also, in your merciful compassion, think you, that through 
 the awful power you wield, represent your Creator himself in some 
 sort of the hearts that trembled constantly during that ten 
 years' immurement, for one so closely bound to them by ties of 
 blood and circumstance, that his dishonor had become their dis- 
 honor ; and his sorrow, their sorrow. Think of the forbearance, 
 the care, the vigilance, that must have been exercised in his behalf 
 to preserve his secret, and prolong his life, hanging, as it has d?n
 
 144 
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIK, 
 
 for years, on a mere thread ! Is there nothing due to such sacri- 
 fices as have been made for him ? nothing to time itself?" and I 
 repeated Mr. Clavering's noble sentiment, " Time the best expia- 
 tion ? Nothing to those who have merged their lives in his, and 
 who must be crashed by his disgrace and punishment beyond 
 human reparation !" 
 
 " Miss de Courcy, dear young lady," he rejoined, " I admire, 1 
 honor your devotion ; but my first duty as a feeble representa- 
 tive of my Creator, responsible to him, is to be just. I have 
 lately been recalling all the features of this case. They are very 
 revolting ; you probably do not know the extent of turpitude 
 involved in the crime in question." 
 
 " I do not wish to know more than I do know," I said passion- 
 ately. "It is not my business to sit in judgment on him who 
 gave me being ; but if my own life could redeem his, I would 
 freely give it aye, as freely as I speak these words !" 
 
 " Be tranquil," he said, " I will come again. When I return, 
 let me find you more composed." 
 
 He turned suddenly away, and left the room. For a few mo- 
 oaents we were quite alone. Jasper sat by me, holding my icy 
 hands, and bending on my face his tender eyes, full of compas- 
 sionate solicitude. I trembled violently. I felt that I was ill. 
 Black attendants came in bearing salvers of cake, and fruit, and 
 wine (Governor Staunton still adhered to the remnant of slavery 
 in the land), and urged, with the familiarity born of kindness, 
 that can never be eradicated from this race, these refreshments 
 on our appetites. 
 
 Jasper held a bunch of grapes before me. I waved it away, a 
 glass of water was all my burning throat could receive. The 
 servants moved gently through the room as though in the presence
 
 TBE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 1 45 
 
 of sickness, placed the chairs in order, brushed the hearth, ad- 
 justed the crimson curtains so as to shut out the brilliant winter 
 sun, and softly retired. There was something soothing to my ex- 
 cited nerves in this gentle ministry. I leaned back in the great 
 cushioned chair I occupied, and from my closed eyes the tears 
 streamed slowly, yet gratefully, affording me infinite relief. The 
 warmth of the fire was soothing to my chilled frame, its rigidity 
 Beeined to relax as I basked in the cheerful blaze. I was con- 
 scious of little more until I awoke from a profound refreshing 
 slumber. A low but distinct voice was speaking near me when I 
 aroused from sleep, as if in continuance of a narrative. Its mur- 
 muring sound bad already mingled with my sleeping thoughts like 
 falling water. I found it now to be the voice of Governor 
 Staunton. 
 
 " I passed him on the bridge," he said, " between Moorfields 
 and Grosveuor. The night had been cloudy in the commence- 
 ment, but suddenly, as if God's providence were in this revelation, 
 the moon emerged from behind a mass of clouds, as a face that 
 suddenly looks out from parted curtains, and in its clear flood of 
 light, Erastus Bouverie, on his fleet black horse, dashed by me. 
 He did not see me I am sure, for I was on foot and walking near 
 the handrail in the shadow, but he passed so close to me, that I 
 felt the breath of his fiery horse ' Sahib ' in my face. He had 
 ridden far and fast I could see plainly by the fatigued expression 
 of his own face, revealed in the ghastly moonlight. His eyes 
 were fixed in the direction of Bouverie, his upper lip was drawn 
 back, and his white teeth were bare and set together, gleaming 
 like steel. I could hear his tight, hard breathing. ' He is going 
 home sooner than he said he would do. How characteristic 
 of the man,' I thought. ' I hope he may not follow Camilla
 
 146 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 to the ball, and that she may prove successful with Frederick,' 
 Some almost prophetic misgivings crept through my mind ; but, 
 alas ! how little I looked forward to the terrible revelation of 
 the next day, when the river gave up its dead, and the mangled 
 form of Frederick Staunton, cut literally to pieces, was brought 
 to Grosvenor. I can never forget its horrors." 
 
 There was a pause. Jasper was writing on his tablets. The 
 governor was reading his reply. 
 
 " This is true. He did prove an alibi, by suborned witnesses, 
 I am convinced, and the grand jury did dismiss the matter hi a 
 summary way, that reflected discredit on me at the time. I was 
 accused of malignity and ill will toward an unoffending man, who 
 had returned from a distant journey some days after the murder, 
 and was perfectly innocent of its details, and my political pros- 
 pects were nearly blighted at the time. I lived this down, I boro 
 it with what patience I could command, silently, bitterly, yet not 
 revengefully, since I did not take the life of a villain who passed 
 almost daily before my eyes. Yet with my brother's body I did not 
 bury my bitter sense of wrong. I was a law-abiding, a Christian 
 man, but nature cried out within me, and her voice could not be 
 quieted. The time came at last nearly twenty years later, 
 when my enemy lay in a dungeon, doomed to die for a crime not 
 half so black as that which had passed for a time unpunished. 
 God has his own way of bringing an offender to justice, his life 
 depended on my clemency at last. I was rock to his entreaties, 
 hi which his martyred wife and your injured uncle did not then 
 unite. Great names were appended to that petition ; I laughed 
 them to scorn. What were they in comparison with the passion 
 that possessed me ? I promised myself joy at seeing him on the 
 scaffold, and would have shared his punishment, I believe, rather
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 147 
 
 than have commuted it. I thanked my God that by my refusal I 
 was permitted to vindicate his violated laws. On my knees 1 
 thanked him. Such were my feelings to Erastus Bouverie on 
 that occasion, feelings so natural that no man can blame me for 
 entertaining them ; has anything occurred to change them now ? 
 You know the wretched farce, or perhaps you do not, that was 
 played ; the simulated death, the demand for his body by his wife, 
 tmconscious of the fraud that his servant and he had practised 
 through his wonderful knowledge of the power of certain drugs ; 
 the mock burial, the marble tombstone, each and all characteristic 
 of the man himself. All this has come to light recently. I do 
 not blame Mrs. Bouverie. She has acted nobly. I respect Dr. 
 Quintiliau's motives, yours, his grand-daughter's ; but toward 
 him, my heart is stone, and my brother's blood cries on me from 
 the ground." 
 
 I rose and stood before them. I had thrown my riding-hat on 
 the floor by my chair, when I reclined in it first ; my long 
 plaited hair lay over my shoulders in distinct masses, my cheeks I 
 felt were burning. I know that I must have presented a very 
 strange and even wild appearance ; but I did not think of this 
 then, nor until long afterward. 
 
 " Governor Staunton," I said ; " I have heard what you have 
 been saying. Your sorrow, your wrong through my unhappy 
 grandfather have been grievous enough, God knows ; but it is 
 not for this we are petitioning pardon. We ask you to forego 
 the sentence passed by Judge Wardlaw, on him ten years ago, 
 whereby he was condemned to die for the murder of Dr. Quin. 
 tilian. It is for that offence we ask you to pardon him." 
 
 " 1 understand my duty well enough, I hope, Miss de Coiurcy, 
 to assure you that it does not transcend this point ! Yet, feel-
 
 14:8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 ings natural to man will arise in this case to strengthen the 
 claims of justice, and nerve me to fulfill its mandates. This man's 
 life was forfeited to the laws of his country, not to any private 
 vengeance of mine. It remains so. There is no more to be said." 
 
 "No more ?" I repeated, with irrepressible indignation. " Oh! 
 much more ; but I am not the one to say it ! I told you, Jas- 
 per," I moaned, in low quivering accents, throwing myself on his 
 arm, and burying my head in his breast ; " that we should fail ! 
 I felt that feeble creatures like ourselves could do nothing in the 
 face of authority and armed law. Oh, years of suffering ! pain, 
 prayer, sorrow, regret, remorse, despair, do you all go for no- 
 thing ? Is there no mercy for offending man, save with his God, 
 beyond the grave ?" 
 
 A low groan escaped Jasper's lips, the first distinct sound I had 
 ever heard them emit. My God, how it thrilled me! I looked up. 
 " Oh, man of power !" I said, "the voice of heaven is speaking to 
 you now ! Even those dumb lips are touched to utter groans in 
 the great cause of humanity. I make to you one more appeal 
 for his sake, hear me," and I pointed to Jasper. " I am his voice, 
 his life ; but I cannot fulfill the bond between us, should my 
 father, the only one I have ever known, die on the scaffold, for 
 having shed his father's blood. The past, the expiated past, for 
 such we all feel it, is forgiven now, and overlooked ; but fresh 
 spilled blood must come between us forever. Oh, Governor 
 Staunton, I ask you for our happiness. We are young, we are 
 devoted ; do not place impassable horrors between us ! Think 
 how divine a privilege you enjoy, to confer happiness, God's best 
 gift. And, oh ! remember the agony of the cross, the forgiven 
 penitent, the last divine prayer of the suffering Jesus, the holy 
 prerogative of forgiveness. Will you reject these more thau
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 149 
 
 mortal attributes of power, and use it for human purposes of 
 vengeance and hate alone ? I think, Governor Staunton, if I am 
 not greatly deceived in you," I said, speaking more calmly ; 
 " that bitterly as you have suffered at his hands, you would have 
 prtied my grandfather could you have seen him as we saw him a 
 few nights ago, returning sick, exhausted to his household, after 
 lying concealed in a cave during almost the whole of our stormy 
 November, on a bed of leaves made by his own hands, and saved 
 by Providence alone, through the accidental entrance, as it 
 seemed to him, of a poor idiot. I think your noble heart would 
 have melted could you have beheld him, worn to skeleton lean- 
 ness, creeping feebly, humbly, like a beggar into his own house, 
 where he scarcely dared hope for a welcome, and asking only 
 what you would not deny to your meanest, most offending slave 
 Jie privilege to die in his bed, surrounded by his family. You 
 will grant him this blessing, will you not, Governor Staunton ? 
 He is a dying man ; you will suffer him to pass away in peace 
 into the hands of his Maker ? You are not revengeful, not relent- 
 less ; surely, you will not refuse this boon, in the plenitude of 
 your power ?" I paused for his reply. I waited in vain ; he 
 made me none, and again I burst forth. 
 
 " Oh, speak ! your silence kills me I Tell me that I have not 
 presumed too far in entreating thus your merciful forbearance. 
 Say you will cancel his offences, and write your name on our 
 grateful hearts next to that of God himself !" I knelt before 
 him, I bathed his powerful hands with scalding tears. Again, in 
 the impatience of my agouy, and the sore continuance of his 
 silence, I sent forth the bitter cry of extremity, still kneeling at 
 his feet. 
 
 " Speak to me, if only one word ; but let that word be
 
 150 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVF.RIE. 
 
 paraiii!" and I buried my face against his knees, and clasped 
 them wildly. 
 
 He did not speak to me he could not. Jasper told me after- 
 ward that he had never seen a man more affected ; but, suddenly 
 raising me to a seat, he passed from the room abruptly. Had he 
 carried the petition with him ? I dared not ask 1 
 
 There have been weeks to me more fleet than the brief moments 
 of his absence. It seems, even now, in looking back upon it, to 
 hare been a long and dreary interval of half-consciousness, such as 
 the soul might experience in the sepulchral period between death 
 and judgment, could such a ghastly inconsistency be true. 
 
 He returned, and handed a paper to Jasper, who examined it 
 deliberately, then brought it to me. I rose to receive it, I trem- 
 bled, I grasped at the nearest chair. The room seemed to reel 
 around me, the carpet rose hi waves, and the roar of waters 
 was on my ear. I had overtasked my strength, it forsook me, 
 and I fell forward fainting at Governor Stiuntou's feet, still hold- 
 ing to my heart the paper I could not read, but which I knew 
 contained my grandfather's pardon.
 
 THE HOUBIaloCb OF BOUVEEIB. 151 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JASPEK returned alone to Bouverie. The fever that the tumult 
 of the last week had stirred in my blood, laid violent hands upoii 
 me now, and for ten days I did not lift my head from its pillow. 
 I was cared for in Governor Staunton's family, like one of them ; 
 and Dr. Quintil, wisest of leeches, kindest of nurses, kept constant 
 watch by my side. He never considered me in immediate danger, 
 which alone would have brought my grandmother from her 
 habitual seclusion, and her ill husband ; yet it was nearly three 
 weeks before I felt strong enough to set forth on my homeward 
 way. My very anxiety to do this, interfered with my ability to 
 undertake the journey, I hare no doubt, since every wish, dream, 
 and thought of my being pointed to Bouverie, and prevented that 
 repose of mind most conducive to speedy recovery. Jasper came 
 and went repeatedly, during this interval, detailing to me faith- 
 fully, as far as it was judicious to do so, the condition of things 
 at home, and bringing me messages of love from my grand- 
 parents. 
 
 Mr. Clavering, too, came more than once during my conva- 
 lescence, and was received, on the last occasion of his calling, a 
 few days before I left Bellevue. He remained some hours, and 
 confirmed the delightful impression he had made at first ; and yet, 
 there was nothing in his manner then, to prepare me for what 
 followed so soon afterward. "When at last the hour came for my 
 departure, there was a tender leave-taking between their guest and 
 the whole family, from the governor's wife and daughters down tc
 
 152 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIK. 
 
 the sable attendants, who had done so much to alleviate her suf- 
 ferings. Gold could not pay for such kindness as these domestics 
 had lavished upon me, though Dr. Quintil spared not this on the 
 occasion of niy recovery, so important to him, he thought, and all 
 that loved me. "Wrapped in shawls and furs, I was placed by the 
 governor's own hands for he would have it thus in his comfort- 
 able family carriage, and drawn swiftly home by his four stout 
 horses. The twenty miles were accomplished in a few hours. 
 
 " Rouse, Lilian," said Dr. Quintil for with the languor still 
 clinging around me of recent sickness, I dozed nearly all the dis- 
 tance " and look your best. We are approaching Bouvcrie." I 
 sat up, and, for one moment, I was a child again, so vividly did 
 that hour return to my recollection, when he brought me home 
 first, and spoke to me in nearly the same words ; and now, as then, 
 the branches swept across the carriage with their harsh, repulsive 
 grating, though clothed with autumn foliage before, and bare and 
 desolate now. But the very opposite to this contrast had 
 occurred in my own being. The blank misery of my childish deso- 
 lation had been replaced by blessings unspeakable, and the vivid- 
 ness with which, for a moment, the past returned to me, and the 
 joy with which I put it aside, proved, by the bleak anguish it 
 occasioned me, the infinite superiority of my present lot. 
 
 " Thank God ! we are at home again !" I murmured, as the 
 carriage paused before the door, where fond arms were open to 
 receive me, and words, and smiles, and tears, vied in endearment 
 of Welcome. 
 
 " My Lilian has been ill 1" my grandmother said ; " more ill 
 than they told me. I see from her changed face and shrunken 
 form." 
 
 " Never mind that, now, dear grandmother ; how is he ?"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIB. 153 
 
 " Oh, better, Lilian, better ! yet, to the outward eye alone, 
 much worse ! Worn to a shadow, passing tranquilly away, at 
 peace with God and man a lowly Christian at last, for he has 
 received baptism, and even the extreme unction. All worldly 
 schemes and visions laid at rest. You will find him thus, 
 Lilian." 
 
 We went in together, after I had laid aside my wrappings, and 
 smoothed my hair, so that I might not seem unfamiliar to his 
 eyes. He was lying on his couch, placed at right angles with 
 the fire, facing the great bow-window in her chamber, which my 
 grandmother's thoughtful hand had lined with blooming plants, in 
 vivid contrast with the desolation without. He seemed to be 
 gazing, wrapped in thought, perhaps, through the transparent 
 panes, on the desolate face of nature spread before his view, dearer 
 to his long imprisoned eye than all the beauty of artificial bloom. 
 His face was averted, as we entered ; but, hearing our steps, he 
 turned. I was not prepared for such a startling change. I had 
 not thought that one always so thin could be so much thinner. 
 God forgive me, if the idea of a " weir wolf" suggested itself to 
 me as I beheld him. And there lay my broken idol 1 
 
 " Oh, grandfather 1" I murmured, kneeling beside him, and 
 smothering my cries in the bed-clothes, yet sobbing convulsively. I 
 felt his hand patting my head feebly for some tune before he spoke. 
 
 " Don't, darling ! don't 1" he said at last. " Be patient, your 
 trouble will soon be over. Don't make me cough, Lilian." 
 
 I was calm in a moment, as I have once before said, as by an 
 impulse of self-command, and looking up, I tried to smile on him, 
 through my bitter, blinding tears. 
 
 " It was hardly worth the effort, Lilian ; the ride, and the 
 ecene, and the sickness, to save such a poor effigy of life as
 
 154 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 remains to me. Yet it was weE meant, and nobly done, and I 
 thank you." 
 
 I kissed his emaciated hands, his skeleton forehead, for all 
 answer, and passing my hand through his still beautiful waving 
 hair, proiuse as that of a boy, gazed at him steadfastly, mourn- 
 fully. He was indeed passing away. The comparison of the 
 sword wearing through the sheath, suited the peculiarity of his 
 decay. The glimmer of the steel might almost be imagined in 
 that brilliant, dying face. His eyes, once small in comparison 
 with his other features, now rolled in their sunken sockets, like 
 great glittering globes of quicksilver covered with a glaze of 
 black glass ; his magnificent teeth stood out in skeleton fierce- 
 ness, the tight lips scarcely covering them, and the skin seemed 
 growing literally to his cheek-bones and temples ; the last pil- 
 lared and ridged like those of a grand old statue. " Oh, what a 
 man was here in the beginning," I thought. " What process of 
 mind, of education, or of circumstance had power to warp this 
 majestic creature from his native integrity ? Has he been, like 
 Job, a mere sport of evil spirits, an experiment in the hands of 
 his Maker ? Oh, no, no I I will not dream such things even ! 
 I dare not, it is blasphemous. I am groping in the shadow at 
 best, and fate is above all comprehension. His was a dark, 
 dark destiny 1" 
 
 With thoughts like these at work in my bosom, I rose and left 
 him for a time, until rest and refreshment should prepare me 
 more fully to assist those around me in the arduous task of watch- 
 ing him night and day, as they were obliged to do toward the last. 
 
 As the strength of others declined, and mine returned, he be- 
 came my almost nightly charge. He slept so ill that he enjoyed 
 my society more during the night watch than any other time.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 155 
 
 He used to remark that my voice refreshed him, like the sound of 
 falling water. " It is so clear, so sweet, so life-giving," he would 
 say, " in comparison with those disciplined tones that tell of hard 
 world service, and practised restraint." 
 
 "Thank God, Lilian 1" he observed to me one night, "if only for 
 the glorious gift of impulse you possess. When it belongs to a 
 vigorous nature like yours, no better steed could be found to bear 
 one over the rough places of life, but like the flying horse of the 
 Indian in Arabian story, it takes a strong hand to govern and to 
 guide." 
 
 " Woe then for the weakly impulsive, grandfather," I said ; 
 " better coldness and caution forever. It is at best a dangerous 
 gift." 
 
 " I have never been impulsive," he said. " I know not the joy, 
 the triumph of the sensation. All that I have done wrong, aa 
 men esteem these things, has been done deliberately, and has never 
 been regretted." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, I am grieved to hear this from your lips. I 
 never believed it before." 
 
 " You do not make the proper distinction, child. In looking 
 back over my life, I can see where I have erred : it must be so, 
 since others have suffered by my acts. Yet I think I would do 
 the same thing again with the same motives at work, and do 
 them with the same deliberation, and having so done them, re- 
 morse becomes hypocrisy. It is only the impulsive who can atone 
 by penitence for their ill deeds ; cool offenders are shut out by 
 the nature of things from any such resource." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, all is forgiven now 1 You have clasped the 
 holy cross, you are a Christian 1" 
 
 He did not answer for some time ; at last he said :
 
 156 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKEE. 
 
 " I am glad you mentioned the word 'cross,' Lilian. I would 
 speak to you of yours. I have done worse things that have cost 
 me fewer pangs than the crushing of your little cross." 
 
 " Never miud that now, grandfather ; it occasions me no 
 longer a regret, a thought even. Be at peace." 
 
 " That was a failure like the rest, Lilian. I will not die de- 
 ceiving you." (Alas, I had known it ever since the conversation 
 with my grandmother about the ring and the gnome eye jewel.) 
 " But I have kept this splendid gem for you, not so much to repay 
 you for the loss of your diamonds, as to prove my affection for 
 you. It is the jewel I have most valued of all I have ever pos- 
 sessed ; a great monarch placed it on my hand, a bold, bad man, 
 like myself, Lilian, but shielded away from human censure by 
 almost superhuman power," and he drew from his bosom and 
 opened the small mother of pearl box containing the magnificent 
 jewel, now restored to its setting. 
 
 " Take it, my love," he said, " and keep it for my sake." I 
 received it mutely. " It is all I have to bequeath to you, Lilian," 
 he added. " My estate, whatever it is, has long been testated to 
 your grandmother during her life. I made my will in a prison of 
 Russia, and will not change it now that devotion and self-sacrifice 
 on her part have more than ever entitled her to enjoy its provisions ; 
 but all will be yours some day yours and Jasper's," he almost 
 gasped. The compromise cost him dear ; how bitter were his 
 prejudices. " They have told me all," he added, gloomily. " I 
 bore the announcement calmly necessity knows no law yet it 
 was the last bitter drop that made my cup run over. Poetical 
 justice, sentimental people would call such a union eh, Lilian P 
 he said, with that sudden levity habitual to him, and with hi^ 
 bright, sarcastic smile. " I call it," he began " bar "
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 157 
 
 " Grandfather !" I laid niy deprecating hand on his, and 
 checked the expression he was about to utter. " We will waive 
 this subject, if you please," I said gravely, " at least until, you 
 can consider it more complacently." 
 
 " Forever then," he replied with a slight impatient gesture, nor 
 was it ever resumed between us. " And now, Lilian, will you 
 read me from the Bible ?" 
 
 " What portion, grandfather ?" I asked eagerly, thrilled as I 
 was by the unusual nature of the request. " Which of the books 
 of the Apostles shall I choose ?" 
 
 "Neither," he said. "They do not stir me, Lilian. Read to 
 me from the Book of Job, the grand lamentations of the man 
 whose clue of fate was given into Satan's hand ; or read me 
 the solemn charge of Jacob to his sons, and let me interpret my 
 own nature therefrom ; or read me David's death scene, and his 
 last words to Solomon, when the hoarded hate of a whole life 
 burst forth and asserted wronged human nature, triumphant to 
 the last, over all the mummery of priesthood. I should have 
 lived in those days, Lilian ! Men acted out their natures then, 
 and power was called munificence, and will inspiration. David 
 was a man after God's own heart, yet how have I been 
 worse than David? Only unsuccessful, Lilian a reproach in 
 itself !" 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, different conduct is demanded now. Christ's 
 teachings" I commenced. 
 
 " Lilian, the heart of man is unchanged by time ; it beats now 
 as in the days of Jacob, attuned to the self-same chords of love, 
 hatred, self-interest, that ruled it then. These new precepts are 
 only skin deep, they improve the surface of society only ; the old 
 sores fester within."
 
 158 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEREE. 
 
 There was no use of reasoning with him, his sophistry had so 
 completely taken possession of his being that its subtle poison 
 had penetrated to the very sources of thought itself ; but I re- 
 flected how directly opposed to all he was saying, and deluding 
 himself to believe, had been the conduct of his own household of 
 Bouverie. One need to have gone no further to have proved 
 the beauty and the truth of Christian law, comprised in the 
 few words, love, duty, and forbearance, for self-sacrifice is only 
 the result, the aggregate of these three, and includes forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 "You are not going to read to me, Lilian?" he went on to 
 say, after waiting a moment for me to begin. 
 
 "Yes indeed, grandfather, gladly, whenever you make your 
 selection. What shall it be ? Perhaps you will listen to 
 one of the Psalms, grandfather ?" I asked, almost afraid that 
 he would refuse me. I understood from a motion of his hand 
 that I might proceed. I read to him first the fifty-second 
 Psalm, and afterward, encouraged by his silence, the one hun- 
 dred and second Psalm, as those which, as well as I could 
 remember, best suited his condition. He was profoundly 
 touched. He groaned aloud when I read the verse in the 
 first, "Deliver me from blood guiltiness, my God, thou 
 God of my salvation, and my tongue shall sing aloud of thy 
 righteousness ;" and when, a little further on, I came to the pas- 
 sage, " The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit ; a broken and a 
 contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." He covered his 
 face suddenly with his hands, and shook convulsively. When I 
 had finished reading the second Psalm, he repeated after me a few 
 sentences that had touched him, as if unconsciously. He had 
 Twrhaps committed them in childhood, for I can scarcely thiuk ouo
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 159 
 
 hearing would have impressed his ear so accurately. They were 
 these : 
 
 " ' My heart is smitten and withered like grass, so that I forget to eat my 
 bread. 
 
 " ' By reason of my groaning, my bones cleave to my skin. 
 
 " ' Mine enemies reproach me all the day, and they that are mad 
 against me are sworn against me. 
 
 " ' For I have eaten ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with 
 weeping. 
 
 " ' Because of thy indignation and thy wrath, for thou hast lifted me up 
 and cast me down. 
 
 " ' My days are like a shadow that declineth, and I am withered like 
 grass.' " 
 
 Or perhaps in his great solitude my grandfather had made that 
 marvellous mirror of the heart of man his study, and found in 
 the masterpiece of antiquity, with all its horrors and magnificent 
 rhapsodies, companionship more suitable to his nature than in the 
 teachings of the meek and perfect Jesus. Be it as it may, he seemed 
 to revel in the grand imagery and terse eloquence of the inspired 
 Jewish writers, and to feel himself at home with those sentiments 
 from which Christians naturally recoil. 
 
 I began to think Bishop Clarj3 was right, and that for some 
 natures, at least, the Bible was dangerous food. The ancient 
 Bible I mean only. No one could mistake the teachings of Christ, 
 too simple to need a creed, or require an interpreter. Let every 
 man read for himself, and seek assistance, not guidance, in the 
 light of others, according to his best necessities 
 
 " So shall the world be purified and made 
 Fit for the glory of the latter days."
 
 160 
 
 During another night-watch, when the subject nearest the 
 hearts of all that loved or cared for him was again introduced, I 
 ventured to offer him my heartfelt congratulations on the pros- 
 pect of eternal happiness before him. 
 
 " Eternal happiness !" he repeated, " why not eternal despair 
 as well, Lilian ? Facts are indestructible, philosophers say, and 
 if I deserved God's punishment once, I deserve it still. But, 
 fortunately for my peace of mind, I have long known that 
 there is but one thing eternal in God's universe, and that is 
 change. Mutability is the sole permanence." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, this is self-mockery, and you cannot, must not 
 believe so darkly. I was so happy in the belief that you were 
 a Catholic, and open to the conviction of a death-bed repentance." 
 
 " Have I not told you, that it lay not in me to repent ; what 
 more remains ? Yet above all human institutions of the sort, I 
 respect that church, and it was due to others, to Camilla,, to 
 Bishop Clare, to my ancestry even, to avow my allegiance to its 
 magnificence, its antiquity, its merciful tenets, so superior to all 
 other Christian teachings." 
 
 He paused for a reply. I made none. He continued : 
 
 " You arc disappointed. I am sorry. Yet I will not deceive 
 you, Lilian ; ' deep calls unto deep,' you know, and ' blood answers 
 unto true blood.' Let others enjoy the happiness of delusion in 
 my case, if happiness it be. You must know the truth, come weal 
 come woe. Yet be discreet ; let no one suffer through these 
 revelations. I have done my best to satisfy all around me as far 
 as externals go. For the inner man I am accountable and respon- 
 sible to God alone." 
 
 " Such an accountability, grandfather !" I groaned rather than 
 nttered " Such a dreadful responsibility ! Oh, trust in Jesus,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 161 
 
 the mediator, the comforter, the atoner, by whose precious blood 
 alone your skis can be washed away 1" 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot accept this faith," he said earnestly. 
 " It is beautiful, but impossible. Belief cannot be compelled. I 
 am not to blame, therefore, even in the eyes of Divinity, if I 
 remain incredulous. The perfect Christ will pity and forgive me, 
 if wrong ; and for the rest, God knows I have suffered enough, 
 nor have I wearied any ear, not even his, with my complaints. 
 If there is anything further to be endured, I shall count my- 
 self persecuted, and take satisfaction in the thought. God 
 is just, I hope, and justice is all I ask. A quiet sleep with 
 no awakening. It is a reasonable request. He will grant it, 
 Lilian, or we _have mistaken his nature." 
 
 " And your immortal soul, grandfather ? Think you that can 
 sleep forever ?" 
 
 j [;.;,: -{HI iJ; ' 
 
 He smiled his brilliant, Voltaire smile, mocking and shimmer- 
 ing as sheet lightning. 
 
 " Life is the soul," he said. " When that is extinct, all is 
 over. Blow out the candle, whither goes the flame ?" 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, you seal our eternal separation by such 
 words. If your doctrine were true, how dark, how terrible would 
 our parting seem to me. But no, thank heaven, mere belief can 
 mold no law of life or death, and I will wrestle for you against 
 this terrible conviction, with prayer and faith, as Jacob wrestled 
 all night in his tent with the unseen enemy, and rose exhausted, 
 yet victorious at the last." 
 
 " Lilian, this is vain. I have lived my life ; it has been a 
 failure, and life-worshipper as I am, and have been, I would not 
 undertake it again if I could, even in this delightful world. I 
 desire no new theatre of action. Peace, quiet, rest, these are all
 
 162 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEREE. 
 
 the future presents desirable or endurable even, to the schemer, 
 the dreamer, the lover, the hater of his kind, the greatly-erring, 
 yet deeply suffering mortal, Erastus Bouverie." 
 
 Yet again I read to him, and at his own request, portions of 
 those beautiful Psalms, in hearing which he seemed now to place 
 his chief comfort ; making me repeat almost daily that which 
 appeared his favorite, beginning "Save me, JLord, for the 
 waters have come in unto my soul." 
 
 I have heard him, with ineffable pity, murmuring portions of 
 this Psalm in his broken slumber : 
 
 " Let me be delivered from them that hate me, and out of the deep 
 waters. 
 
 " Thou hast known my reproach, and my shame, and my dishonor. My 
 adversaries are all before thee. 
 
 " Reproach hath broken my heart, and I am full of heaviness." 
 
 These are some passages that I remember to have gathered 
 from his sleeping lips. 
 
 But if these grand and sorrowful lamentations escaped him 
 during periods of unconsciousness, not less did his slumbers reveal 
 the unquiet nature of his ever recurring thoughts to those strange 
 visions which had once blindly possessed him. I believe that my 
 grandmother, from the very exhaustion of her nervous condition, 
 was spared the suffering of hearing or understanding those muttered 
 words, which revealed so much that he disavowed when conscious 
 and awake. With his elixir of gold, an exciting remedy, which 
 the physicians sternly forbade, provoking hemorrhage, as it now 
 invariably did, he seemed to have put away all his mad dreams of 
 alchemy, and schemes of unbounded fcrtune. But his sleeping 
 lips murmured a different story.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 163 
 
 " We Khali yet succeed, Fabius," he would mutter ; " build 
 the fires, we are losing time." 
 
 Again. " Boiling gold ! It is a glorious sight. The sun was 
 made this way. Light was an afterthought." 
 
 " Old man," he said one day, " this is our last throw for 
 fortune. We must compel them into one. More pressure, 
 Fabius. You are timid, let me have the handle. My God ! all 
 is lost ! 
 
 " Diamonds I frigid fire you mean," he whispered, " how glo- 
 rious they are ! the souls of the mineral kingdom. Ah, give 
 me my gnome eye, there is luck in that 1 Napoleon lost it at 
 Moscow, they say. Alexander found it. Fortune changed mas- 
 ters there that was all. Fate is chance." 
 
 It was merciful to rouse him at such times, he seemed to suffer 
 so, to strain every nerve, every muscle, and to speak with such 
 difficulty. Violent fits of coughing usually succeeded these som- 
 nambulic phases ; and in one of these, surrounded by his house- 
 hold, impotent to aid him, yet suffering with him every convulsive 
 throb, and lying in the arms of his weeping wife, whose embrace 
 could with difficulty restrain him in his fierce agony, he suddenly 
 expired. 
 
 We could scarcely realize death in the swiftness of his doom. 
 An hour before he had been laughing, jesting even, in his peculiar 
 way, had taken food, then slept, muttered in his sleep, roused up 
 coughing, and stepped at once into the awful Presence. He 
 lay pale, rigid, masterful even in death ; foam on his pale 
 lips, tinged with blood, constantly exuding, constantly wiped 
 away by her whose blood it was, during the long, dull day, 
 the creeping, mournful night that interposed between him and 
 the grave.
 
 104: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 We laid him at the foot of that marble monument, erected 
 years before over his seeming grave, and on which his name alone 
 was written ; to which my grandmother caused to be added, the 
 simple word, " INFELIX." 
 
 [The narrative of Lilian de Courcy was never resumed. It was the work 
 of another hand to write these concluding chapters, which embrace Boos 
 EIGHTH OF THE HOUSEHOLD OF Bouvsuis.}
 
 BOOK EIGHTH. 
 
 " It must 
 
 Save been some coinage of thy phantasy ; 
 Such melancholy as thou feedest, is 
 Skillful in forming such in the vain air, 
 Out of the motes and atoms of the day." 
 
 " Oh ! would it were 
 Delusion but I fear some greater ilL" 
 
 SUELLET (Calderon). 
 
 In each low wind methinks a spirit calls, 
 And more than echoes talk along the walls." 
 
 POPE'S ELOISA. 
 
 * HOT stand* the great account ".*ixt me and vengeance ?" 
 
 TOOK.
 
 BOOK EIGHTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 / 
 IT was toward the end of the month of September, twelve 
 
 years after the death of the master, that a plain bat handsome 
 carriage was seen to drive through the grounds of Bouverie, and 
 stop at the front door of the mansion, under the shadow of those 
 spreading Norway firs, that grew to the height of more than 
 thirty feet, before the portico. 
 
 An aged but still stately man, white-haired, eagle-eyed, and of 
 true soldierly bearing, descended first from the vehicle, and 
 extended an assisting hand, his only one, for the coat-sleeve of 
 the left arm hung loosely by his side, to the youthful looking lady, 
 and the two fair children who followed her. 
 
 A liveried servant who sat on the box beside the coachman, 
 had, in the meantime, after opening the coach-door, ascended the 
 steps, and rung two or three brisk peals on the hall-bell. The 
 summons was answered, a little tardily, by a demure-looking, 
 dark-eyed woman, past middle age ; brown of face, slight in 
 form, and neatly dressed, in a close-fitting cap of snowy white- 
 ness, and a imu-like dress of black whose prim features relaxed 
 into a pleased smile, as she thought she recognized in the guests, 
 now standing on the marble platform by the door those who 
 had been for some days past hourly expected at Bouverie. 
 
 " Come in, Colonel de Courcy and Lady Edith," she said, with 
 the somewhat familiar politeness of a privileged domestic. " For
 
 168 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 such, I think, I can venture to call your names. Mrs. Quintilian 
 las been looking for you for three days past, at every arrival of 
 ;he train, and this is the first time she has been out of the place 
 .vhen the carriage came back from the depot. But that is always 
 ;he way when friends are coming ; we look, and look for them, 
 and, after all, they frequently take us quite unawares. 
 
 " Walk in, if you please," she continued, throwing wide open 
 the leaves of the door of the drawing-room. " The mistress just 
 stepped out to see about Patrick McCormick's sick child (our 
 gardener, he is, Lady Edith). It won't be many minutes before 
 she hears of your arrival. In the meantime, I will go and make 
 arrangements for baths and refreshments, for you must be tired 
 and dusty, Lady Edith and the poor dears 1 hungry, no 
 doubt 1" and she bustled away, somewhat to the relief of the 
 newly-arrived guests, accustomed to English quiet on the part of 
 servants and of course, wholly unconscious of Bianca's true 
 position in the household of Bouverie. 
 
 Mrs. Quintilian was not quite so readily found, as Bianca had sup- 
 posed she would be. After leaving the bedside of the sick child, 
 having first coaxed him into taking his medicine (refused until 
 then with an obstinate pertinacity, worthy of his paternity), she 
 had wandered into the oak forest, hard by Patrick's cottage, and 
 musing there, amid the falling leave*, she had lost sight of the 
 hour, which might bring her guests to Bouverie. 
 
 Full thirty minutes elapsed between the disappearance ot 
 Bianca, and the advent of " the mistress," an interval employed 
 by the restless boys in close but respectful observation of the 
 miniature statues, shells and vases, of a rosewood etagere one of 
 the few modern innovations visible in the drawing-room of 
 Bouverie.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 169 
 
 But the elder guests were attracted by the pictures that lined 
 the walls, many of which were from the hand of Jasper Quin- 
 tiiian. To the portraits already referred to in the past narrative 
 two only had been added. One, a fine full-length of Bishop Clare, 
 in his pontifical robes, another the beautiful and spiritual head of 
 Jasper Quintilian himself. But these were the work of another 
 artist. 
 
 Colonel de Courcy, who was a judge of art, was perfectly 
 spell-bound before the picture of "Aurora Awakening," one of 
 those already alluded to by Lilian de Courcy, as the companion of 
 the " Dying Flora," 
 
 The scene represented was in a cavern, supported by irregular 
 columns of stalactite formation, through a ragged and remote 
 rent in the roof of which you see the morning star, relieved by a 
 crimson streak of dawn beyond. Aurora is in the act of rising 
 on one arm, from the mossy bed on which she has been reposing, 
 sleeping attendants recline around her in various attitudes, and 
 one very beautifd figure aits with folded wings and cheek 
 drooped on her elevated knees, around which her hands are 
 lightly clasped, leaning against a column. 
 
 The expression conveyed is one of profound repose, an extin- 
 guished torch lies beside her. The face of the goddess wears that 
 exquisite freshness and glad surprise that we see only in the faces 
 of children or the very young, when sleep first forsakes them 
 The large dewy eyes seem to have been startled from slumber 
 and look out with a shy and fawn-like wildness on the gazer. 
 The crimson lips are parted with a faint smile, revealing the white 
 line within in the merest glimpse of radiance. The hair falls in 
 soft shining curls of golden brown about the throat and bosom, 
 which one slender hand is employed in veiling with fleecy <?raperv.
 
 170 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOIJTERIE. 
 
 A sculptured foot rests lightly on the floor, and part of the beau- 
 tifully rounded limb above it is visible. The other seems with- 
 drawn among the draperies of the couch. 
 
 About the whole figure breathes out a faint roseate mist, 
 through which objects beyond are distinctly, yet dimly revealed. 
 Beside the couch stands Hesperus (or Phosphor ?) with a lighted 
 torch. This exquisite shape conveys an idea of eager impulse im- 
 possible to describe. A lark flutters at his feet. There are other 
 accessories, but these are the distinctive features of the painting. 
 
 While Colonel de Courcy contemplated this picture with un- 
 feigned delight, Lady Edith Sinclair stood wrapt beneath the 
 portrait of Mrs. Bouverie, painted in her youth, by a native 
 artist, who knew better than any other how to idealize and per- 
 petuate beauty. 
 
 " How beautiful and spirited is this head, dear uncle 1" she 
 remarked. " Could it have been that of Mrs. Bouverie, of 
 whose beauty we have heard so much ? Do leave the ideal, and 
 come and look at the actual with me ; no picture charms me like 
 a good portrait, after all, with its striking individuality." 
 
 He obeyed her summons and echoed her admiration ; then 
 turning away, observed 
 
 " I wish that heavy black curtain were lifted, that hides from 
 view the picture above the mantel-piece. I have my suspicions 
 that it would reveal to us that mysterious personage, or his 
 semblance rather, whose story (heard only so far by snatches) has? 
 moved us so strongly." 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and admitted a gentleman 01 
 apparently about fifty years of age, with whose appearance we are 
 already familiar, and the strangers were recalled at once from ali 
 surroundings to concentrate their attention on their courteous host.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 171 
 
 Dr. Quintilian had scarcely dropped their cordially shaken 
 hands, when he was followed by the mistress of Bouverie, who had 
 stopped a moment in the hall to throw off her bonnet, and came 
 in with the flush of exercise still glowing on her cheek. 
 
 Behind her appeared Bianca, armed with a basket of Sickle 
 pears, which she exhibited to the longing eyes of the youthful 
 Sinclairs, and with such temptations in view, and the additional 
 charm of her own " nods and becks and wreathed smiles," she 
 managed to draw them quietly and unobserved, from their alle- 
 giance to the e'tagere, and consign them over to the safe keeping 
 of "Danvers," the English groom (their volunteer nurse pro 
 tern.) now taking a cold cut in the pantry. 
 
 Thus attention from each other was not diverted on the part 
 of the principals of that first interview by any other presence 
 an interview long desired, and not without its own peculiar causes 
 of emotion. 
 
 Pass we over this meeting, for which all had been prepared by 
 expressions of mutual good-will and renewed understanding 
 Let us rather record the impressions there received by each mind 
 important as these ever prove to be, in the long run of friend 
 ship and even slight acquaintanceship, and sure as we are 
 to return to them at last, even should they be temporarily 
 effaced or suspended. 
 
 Mrs. Quintilian was struck by the attractive, frank, yet scarcely 
 beautiful face of Lady Edith,<|i which she beheld reflected that 
 of the lover of her youth, and was at once prepared to accord her 
 a place in ter affections. 
 
 But in Colonel de Courcy she saw even more to interest and 
 win her warm regard. In his worn face and lofty distinguished 
 figure in the glance of his eye, the bend of his head, the onrl
 
 172 THE HOUSEHOLD Ot? BOUVERIE. 
 
 of his lip she discerned the soldier and the gentleman. In every 
 feature might be traced the struggle of a lifetime ; and the sound 
 of his manly, and true, yet disciplined, and deferential voice, 
 revealed another phase in his character its chivalry and ten- 
 dency, its sincerity and sentiment. 
 
 Was he not, too, her only remaining kinsman close, however 
 distant because none came between them? And that empty 
 sleeve ! was there not pathos in every flutter of that useless 
 appendage that spoke to her woman's heart louder than words ? 
 
 Colonel de ourcy grew into her feelings at once, almost as a 
 part of self, and he in turn surveyed her from the first with an 
 admiring respect he had seldom felt for woman before. 
 
 The guests of Mrs. Quintilian were simultaneously struck with 
 the power and beauty of her presence ;' yet they could scarcely 
 nave analyzed this sensation, had they attempted to do so. 
 
 Both had seen women far more beautiful, as the word goes, 
 who exercised no such impressive influence over them, even at 
 the first meeting ; an influence that in this instance deepened 
 hour by hour, and bound them to her as closely in that visit of a 
 fortnight as if they had known her casually for years. 
 
 Colonel de Courcy had been prepared by his knowledge of 
 her life and its motives never attained until after the death of 
 Mr. Bouverie and by the letters she had written to him in answer 
 to those in which he covered himself with reproaches (as a proud 
 nature is pleased to do when acknowledging its injustice to another, 
 for a component part of true pride is reparation), to see a noble 
 and remarkable woman, an " esprit fort" perhaps ; but not ex- 
 actly such a woman as he met, when he came to Bouverie fe- 
 minine, sensitive, tender to her very finger-tips. It is only when 
 we stand face to face with our fellow-beings that we estimate
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 173 
 
 
 
 them truly, feelingly. Whatever prestige existed before, goes for 
 nothing in the clear revealing light of ocular demonstration, or 
 stands for what it is worth only thenceforth. 
 
 Col. de Courcy was a fastidious man in some things. He exacted 
 refinement in every woman, before he could acknowledge beauty. 
 In Mrs. Quintilian he found both, or rather admitted both, per- 
 haps for the sake of the indispensable quality he made his " sine 
 qua non." Yet, perhaps, I do her injustice hi denying her either 
 attribute even by insinuation so, to the analysis! Her figure not 
 above the middle height, yet justly and nobly proportioned, with 
 +hat mixture of strength and slenderness that imparts such grace 
 and vitality to movement, was terminated by fine extremities. The 
 face, oval in form, and regular in outline, was of a clear, healthful 
 pallor, seldom relieved by color at the time of which I write, 
 whatever its early tints might have been. The skin was smooth 
 and finely grained with a slight marble-like gleam across the nose 
 and temples. The mouth, too large perhaps, yet expressive of 
 sweetness as well as melancholy power when in repose, was sus- 
 ceptible of a fine smile, revealing sound but not remarkable teeth, 
 and the lips possessed the peculiarity of varying in tint according 
 to the character of the excitement that ruled the spirit within. 
 The eyes large, finely cut, nobly placed, were indisputably a beau- 
 tiful feature. They were of that rarest of all colors, a true violet 
 blue, and were shadowed by long fringed lashes of deepest brown, 
 matching the brows above. ^The hair that crowned her temples 
 was not so dark and had probably in early youth counted more 
 threads of gold than brown, though the deeper tint predominated 
 now. She wore it wrapped closely around her head and plainly 
 across her forehead, yet its inclination to cluster in abundant curls, 
 whenever loosed for a moment, evinced its strength and vitality.
 
 1.74 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIK. 
 
 Above her compact yet not lofty brow, the nobly formed and 
 well set head rose like a dome with all its fine developments of 
 veneration, benevolence, conscientiousness, and ideality revealed 
 at a glance a head too powerful, perhaps, but for its graceful 
 molding, to become a woman's shoulders. Such was the outline 
 of an appearance which, if not beautiful in contrast to the ex- 
 quisite standard presented by Mrs. Bouverie, might still, in the 
 eyes of some, have been even more attractive. The children of 
 a beautiful mother are seldom vain, or even justly appreciated, yet 
 there was, undeniably, about Mrs. Quintilian's whole presence, 
 something of that strange indefinable charm that had surrounded 
 Erastus Bouverie, almost as with a separate atmosphere, and 
 which constituted her sole physical inheritance from him. Let me 
 not, however, bestow on her that word of dubious meaning, so truly 
 applicable to him, and which seems to me to signify something 
 false and serpent-like in its very derivation. I will not call her 
 "fascinating." Truth was her element, and whatever of power 
 she possessed did, I believe, purely and unconsciously spring from 
 this ruling principle of her life, blending itself as it did with all her 
 more brilliant qualities courage, generosity, tenderness, imagina- 
 tion ; the last indeed a mere " Will o' the Wisp," without such a 
 foundation. If the expression might be permitted, I would say that 
 there was about her a sort of emotional repose, strangely interesting. 
 Colonel de Courcy had never met with a woman like this 
 before, scarcely imagined that s^h existed at all, out of the 
 pages of fiction (for it is a strange thought to me, that many 
 have that novelists have created lovelier women than God ever 
 fashioned I) He wished, for the first time, in years, for his lost 
 youth, and olden powers to please, that he might lay them alJ 
 before her, who filled every requisition of his being.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVERIE. 175 
 
 Yet this was she his careless hand had put away forever, when 
 he became master of Taunton Tower, and when sick, disap- 
 pointed, almost broken-hearted, she might have been the solace 
 of his life. 1 do believe this sexagenarian veteran came very 
 near falling in love about this tune, for the first time in thirty 
 years, with his newly encountered kinswoman ; but of this in- 
 clination, if indeed, it existed, Mrs. Quintilian, fortunately, was 
 for the time unconscious. 
 
 Her pleasure in the society of intelligent men was undis- 
 guised. Yet it might be seen very soon after forming her ac- 
 quaintance, that a certain limit was assigned to such inter- 
 course, that none might ever pass. It was plainly her inten- 
 tion to walk through life alone, or, in such companionship only 
 as fate had left to her from the wreck of past happiness. Her 
 very dress indicated, by its fixed character, this involuntary 
 resolution. Strange paradoxical words, which yet express my 
 precise meaning. 
 
 For she had thrown aside widows' weeds, as they are termed 
 they were distasteful to her cumbrous crapes and bombazines 
 mean nothing after the first, and are odious to artistic touch and 
 Bcent ; but she had assumed none the less the habit of her order, 
 " The hopeless 1" 
 
 Her dress, severely simple, though always of fine materials, waa 
 invariably black in color, and relieved only by those falls of fine 
 white lace, which, like her grandmother, she wore at wrists and 
 throat habitually. 
 
 An artist, who had, on Colonel de Courcy's arrival, just com- 
 menced a portrait of her for Dr. Quintilian, suggested the 
 becomingness and propriety of colors, as more suitable to her age 
 and style of face, and the success of his picture.
 
 176 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTERIE. 
 
 Dr. Quintilian, who had an old bachelor's eye for the pictu- 
 resque in dress, and had through life been a close observer, and a 
 nice critic of ladies' toilet arid costume, united his entreaties to 
 those of the artist, but ineffectually. 
 
 She declined, though with evident reluctance, any change in 
 this respect, however temporary, however apparently unimport/- 
 ant. Dr. Quintilian seemed disappointed, the artist amazed, 
 and Colonel de Courcy himself was slightly shocked at her 
 obstinacy of resolution, in such a trifling matter. 
 
 He ventured to expostulate a little when they were alone, and 
 a fitting opportunity was presented. 
 
 "You American women," he said, "perform a sort of toilet 
 ' suttee,' when you become widows, and bury yourselves in weeds 
 for life. As well the funeral pyre of the Hindoos at once, as 
 such immolation of beauty." 
 
 " Dress constitutes beauty, then, in your opinion ?" Colonel de 
 Courcy. 
 
 " Not exactly," he replied, a little puzzled by her manner ; 
 " but you must acknowledge it improves beauty amazingly. An 
 unstylish woman in mourning always reminds me of a moth that 
 has fallen in an inkstand, and crept out again terribly draggled." 
 
 " Then think of Mrs. Pipchin, in her crapes and bombazines," 
 she rejoined, merrily, " sitting grimly opposite little Paul Dombey, 
 with all of her repulsive accompaniments. It is enough to make 
 an imaginative person hate weeds forever." 
 
 " Then why do you persist in wearing them ?" was his naive 
 inquiry. 
 
 " I did not suspect you of being so prejudiced, I avow," she 
 replied, much amused. " So you meant the simile of the moth 
 for me, after all. I thank you, humbly thank yc u !"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 177 
 
 " You are not unstylish," he murmured, a little sheepishly. 
 " Well, yes, I confess," he added, lifting his head again, after a 
 moment's hesitation, " that I was trying to approach the subject 
 of mourning, so as to bring it home to you by degrees. But my 
 skirmishing was not meant for you ; the attack was yet to come. 
 I will be honest, and say what I think, if you will permit me 
 without further preamble." 
 
 " Say on, but take as your data the truth. I do not wear 
 weeds. I simply wear a uniform common to my class." 
 
 " You are coming to Taunton Tower you have almost pro- 
 mised this, you know. The whole country will pour in to see you, 
 and my vanity, my pride are concerned. I would have you look 
 your best. I would have my kinswoman attired as becomes her 
 rank, her beauty," and so saying, he bowed deferentially, hesitat- 
 ing a moment afterward. 
 
 "Surely," he continued, "after five years of widowhood, a 
 woman may resume her allegiance to fashion without an objec- 
 tion, even on the part of the censorious ; and sentimentalize, ac 
 people will and do, costume has its effect, a powerful one, in 
 enhancing loveliness and impressing the beholder." 
 
 " This is true in most cases," she replied, " but not in mine. 1 
 am better in this garb than in any other. It would shock even 
 you to see me renounce it. There is so much in the law of corres- 
 pondences. 
 
 " When nature struck the bloom from my cheek, it was time 
 for me to have done with artificial colors. It was a suggestion 
 from a higher power than fashion. This physical change passed 
 over me suddenly, at the tune of my husband's death. I waa 
 rosy then ; I am seldom other than pale now. Besides, let me 
 Mk. you, do you think it would add at all to the vital appearance 

 
 178 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 of that dead ash-tree in the park, that you looked at yesterday, 
 and admired even for its stately stem, were we to garland it with 
 green leaves ! It would certainly be a bitter and senseless 
 mockery. And so with me. I scarcely think I shall ever bud again." 
 She laughed slightly as she said these words, but her parted 
 lips grew pale, and she clasped her hands nervously. 
 
 " Yet Dr. Quintilian tells me, that in spite of your determined 
 retirement, you disclaim the charge of being unhappy. Nay, he 
 adds, that he considers you a model of contentment." 
 
 " I hope I am not ungrateful," she rejoined. " I certainly 
 should be this, were I to refuse to drink cheerfully of any cup my 
 Creator has mixed for me." 
 
 " Yet you have found it bitter V 
 " Never." 
 
 " You surprise me, Lilian." 
 
 "There is no bitterness in true sorrow. It is the meekest, 
 most submissive thing. It makes the proudest soul so humble, 
 the rudest nature so tender, that I believe it is the only means to 
 effect that change of heart of which the Bible tells us." 
 " You have felt this, Lilian ?" 
 " Partially." 
 
 " It seems to me, in gazing on you, that you are the sole in- 
 stance I have met with, of a person who has come to the true 
 knowledge and possession of ' that peace which passeth all under- 
 standing.' " 
 
 " I cannot claim so exalted a condition of mind, if such it be." 
 The last words dropped slowly from her lips. 
 "Do you not then consider peace the most desirable of 
 all blessings?" he asked, with something of surprise in hia 
 manner.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 179 
 
 " No ; happiness is better, and of this peace is but one in- 
 gredient." 
 
 " Can you name the other ?" 
 
 "Joy." 
 
 He never forgot the expression of her face, as she spoke this 
 word. It thrilled him strangely, and he followed her large blue 
 eyes as they looked out on space, as if to see what image filled 
 them with such ineffable radiance. 
 
 In another moment, she turned, with her hands still tightly 
 folded, and looked at him again, but the glorious glance was gone. 
 
 " You are right," he murmured at last, as if holding self-com- 
 munion more than conversation. " Peace is, when we consider it 
 rightly, only a secondary condition of being, negative rather than 
 satisfactory ; but I never thought of that before. I am afraid, 
 after all, Lilian," he said, speaking louder, and turning more 
 directly to her, " that you are unhappy, though you will not 
 acknowledge it. Speak to me frankly, my time is short with 
 you, and I would know the truth, for you interest me power- 
 fully." And extending his single hand, he grasped both of 
 hers, clasped as they were upon her knee, in its long and powerful 
 fingers. 
 
 " Banish the suspicion, I pray you, then, if indeed my welfare 
 concerns you, and try and think better of me, Colonel de Courcy. 
 Reason about the matter, even if yoa will," she continued, with- 
 drawing her hands gently from his grasp, and resting her brow on 
 one of them, as she leaned back in the deep chair she occupied, 
 while she fixed her earnest eyes upon his face. 
 
 " Do you think that an unhappy woman could laugh as I 
 laughed last night at Pat McCormick's more than Irish blunders? 
 
 Could an unhappy woman enjoy as I do, the culture of flowers, 
 24
 
 180 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 of poetry, of poultry, and patch- work (a droll alliteration, I am 
 making, truly !) or love to sing new songs, and read new books, 
 and devour the papers for their news and their politics, in the 
 fashion that you witness in me daily ? Think what a very 
 serious charge it is a censure even to be called unhappy I" 
 
 She paused a moment, smiling and shaking her head, then re- 
 suming her serious air, she continued : 
 
 " Yet, if you really care to hear it, I will tell you how I feel, 
 Colonel de Courcy and if the illustration I shall give you be 
 homely, accept it at least as heartfelt. 
 
 " I feel like one who has seen the rest of her family go forth in 
 the morning to witness a beautiful pageant and who stays at 
 home to complete a needful household task certain that she will 
 follow them when this is ended, and enjoy with them, after a 
 time, the splendor of the sight. In the meantime it behooves 
 her to set the house in order, and to husband her resources, that 
 she may not meet those she loves with a fretful visage and 
 exhausted energies, with a warped soul even, unfitted for enjoy- 
 ment, when she goes forth at evening." 
 
 " This is mere patience after all, Lilian," he remarked ; " mere 
 necessity." 
 
 " I thought you would say that ; but I have learned like one 
 who went before me to consider this as the very highest quality 
 vouchsafed to man, and so a good foundation, if no more, for hap- 
 piness." 
 
 She told him then of her grandmother's often expressed opinion 
 on this subject, and her own singular want of it, for which she 
 tried in vain to substitute mere fortitude opening unconsciously 
 as she proceeded in her account of this beloved relative, leaf after 
 leaf of her character, so as to interest her hearer deeply and in
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 181 
 
 this process of description he observed more than ever, a 
 peculiarity which had struck him from the first, whenever her 
 subjects elevated her from the commonplace, in the mode of 
 speech of the narrator. 
 
 There were times when he found it impossible to foresee the 
 termination of her sentences, and yet, when these were completed, 
 they satisfied him, even as they surprised, with their fullness and 
 comprehensiveness of meaning. 
 
 He remarked this to her at last. She accounted for a peculi- 
 arity of which she had been made conscious before (and herself 
 esteemed a defect) from the fact that she had lived much alone 
 or with those who found their chief companionship in books. 
 This habit of communion had banished from their conversation 
 much that was merely conventional and idiomatic. 
 
 She thought her own devotion to poetic culture might have in- 
 creased this tendency to express her ideas fully and compactly, 
 yet often with an unpardonable inversion of words. 
 
 There must, however, exist in every temperament, and again in 
 every individual mind, a governing principle of style as a vehicle 
 for thought, which, whatever ^fluences of education may have 
 been brought to bear upon it, will penetrate all disguises; and 
 this, I suppose, was more than aught else the cause of this pecu- 
 liarity of Lilian, if such it really were. 
 
 The stride of Achilles betrayed him when he wore a woman's 
 robe, even before his man's nature broke forth at the sight of a 
 sword, and so we feel the clutch of the vigorous hand through 
 all the films of fiction, and see the footprints of a conqueror often 
 where a weary pilgrim seemed to pass. 
 
 Again, under the philosopher's gown we detect sometimes the 
 faltering step and feeble frame, and the sounding technicalities!
 
 182 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 drop to dust which his own words are too weak to uphold, propped 
 as they are on his slender staff of intellect. We want individuality 
 in style, if all else fails, whether in preacher or lecturer, or 
 essayist. Let the words he speaks be the man's own words, 
 fresh from his own nature, full of his own being, and we can for- 
 give many shortcomings,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 183 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 As it is chiefly from what transpired during Colonel de Courcy a 
 brief visit to Bouverie, that I must gather the materials necessary 
 to conclude the abruptly terminated narrative of Lilian de Courcy, 
 I will record in this place another conversation that occurred 
 between them soon after the first, of no especial interest it is true, 
 save that it reaches back into the otherwise unnoted tune that 
 succeeded the death of Mr. Bouverie. 
 
 Colonel de Courcy and Lady Edith had walked together to the 
 cemetery in the cedar grove, to visit the graves of Lilian's relatives. 
 She had not wished to accompany them, but seemed gratified 
 when they expressed the desire to pay this mournful tribute to 
 the dead. 
 
 They found the burying spot a retired and deeply shadowed 
 place, a favorite haunt for birds, which built undisturbed among 
 the spreading yew and cedar branches, and gave its only life to 
 that solemn solitude. An obelisk stood in the centre of the cir- 
 cular-marble railed inclosnre, bearing two simple inscriptions on 
 its opposite sides in memory of the dead : 
 
 " Erastus Bouverie Infelix. 
 Camilla Bouverie Fidelis." 
 
 Fronting the gate, it presented the usual prayer for peace in the 
 simple accustomed words " Implora pace ;" that universal cry 
 of the weary human soul. On either side were grassy graves 
 inclosed in oval bands of white marble finely sculptured in imita
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 tion of ivy leaves, within which slept that strangely fated pair. 
 The sarcophagus of Jasper Quintilian stood apart, shaped like a 
 colossal coffin covered with a fringed pall, the corners of which 
 were lifted by angels, so as to show a simple inscription beneath. 
 His name, his age (soaring above which, appeared the figure of 
 a dove, with outspread wings, surrounded with rays) and the 
 comforting words : " He giveth his beloved sleep." These 
 were all that the exquisitely wrought marble drapery disclosed. 
 
 The angels were those of life and death ; one radiant, hopeful, 
 plumed for flight, the other mournful, yet beautiful, with folded 
 wings and inverted torch. These, too, were the work of a native 
 artist, though executed in Italy. A close observer might, on the 
 base of the sarcophagus, have discerned, engraved in small letters 
 the line from Psalms, which expressed the yearning grief of one who 
 lingered behind 
 
 " My soul followeth hard after thee." 
 
 Two places for graves were marked out, one on either side of this 
 mausoleum, bearing on the marble cross laid over each, the severaj 
 names of " Paul," and " Lilian." So should sleep together 
 until the day of doom the members of the mournful house of 
 Bouverie. 
 
 On his return, Colonel de Courcy had remarked to Mrs. Quin- 
 tilian his peculiar satisfaction in the sequestered beauty of the 
 place, and the singularity of the graves. 
 
 " It was my grandmother's wish," she replied, " to have them 
 constructed thus. She charged us to keep both flowers and weeds 
 from their surface, and to leave the grassy sod that covered them 
 open x to the rains, and snow, and sunshine of heaven. She fancied 
 that she should be oppressed even in death, by the weight of the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBEE. 185 
 
 marble above her. She wanted the winds to blow freely across 
 her resting-place. She included my grandfather in this request. 
 We had been hesitating some time whether or not to place the 
 obelisk above him." 
 
 "Did she survive him long ?" 
 
 " Between three and four years only. Her health declined 
 from the time of his death. The change which she had looked 
 for as a relief, under the peculiar circumstances that surrounded 
 them both, proved insupportable to her when it came. The 
 olow that knocked her chains away broke her heart, and her life 
 resolved itself into gloom and despondency, only alleviated by the 
 discharge of her religious duties from which all vitality had long 
 departed and her deep love for me and mine. Had I been 
 blessed with children, a new impulse might have filled her life, a 
 new object replaced the old for which no other substitution was 
 possible. Accustomed as she had been so long to certain carea 
 and duties of daily recurring necessity, she could not bear the 
 void their absence left. Her nature required in its very structure 
 the strong motive of responsibility to make life supportable. 
 She had shown this early in her passionate love of Jasper, 
 the child of her adoption, and later in her care for me. We 
 failed her in our maturity and self-reliance. She needed some- 
 thing to foster." 
 
 " Her death was peaceful, I presume ; not violent, not painful I 
 hope ?" 
 
 " A mere translation, as it seems to me. She declined surely 
 and gradually for a time, yet without much suffering, never con- 
 fined to her bed, even for a day ; never unable to read or sew, or 
 join us at meals ; he yet found exercise impossible and remained 
 wholly within doors.
 
 186 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 One day, we had been riding out, Mr. Quintilian and myself, 
 and leaving our horses carne to the great window at which we 
 saw her sitting, that which gave from her chamber out upon the 
 lawn. We had found a grove of crab apple-trees in our ride, 
 and came back loaded with those odorous blossoms, which we 
 knew she loved so well. It was May, a soft balmy evening, the 
 window was thrown up, she was reclining in her great chair, in 
 a perfectly natural attitude, her book lying open on her knees, 
 her eyes were closed, she was strangely pale ; I saw in a moment 
 how it was. But Jasper would not believe the truth, even when 
 my shrieks were rending the air. He had no such privilege as 
 this ; his lips were sealed, but he fell down at her feet hi strong 
 agony, and grovelled on the ground." 
 
 After a moment's hesitation she resumed her narrative to her 
 attentive hearer. 
 
 " Dr. Quintilian came ; he was greatly shocked at first, 
 yet very firm ; he had foreseen this long, and nerved himself to 
 bear it ; he knew that she had incurable disease of the heart, 
 but he had deemed it useless to embitter her life and ours with 
 such a knowledge. All that variable color, all those, sudden 
 spasms of pain, came from this, all that power, perhaps, to bear 
 and to conceal. Disease was at the root of all." 
 
 " I think a death like this might be called the crown of a good 
 life, as it would seem the curse of an evil one," said Colonel de 
 Courcy. "She was prepared to die, and she was saved the 
 wearing pangs of dissolution." 
 
 " I, too, have come slowly to this conviction, bnt it did not 
 seem to me thus at first. Later, in the great sorrows from which 
 she was spared, I have seen the working of the hand in her case, 
 ' that doeth all things well.'"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 187 
 
 She survived not her friend and spiritual father, Bishop Clare, 
 ns she had hoped might be the case, and her grave was conse 
 crated by his beloved hand. She was spared, too, the unspeak 
 able anguish of seeing her Jasper expire. 
 
 Mrs. Quintilian's lips trembled slightly and grew pale, and she 
 eat mute for a moment, gazing out on space, with sad and yearn- 
 ing eyes, as if the past had put aside the present. Great tears 
 were slowly gathering now, but she put them back with a strong 
 effort, and again turned to Colonel de Courcy, as if about to 
 
 He anticipated this intention, if such it was, by asking her in 
 a tone of deep interest a question that had more than once 
 occurred to him since he came to Bouverie. \; ; 
 
 "Have you no record of these events, Lilian? The circum- 
 stances that surrounded your grandparents seem to me so touch- 
 ing, so romantic even as to deserve perpetuation." 
 
 "I have written," she replied, "during the past spring and 
 summer, assisted by my journal to some degree, a narrative em- 
 bodying much that I have told you, much more that no one can 
 ever know until I am dead. I have not yet been able to per- 
 suade or compel myself to write a syllable of what has occurred 
 since my grandfather's death. The thread is broken there. Up 
 to that time the details are faithful, and yet I feel that the de- 
 clining days of my grandmother's existence, my husband's noble 
 life of art, lived chiefly after that period, and Bishop Clare's 
 peaceful and evangelical death, which occurred under this roof, in 
 my own arms, are all worthy of a place in this chronicle. But 
 there is time enough to add all these, to elaborate them, even ; I 
 shall probably live to be old ; I feel this fatality in every vein, 
 and it will be reserved for a coming generation to read this
 
 188 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 record. In addition to what I have written from my own expe- 
 rience, I possess now a clue to the fate of my grandparents, which 
 was wanting before ; my grandmother's diary, faithfully kept for 
 years, and confided by her will to Bishop Clare, fell at his 
 demise, two years ago, into my hands, as was intended, 
 perhaps, in the end, by its writer. It is my intention to make 
 some extracts from this transcript of the past, and so com- 
 plete my self-appointed task as historian of the ' Household of 
 Bouverie.' " 
 
 "Do not delay the undertaking, my dear friend," rejoined 
 Colonel de Courcy, with animation. " Publish it at once under 
 feigned names, and give me an opportunity of gratifying my in- 
 terest and curiosity both before I die." 
 
 " Indeed it is quite impossible," she said ; " my death only can 
 be the signal for this publication, occur when it will, for in me 
 will perish the last drop of the blood of Bouverie ; and the world, 
 which knows so much already, is welcome to the whole when the 
 race is extinct." 
 
 " Then may the manuscript lie in limbo for eighty years I" 
 
 " Thank you, the motive of your wish is kind, its expression 
 very heartfelt, but the result scarcely desirable. I have no desire 
 to live to be old." 
 
 " Do you know, my dear madam, that you reflect very seriously 
 on the good taste of your only surviving kinsman when you make 
 a remark like that ?" 
 
 " Forgive me, I cannot think of you as old; there is so much 
 life, sympathy, enthusiasm about you. Now I should be a dreary 
 old woman sentimental, insupportable !" 
 
 " You did not give me time to explain myself ; I never sus- 
 pected you for a moment of reflecting on my age, only on the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 189 
 
 spirit of mj wish for you. The fact is, that I so appreciate life 
 that I should be glad to be quite sure that I should live as long 
 as Dr. Parr, if it were God's will, and yet I that say these 
 words have had a hard life, am somewhat dyspeptic, and almost 
 sixty-five." 
 
 " Was there never a time when you looked upon life differ- 
 ently ?" she asked seriously. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course, several tunes. On the day of the ampu- 
 tation of my arm, after the storming of a mud fort in India, I 
 wanted them to let me die. I was seven and twenty then. They 
 talked to me of glory and my youth, and all that sort of thing ; 
 but I cared for nothing but my shattered arm, and its great 
 agony. 
 
 " Again, when Mary Marsdale stood up to be married to Lord 
 Kildare, I tried to die what folly all that seems now 1 A mere 
 accident, not worth relating, saved me from blowing my braina 
 out ; perhaps, after all, though, it would amuse you to hear it. 
 My monkey had fired off the pistol during my momentary absence, 
 that I designed for self-destruction, and when I put it against my 
 temples, it was minus a load. A flat proceeding truly, but it 
 broke the spell. An officious friend watched me for a week 
 after, to keep me from repeating the experiment, but he might 
 have saved himself the trouble, the impulse was gone, and my 
 love for Mary Marsdale along with it. The monkey cured every- 
 thing." 
 
 " The monkey was the tool of fate, you know," she said, half 
 laughing. 
 
 "Perhaps so who can judge? But after this, Lilian, after 
 this, in my mature age, when my young half sister my idol OB 
 whom all my pent-up feelings had concentrated themselves at
 
 190 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 last, threw off her allegiance to me, and fled from her school in 
 Calcutta, with a man I detested rightly or not God cnly knows 
 the wish for death became strong in my heart again. But I 
 was older then, more resolute than before. I would not yield to 
 the temptation. I opened my window, and threw the razor in the 
 tarn below. I was afraid of myself, and would not have another, 
 and let my beard grow, for I was out of reach of the tribes of 
 barbers then, away on the borders of India, almost in the 
 jungle. 
 
 " The struggle passed, as I have said, but left me warped and 
 embittered ; but I lived it down, as we live everything down 
 finally, if we do but live long enough." 
 
 " Everything but remorse." 
 
 She spoke like one in a dream. 
 
 " Aye true, but I have little experience of that," he rejoined, 
 " save from one case of social injustice, to which I have pleaded 
 guilty long ago." 
 
 She did not hear him probably, for she went on speaking 
 slowly, hesitating often, gazing out on space, as was her wont, at 
 times of serious feelings a habit, if not a heritage. 
 
 " It takes many shapes," she pursued, " this protean quality, 
 which almost always disavows its real name. No man can repu- 
 diate it though, strive as he will ; it lies down and rises with him, 
 sits at the board, glances on him from his books, makes discord 
 in sweetest music, dashes the bead from wine, and makes the 
 draught thrice bitter. No man can live this down it is the ghost 
 of conscience." 
 
 There was something so sad, so strange in this soliloquy, for aa 
 such he accepted it, that Colonel de Courcy forbore to break the 
 epell by word or sign.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEBIE. 
 
 Some dark association seemed at work in the breast of the 
 speaker. She had grown pale, and her features were fixed and sad. 
 At last she rose, and making some slight excuse, passed from the 
 room ; nor did she rejoin him until tne "well-served dinner smoked 
 on the board. 
 

 
 J92 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERHC. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MR. SULLIVAN, the young artist to whom reference has been 
 made, completed a fine picture of Mrs. Quintilian, a few days 
 before the departure of Lady Edith and her uncle. 
 
 Colonel de Courcy complimented him on the rapidity of 
 his execution, and the speaking beauty and fidelity of the 
 portrait. 
 
 Dr. Quintilian, too, was charmed with the picture, and paid 
 for it munificently. 
 
 As they sat at breakfast on the last morning of Mr. Sullivan's 
 stay at Bouverie, Colonel de Courcy suggested to him the ex- 
 pediency of passing a year or two in Italy, and regretted having 
 done this the next moment, when he saw what pain it occasioned 
 him, to confess his inability to pursue a plan so congenial to his 
 taste. 
 
 He seemed a proud and delicate minded man, to whom any 
 self-revelation was painful in the presence of strangers, yet 
 willing to sacrifice even personal reluctance to the necessities of 
 truth. 
 
 The two elder gentlemen rose after breakfast, and accompanied 
 Lady Edith and her joyous children on their ramble through the 
 grounds, leaving Mrs. Quintilian, as she wished to be left, alone 
 with the young artist. She took this occasion to frankly offer 
 him such pecuniary assistance as he might need for the prosecu- 
 tion of his profession, in her eyes the noblest of all, and its foreign 
 studies.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 193 
 
 When he would have thanked her, with the addition of the 
 honorable declaration, that he craved pecuniary assistance from 
 no one, and was content to struggle for the golden meed of 
 fame, unaided, she stopped him with the truth. 
 
 " My husband was an artist, Mr. Sullivan, not without some 
 claims to distinction, and with the true feeling of brotherhood 
 for his class. I feel that I am honoring his memory and 
 vocation both, when I set apart a portion of the income he 
 left hi my hands, to be used for the benefit of his brother 
 artists. I am sure such a course would meet his approbation, 
 could he know of it, and, whether you accept or reject it, the 
 means will still be so appropriated. Now, I do not think I 
 could apply this fund better than to place it in your keeping for 
 two years." 
 
 With arguments like these, aided by his own strong love of 
 art, she smoothed away Mr. Sullivan's objections, and induced 
 him at last to accept her bounty. 
 
 " But you will suffer me to repay you," he urged ; " when I 
 am able !" 
 
 " Certainly," she answered ; " and the Artist Fund will be the 
 better for your success. When I am dead, Mr. Sullivan, this 
 system will be continued on a larger scale, through the means of 
 trustees so you see it is only a hobby of mine after all, and there 
 must be no individual feeling about it." 
 
 Her kindness, her natural manner completely broke down the 
 walls of his reserve, and before they parted he had laid his 
 aspirations before her. A little romance, too, had leaked out 
 despite his caution and Lilian learned that he loved a beautiful 
 girl, who would wait for him, aye, until the last of life, rather than 
 marry another.
 
 194: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 But ner relatives refused their consent to her union with a 
 penniless artist so bitterly, that he felt nothing but fame and gold 
 would overcome their prejudices, entertained, not so much 
 against himself as his class, which certain practical and money- 
 wise persons confound with the " Classe Bohemienne." 
 
 And now, with a hearty wring of the hand, and a choking in 
 the throat, that prevented parting compliment (unmistakable 
 sign of feeling ! ) Sullivan was gone. 
 
 When Dr. Quintilian came in alone, Lilian told him what she 
 had done, and what difficulty she had found in smoothing away 
 the sense of obligation from Mr. Sullivan's mind. 
 
 He listened with interest to her recital. " The matter is to be 
 put into effect at once," she said ; " he has agreed to take the 
 first packet for Leghorn, and the checks must go off by the 
 evening train to meet him in New York. Please, draw them up 
 at once, and let me sign them ; Oh ! what a privilege it is to be 
 enabled to do good to such a man as this ; so modest, so gifted, 
 so deserving, so devoted too," she murmured. 
 
 She seemed elated with the benevolent scheme that employed her 
 mind. Never had her eyes looked brighter, her lips more radiant 
 than at that moment. Dr. Quintilian laughed as he rose from writ- 
 ing the checks, and placed them before her for her signature. 
 
 " Better buy jewels, Lily, and take the tour of Europe your- 
 self, like other women of your age and means. Don't you think 
 you could write a few flash letters home as well as the rest of 
 them, and establish a ' deathless fame,' instead of pampering 
 painter puppies, and multiplying parodies on those grave humbugs 
 the ' old masters ?' " 
 
 " You are unusually severe to-day or do you only mean to be 
 facetious ? If the last, pray abandon the delusion."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 195 
 
 " After all, Lily," he went on as he folded and inclosed the 
 checks, " if it suits you to bestow your means thus, it is all for the 
 best, I suppose ; I certainly have no objections. It is well enough, 
 perhaps," he said, glancing humorously at her, " that you should 
 extend a little present aid to the ' meritorious young artists/ 
 mentioned so liberally in that will of yours, which you may change 
 yet before the end who knows ? for if they wait for you to de- 
 part this life, they will be old, decrepit failures before they receive 
 relief, and another crop of daubsters will have sprung up on the 
 roadside. Your contemporaries have little chance of profit through 
 you, Lily, without an accident." 
 
 " Aye, without an accident 1 Those were the very words Bishop 
 Clare used years ago, when he prophesied long life for me," she 
 rejoined, musingly ; " I recall the sentence so vividly to-day, ' you 
 will yet find yourself alone with God.' " 
 
 She was silent for a tune, perhaps living over again that pain- 
 ful scene, when uncertainty and anguish shadowed every heart in 
 Bouverie. 
 
 After sealing and directing the letters, Dr. Quiutil busied him- 
 self with a newspaper, which he laid aside, however, with his spec- 
 tacles, as she suddenly turned and placed her hand upon his arm. 
 
 " Do you not think after all that I am singularly protected 
 from accident ?" she asked. " You know of several instances of 
 almost providential interference in my behalf. That of the falling 
 of the wire bridge, just as the train had cleared it, in which so 
 many others were included, the most signal. But let me give 
 you another, forgotten untif now. It occurred when you were 
 last in Baltimore, two weeks ago to-day, I think. I had occasion 
 to go to the depot in person to deposit an important letter. As 
 I passed the magnificent elm-tree, at the eastern gate' Mor
 
 196 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 decai" as my grandfather called it, because it obscured the vie* 
 BO much from the drawing-room window -just changing its color 
 then from green to brown, and yellow, and crimson, and Tyrian 
 purple I never saw such hues on any tree I called to Phelim 
 to pause beneath it, that I might feast my eyes on the grand 
 beauty of that lower sweeping limb, stretched out like a king's 
 sceptre ; like the wand of Ahasuerus himself. So he checked 
 the horses and I sat for a few minutes drinking in as many colors 
 as a dying dolphin ever gave out, until my senses were perfectly 
 permeated with the glory of that tree. Now, don't smile ! I do 
 not often bore you with descriptions, but you must understand 
 how I enjoyed my ' Mordecai ' on that autumn day, for the last 
 time, you know. When I returned fifteen minutes later, after 
 accomplishing the errand which took, me out, half of that huge 
 bulk lay across the road, the trunk and the lower limb were all 
 that remained of my glorious forest king." 
 
 " It was hollow-hearted ; I have known it long, but Mrs. 
 Bouverie loved it and I could not bear to cut it down what an 
 escape I" Dr. Quintilian added with emotion, " truly a signal in- 
 stance of God's good providence." 
 
 " Had it fallen when I paused beneath it," she said, " carriage, 
 horses, human beings, must all have been crushed in one homoge- 
 neous mass, and yet the wind was blowing as wildly then as later. 
 A sort of herald of the equinox was out that day, I remember ; 
 one of those balmy-joyous life-giving winds, that prevail only at 
 those periods, and on the sea." 
 
 " They had cleared the tree away, before I returned," he said, 
 thoughtfully; "nobody told me of this, and I was glad it had 
 fallen at last, without injury to anything ; I was surprised, though, 
 for it has been in the same condition for ten years past."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 197 
 
 "I know not," Lilian said, "whether to regard it as a warning 
 or a sign, that I am reserved for some good work, or some great 
 suffering one or the other some end to be accomplished yet. 
 I suppose after all," she added with a smile, seeing that Dr. 
 Quintilian seemed gloomy, " that it means, I am to lire to be 
 very old survive you, Bianca, Pat McCormick even and lea^n 
 to love life as Colonel de Courcy says he loves his for its own 
 sake. This seems to me the worst feature after all about old age. 
 People do so learn to love those sibylline books, their years, 
 as they diminish in number. I hope I shall never know this 
 avarice of life and that the poor young artists may come to their 
 own before my eye fails its fire, or my hair grows grey, or my 
 right hand loses its cunning." 
 
 " Lily, Lily, it is a sin and a shame for you to talk in this 
 way, selfish even to entertain such thoughts. You forget that 
 you have my eyes to close before you can think of shutting yours, 
 and though I have lived temperately all my life, gout is my in- 
 heritance, and I am beginning to feel its twinges. You know 
 those hands of yours work miracles in pain, they are almost equal 
 to Father Conrad's, and I can ill spare them from their ministry. 
 After all, what would my life be without you, Lilian ? Have 
 you ever seriously considered that ? I shudder to think of it ! 
 A boat without a rudder on a trackless sea, a loaded gun with no 
 fire to set it off, a kite without a string, or a breath of wind to 
 blow it about ; anything but useful, or good, or happy, would my 
 life be, without you, Lily. Then never express such a wish again 
 if you love or respect me." w 
 
 " I never will," she said, almost tearfully. " It was very rash 
 and ungarded in me to talk so not even heartfelt I know not 
 what impelled mo, and yet," she added, " and yet I do wish you
 
 108 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 would think sometimes in a different spirit of the possibility of 
 such a separation, and not regard me as invulnerable immortal, 
 almost. Oh ! I do wish you had lived more for yourself and 
 less for others ; this was the great mistake of your dear and 
 noble life. Promise me that should I die before you (there is a 
 bare possibility of this, you know), that you will try and be 
 contented ; seek a substitute marry, even. Oh, promise me !" 
 She spoke eagerly, clasping his hand hi both of hers. He drew 
 it hastily away, and turning off, though with evident agitation, 
 resumed his spectacles and newspaper. In a moment the latter 
 was thrown down, and he was on his feet again, walking the room 
 this tune in the old customary stormy way. 
 
 " Child ! child," he said, without stopping in his rapid pace, 
 " why seek to conjure up difficulties ? have we not had enough of 
 these to contend with ? All seems smooth now, and likely to re- 
 main so ; why imagine improbabilities, to say the least of it, to 
 harass, to ruffle our peace ?" 
 
 *' I can scarcely account for the mood myself," she said, " the 
 whole matter seemed to press on me very suddenly and urgently, 
 to-day, almost beyond my own consent. It is not my wish it is 
 not my habit (you know it well), to present supposititious troubles 
 for your consideration nor even for my own." 
 
 " I am taking the thing too seriously, perhaps, more seriously 
 than you meant it, I see ; but that little incident of your narrow 
 escape, and your own moralizing deduced therefrom, unnerved me 
 somewhat, I confess. There, no more of it ' Richard's himself 
 again,' as Shakspeare never said. ^Ls to that marriage sug- 
 gestion of yours, Lily," he added, looking at her with a half 
 comic expression, over his spectacles, aiid stopping short, with bia 
 hands plunged into his pockets, and his head thrown a little to one
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEEE. 199 
 
 side "Don't you know, child, that there comes a time in the life 
 of every rational man when such a step would be as impossible 
 to him as suicide ? A houri from Paradise would have no more 
 power to tempt me to such a measure now than dame McCormick 
 herself, could she rise in living presence again. A man of my 
 temperament must be accustomed to a companion for half of his 
 life before marriage could be anything else than a cold ' douche,' 
 a shock to his nerves, if not his constitution, too painful to en- 
 counter. There never was a time when I could have married a 
 strange woman there never was but one that I should have been 
 proud to call my wife. I never said this before to any one, Lily, 
 least of all to her never shall again but of course that could 
 never have been, in any case, even had there been no obstacles, no 
 1 Luther ' in the way. It was not to be thought of," and clapping 
 his hat hastily on his head, Dr. Quintilian left the room. 
 
 A moment later, Lady Edith came in with the boys loaded with 
 haws and acorns, autumn leaves, and a basketful of pawpaws, 
 which they had gathered, assisted by Danvers, and which they 
 persisted in calling " wild bananas." 
 
 Lilian could but admire the animated and beautiful group, the 
 mother, so young looking, joyous, healthful ; the children, with 
 their blonde beauty, truly handsome specimens of the Saxon type. 
 The elder boy was called for his uncle Everard, and resembled 
 him strikingly ; the second bore the paternal name ; a younger 
 still, left with his father and sister in Washington, in the hands 
 of a careful governess and nurse, was named Reginald, after 
 Colonel de Courcy, and seemtd to be the darling of all. 
 
 Lady Florence herself did not appear more than two and twenty, 
 and yet she was scarcely a twelvemonth younger than Lilian, 
 who looked every day of her age every day of thirty, if not
 
 200 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 more. A face never acquires the depth, expression, and charao 
 tei that belonged to hers until the impulsive season of youth is 
 past. 
 
 When the boys had gone out again with their treasures, and 
 the ladies were alone, seated quietly for the morning at their 
 respective embroidery, Lady Edith said : 
 
 " Do you know to what you are indebted for the presence of 
 these very troublesome boys of mine, for it was my wish to leave 
 them with Lord Sinclair, and break away from all responsi- 
 bility for a few days, instead of carrying it along? Listen, 
 then. Solely and entirely to my uncle's dread of facing you 
 unsupported." 
 
 Lilian smiled, half surprised ; yet scarcely understanding Edith, 
 perhaps, she said nothing. 
 
 " They will be passports for us, you know," he said, in his par- 
 tial way. " No heart could resist them, and after all, we need 
 such letters of introduction as their faces present, to wipe out old 
 scores." 
 
 " I am almost glad you could not defend me, Edith, as then* 
 visit has been the result. They are such fine, merry fellows." 
 
 " I did defend you indeed after this fashion : ' Her letters, 
 uncle,' I urged, 'speak so sincerely of a perfect reconciliation, 
 we must not doubt her earnestness.' " 
 
 " ' Her face, niece !' was his reply. 'It is that from which I 
 can gather my conviction on this point, far more than from her 
 letters, and I have the most haunting wish to see it that ever pos- 
 Bessed sexagenarian bachelor ! One might call it curiosity, if that 
 were not a trait entirely confined to women.' " 
 
 Lady Edith detailed this conversation to Lilian, with that 
 peculiar naivet6 that made the charm of her manner, confessing
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 201 
 
 that she, too, had her share of curiosity, though blended with 
 deep interest, in coming to Bouverie. 
 
 " And does your uncle believe in my letters, now that he has 
 seen my face ?" asked Lilian, half reproachfully. 
 
 " I am almost afraid he believes a little too implicitly in both 
 for his own peace or my comfort," said Lady Edith, laughing. 
 " I shall hear the changes rung upon your name and perfections, 
 when we go home, until I shall be ever so jealous. Nay, if he 
 was twenty years younger, and I his dictator, he should not stay 
 at Bouverie another hour." 
 
 " He is a noble gentleman," rejoined Lilian, seriously, " and I 
 thank him for his confidence ; but were he young instead of old, 
 I scarcely think we should like each other half so well." 
 
 There was something occasionally in Lilian's manner a little 
 chilling to Edith. She felt it now. Was there, after all, lying 
 deep in her nature, that same obstruction to intimate companion- 
 ship, that she herself had likened in her grandmother's case to a 
 "stone in a flower bed." Or, was it that, unaccustomed to 
 women and "their ways," Lilian unconsciously preserved with 
 them the same reticence of manner she had learned from the 
 society of men ? When she threw her arms around a friend, when 
 she kissed her cheek, or clasped her hand warmly, she was moved 
 by no common feeling. These caresses, with her so rarely con- 
 ferred, meant something. They were not empty and enervating 
 forms, as they usually are with women ; and those who received 
 such indications of friendship from Mrs. Quintilian, wondered 
 what stirred and impressed them so, in the reception, and even 
 in the remembrance of her salutations. 
 
 Yet she was not cold in her manner, far from it. She merely 
 held things sacred that others looked upon as common forms.
 
 202 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKEE. 
 
 The cup from which she drank was not for every lip ; nor the 
 Btream of feeling poured freely for every wayfarer. 
 
 When she tendered these, it was with her whole soul, and with 
 a lavish generosity beyond all praise, all suspicion.
 
 203 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHILE they were still sitting at work, Colonel de Courcy came 
 in, holding in his hands an open book, he had found thrust away 
 hi the corner of a bookcase. 
 
 " I like some of these poems very much indeed, Lilian," he 
 said. " I had no idea, until I happened to ask Dr. Quintiiian the 
 name of the author, that you, too, were an artist." 
 
 " A very imperfect one certainly," she replied. "And at the 
 time those poems were written, I was far more impulsive than 
 artistic. I think I could write better now." 
 
 " Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of morning," 
 he murmured, as he turned the pages over, still standing before 
 her. 
 
 " The criticism is perfect, and so delicate that I accept it 
 kindly, hi my declining age," she observed, smiling. 
 
 " I like the poetry of the young best, I acknowledge," he said, 
 fixing his eyes mildly on her face ; " perhaps because I have so 
 little critical culture, that I am not equal to more finished pro- 
 ductions. I have never pursued poetry as a study, only as a 
 pastime." 
 
 " You are involving yourself more and more deeply by every 
 explanation, Colonel de Courcy. Your latest expressed reason 
 for liking my poems, is anything but flattering. You think with 
 Tennyson, that they are ' easy things to understand.' " 
 
 " Certainly that is their chiefest charm to me," he said, inno-
 
 204 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVEKIE. 
 
 " You arc perfectly incorrigible." 
 
 " Why, uncle," broke iu Lady Edith, quite red and flurried 
 she was something of a literalist in her way, like all very naive 
 people " I never knew you to exhibit so little tact before." 
 
 Then there was a merry chime of laughter, in which Lady Edith 
 joined at last, with a little bridling of the head, and a profession 
 that she " only wanted to set things right." She could " see no- 
 thing so diverting," and matters ended in Colonel de Courcy's 
 insisting strenuously on reading aloud one poem, that had quite 
 captivated his fancy, " suggested," the text declares, he went on 
 to say, " by Mr. Bryant's beautiful poem ' The Future Life.' " 
 
 " And who is Mr. Bryant ?" he asked, gravely, stopping and 
 putting down his eye-glass. 
 
 " Oh, uncle, are you in earnest ?" 
 
 " Not know our American Wordsworth 1" 
 
 " Why, Colonel de Courcy, what will Lilian think 1" 
 
 The two last exclamatory phrases, uttered at the same moment 
 by the astonished ladies, failed to produce any distinct impression 
 on the ear of the offender, and he asked in piteous accents 
 
 " What have I done ?" 
 
 " Done, uncle !" reproachfully. " The question is unanswer- 
 able," quoth Lilian, " in any way but one ;" and going in quest 
 of a book, she soon returned with it, and insisted on reading first, 
 the suggesting cause, if not the model of her own poem. When 
 Bhe had done reading the exquisite " Future Life," she said : 
 
 " Now, Colonel de Courcy, I have made you acquainted with 
 one of our laureates, our chief (we have two or three more). 
 Do you think you will ever forget our patriarch ?" 
 
 Some spring of feeling had been touched in his emotional 
 nature, probably by the poem. He made no remark at first,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 205 
 
 fchen observed merely : " That is true poetry." But hi a tone that 
 proved how heartfelt was the remark. 
 
 " I cannot read as well as you have done," he said ; " nor do 
 I know that your poetry is half so good ; but it pleases me 
 Now, Edith, listen to ' The Spirit Meeting,' ' modelled,' Lilian 
 says, on Mr. Bryant's ' Future Life,' ' suggested ' by it, says the 
 text." 
 
 I would not insert this poem here ; but that it seems to have 
 had strange relevancy with circumstances close at hand. 
 
 THE SPIRIT MEETING. 
 
 Thou did'st not know me in that lesser sphere, 
 
 Where erst the cycle of our lives was cast ; 
 Where, by thy side I walked through many a year, 
 
 Each sadder, colder, darker, than the last, 
 Though on thy lips, mine was a frequent name ; 
 
 Though in thy gaze, I sat, by board and hearth j 
 Though all our joys and sorrows seemed the same. 
 
 Thou did'st not know me in the land of earth. 
 
 How could'st thou deem that 'neath my dark, pale brow f 
 
 Shrined in a form of slight and common mold, 
 There dwelt an essence, such as meets thee now 
 
 Whose glance of power thou shrinkest to behold ! 
 How scan the folded plumes of Paradise 
 
 Within the clay that veiled a higher lot ? 
 No ! thine were bounded thine were mortal eye ; 
 
 I do not blame thee that they knew me not. 
 
 Yet, would I yield the glory and the grace, 
 
 That breathe about me their ineffable light, 
 To see thee stand before thy Maker's face, 
 
 Freed from the stain and ransomed from the blight - -
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE, 
 
 I would become, again, the child of dust, 
 
 To know thee worthy of the crown of heaven, 
 And bow once more beneath thy yoke unjust, 
 
 To hear our Father say " He is forgiven!" 
 
 It may not be, no prayer, no deed of mine, 
 
 Have yet availed to win that boon sublime : 
 Pass on! await the meed, that love divine 
 
 May yet reserve for thee in unborn time ; 
 With patient progress, and with quenchless faith, 
 
 Repair the error of thy past estate ; 
 And tread with fearless feet the thorny path 
 
 That leads from death to heaven's celestial gate. 
 
 " I had almost forgotten that," said Mrs. Quintilian, when 
 Colonel de Courcy had finished his reading. " It has been so 
 long since I looked through the volume ; but I think it contains 
 some prettier things, perhaps. You will read them at your 
 leisure, I hope, since you like this ?" 
 
 " You will give me this copy, then, to take away with me !" 
 
 " Not this, another, quite new; there are a dozen such upstairs in 
 the library." She had seen Jasper's name in the flyleaf, written in 
 his own hand. She could not part with that. It was sacred now. 
 
 " Let me read one more before I stop." 
 
 " Oh, no ! Do not reproach me any further to-day with the 
 sins of my youth." 
 
 _ And she extended her hand for the book, which he relinquished 
 reluctantly. 
 
 " I will not let you forget your promise," he said ; " in the 
 meanwhile, can you recall no other you have made me since 1 
 came to Bouverie ?" 
 
 " I understand you. 7 ' She turned quite pale, even about the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBDS. 207 
 
 lips. " You leave to-morrow, would you like to see the picture 
 now ? You too, Lady Edith ?" 
 
 The person last addressed did not hear the proposition ; the 
 merry boys were calling to their mother, and she was preparing 
 to go to them, with no ear for any one else. 
 
 In another moment she had left the room. 
 
 " It is better so, perhaps," thought Lilian; " none but the ear- 
 nest eyes of age and experience should see that picture, which it 
 costs me so dear to unveil." 
 
 She had never recovered, probably, from the early emotions of 
 awe and mystery with which she had first invested it, and since 
 her grandfather's death other feelings had come to strengthen these. 
 
 Yet she felt no such misgivings with regard to the other por- 
 traits that surrounded the drawing-room. Those of her grand- 
 mother, of Bishop Clare, of Jasper's self, inspired her with tender 
 regret alone. What was there in that dark picture that stirred 
 her soul to agony and an unreasonable awe, she vainly strove to 
 conquer ? 
 
 She led the way to the drawing-room, little used except in the 
 evenings. She threw open one of the windows, and let in a flood 
 from the beautiful autumnal sunshine without, and standing before 
 the fireless chimney, prepared to unveil the picture. 
 
 A cord and tassel had been so adjusted with slender pulleys 
 that one standing on the floor could draw up the curtain now, 
 with a slight exertion. Thus aided, Lilian raised the cloth gradu- 
 ally from the surface, until the whole painting was revealed. 
 
 Colonel de Courcy's eyes were riveted on the superb presence 
 before him for an instant, as if in astonishment ; then breaking 
 forth in the excitement of the moment, with flashing eye and 
 pointing finger, he exclaimed
 
 208 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 " The same ; I cannot be mistaken ! I saw him more than 
 thirty years ago at the Court of Nicholas. He was standing in 
 the imperial group when I was presented, the stateliest man at 
 court except the Czar. He was the remarkable personage ' the 
 American engineer ' to whom the emperor gave his famous 
 ' gnome eye ' jewel from his own hand. It was talked of through 
 all St. Petersburg. I would know that peculiar face among a 
 thousand am I not right, madam ?" 
 
 The curtain fell ; something in the vehement manner of Colonel 
 de Courcy had struck old chords too forcibly. Lilian leaned 
 against the mantel-piece, covering her face with her hands, weep- 
 ing convulsively. The storm passed in a moment. 
 
 It was not often oh ! not often now, that her nature was 
 swept to such a gust of tears. It was a part of the old being, 
 and it served to freshen the arid monotony of the new. 
 
 " My child I have I given you pain ?" He laid his hand upon 
 her shoulder ; he spoke in tender accents the strong, the gentle 
 man, the Christian soldier. 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! It was only a passing emotion, uncontrollable 
 though for the moment. It is well so ; it has relieved me. But 
 it seems so strange that you should have seen him, my broken 
 broken idol !" She murmured the last words. 
 
 Again a pause. 
 
 " It is exquisitely painful to me to unveil this picture you did 
 not know that, of course. How could you suspect such an un- 
 reasonable thing of me ? Such a weakness ! Yet look at it 
 when you will, henceforth alone." 
 
 He took her hand and led her to the open window, from which 
 the eye embraced a sunny stretch of lawn and flower borders, still 
 gay with lingering dahlias, chrysanthemums, and monthly bloom-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 209 
 
 ing roses (the last, ever latest to desert their summer allegiance), 
 encircled and protected, as by strong arms of love, by the distant 
 changing woods. For some tune they stood hi silence, gazing out 
 on the s<jene before them a silence only broken by the monotonous 
 chirping of a Cardinal bird in the Norway fir before the portico. 
 
 He turned to her abruptly at last "This place is too lonely 
 for you," he said. " It will kill you nay, it is killing you 
 already by inches. Leave it. Put the past behind you carve 
 out a new destiny ; you may still be happy. ' Let the dead bury 
 their dead,' and come away." 
 
 " This cannot be, she answered, my fate is boond up with 
 Bouverie. Think of Dr. Quintilian ! he would be permanently 
 contented nowhere else." 
 
 " Contentment in such a life, stagnation rather I Did you not 
 say yourself that peace was but one ingredient of happiness ? 
 There is nothing here to fill the requisitions of such an organiza- 
 tion as yours. The most finely strung, the most comprehensive 
 that I have ever beheld in woman." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, thank you, your praises overpower me, they 
 are partial, excessive. I do not deserve one tithe" 
 
 " Answer me frankly, then, Lilian ; I leave it to your own con- 
 science," he interrupted, " to settle this matter definitely: Are all 
 the requirements of your being filled in this solitude ?" 
 
 " Not all not altogether, rather ; but the wise man whose 
 house is too large for his own use, manages easily to contract it, by 
 closing a few doors, and abandoning a few rooms. It is thus that 
 I have done. There are desolate chambers in my heart I never 
 enter now, shall never abide in again until the end of all. As to 
 solitude, which, to most persons, seems such an insupportable 
 evil, do not think me paradoxical when I tell you I have found it
 
 210 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 my closest, most congenial companion I am accustomed to it, 
 and I never feel so true to myself, so natural as when I am alone. 
 Yet I enjoy social society very keenly ; but we must not drink 
 champagne every day, you know." , 
 
 Her eye sparkled, she smiled, the scarlet returned to her lip. 
 It was one of those moments when beauty seemed her birthright. 
 Her companion gazed at her long and admiringly. She had 
 given a new impulse to his life, this woman, whose existence was 
 stagnation in his opinion. 
 
 " Point me, again," he said, " that slender magnolia-tree, that 
 yesterday you told me you meant to remove from beneath its 
 deep elm shadows, so that sunshine might deepen its green, and 
 foster its long delayed time of blossoming." 
 
 The tree was not far distant ; she showed it to him readily. 
 
 " Are you not afraid to transplant it," he said, " when it has 
 grown so long in the shade ?" 
 
 " Not at all, care and attention will compass almost any floral 
 change." 
 
 He turned to her suddenly, " Then let me be your gardener for 
 once," he said. " Go with me, Lilian, away from Bouverie, back to 
 Taunton Tower, make it your home, your heritage, my fair mag- 
 nolia-tree ;" and again he clasped her hand with his trembling 
 fingers impetuously. 
 
 She, too, trembled. His words meant little, but his manner was 
 unmistakable. This revelation was unspeakably painful to her. 
 
 " You are very kind," she said, in low accents, " and it may be 
 that at no very distant day I may stand beneath your roof-tree 
 in the old hall again, as your guest. But Bouverie is my home, 
 must ever be, while life is mine ; yet do not think me ungrateful, 
 Colonel de Courcy Believe me, should we meet no more after
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 211 
 
 to-day, I shall never forget you, nor cease to honor you, my 
 kinsman." 
 
 She stooped, pressed her lips lightly upon his hand, then with- 
 drawing her own from his grasp, was gone before he could speak 
 to her, nor did they again meet save in the presence
 
 213 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEEIE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DR. QUINTILIAN had built a chapel on the confines of the 
 domain of Bouverie, and near it a small parsonage. The neigh- 
 bors, many of them persons of culture and influence, had con- 
 tributed to raise a salary for the officiating clergyman, and 
 thronged the little church on every Sabbath-day. 
 
 The building was simple, remarkable only for its exquisite pro- 
 portions, so that it filled the eye, as a more elaborate edifice, less 
 harmoniously constructed, could never have done. 
 
 To build this chapel had been a favorite day-dream of Dr. Quin- 
 tilian's for many years ; but, it was not until after the death of 
 Erastus Bouverie (when his long-diverted income flowed into 
 usual, channels) that he had felt at liberty to withdraw any 
 portion of his own slender means from the support of the house- 
 hold of which he formed a member. 
 
 Although a Presbyterian, and as such not strictly entitled, 
 perhaps, to bestow the name of chapel on the house he had 
 erected for the worship of God, he was so liberal in his senti- 
 ments, that the pulpit was open to all denominations, and thus the 
 preaching at Bouverie was varied and interesting as that of no 
 constantly officiating minister could possibly be. 
 
 ' It rested Mr. Yernon," Dr. Quintilian thought, " for others 
 to take the pulpit in turns with him and it rested other congre- 
 gations for their preachers to leave them occasionally and it rested 
 those preachers to get rid of stereotyped faces now and then, and 
 try their energies on fresh material." So his was, according to
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 213 
 
 him, a system of rotation that afforded universal "rest and 
 refreshment of spirit !" Who shall say that he was not right in 
 this opinion ? What single man can afford new weekly nourish- 
 ment from his own individual resources for a thousand minds ? 
 
 " Besides, Vernon himself improves," Dr. Quintil would add ; 
 " from hearing all this pulpit eloquence, he is unconsciously re- 
 ceiving his second clerical education. His prayers have taken 
 fresh wings of late they were heavy enough when he first came 
 among us, quite clogged with repetition; and as to his sermons, 
 they are twice as short and substantial and thorough-going as 
 they used to be, and ten times more charitable. He begins to 
 believe that brimstone is not ' your only wear ' in the world to 
 come, and we hear less of the Elect that angelic aristocracy !" 
 
 Colonel de Courcy and Lady Edith had accompanied their 
 hosts on each of the two Sundays that found them inmates of 
 Bouverie, to the Oak Wood Chapel. 
 
 It happened that on both occasions eloquent preachers had 
 filled the pulpit, invited perhaps especially by Dr. Quintilian from 
 the nearest city, and sharing his hospitality, each time, for a day 
 and night, or two. 
 
 They were men of different denominations and opposite cha- 
 racteristics, yet alike courteous and liberal, in the expression and 
 reception of opinion. One was a fiery speaker, the other a close 
 and cogent reasoner, and as was natural to their temperaments, 
 Dr. Quintil, the man of reason, preferred the first, Colonel de 
 Courcy, the man of impulse, preferred the latter. 
 
 Lilian delighted in pulpit eloquence, from which she had been 
 shut out during all the years of her seclusion at Bouverie, until 
 the chapel was built. She did not criticise nor discriminate greatly, 
 not sufficiently perhaps ; but she surrendered her whole being to
 
 214 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 tlie preacher, as Christ's living representative, "doing," she 
 thought, "a grand and mysterious work, to the best of his 
 ability," whether with strength or weakness she little cared to 
 investigate. It was not her business to do this, she thought ; cer- 
 tainly not her pleasure. She went into the house of God with 
 the meekness of a little child about to hear great lessons, partly 
 incomprehensible, not the less thrillingly impressive on that 
 account. None I think feel more entirely the holiness of the 
 sanctuary than those long shut away from it by circumstances, 
 and who learn thus to regard then* presence in a church a privi- 
 lege, not a mere matter of course. Imaginative people are, I 
 believe, above all, most thrilled by the presence of the Invisible in 
 his appointed temple. 
 
 Such minds go far beyond anything that a preacher feels 
 privileged to speak, and take thought at its sources intuitively 
 and sympathetically. It matters less for them, therefore, than for 
 others what words are employed, what images displayed. They 
 are in the very presence of the holy of holies. 
 
 It was not thus with Lady Edith. Less imaginative, less culti- 
 vated than Lilian, she was proportionably more exacting of these 
 qualities in her minister, nor <iid she fail to express her admiration 
 of, and astonishment at the- gifts of those preachers she had heard 
 at Bouverie. 
 
 Colonel de Courcy, too, was earnest in his praises, and Dr. 
 Quintilian highly gratified at these tributes from his guests. 
 
 " We are undoubtedly," said he, " the most religious, because 
 the freest people on earth. Nowhere is the word of God so 
 widely spread, so truly revered as in the United States. Every 
 hearthstone is an altar, and every mother's heart a well of 
 prayer. As for our preachers, they come among us like bro-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEK1E. 215 
 
 thers, not rulers, and the Bible is the corner stone of our consti 
 tution." 
 
 Colonel de Courcy thought otherwise. He thought that 
 compulsory respect for the order of priesthood was a radical 
 part of national prosperity. That as the " twig was bent, so 
 the tree inclined," and that religion ought to be a part of govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Whole hours were spent in that polite and useless contro- 
 versy, which the reader can so well appreciate without further 
 explanation or detail. 
 
 At the close of one of these political "dialogues," for they 
 hardly amounted to the dignity of conversation, being entirely 
 devoid of its freedom and discursiveness, Dr. Quintilian ventured 
 to remind Colonel de Courcy, that in spite of his allegiance to 
 established forms, he had avowed a few days past, during their 
 stroll through the oak forest, that his only profound and abiding 
 impressions of Christianity had been derived from a wandering 
 missionary, a dissenter and an enthusiast. 
 
 " Say fanatic, rather," he admitted, laughingly, " for such he 
 certainly proved himself later, when he set out, knapsack on 
 shoulder, to walk from the borders of India to the northern part 
 of Russia, for the purpose of converting the Czar. He had been 
 preaching to us, poor jungle-bound soldiers, for some months, 
 purely for the love of the thing, and the pity he felt for our be- 
 nighted condition, and not without effect. 
 
 " When men have been thrown together, until the hideousness 
 of all hearts becomes manifest, with no qher resource against 
 such society than the companionship of Thugs, Sepoys, tigers, 
 and crocodiles might afford them, they are glad to be persuaded 
 that there is a pitying God, a self-sacrificing Saviour.
 
 16 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 "I am not ashamed to say, that I was completely carried off 
 my feet by that strolling missionary, and that I received from 
 the hand of ' Evan Meredith ' the baptism, which as an infant 
 had never been bestowed on me." 
 
 " Lilian started. How the name had thrilled her, associated 
 as it was inextricably with the past. 
 
 " What manner of man was he, Colonel de Courcy ?" she 
 asked, earnestly. 
 
 " Oh ! a very apostolic sort of man, with a St. John counte- 
 nance, full of peace and praise, with great fanatical-looking, 
 beaming blue eyes. He had exquisite hands, I remember, and 
 beautiful curling brown hair, which never looked rusty nor 
 neglected, although no hat ever covered it. He looked like a 
 woman, from his natural deficiency of beard and wore a robe of 
 iome coarse blue fabric like an ancient Greek, or a Dervish rather. 
 His voice was very musical, and he had a gift of persuasion (one 
 could scarcely call it eloquence), and a sort of dignified meekness 
 very peculiar that was the most puzzling thing ! Nobody ever 
 laughed at any of his absurdities, though not for the want of the 
 will, but the power. He disarmed one so ! You would have 
 been amused at his dinners. The angel that came to ^ine with 
 Adam and Eve would have enjoyed them, probably. No warm 
 food ever passed his lips, no flesh, no wine no eggs, even 
 no fish never was there such an anchorite. 
 
 " Everlasting fruit, and cold boiled rice, crusts of bread, and 
 water he ought to have lived with Goldsmith's celebrated 
 ' Hermit of the Dale.' Don't you think so, Mrs. Quintilian ?" 
 
 "Strange, strange, indeed!" she answered, absently ; "but it 
 interests me so to hear about him, pray proceed in your relation 
 tell me everything you know."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBES. 217 
 
 " There is little more to tell, except that we found out he was 
 a snake-charmer as well as a soul-charmer. One day he was sit- 
 ting with me in my tent, with several other officers (I might as 
 well confess, we were holding a sort of meeting literally, a 
 camp-meeting), when suddenly upstarted a cobra capella, almost 
 before my very face ! Of course, I sprang back in great con- 
 sternation; others more remote got hastily out of the way, but I 
 could not do this, I was so near the corner of the tent. 
 
 " There stood the frightful thing poising himself before me 
 death in his very glance ; you cannot think how hideous these 
 creatures are, with their great muffled throats and grinning 
 serpent faces, and burning eyes, of devilish malignity Satan him- 
 self took such a form, I know, when he tempted Eve ; but why 
 digress ? The crisis was stringent, I was so agitated that I was 
 .almost ready to capitulate, having an instinctive weakness about 
 serpents that amounts to positive cowardice. 
 
 " I staggered back against the canvas of the tent j in another 
 moment I should have fallen, when I heard a low musical squeal, 
 if such a thing could be -just such a noise as the singing-mouse 
 must have made, prolonged, thrilling, sharp, loudening, but not 
 deepening, gradually, until it filled the tent with its wild, wailing 
 melody. It recalled me to my senses. I started, I looked 
 around, and as I live, Dr. Quintilian, I saw the snake lying mo- 
 tionless at the feet of Evan Meredith ! In another moment, still 
 playing on the singular pipe he held to his lips, he turned and left 
 the tent, and the snake crept after him. I had never seen any- 
 thing like that before, even among native snake-charmers, and the 
 palanquin-bearers called it witchcraft. 
 
 " Soon after that Evan Meredith disappeared, without a single 
 farewell ; but I, who had so often beard him declare it his voca-
 
 218 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVER1E. 
 
 tion, ever believed that he journeyed to St. Petersburg on foot, 
 to convert the Czar Lucifer himself. 
 
 "I was strengthened in this belief some years later, by an ac- 
 count given me in Calcutta, by a brother officer, who had seen a 
 most peculiar-looking man surrounded by an agitated crowd, 
 dressed in that singular blue cotton robe, and wearing long, 
 tangled curls, praying in the great square of St. Isaac's, under 
 the statue of Peter the Great, for the Czar, and his salvation. 
 
 "The police quickly swept him out of sight ; but what became 
 of him none ever knew. The acts of Nicholas were all mys- 
 terious, never magnanimous, you know." 
 
 " He died a martyr," said Lilian, deeply moved. " I am so 
 glad, to have known his earlier history!" 
 
 "Why, Lilian this was the tenant of the Russian prison, 
 whose death made way for your grandfather 1 It is a wonderful 
 coincidence, to be sure. We have his Bible with all its strange 
 marginal notes, and the shell of the tortoise he charmed, as he 
 did the cobra capella, and his singular lute. Lilian, relate the 
 circumstances as you heard them, to Colonel de Courcy." 
 
 Mrs. Quintilian then told what she knew of Evan Meredith, in 
 connection with her grandfather and the Russian prison, and thus 
 another link was added by this seeming chance, to the history of 
 the " Household of Bouverie."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 219 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT was after the late dinner of the day that preceded his depar- 
 ture from Bouverie, the same day on which Lilian had shown him 
 her grandfather's portrait, that Colonel de Courcy reminded her 
 of her promise made in the morning to give him a volume of her 
 poems. She determined to go at once in quest of this, while her 
 guests adjourned to the drawing-room, and gathered around the 
 blazing fire, built even more for cheerfulness than warmth, and 
 heaped with freshly cut pine branches, in the olden autumnal 
 fashion of Bouverie. 
 
 Entering the lateral hall, from which all partitions had been 
 removed, so that it swept now, as it had originally done, across 
 the whole breadth of the house ; she opened a door, leading from 
 it into a square tower, one of two not long since erected, in the 
 angular recesses formed by the projection of the large octagon 
 chamber, from the main building ; and, almost in darkness, com- 
 menced the ascent of the winding stairway it contained. This 
 stair was one she used for domestic and private purposes alone. 
 That contained in the tower on the other hand, wider, and better 
 finished and with the dome above it open to the summit, with its 
 great clock in full view, was reserved for the use of guests. 
 
 Both of these stairs led to the lateral hall above, freed as 
 well as that beneath, from all partitions now, and into which 
 the doors of the guest-chambers opened on the opposite 
 side. 
 
 Exemption was thus secured to the rotunda, now magnificently
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 fitted as a library and picture gallery, from its old use as a 
 thoroughfare, although doors still connected it with those apart- 
 ments once occupied by the Master of Bouverie. 
 
 At the head of the left hand stair, which Mrs. Quintilian 
 ascended now, there was a small square landing, presenting two 
 doors ; that in front led into the lateral hall, and faced the por- 
 tal of the opposite bedroom ; that on the side gave into a minia- 
 ture apartment, partly lined with shelves. The western tower 
 was thus divided into two floors, and of this turret-chamber, Mrs. 
 Quintilian only knew the mystery ; no one else ever set foot there. 
 She even did not enter it often, and never without emotion. There 
 she had treasured ah 1 her sacred relics of the past. Jasper's un- 
 finished pictures, his easel, his very pallets still stained with their 
 various faded colors ; the old Silenus mask itself was carefully pre- 
 served. On the wall hung the lyre, the shell of Merodach, the study 
 robe of velvet, the brocade dressing gown, one and all, so personally 
 connected with her grandfather. In a small ebony case of 
 drawers beneath, were all of his chemical effects that could be 
 found after the explosion, some uncut jewels, and the mother of 
 pearl casket holding its inestimable " gnome eye." The pyramidal 
 vial, containing what remained of his medicine at the period of 
 his death still threw out amber light whenever brought even 
 for a moment from its dark receptacle, and still exhibited 
 the strange phenomenon of the writhing and collapsing tiny 
 golden serpent, when agitated at all. Her grandmother's rosary, 
 crucifix, Prie Dieu, breviary were also there, and the book still 
 lying open as they found it on her knees, on the day of her death, 
 containing the sermons of Bossuet. Other memorials, too nume- 
 rous to mention, were likewise carefully preserved ; but I digress ia 
 enumerating these things here, nor was it to this room that Lilian's
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 2S?1 
 
 steps were directed on the evening in question. She passed the 
 door with a rapid step and opened that immediately in front, 
 which gave into the upper entry. As she emerged from it a bat 
 whirled blindly past her, striking her cheek with its wing in its 
 flight, and startling her slightly. For a moment the idea of 
 turning back for a candle occurred to her, but there was still 
 light enough from the western window of the hall to guide her to 
 the rotunda, from the skylight of which she knew must stream a 
 still stronger radiance. A few red beams from the declining sun 
 chequered the floor as she entered the library ; these faded, how- 
 ever, after a few moments, suddenly away into greyness and nn- 
 distinguishable shadow. She had in the short interval of time I 
 have indicated, however, between sunset and the rapid succession 
 of autumn twilight, secured the book which made her errand, and 
 was turning to leave the rotunda, with an unquiet haste, quite 
 foreign from her usual calmness of movement, when her steps 
 were arrested, her ear ravished by a low thrilling sound, that 
 seemed to rise from the floor, and gradually fill the rotunda with 
 its wild, low, wailing melody. It recalled vividly the notes drawu 
 from the lyre of Merodach, but was louder, wilder, more ear- 
 piercing and overpowering than any tones of that instrument. 
 Just as her senses seemed to reel before its prolonged intensity of 
 vibrations, it lessened in volume, and in searching power, and 
 gradually died away with a plaintive wail into perfect silence. 
 
 Simultaneously with the decline of this singular sound, with its 
 unmistakable associations, Lilian saw, with distended eyes, glid- 
 ing among the shadows a dull, violet-colored flame, that after a f 
 moment or two sped swiftly across the floor of the rotunda from 
 the external wall, and flickered around her feet. 
 
 Then, in that voice so long familiar, so long silent, that pern-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEREE. 
 
 liar, never-to-be-mistaken voice, with its silvery articulation, its 
 pathetic vibrations came forth that word, more soul- stirring in 
 such tones than any other her ear had ever received her own 
 name uttered thrice in accents of passionate appeal 
 
 " Lilian 1 Lilian 1 Lilian 1" So rang out the thrilling cry of the 
 dead mournful, wild, despairing, as the wail of the winter wind. 
 
 Her feet grew to the floor, her head seemed to reach the dome 
 above her, in the elation of her agony, and for an instant her 
 heart beat wildly, as if endued with a separate volition ; it was 
 trying to tear itself from her bosom, and throw itself, bare, pal- 
 pitating, and bleeding, past her throat, against her very lips. 
 Then came a momentary reaction. The book dropped to the floor 
 with a dull, death-like sound, as throwing her hands wildly up she 
 plunged forward into the shadow, as if to grasp the flame which 
 still eluded her, and with the word "grandfather" quivering on 
 her lips, fell with her arms extended, senseless on the floor. 
 
 It was thus that Bianca found her an hour later, when the arrival 
 of guests made it necessary to seek her. But of the incident 
 just described (if such it might be called) nothing was said, and 
 it was only to the trembling Bianca that Lilian revealed the cause 
 of her sudden swoon. 
 
 When the tea urn steamed on the table, Mrs. Quintilian entered 
 the dining-room, pale, yet quite collected, and bearing the requested 
 book of poems in her hand. 
 
 A slight allusion to transient indisposition satisfied every one 
 as to the motive of her absence, yet she did not recover her 
 spirits, nor participate in the gaiety and almost hilarious enjoy- 
 ment of her guests, to the number of which two more had been 
 unexpectedly added. 
 
 Governor Staunton and Mr. Clavering had galloped over from
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 223 
 
 Grosvenor, where the last was making an autumnal visit, accord- 
 ing to custom, to call on the English guests of Mrs. Quintilian. 
 
 They brought in fresh elements for conversation, and Dr. Quin- 
 tilian was drawn out artistically by those who understood him of 
 old, so that he revealed undiscovered treasures of humor, until 
 now lost on Colonel de Courcy, or rather by him unsuspected. 
 
 Mr. Clavering seemed charmed with Lady Edith and her 
 beautiful boys, and Lilian surveyed the scene with calm satisfac- 
 tion, yet the burden at her heart, and the physical weariness she 
 felt prevented her enjoyment. The eager, bustling children had 
 disappeared, the first exhilaration of conversation was over, the 
 night wore on. Governor Staunton had obtained possession of 
 Lady Edith's ear. Mr. Clavering was released, and found him- 
 self soon where he always preferred to be, sitting by Lilian's 
 side. 
 
 "You are 'distraite' to-night," he said, "what ails you? I 
 fear there is something more than mere indisposition at work. 
 Do tell me how I can serve you ?" 
 
 She did not reply immediately. " Who cares for me as he 
 does, after all ?" she thought. "Am I not unwise, perverse, per- 
 haps, to put away such unwearying affection ? Twelve years of 
 constancy should these go for nothing ? Might I not be happy, 
 as the word is commonly understood far happier than I am now 
 with such a man as he ? What is this fond madness that binds . 
 me, Ixion-like, on the wheel of the past ?" ^ 
 
 Quickly as light these thoughts swept through her brain ; but 
 she only said 
 
 " Yes, you are right ; there is something more than mere 
 physical languor wrong with me to-night, but do not ask me 
 about it yet; another time I will tell you, probably; but it is too
 
 224 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 recent, too mysterious now. Try and distract Dr. Quintilian'a 
 attention from me, if possible ; if he speaks to me I shall break 
 down completely. You know I must sustain myself until they 
 go, and then oh, Mr. Clavering, what then ?" She gazed in his 
 face with wild and wistful eyes. " Colonel de Courcy is right. 
 Bouverie is killing me, soul and body," she murmured, as she 
 drew her fingers slowly across her brow. 
 
 He had never seen her so wrung, so wildly agitated. It was a 
 relief to both when the footman came in and announced a colla- 
 tion ready in the dining-room. A storm had risen unobserved 
 without, a sudden equinoctial gale, while all were more or less en- 
 gaged in social enjoyment. The lightning blazed through the 
 Transom glass, above the front door of the vestibule, as they 
 crossed the dimly-lighted hall to reach the supper-room, and soon 
 the rain was heard driving furiously against the window-panes, 
 the shutters of which were still unclosed. 
 
 There was a strange stillness among those who gathered around 
 the board (on which the usual fruits, wines, ices, meats, and salads 
 were served), caused probably by the sudden violence of the storm, 
 which often, when electric, I think exercises a crushing influence 
 over mere animal spirits from mechanical causes. Or, it may 
 have been that Mrs. Quintilian's peculiar quietude and pallor had 
 at last attracted attention, and awakened sympathy. 
 
 In the midst of this lull of life, there came a crash, so sudden 
 and terrific, so near at hand, that a bomb-shell bursting on the 
 roof could scarcely hare been so startling. The glass, brimming 
 with wine, was struck by the concussion from Governor Staunton's 
 hand, and the floor trembled, as if beset by terrors. The gentlemen 
 rushed simultaneously to the hall, whence the sound proceeded. 
 
 Lilian, wildly agitated, clung to Lady Edith, and was borne,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 225 
 
 half fainting, to her room, where she lay, in a trance-like condi- 
 tion of nervous ecstasy, for hours, not swooning nor insensible, 
 but nerveless and motionless. The consequence of this seizure 
 was slight illness, which confined her to her bed for twenty-four 
 hours afterward. 
 
 Before she was able to rally entirely, her guests were gone 
 two to Grosvenor, the rest to Washington not however 
 without a personal interchange of farewell courtesies on her 
 part with the last, from whom her separation might be of years. 
 It had been determined not to acquaint her with the extent 
 of injury inflicted by the storm, until her nerves should be hi 
 better condition. Toward evening, Dr. Quintilian ventured to 
 communicate the truth. The electric fluid had struck tbe chim- 
 ney of the drawing-room, and glancing downward, without injury 
 to the chamber above, had been attracted from its path, probably 
 by the large iron hooks that supported the picture of Erastus 
 Bouverie, and which penetrated the walls above the mantel into 
 the flue itself. 
 
 The consequence had been the destruction of that superb paint 
 ing, which was found lying on the carpet scorched to cinders. 
 The mere remnant that remained was of no value, embracing aa 
 it did the lower part of the figure and the background above the 
 head alone ; singularly enough the frame was uninjured. 
 
 Lilian bore this announcement with a sort of bitter patience, 
 and now it became her turn to relate her strange vision to Dr. 
 Quintilian a vision thus far realized, as it might seem to the 
 mind inclined to superstition. 
 
 Again a dark shadow, never to be dispelled, brooded ovrr the 
 household of Bouyerie, swept perhaps this time from th 
 terious wing of destiny itself.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A MONTH later, Lady Edith Sinclair returned to Bouverie. 
 She came on this occasion unannounced, and walked the mile 
 from the depot to the mansion, through the long avenue of half 
 leafless oaks that skirted the road, leaning on her husband's arm. 
 Children and servants had been left behind as supernumeraries. 
 No carriage had been summoned. She came this time in the 
 capacity of a humble minister to an overpowering affliction. 
 
 Again Bianca opened the door to admit the guests, bursting 
 into tears as she did so, and covering her face with one hand, 
 while she extended the other to Lady Edith. 
 
 "Oh, bless you, bless you, my lady, you have come to a 
 wretched house walk in." And she mechanically proceeded to 
 open the drawing-room door. Then wiping her eyes, she asked 
 
 " Where is Colonel de Courcy ? This is another gentleman. ' 
 
 " My husband, Biaiica, Lord Sinclair." She courtesied low. 
 11 Colonel de Courcy sailed for England the very day before that 
 disaster." 
 
 " Don't name it, my lady. It seems like a miserable dream 
 still. I can't believe it is true. I am half crazed, I believe." 
 
 " Oh, no, Biauca, your feelings ~are perfectly natural under the 
 pressure of extreme sorrow. I even, who knew her so briefly, 
 have felt almost amazed with grief." 
 
 " An angel like her, my lady, to be so given up to the Imnds 
 of the evil one !" 
 /' God directs all, Bianca."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 227 
 
 " We don't know, Lady Edith. See how Job, the just man, 
 was surrendered to Lucifer. Think of those warnings." 
 
 Lady Edith had never heard of them, and did not understand 
 her allusion. She hastened to inquire for Dr. Quintilian, whose 
 desolate condition moved all her sympathies. 
 
 " How does he seem, Bianca ?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, poorly, madam, poorly ; yet he bears up like a man. 
 Shall I tell him you are here, Lady Edith ? I think he will 
 receive you at once, if not the gentleman." 
 
 " Do so, if you please. Add that Lord Sinclair wishes to take 
 him by the hand, but that we can wait one, two, three days, as 
 he pleases, until he is prepared to see us wait his own good 
 time." 
 
 The husband of Lady Edith, still a stranger at Bouverie, 
 was a diplomatist of some distinction, then on a mission from 
 England to the United States. He was an intelligent though 
 scarcely intellectual man, firm of purpose, honorable in character, 
 fine looking, fresh colored, and about fifteen years older than his 
 wife, between whom and himself there existed an unusual con- 
 geniality as well as attachment. 
 
 It must not be concealed, that he had accompanied Lady Edith 
 to Bouverie with considerable reluctance, and merely from a sense 
 of duty. His English horrors of scenes to which he supposed 
 Americans to be addicted, made him nervously apprehensive of 
 his interview with Dr. Quintilian. It was, therefore, with 
 unfeigned disappointment that he found himself included in the 
 invitation to go into the presence of the sorrowing man, when 
 Bianca returned. 
 
 She ushered the guests into the dining-room, where Dr. Quin- 
 *.rtian was seated in his great chair by the fire. He advanced to 
 26
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 meet them as they entered with extended hands, but without the 
 power to articulate a syllable He had counted on greater self- 
 possession, and it was not without mortification that he found 
 himself so suddenly overcome " interdit " as it were. "With a 
 mute gesture he invited them to be seated, then taking out his 
 large pocket-handkerchief, he walked to the window and stood 
 awhile, burying his face in its folds, giving way to a hearty burst 
 of silent grief. When, after a few moments, he turned and 
 approached his guests again, his features were quite composed, 
 and he had wiped away the traces of his tears. 
 
 " We have a fine autumn, Lord Sinclair," were the words he 
 mechanically uttered, as he reseated himself. 
 
 " A lovelier season I never saw," was the relieved response of 
 the Englishman, who " hated scenes." " Your climate surpasses 
 ours, certainly, at this period of the year." 
 
 " Your boys are well, I hope ?" turning to Lady Edith 
 abruptly. " Why did you not bring them down ?" 
 
 " We feared they might disturb you at this time, Dr. Quin- 
 tilian ; children are so noisy, so uusympathizing." 
 
 " Ah !" he waved his hand, and half rose in the chair he had 
 taken, as if impatient of the faintest allusion to his condition, his 
 irreparable loss, at least from another. 
 
 " You are better, Dr. Quintilian, than I dared hope to see you ?" 
 
 " Yes, better ; as well, probably, as I shall ever be again the 
 nature of things is fixed now ;" then hesitating, he added ; " I 
 should have been pleased to have seen Colonel de Courcy." 
 
 "He has sailed, very unexpectedly, for England." 
 
 " Gone home, has he ? Home ! what a word ! as if place had 
 anything to do with home after all," he muttered. " He, too, 
 will be quite lonely for a season," he added, speaking louder.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 229 
 
 * 
 
 " Yes, until we return." 
 
 " Return !" He smiled, half bitterly, as he repeated the word, 
 go yam to him plunged the fire-irons in among the coals, and 
 stirred to life their dull, bituminous blaze then rising abruptly, 
 rang the bell." 
 
 A footman answered the summons. " Refreshments, James, at 
 once, for Lord and Lady Sinclair. They breakfasted early go 
 to Bianca." He spoke mechanically then sinking back in his 
 chair again, fell into a deep musing silence. 
 
 He was startled by the entrance of the servant with a 
 tray. 
 
 " I forget myself strangely to-day," he said, rousing from his 
 reverie. 
 
 " Pardon me, madam, sir ? lord ?" " Sinclair." The word was 
 supplied in a whisper by Lady Edith. 
 
 " Aye, Lord Sinclair, I lose myself constantly. Truly, a 
 noble name, and one often heard by me with pleasure, in times gone 
 by connected as it was with so much that was fearless and 
 honest in diplomacy, a profession in which usually but little of 
 such leaven is found." 
 
 He was making a great effort now ; but his voice sounded 
 forced and hollow. 
 
 " Eat, I pray you," he added, with a wave of his hand, " if 
 anything there appears worthy of your appetites. The wine is 
 good, mister Lord Sinclair," with his hand to his brow, as if to 
 fix an idea. " Don't be afraid of it old, and of a choice vintage. 
 The grapes, they say, grew over the site of an earthquake-covered 
 city somewhere in the south of Portugal, I forget the name of 
 the place, just now. I wonder," he muttered, " if moral earth- 
 quakes ever produce good fruit anything better than sorrow,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 shame, remorse, despair, or all that sort of thing ? That old fable 
 of the house of Atreus what a terrible thing it was !" 
 
 In the very irrelevance of these words there was much that 
 was impressive, awful even, to his hearers. 
 
 He rose, and walked away, and again stood by the window, 
 apparently gazing out upon the lovely scene before him ; pre- 
 sently he returned. 
 
 " The mystery of the atonement is forced upon me very won- 
 derfully of late," he said, resuming his seat, and speaking low, 
 with his eyes fixed on the fire, " not only as we understand it in 
 the Saviour's case, but as a component part of man's nature, ex- 
 isting through all time a necessity even. Men have always con- 
 ciliated sin with sacrifice. The Cretans offered up the loveliest of 
 ( the Greek youth to their hideous Minotaur monster. The Pe- 
 ruvians and Egyptians propitiated thus their priest-governed 
 idols : lambs, doves, innocent maidens, all the purest, sweetest 
 creatures in nature, have been selected for such offering. 
 Who ever thought of offering a wolf, or panther, as a holo- 
 caust ? Why is this ? Why does he sanction such terrific 
 wrong ? I confess I cannot understand it all, nor shall until 
 the day of doom." 
 
 " We are not called upon to understand, only to submit," said 
 Lady Edith, who now drew her chair beside him (having tasted 
 only a morsel from the various food before her), and thus replied 
 to his soliloquy. 
 
 " Aye, submission is a necessity, I know, a part of policy even as 
 we are situated, for, like the blindworm, we can only sting our- 
 selves by rebellion. It is not to be supposed that the Creator 
 cares even if he knows." 
 
 " Pause, Dr. Quiutilian ! You, a religious man, to utter such
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 231 
 
 a sentiment ! It pains me to the heart. Remember, that ' whom 
 He loveth he chasteueth.' " 
 
 " May there not be too much chastening ? Is it not a com- 
 mon error of disciplinarians to overdo chastisement ? Sorrow 
 must stop at the right point to be advantageous to the human 
 soul. It had stopped at the right point with me ; why overshoot 
 the mark ? The Scriptures compare God to a refiner of silver, a 
 very subtile and beautiful comparison, when the delicate process of 
 refining this metal is understood. We know how easily it is over- 
 done, how necessary it is to discriminate. I am afraid the Great 
 Refiner overdoes his work, also, in some souls." 
 
 Again that fearful accusation of levity against the Creator ! 
 Lady Edith was inexpressibly shocked ; was the noble, self- 
 denying, truly religious life of this man all to end in cold despair 
 and a bitter sense of injury ? Would not God call his child to 
 Ms arms again ? Would he not heed the call ? She determined 
 no longer to avoid direct allusion to the subject of his grief. She 
 would probe the wound, and bring about a more healthy action. 
 She would force him to his knees if only through fresh agony. 
 
 In the time of silence during which these thoughts had swayed 
 her mind, Lord Sinclair had risen and gone out, hat in hand, glad to 
 break away from the gloom of such a presence, and willing to leave 
 his wife the opportunity he knew she craved of an uninterrupted 
 conversation with the mournful man, who was now the " Master 
 of Bouverie," for such by will of his niece was Dr. Paul Quintilian. 
 
 " Have you been alone ever since you lost her ?" asked Lady 
 Edith, firmly. 
 
 " No, madam, no ! a faithful friend of hers and mine, has 
 shared my pillow of thorns, my cup of tears, until to-day. He, 
 too, is grievously shaken ; I speak of Mr. Clavering, madam, God's
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 truest man. But oh, in the very nature of things, his grief Li 
 not measurable with mine I" 
 
 " Certainly not, he was a friend merely ; you a near relative, 
 and her protector." 
 
 " A friend, and lover, madam, he was both ; not an accepted 
 one, it is true, but it is just possible that in the end she might 
 have married him. Some remarks in her diary, kept faithfully in 
 the last twelvemonth, perhaps before but if so providentially 
 destroyed seem to point to a possibility of this nature. She looked 
 to him evidently as a certain stay should her fortitude to bear 
 alone give way against the ills of life. She esteemed him highly." 
 
 " I never suspected this ; but her devotion to you was evidenced 
 in every act, every expression even of her most expressive coun- 
 tenance. I never saw such affection." 
 
 " She was an angel, madam, an angel ! If she had any fault, it 
 was known only to the searcher of all hearts. Her few childish 
 defects fell away from her character as she grew up, as rain-drops 
 from a tree after a storm. She shook them all off. I never knew 
 so perfect a disposition, and of all the sorrows I have known, her 
 loss has been the crowning agony. 
 
 "Jasper, my son, for such, in the nature of things, I felt 
 him to be, declined slowly. I had known from the first, long 
 life could not be his from the time, I mean, when the dark 
 blow was struck at the very source of vital power in his 
 infancy, by the evil genius of this house. I was insensibly pre- 
 pared through years for his early death. And Mrs. Bouverie, 
 the friend of my orphaned childhood, that noblest, greatest woman, 
 my profession had given me also a prophetic insight into her 
 sudden doom. Nor was it desirable that her sorrowful life should 
 be prolonged to melancholy age for her own sake ; those who
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 233 
 
 loved her best ought not to have wished for such a state of 
 things. With meekness, with heartfelt submission, yet notwith- 
 out great agony, I confess, I surrendered these well beloved ones 
 to the shadows of the grave ; but the trampled worm will turn. 
 I understand now about the ewe lamb. Yes, madam, yes, I had 
 suffered enough. Justice demanded respite." 
 
 She could not answer him she had no words wherewith to 
 stem such a bitter current the flood-gates had been loosed, and 
 he poured out freely now the waters of his grief. 
 
 "Vigorous, healthful, firmly organized, full of capacity of 
 every kind, of vitality which promised a far limit to her life 
 young enough to have shaken off her sorrow, and formed new 
 ties, contented if not happy, and beloved by all who knew her, 
 why should she have been cut off ? Why selected for such a 
 death, unless, indeed, to carry out that dark mystery of atone- 
 ment so inexplicable to me ?" 
 
 " Dr. Quintilian, I too murmured once, when Everard, my only 
 brother, in the pride of his noble manhood, was stricken down ; 
 but I acknowledge now, blindly and unquestioningly, the wisdom 
 of my God." 
 
 The instance she had given seemed to soften him the similarity 
 of their doom seemed to strike him for the first tune. 
 
 "Aye, madam, that too was supremely awful, mysterious, 
 fore-ordained, we cannot doubt ; I remember the impression it 
 made upon me at the time. Yet there seems to have been no 
 necessity for atonement there." 
 
 " Oh, banish such a thought ! I see how it haunts you. Do 
 not suffer yourself to imagine, even for ore moment, that she was 
 called upon to expiate the crimes of her grandfather. God has 
 his own way of doing everything ; we cannot understand him
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 we need n*t try ; but we must submit, with love, with humility, 
 or wrestle to the end." 
 
 " Think of the awful sentence ! The sins of the parents shall 
 be visited on the children. You know the rest." 
 
 "Think also of the wise interpretation given to that sentence 
 by medical knowledge itself which so well comprehends the here- 
 ditary pains of physical evil. Dear Dr. Quintilian, do not con- 
 found a general necessity, a mere physiological ill, with an 
 individual vengeance." 
 
 " You do not know all you do not understand everything," 
 he said. "God forbid you should 1 It was very strange, very 
 mysterious. It was in Governor Starmton's service that she met 
 her death. In early years his brother, Frederick, was thought 
 to have fallen by her grandfather's hand. This much of his sin is 
 probably loosened to Erastus Bouverie." 
 
 It seemed a perfect hallucination to Lady Sinclair, such an 
 idea ! But what could she, a woman accustomed only to the 
 practical, the real, unlearned in logic, profound only in faith and 
 feeling what objections could she offer to such a dark convic- 
 tion ? She could but murmur again of submission and the love 
 of God. He went on passionately. 
 
 " Madam, I made too much an idol of her, even from the first, 
 I know it now. I took her into my very heart of hearts, from 
 that first hour when I saw her (and my soul told me it was she 
 I sought) crouching beneath the old stone gate, at Taunton 
 Tower, thinking, sternly thinking, madam (I had it later from 
 her own truthful lips), of suicide. Do not think the worse of her 
 for that, nor deem it impossible that she, a child of scarcely 
 twelve years of age, should entertain such a notion. In those 
 poetic natures, madam, troubles press to a rapid conclusion, and
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOCVEBIE. 235 
 
 before reason triumphs, the wish to fly from sorrow, to the 
 ideal mind is almost irresistible. I am sorry to say it ; but I 
 believe there is a frequent tendency to self-immolation in such 
 beings, that they fight with all their days. 
 
 " But all good gifts have their compensating ills. I never shall 
 forget the impression made on my mind by the little childish 
 form, as it rose from beneath the shadow of the column, with an 
 elfin suddenness, and stood before me earnest, motionless. 
 
 " She was small and slight then, even for her age, though she 
 grew up rapidly afterward, and strong, in our free, republican 
 air ; but even then, there was the wonderful presence, which she 
 always retained. The wild September gale was blowing about 
 her careless, curling hair, bare to the sun. The great blue eyes 
 looked out on me, so full of grief and mournful purpose, that 
 they thrilled me with their spiritual depth. She wore over her 
 black dress, so as to shelter her bare, childish neck and aims, a 
 scarlet shawl of Shetland wool, which she drew closely round her 
 as she stood watching for me to speak. I never saw such reti- 
 cence and grace in any child. I took her to my heart from that 
 hour, madam, with Jasper's self, and wore her to the last proudly 
 my precious jewel as the chief adornment of my life. She 
 came to Bouverie. It was like turning a spring into a stagnant 
 pool, freshening its dead waters into life and health. She revived 
 us all. We loved her passing well, and how she repaid us, God 
 knows alone ! 
 
 I am weak to speak so much of my own sensations to you, 
 almost a stranger ; but bear with me, I find it a relief. 
 
 " I trust the time may come when I may reach that exalted 
 state of mind that involves perfect submission. As it is, I 
 can lay no claims to such a condition of things. Like the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 poor serpent, I gnaw the stick that strikes me. I am resent- 
 ful. I trust I yet may live to say with sincerity, 'Though 
 he slay me, will I not forsake him.' But, darling, your fate 
 was bitter." 
 
 He hid his face in his hands ; he wept aloud, with the anguish 
 of a child. 
 
 When he was quieted, Lady Edith found herself nerved by the 
 emotion of the moment, to approach him, and lay her hand upon 
 his arm, and speak some heartfelt words, in a voice broken with 
 feeling. 
 
 " She has rejoined those she loved," she said. " She is spared 
 the bitterness of pain, of grief, of change, of wearing age. Her 
 sufferings were but for a moment ; her joy will be eternal ! You, 
 too, will join her when this life is over. God's holy will be 
 done." 
 
 She doubted afterward whether he heeded or understood her, 
 he was so rapt, and his lips were moving silently. Soon lifting 
 up his voice to God, as if unconscious of any other presence, Dr 
 Quintilian prayed aloud, for the first tune since Lilian's death. 
 
 Let us hope that the balm of peace fell over his bruised an 1 
 broken heart. Let us trust that his cry of anguish, divested of 
 all human infirmities, ascended to the throne of the Most High, 
 where the record of his saintly life was kept, and found its merci- 
 ful recognition through the medium of Christ the Saviour. 
 
 NOTE. The writer of these last chapters would here remark, that when- 
 ever the mental reflections of Mrs. Quintilian have been introduced into 
 this record, her diary, kept faithfully during the last twelve months of he? 
 life, has been referred to as authority.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 237 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHEN Lady Edith was alone that night with Bianca, who 
 came to officiate in her chamber, and at her undressing, she drew 
 from her the mournful details of a disaster, of which she had only 
 heard the outlines. She knew that she could obtain such a com- 
 plete recital of the occurrence, and what preceded it, as Bianca 
 could give her, from no other source. She recognized, too, in 
 her intercourse with this faithful servant, the position of friend 
 and confidant, which she had gained by her long and honorable 
 services, and disinterested devotion, and treated her as she could 
 have done no other menial. 
 
 Bianca began with unconscious artistic skill to trace the tissue 
 of Lilian's fate, from the time of the vision in the rotunda, to 
 the moment of its consummation. 
 
 " She never seemed herself entirely after that evening, my 
 lady," said the attached creature. " Her cheerfulness forsook 
 her. She never sang another note, nor opened another book to 
 read, after that night ; but it was walk, walk, write, write, all 
 the time. I always noticed, my lady, that those were the signs 
 of misery in our house. I loved to hear the piano going, and 
 see the needles at work then I knew all was well with our ladies. 
 She spoke to me several times about that vision in the rotunda, 
 her ' terror,' as she called it, and the way it had ' entered into 
 her life,' as she expressed it, and 'Rose/ her own little maid, 
 who always slept in her room after Mr. Jasper's death, and was 
 the same as one of the family, seeing that her sister married our
 
 288 THE HOUSEHOLD OF JBOUVERffi. 
 
 idiot that wretched, wretched creature, the cause of all this 
 sorrow, Rose said she often heard her weeping and pray- 
 ing in the night, and that she couldn't help thinking that some- 
 thing was weighing heavy on her mind. Once when she was 
 speaking to me about her ' terror,' Miss Lilian said 
 
 " ' Bianca, the books must be removed, or I must give them up ; 
 I never, never, can set my foot in that dreadful place again ; I 
 used to pray to see my grandfather, yet when he came, I was 
 afraid to meet him. What a coward that apparition has made 
 of me, to be sure. Yet this is all wrong, perhaps ; Christ's disci- 
 ples were not made fearful when he came among them after death. 
 Was not this meant as a lesson to reconcile mortals to spiritual 
 appearance ? Yet, after all, there was, of course, a wide differ- 
 ence. He shaped every sentiment to beauty and to love. He 
 was divine in flesh as out of flesh.' Then she mused. 
 
 " ' Remember how Saul was stricken when he saw Samuel,' I 
 said, ' it is human nature, Miss Lilian, every one feels so. But 
 you saw nothing after all, nothing but that little dull blue flame 
 that might have been a gas-damp, such as they find in wells, or 
 maybe a stray " Will-o'-the-Wisp," who knows ?' 
 
 " ' Oh ! Bianca, it was the same flame that quivered over the 
 crucible on the night Fabius drew my blood. I never saw such a 
 light before nor since, until that evening in the library. It was not 
 transparent ; but dull and opaque, as if it had substance,' and 
 she shuddered visibly. ' I made my compact, then, I suppose,' 
 she said, ' and I must abide by it. But to think, to think that I 
 should ever be afraid of him, living or dead Sealed with blood !' 
 she whispered, then stopped again, ' I have had so many happy 
 days in that rotunda,' she went on, ' I cannot bear to give it up. 
 It seems ungrateful. Why, after all, why should I be afraid of
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBEE. 239 
 
 his spiritual presence ? He never would harm me in any shape, 
 and to speak to me, might comfort him. I fainted too soon, or I 
 am sure I should have seen him. He is there, Bianca, he is there, 
 waiting for me to come ; and I cannot go, I am such a coward. 
 No, I never, never, can set my foot there again.' She sat shak- 
 ing her head slowly a long time in a melancholy, dreamy sort of 
 way. ; :. . . 
 
 " ' Don't fret about it any more, dear/ I said, ' Oh ! if Bishop 
 Clare were only living I how glad I should be.' 
 
 " ' Dear, dear old man, I wish he were, if indeed it be not sinful 
 to wish a saint like him again an earthly bondsman, and what, 
 after all, could he do in a case like this ?' 
 
 "'Exorcise the spirit,' I answered boldly, 'and that's what 
 others could do, as well as he, if you could only think so, and let 
 them try. Holy water is holy water in any anointed hands, and 
 there are still consecrated priests left.' 
 
 " She turned upon me as quick as lightning ; it was a way she 
 had sometimes. 
 
 " ' Father Conrad, for instance, Bianca,' she said, laughing. 
 Then growing suddenly serious again, her cheek flushed slightly. 
 I saw she had not liked my suggestion. 
 
 " ' If it pleases him to return to his own house,' she said in a low, 
 grave voice, ' it would ill become me, his child, to cast him forth, 
 even in spirit, if, indeed, such a thing could be done by a mortal 
 hand. But oh 1 Bianca, do you think that priest or bishop, or 
 pope himself could ever make him quail in any shape ? Do you 
 know so little of that fiery heart ?' 
 
 " She looked at me with flashing eyes and haughty smile, and for 
 one moment I saw the resemblance I never could bear to see the 
 likeness that seemed to strike out, so to speak (for she had no
 
 240 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 feature of his) to the master, and always blinded me almost, like 
 a glare of sheet lightning ; I never saw it half so strong 
 before." 
 
 " She must have loved him very much, Bianca, very tenderly." 
 
 "Madam, madam, that was one of the strangest things my 
 life has shown to me, the blind idolatry of that child for her 
 grandfather ; I lie in bed and think of it at night till my head 
 swims. What was the tie between them that seemed to reach 
 over the grave, that grave that snaps all others ? Does God yoke 
 together a good and bad spirit from the first so that one may 
 save the other ? Or does he give the evil sometimes power to 
 drag down the pure ? It is very mysterious, Lady Edith, very 
 mysterious." 
 
 " I am sorry such fancies enter your brain, Bianca," was the 
 calm reply. " The love of Lilian for Mr. Bouverie was a natural 
 and noble trait in her character, I think ; but I cannot believe in 
 any undue influence, now if ever." 
 
 " See, he commands her still," persisted Bianca ; " he called 
 her, and she went !" And she then told Lady Edith the vision of 
 the thrilling voice, and the thrice repeated name, as Lilian had 
 related it." 
 
 " As for Mister Erastus," proceeded the fluent dame, " I 
 think in justice to the name he ought to be exorcised still, and 
 laid at rest for who knows, Lady Edith, but he may become 
 one of those regular rapping spirits, that are going the rounds 
 now, making shows of themselves, and so disgrace the family ?" 
 
 Lady Edith looked in surprise on one so blinded by her pre- 
 judices and fidelity, that she could imagine further disgrace 
 possible, in the case she referred to ! Erastus Bouverie had not 
 spared the living why should he spare the dead name ?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 241 
 
 Yet she made no comment and bent her ear patiently to the 
 narrative of Bianca, feeling convinced that it was only by humor- 
 ing her peculiarities she could hope to learn the details of Lilian's 
 last days. 
 
 " The most of us had our warnings, Lady Edith, as well as 
 our dear child herself; even Pat McCormick's wife, a decent 
 young creature she is, our laundress, and you may search the 
 country and find no whiter linen than we keep at Bouverie, 
 Lady Edith it was a thing the mistress was mighty particular 
 about, as well as the master even she had her signs of trouble, 
 and she dee-lares she saw Bishop Clare and Madam Bouverie 
 walking stately up the garden, in the full moon of September, 
 just before you came here first, and says they disappeared 
 in the shadow of the privet-hedges, just by the wicket-gate. The 
 baby that was born a few weeks later had a wild, frightened 
 look 1" (legitimately enough, thought Lady Edith, who had seen 
 Patrick) " and Biddy, herself, has never been the same woman 
 since," continued Bianca ; "as for Rose, her poor heart is broken 
 within her and even that wretched idiot has grown grey with 
 trouble, and still sits by the fire of nights, rocking, just as his old 
 dame used to do before him, crying and whining, and accusing 
 the dead in their graves of tempting him to the rash act that 
 destroyed our peace." 
 
 " Would it not be better to send him away, Bianca ? It must 
 be so trying to Dr. Quintilian to have him here !" 
 
 "He is a fixture at Bouverie, by her will, madam, and so in- 
 deed are we all even little Rose is provided for Patrick has 
 his cottage and garden in fee-simple, and I have a good income, 
 my lady, and a home for life if that could be any comfort after 
 what has happened."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 " You will find it so, Bianca, when the edge of your grief 
 has worn off. Truly, this was very noble and considerate in 
 Lilian !" 
 
 " Then, Dr. Quintilian and the artists have all the rest, my 
 lady, and the pictures are to be distributed equally between Mr. 
 Clavering and Governor Staunton, and Dr. Paul ; all but the 
 family portraits they remain at Bouverie except one for Colonel 
 de Courcy, the ' Aurora ;' and I heard Dr. Quintilian say, that at 
 his death this house should stand ' in statu quo,' my lady some 
 new sort of statuary, I suppose, to be added to its adornments 
 for the benefit of sick artists, and he is to leave money enough 
 to pay nurses and physicians forever, in trust. 
 
 " It seemed to comfort him to draw up all the papers, with Mr. 
 Clavering, and he called me and said ; ' Bianca, if you survive 
 me, you must promise to be matron of this establishment, and take 
 Rose for your assistant ;' and he explained his plan to me." 
 
 " Has he seen Patrick yet ?" 
 
 " No, my lady ; he has not been equal to it. I have been try- 
 ing to persuade him to go to Governor Staunton again, just 
 recovering a little from his illness, and who has written him a note 
 begging him to come, with his own trembling hand ; but he can- 
 not bring himself to pass the place; he shudders at the very 
 thought. I wonder, my lady, if it is possible for a man, struck 
 to the heart as he is, ever to recover ? Now, if he were a 
 woman one might hope !" 
 
 " You think women can live through everything, Bianca." 
 
 " Everything but one thing, madam, and that is ill-usage from 
 the man they love. That kills a woman, or makes a stone of hoi, 
 which is worse than death itself." 
 
 " You had a kind husband, Bianca, I have been told ?"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEBIE. 243 
 
 " Yes, yes indeed, my lady, very kind, when the chemistry 
 worked right. But sometimes, after a hard day's labor over the 
 crucibles, half smothered with the glass mask he wore, and tired 
 of standing all the tune, even Fabius would be fretful. But I 
 never thwarted him then ; a few comforting words do a great 
 deal for a weary man. And now, my lady, since you have paved 
 the way, as it seems, by your kindness in speaking of my poor 
 Fabius, I must take the liberty to tell you my dream on the night, 
 the very night before that frightful disaster, and what seems to 
 me to have been my warning besides." 
 
 Willing to hear everything that bore upon the fate of Lilian, 
 perhaps impressed, in spite of reason, by the superstitious awe that 
 seemed to pervade the household in connection with the death of 
 its mistress, Lady Edith inclined her ear patiently, if not with inte- 
 rest, to the relation of Bianca's vision and prophetic intimations. 
 
 " I. slept soundly, my lady, until about one o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, when I was wakened by the touch of cold fingers on my face. 
 I started up quite terrified ; the room was dark, but I heard dis- 
 tinctly, in the far corner, that little dry cough, ' of habit,' as Mrs. 
 Bouverie called it, that belonged to Fabius, like a part of himself, 
 I struck a match, with a trembling hand, and lit my candle. I 
 could see nothing. So after thinking and praying until nearly 
 daylight, I blew it out again, and went to sleep ; and then I 
 dreamed. 
 
 " It seemed to me that Fabius came to the bedside, wet and 
 shivering, and very pale ; but I never thought for a moment that 
 he was dead. I had forgotten that in my dream. 
 
 " ' Bianca,' he said, ' I want some dry clothes. I have been 
 out in the rain so long that I am drenched, and the master is 
 waiting for me to light the crucibles. Be quick !'
 
 244r THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 " I thought I tried to rise to serve him, but something seemed 
 holding me down to the bed, that I could not conquer, and I was 
 unable to get up. I could only lift my hands. 
 
 "'Never mind,' he said, 'I see how it is. This is his day. 
 Let no one stir from Bouverie until it is over. Above all, keep 
 Miss Lilian at home, and let her wear the " gnome eye." No 
 one can master that. Let her always wear it hereafter.' 
 
 " Just then the spell seemed to leave me. I woke. I sat up 
 in bed. The dawn was breaking through the window opposite 
 me. I had left the shutters open, and there was nothing between 
 me and daybreak bat a thin, white curtain nothing do I say ? 
 Oh, madam ! I was wrong. Relieved against the window, dis- 
 tinct as life ever showed him to me, between the transparent cur- 
 tain and the pane, stood my husband, or his wraith rather. Dis- 
 tinct but for a moment, then fading, fading, dying away, first into 
 smoke, and then into shadow, until he totally disappeared. 
 These were my warnings, Lady Edith." 
 
 " It must have shocked you very much, even to be able to 
 imagine such things," was the calm rejoinder. 
 
 " Imagine ! Oh, Lady Edith, may you never have such fan- 
 cies. But the night wanes. Let me go on, I want to tell you, 
 before I leave you, how it was that she went to her doom." 
 
 Again Lady Edith inclined an eager attention. She hoped 
 now to obtain, after so much that was useless and incredible, the 
 facts of the case, as she eould expect to learn them from no one 
 else, or rather all those minute details of action that preceded the 
 " disaster," as the papers had portrayed it. 
 
 " You may suppose, Lady Edith, that after this I could rest 
 no more. I dressed myself as fast as I was able, and, after 
 prayers, I felt more composed. It was not yet sunrise, when I
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 245 
 
 went out into the fresh air. I could still see the morning star. 
 I walked out to the fence that divides the lawn from the stable- 
 yard, to see the cows milked. Patrick was feeding them ; Biddy 
 had the pail. 
 
 " ' Why isn't Phelim at his post this morning ?' I asked for Pat 
 was the gardener you know, my lady, and had nothing to do with 
 this department rightfully. 
 
 " ' He's had a chill/ said Patrick, ' and the fever's upon him 
 mighty hot this morning. It falls upon me to-day to see to both 
 cows and horses.' 
 
 "Just then a horseman galloped past and I recognized Gover- 
 nor Staunton's man. 
 
 " ' Don't you stop ?' cried Patrick. 
 
 " ' No ; I left my note at the house, Rose took it, and got my 
 answer. I am wanted at home. The master lies ill to-day.' 
 
 " I knew that Governor Staunton had been ailing for a week, 
 and that our doctor thought him threatened with typhoid fever. 
 I knew he must be much worse to send to Bouverie, for his regular 
 physician lived at Croften. The man galloped away, and I went 
 straight to Miss Lilian. 
 
 " I found her already dressed when I reached her chamber. Her 
 bonnet and mantle were lying on a chair beside her, and she held 
 a note in her hand, on which her eyes were fixed, musing-like. 
 
 " ' Give me some breakfast, Bianca, as soon as you can,' she 
 said. ' Don't hurry the cook, make a cup of tea, and a bit of 
 toast, and boil an egg yourself by the dining-room fire for Dr. 
 Quintil and me, for we should lose too, much time to wait for 
 Charity ; and Rose, go at once with this note to the doctor's 
 room. Tell him, I shall be waiting for him at the ireakfast- 
 table.'
 
 246 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 " ' Bianca,' she continued, 'Governor Staunton is quite 11- 
 delirious, his wife fears, and as he calls incessantly for us, she 
 writes to beg that we will come to him at once.' 
 
 '' Here Rose came back ' Go and light the dining-room fire,' I 
 said, ' and boil the water. I have a few words to say to Miss 
 Lilian privately. Time enough for the eggs and tea when I get 
 through.' 
 
 " So Rose delivered her message, ' The doctor would be ready 
 in ten minutes,' and went to do my bidding, and I stood up quite 
 agitated before Miss Lilian, to plead like a lawyer, for a criminal 
 at the bar; to plead but I did not know it then against herself, 
 for her own precious life. I tried to be as calm as possible in tho 
 beginning, and spoke carelessly, as was best with her in all cases^ 
 for her courage seemed to rise, I always remarked, and her 
 determination to do, just in proportion to the amount of a diffi- 
 culty, presented. And so I said : ' You cannot go to-day, Miss 
 Lilian, unless you take horses, for Phelim is sick in bed with a 
 chill, and there is no one to drive you." 
 
 " ' My horse is lame, you know,' she answered, ' and I can ride 
 no other. So Patrick will have to drive us, Bianca. We will 
 take the barouche. Do give orders for me to that effect. Send 
 James to tell him at once to harness the horses.' 
 
 " ' There is no hurry about your visit, Miss Lilian,' I said ; 
 ' Typhoid fever is a slow sickness the governor will be no worse 
 to-morrow than he is to-day, and then Phelim can drive you. He 
 has only had a -chill, and will be better by morning.' 
 
 I know she thought me mighty meddlesome,, by the way she 
 looked, though she said nothing. I turned to go, then went 
 back, took hold of her hands and burst out a crying. She seemed 
 somewhat shocked. ' Bianca, what ails you ?' she asked, a
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OK BODVEBDfi. 247 
 
 little coldly, I thought. My behavior must have seemed very 
 odd. 
 
 " ' Oh ! Miss Lilian, dear, don't go to-day,' I said, as soon as I 
 was able to speak. ' I have feelings about you leaving this house 
 to-day, that I can't express. I have had such a strange dream.' 
 
 " ' Don't tell it to me, Bianca !' she said, raising her hand hi a 
 sort of warning way. ' God knows, I have had enough of 
 visions lately. I will suffer them to govern me no longer ; and 
 you too,dear dame, must throw off as much as you can the super- 
 stition I have helped to fasten on you." 
 
 " ' Just this once, Miss Lilian, dear ; let me entreat you to stay, 
 for my sake.' 
 
 She sat down quite helplessly for a few minutes. ' I would do 
 a great deal more than that for your sake, you well know, if it 
 were reasonable ; but what should I gain by waiting ? Pat is a 
 good driver, Dr. Quintilian will be with me. The horses are 
 reliable. What do you apprehend, Bianca ? Why, I can drive 
 myself, if needs be.' 
 
 " ' There is a running stream in the way, which you have to 
 cross. I have had a warning about water, it seemed to me.' 
 
 " ' The road is changed since the railroad has been finished/ 
 she said. ' We do not cross the stream any longer ; besides, I 
 am no witch,' she added, laughing, ' to fear running water ; and 
 after all, beh'eve me, fate is fate, dear dame, elude it as we may.' 
 
 " ' Then grant me one favor : if you will go, wear your gnome- 
 eye ring.' 
 
 " What an idea ! are you crazy, dear dame ? Why it is big 
 enough for an elephant's toe. How coull 1 keep it on my little 
 hands ?' and she extended them laughingly. 
 
 " ' Then tie it on your bracelet,' I persisted. ' My Lilian, mj
 
 248 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 darling, you shall not go without it.' I clasped her in my arms ; 
 I could not help it, Lady Edith, it was for the last time. All 
 ceremony seemed broken down at that moment, by the strong 
 feeling stirring me like a storm. She said no word, but I saw 
 she was much affected. As soon as I withdrew my arms, she 
 went upstairs for her ' gnome eye,' and tied it to her watch 
 guard, and there it will ever remain. 
 
 " When she was ready to go she said to me, as if she owed me 
 some apology for opposing my wishes: 
 
 " ' It seems to me, dear dame, a simple duty to obey the call 
 of an ill neighbor; one, too, to whom we owe so much, so much 
 more than the world knows of. I feel that I would lay down 
 my life for Governor Staunton were it needful, and if the past 
 could be thus wiped out, atoned for, Bianca.' 
 
 " The words seemed to choke her. I knew what she alluded to, 
 though she was not conscious that I did. I had seen her readihg 
 her grandmother's diary in great anguish of mind, many times since 
 Bishop Clare's death when it fell into her hands, my lady ; I knew 
 the books very well by sight, from the first, bound in gold and pur- 
 ple velvet, to the Last, in black leather clasped with steel, just like 
 Mrs. Bouverie's own life, splendid in the beginning, sorrowful at 
 the close, Lady Edith. And in the last month I had seen her 
 busy, pen in hand, marking and transcribing passages from these 
 books, as if she wished to print them on her brain. Sometimes I 
 thought to ask her to read portions to me; but again I thought 
 it best that she should suppose me ignorant of much that I knew 
 they must contain, if possible for her to suppose so. We were 
 happier as we were, never speaking about those terrible things ; 
 never coming to any clearer understanding about the dark years 
 that were gone."
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 249 
 
 The rest of this sad story may be told with more brevity, and 
 equal fidelity, by a less digressive narrator. 
 
 The facts were simply these : 
 
 Dr. and Mrs. Quintilian had set out to " Grosvenor," Governor 
 Staunton's country residence, at which place he lay ill, at about 
 seven o'clock in the morning. After passing the day beside him, 
 finding that she could be of no immediate use, Mrs. Quintilian 
 prepared to return to Bouverie alone. At the urgent request of 
 Mrs. Staunton, Dr. Quintil agreed to watch that night by her 
 husband, then nearing the crisis of rapid typhus fever. Mr. 
 Clavering had offered to accompany Lilian home, but had been 
 kindly yet steadily refused this privilege, and it was without the 
 least anxiety on the part of any one, that she set out about four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, to return to Bouverie, driven as before 
 by Patrick McCormick. Indeed, Mrs. Quintilian herself under- 
 stood the management of horses extremely well, and had driven 
 frequently in that very equipage, to the church of Bouverie, when 
 Dr. Quintil preferred to walk, and precede her, and servants were 
 at liberty for the day. v 
 
 The horses, though spirited, were kindly, and accustomed to 
 Pat, who would still steal a moment occasionally from his garden, 
 to aid in the stable duties, faithful to his old vocation of hostler. 
 The carriage way, after keeping the main road steadily for a mile, 
 diverged into a large wooded pasture belonging to the Dugannes, 
 through which right of passage was granted to the neighborhood. 
 In about half an hour after leaving Grosvenor, the barouche 
 emerged from this woodland the gate of which Pat got down to 
 unfasten into the open road. 
 
 "Do not shut the gate, Pat," saidT" Lilian, "I hear the train 
 roming, our best way is to back into the woods again."
 
 250 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 
 
 He climbed up and seized the reins as if in haste to obey her. 
 It was impossible to see the train or to judge correctly cf its dis- 
 tance, owing to the interposing wood, which obstructed both ear 
 and eye. The horses, accustomed to meet it at the depot, near 
 Bouverie, were not afraid of it, and their docility in " backing" 
 from it had been proved before. 
 
 The carriage stood safely enough on a slope of green sward, 
 just above the road. Had Patrick, even in disobeying the more 
 cautious order of his mistress, been content to remain quiet, all 
 might have gone well. But just as he had resumed his reins the 
 train swept in sight around the curve, not more than its own 
 length distant from the gate. 
 
 Simultaneously with its appearance the mad idea seized Patrick 
 that he could cross the track before it reached him. He lashed 
 his horses furiously. They sprang forward, and then stopped with 
 their forefeet just grazing the iron rail ( the hoof-prints were there 
 afterward as proof of this) quivering with terror. 
 
 All this was instantaneous. Lilian sprang to her feet, and 
 seizing the reins from Patrick, drew them to their haunches, 
 assisted by him, perhaps, and turned their faces aside just as the 
 engine reached them. 
 
 The express shot by like an arrow. They were saved. 
 
 None that saw can ever forget that group that glimpse of 
 tei-ror ! Women shrieked and fainted, men powerless to aid, 
 struck their brows, half-maddened by the sight, and reeled on their 
 seats like drunkards, or broke forth in exclamations of prayer, and 
 imprecation, and frenzy 
 
 One calmer than most has said, that no nightmare of Fuseli's 
 painting was ever half so frightful as the drawn, upturned faces of 
 the horses, poised as these were in extremest agony, as like a
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 251 
 
 ghastly dream they flashed by the window of the whirling car- 
 no goblin page of Leslie's hand, with his suggested wail of, ' ' Lost, 
 Lost, Lost !" so wild, so hideous as the crouching figure of the 
 driver ! But the lady, what of her ? 
 
 Why cannot words do the work of light, and photograph her 
 to the intellect as she stood there, grappling with her fate, as 
 t^xat brief instant fixed her forever on every beholding eye and 
 sentient brain ? 
 
 The impression was electric, of course. Description fails to con- 
 vey it, in any shape. Imagination even is at fault here (Jod's 
 holy light alone can paint such pictures on its chosen surface, the 
 wondrous human eye. 
 
 Yet, with what words I have, let me endeavor to portray her 
 as pale, slender, statue-like, erect ; her small hands straining at 
 every nerve and muscle of her frame ; her large blue eyes, 
 glaring like dying stars; her lips apart, white, horror-frozen; her 
 nostrils narrowed to a line ; her face sharpened with its incredu- 
 lous intensity she stood, an image of beauty and terror, of 
 courage and despair ! But what of it at last ? The fiery trial 
 was but of one moment's duration. The cars had passed without 
 touching even the manes of the horses, that waved beneath the 
 very faces of the spectators. They were saved ! 
 
 Alas, the end was not yet ! As the last car shot by, and the 
 strength of hand and steed relaxed, the horses came to their 
 feet heavily, swerved suddenly, and threw the carriage over on 
 the rail, breaking away as they did so from every impediment of 
 pole and harness, and plunging madly back again into the woods. 
 
 The cry of joyful exultation had scarcely died away in the 
 cars when the conductor stopped the train. 
 
 The great chord of common brotherhood had been struck j 
 27
 
 252 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 
 
 hundreds leaped out to return to the scene of trial not one of 
 these, perhaps, in the strong reaction of feeling that had taken 
 place, surmised the possible truth. 
 
 Strong men were there, women, little children, all moved by 
 generous sympathy, and most of them excited to grateful tears. 
 It was as if every one had some great individual cause of thanks- 
 giving to God. There was a murmur, then a great silence ! 
 Oh, it was pitiful ! The truth I The driver was unhurt the 
 lady only had been killed. 
 
 You knew this all the time ? You knew that she would die ? 
 Of course you did it was my intention that you should know it, 
 from the tune the tree fell, from the tune the flame flitted around 
 the Rotunda, and the thrilling voice thrice called her name, from 
 the time the majestic picture fell scorched to cinders from the 
 wall, struck by the fire of heaven. 
 
 She knew it too, you may be sure, for she had fine instincts ; 
 or rather, she felt it whispering low in her nature, that prophetic 
 voice of doom, and saw, as through a glass darkly, the sphere of 
 her fate rolling on, gathering as it went, the power to crush her 
 in the end. 
 
 So you see the great race (as they considered it) of Bouverie 
 that came in with the Norman pirates, and crossed hands with a 
 Charlatan, was extinct at last ! Some self-destroying element 
 seemed infused in their very veins some discord that jangled all 
 the finer chords of life. 
 
 Do you remember the Indian Princess in the Arabian Nights, 
 who fought with Genii in the air with swords of flame, and con- 
 quered them at last, and fell to the earth herself in a shower of 
 luminous ashes at the end ? I tl ink she must have been the pro- 
 genitor of tho Bouvories, and that the magical Thug blood
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTYEBIE. 253 
 
 lingered in their veins. I think they inherited from her the 
 dominant yet self-destroying element. 
 
 Yon do not feel that this applies to Lilian ? No, no, indeed ; 
 nor do I ! I never meant it should. She was the Iphigenia of 
 her race, and died at Aulis, not to propitiate winds, but angry, 
 unappeased and restless manes, perhaps. She was the sacrificial 
 lamb bound from the first, it may be, to the horns of the 
 altar. 
 
 The most lovely rose I ever saw sprang from a felon's grave- 
 the most snowy lily from a pond of stagnant water the sweetest 
 grapes from the compound of inodorous matter and ashes, and 
 strips of moldy leather and poisonous, broken glass and bones, 
 a skillful hand had made. These things are types of her. 
 
 The poor wretch who was the immediate cause of her destruc- 
 tion persisted in declaring that he saw his "dame" standing on 
 the opposite side of the road, beckoning to him when he aimed to 
 plunge across the track of the inexorable train. 
 
 It was a spiteful thing even for a ghost to do, but after all 
 allowances must be made for Patrick's fanciful mendacity, so dar- 
 ing on occasions as to be almost sublime. After Mrs. Quintilian's 
 death, there was no more talk of spirits at Bouverie's. They 
 were satisfied, probably, with the result of their visitations, or 
 perhaps her presence among them sanctified their sins and quieted 
 their roving propensities of being. 
 
 These are all speculations of course, and no offence is meant 
 to priest or layman, or spiritual medium. It is a beautiful 
 thought, after all, to me, that a mortal may become so pure as to 
 be permitted to assist in the great work of atonement. 
 
 I have never seen a fairer corpse than Mrs. Quintilian made. 
 I looked at her very earnestly as she lay in her coffin (as soon as
 
 I could clear my eyes of their blinding tears), with some view to 
 this description. 
 
 Her grave clothos were the same she wore habitually in life 
 the material black silk soft and folded richly about her form, 
 finished with ruffles of fine lace around her snowy throat and 
 waxen hands. The hair was braided back just as she always 
 wore it, except where one great curl had broken away from 
 Bianca's trembling fingers, and dropped across her motionless 
 bosom. It was left there by the entreaty of " little Rose," until 
 Mr. Clavering came and cut it away. 
 
 Dr. Quintilian could think of nothing of the kind, then. He 
 was down upon his face among the ashes. 
 
 You have seen that sweet smile that comes to some faces after 
 a few hours' acquaintance with death, as if its conditions had 
 been explained at last and accepted with loving confidence ? 
 This rested early, and late, on hers. 
 
 You never would have supposed she had died a death of pain 
 or violence you never would have believed her dead at all 
 only sleeping and dreaming pleasantly. The blow that had 
 killed her was hidden by her sweeping hair ; I mean, of course, 
 the impression of the blow. A mere dent, not biggei than a 
 child's marble might have made, if pressed in wax, and bni little 
 discolored, showed where the left temple had been fractured, and 
 how the great soul had been set free suddenly, triumphantly, 
 perhaps no mortal man can know. 
 
 Could Bianca have been mistaken when she thought she dis- 
 covered in the centre of this cavity the impression of the " gnome 
 eye " diamond and the double-headed eagles that supported it ? 
 Could the adamantine jewel have done its part in driving home 
 the bolt of fate, and sealing its decree, or was it a mere fancy ?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 255 
 
 In her pale fingers she held lightly a Cape Jasmin flower, 
 with a few surrounding leaves. It was a strange coincidence that 
 " little Rose " should have selected this flower from the green- 
 house above all others, for such a purpose, for Mr. Clavering had 
 given her just such a one when they parted at the carriage steps 
 at Grosvenor. Some conversation had preceded this, of course 
 irrelevant here, even if known to the writer. He had said finally, 
 however, as he avowed later 
 
 " If you hold this gardenia in your hand when I come to Bou- 
 verie I shall believe that I am welcome. I shall be with you in 
 two days." 
 
 Alas ! he came sooner than he had promised, and never knew, 
 probably, that this was not the same flower he had given her 
 (that flower trampled hours before to clay by the feet of the 
 throng on the track, as they gathered around the beautiful dead 
 lady), or that it was only because poor "little Rose" knew how 
 she loved them above all other blossoms, that she had searched 
 the greenhouse for a Cape Jasmin to place in her nerveless 
 hand. It was a touching incident, yet a crushing mockery, too, 
 if it be well considered. 
 
 She held the gardenia in her icy fingers now, as he had re- 
 quested her to do, never more to be relinquished until it dropped 
 to pieces in her coffin. She seemed to extend to him the signal 
 of welcome he had craved ; and yet, despite this token, he felt 
 that his fate remained what his Maker had sealed it to him from 
 the beginning 
 
 DESOLATION !
 

 
 BOOK NINTH. 
 
 " ' I shuddered at the sight,' 
 B*ld Margaret, ' for I knew It was his hand 
 That placed it there.' " 
 
 WORDSWORTH {The Wanderer, 
 
 " I'll keep this secret, 
 As warily as those that deal in poison 
 Keep poison from their children." 
 
 WEBSTKE (jfruchess ofMalfi). 
 
 " 'Tis in my memory locked, 
 And you yourself shall keep the key of it." 
 
 HAMLBT. 
 
 " Oh ! thou dead 
 
 And everlasting witness whose unshrinking 
 Blood darkens earth and heaven ! what now thou art 
 I know not ; but if thou seest what I am, 
 I think thou wilt forgive him whom his God 
 Can ne'er forgive, nor his own soul. 
 
 Farewell !" 
 
 BYRON'S Cai*.
 
 BOOK NINTH. 
 
 SOME PASSAGES FROM THE 
 
 DIARY OP CAMILLA BOTJVBRIE. 
 
 Jvmt 1809. 
 
 MY husband has given me a beautifully bound book to-day, 
 headed with a learned sentence of Dr. Johnson's. He desires me 
 to keep a diary on its blank pages, and to confide all my secrets 
 to its bosom. He does this, he says, to prevent my forming 
 female intimacies, the bane of married women, and to limit my 
 confessions to Bishop Clare. He says I must write down daily, 
 if possible, everything I feel, and think, and know ; and close my 
 lips about details of my private life against all the world and I 
 have promised to obey him. He in turn has promised me never 
 to read one syllable in my book without my permission, even 
 should he find it lying open on my table, ever so invitingly, with 
 the ink wet ; and I know he will adhere strictly to his word, for 
 Mister Bouverie is the soul of honor the truest gentleman. 
 
 I am young to be married, only sixteen ; yet I feel quite at 
 home in my new vocation. Motherless girls grow considerate so 
 early, because there are none to consider for them. 
 
 There were circumstances, too, that made it better for me to be 
 married. Frederick false to me ! Uncle Bouverie dead (so sud- 
 denly), and I, all alone in that great gloomy house with Erastus, 
 
 M
 
 260 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 and with scarcely a friend or relation, that I know of, in the 
 world ! 
 
 When the lawyer told me the domain was mine I was half in- 
 credulous at first. I always thought Uncle Bouverie would leave 
 it with the rest of his estate to his own nephew and not to his 
 wife's niece. I felt ashamed to take it. It did not seem morally 
 mine ; besides, my little income, I knew, would only have kept 
 me alive in one corner of it. He thought to the last, though, I 
 would marry Frederick. What a wretched time it was to be sure I 
 Snow lying deep on the ground, Uncle Bouverie in his grave all 
 the servants gone except Dame McCormick and Bianea, and Aunt 
 Purness ; my own spirits much depressed and Erastus, writing, 
 writing all day long in the library, and never speaking to me at all, 
 except at meals. I would have been glad to have had even Eliza 
 Jones for company ; but after making up my mourning, she went 
 away to sew for Mrs. Staunton. I had no idea we owed her half 
 so much ! I saw Mister Bouverie pay her two hundred dollars one 
 morning in the breakfast-room, the morning before she left Bou- 
 verie, and it seemed to me from what passed, that she wanted more. 
 
 But I did not hear distinctly what was said ; I think she over- 
 charged us greatly, or else there were unsettled wages of long stand- 
 ing. It is better to be charitable, so I will try to believe the latter. 
 
 It was in March that Bianea said to me, about six weeks after 
 Uncle Bouverie's death : 
 
 " What are you going to do, Miss Camilla ? You cannot live 
 here any longer all alone, with Mister Erastus ; people will talk. 
 You had better go to boarding-school for a few years." 
 
 " Talk, about what, Bianea ?" I asked. " Oh, I know ;" I 
 said, flushing up suddenly. " I know what you mean now." I 
 saw it in the expression of her eye, I believe.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTFEEIE. 261 
 
 " Do you think any one could be so base and cruel as to try tc 
 injure me ?" I added. "Bishop Clare will be here soon, however; 
 he is my guardian, you know, and he shall decide." 
 
 " He ought to be here now," she said. " It is quite tune he 
 were coming back, and if he stays away much longer you must 
 write to him. I am older than you, Miss Camilla, and ever since 
 Felix behaved as he did, I have been up to men and their ways." 
 
 I knew that her lover had abandoned her, and thought it 
 
 natural she should be bitter ; yet her speech sounded hard and 
 
 % . 
 coarse to me,- impertinent even. 
 
 " Erastus Bouverie is the soul of honor," I said, a little indig- 
 nantly ; "he would never harm me, even in thought ; besides, 
 does he notice me, Bianca, any more than the tortoise-shell cat, 
 or uncle's macaw ? He goes and comes like a shadow his heart 
 is in his books and writings. Do you think an elegant, dis- 
 tinguished man like him would look at a little, obscure country 
 girl for a wife ? And what else, Bianca, would he or any other 
 man dare to think of, in my case ?" 
 
 I began to cry, she seemed annoyed ; but she persisted that I 
 ought to go to school. 
 
 " I do not want to go to school, Bianca," I said, through my 
 Vears. " I have no taste for learning, I never had." 
 
 "Nor shall you go, Camilla," said Mr. Bouverie, stepping 
 quickly into the room ; "not at least if I can help it ;" and 
 placing his arm around me, he drew me tenderly to his breast- 
 on, now I trembled ! It was the first time he had ever touched 
 more than the tips of my fingers, or shown me even common 
 attention. 
 
 " Stay at home and be my own sweet little wife, and I will be 
 your schoolmaster !"
 
 262 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 Then he kissed my forehead, and from that time I loved him. 
 I had never thought of such a thing before nor had he probably; 
 but on overhearing Bianca, all the forlornness of my situation had 
 pressed upon him, and it was a part of his gracious charity to 
 inarry me his noble generosity I 
 
 All regret for Frederick and his treachery vanished from that 
 time, and I was perfectly happy so we were married in May 
 and this is my sixteenth birth-day, the first of June ; Bishop 
 Clare has gone to Carolina. 
 
 I wish I could feel more real sorrow for Uncle Bouverie. I 
 reproach myself all the time for levity and hardness of heart. I 
 was the only creature he loved, except his wife, to whom he had 
 been devoted. He was kind, too, to my dear mother as long as 
 she lived, and to little beautiful golden-haired brother Charlie. 
 For these things I tried to love him ; but Bishop Clare knows 
 how hard I found the struggle 1 There was something about him 
 that terrified, that repelled me. He was so harsh, so forbidding, 
 so hideous too ! 
 
 I know it was sinful to care for this ; but that bristling hair, 
 that sharp, terrible eye those long pointed hooking fingers, with 
 which the servants say, he used to extract the guinea-worm, 
 winding it out in spools like a skein of yellow silk, from the legs 
 of slaves, when he bought them on the African coast all these 
 repelled me. 
 
 Hush ! this is only a whisper ; but it chilled my marrow 
 when I heard it. The family pride would recoil from the possi- 
 bility of a " slave-trader" among them. 
 
 Black and terrible name that all abl or ! Besides, he never
 
 I 
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 263 
 
 would be served by negroes he seemed to loathe them. Would 
 not this in itself almost disprove the accusation brought against 
 him ? It was only because Aunt Furness was my mother's 
 favorite servant, that he would suffer me to have her brought 
 here, when she had her long and dangerous illness. But he found 
 her a great comfort in his kitchen, when Polly McCormick had 
 other duties to perform. 
 
 Erastus inherits this prejudice, the only inheritance, I hope, 
 that he receives from Uncle Bouverie personally. What a con 
 trast there was, to be sure, between them ! Mr. Bouverie's father, 
 a younger son, who died early, was said to have been very hand- 
 some, as well as others of the name in England one of these was 
 a Madam Ambrose, I believe. 
 
 I hope he will take me there after a while. I would so love to 
 travel. How would I appear among all those grand people ? 
 Partial friends tell me that I am handsome ; he says beautiful, in 
 his blind admiration of his wife. 
 
 1 think, and so declares my mirror, well-looking, to say the very 
 least. Self-educated, though ! almost ignorant ! except of French 
 and music, all Miss La Serre understood 1 Uncle Bouverie never 
 sent me to school as he should have done, I think, and that girl 
 was intolerable in the house. I learned more at General Staun- 
 ton's than anywhere else, from the elegant conversation at his 
 tyble. But this is a history I am writing, not a diary. So much 
 for a beginning ! 
 
 My husband has brought home at last his little ward, and re- 
 ccmmended him to my kindness. The holidays have commenced, 
 and I shall have him all to myself until the first of September.
 
 264: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 
 
 " Be kind to him if you can, Camilla, and see that he wears 
 clean linen and learns his lessons, for my sake," Mr. Bonverie 
 said, before he brought him into my chamber, kissing me fondly 
 as he spoke. " But, dearest, he is a morose creature he will 
 never interest you, I know." 
 
 " Oh, of course, I will be kind to him, my Erastus," I replied ; 
 " not only for your sake, but his own, and even mine ; for, is he 
 not, like me, an orphan, and alone ? Yet alone with such a 
 difference, a helpless little one, with no great strong arm of love 
 to shelter him." 
 
 He smiled, and withdrawing a moment, returned leading in the 
 child, who hung back from his hand unwillingly, and seemed dis- 
 concerted when I kissed him. He does seem an odd, reserved 
 little fehow I Paul is between eight and nine years, well grown 
 for his age, a large, not unhandsome child ; but certainly not 
 attractive. He has been motherless so long that he has learned 
 to be reserved and cautious like an old man. He never laughs or 
 chatters idly as most children do of his age ; but stares at every- 
 thing until his eyes haunt one. His gravity is almost a reproval 
 to my nonsensical gaiety. We have been looking over his ward- 
 robe together. It is literally a " thing of shreds and tatters," with 
 the exception of the decent suit he wears ; such an array of odd 
 socks, and little sleeveless shirts, all slit and rent in every direction, 
 I never saw before. Bianca held up her hands in holy horror, but. I 
 gave way to peal after peal of laughter, much to his discomfiture. 
 
 " Never mind, Paul," I said, " we shall soon have everything 
 set to rights, and I will make you a set of shirts with my own 
 hands, and ruffle the collars." 
 
 His face cleared up immediately, and he came behind me, and 
 put his hand timidly on my shoulder, leaning over.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 265 
 
 " I shall like them all the better for that," he said low, " you 
 mast get me some handkerchiefs, too, when Mr. Bouverie has 
 some money of mine again ; some handkerchiefs with tigers on 
 them like Joe Gale's." 
 
 I am glad ho knows he is independent ; it will make him so 
 much happier. Poor little motherless fellow 1 he has never known 
 common comfort, that is plain ; but he is spoken of as a " very 
 learned r-.hild," as one might say, a " learned pig," a sort of phe- 
 nomeuoi*, and is quite a Greek scholar already. 
 
 " Oh, Pa*!/' I saAJ 10 him a few days ago, as he stood staring 
 at me silently while^ I played cup and ball, until his observation 
 became a positive annoyance, " I wish you knew how to play I I 
 wish you were even a bad child, I would love you a thousand 
 times better, I am sure 1" I spoke in a tone of absolute fretfulness, 
 am afraid. 
 
 " Then I will try to be bad," he said, demurely ; " I want you 
 to like me, Camilla." Terrified at the possible consequences of 
 this foolish speech, I hastily caught him around the neck, and 
 tried at once to remove the impression I had created. 
 
 " No indeed, Paul," I cried, " I was only talking wildly ; I do 
 like you just as you are, because you are so good, so docile, so 
 little troublesome ; and if you continue to be a dear boy, I shall 
 love you better and better every day." 
 
 " You remind me," he said, quietly disengaging himself from 
 iny arms, and standing before me with his hands behind him like 
 a philosopher cut short, " of one of JEsop's fables I have been 
 translating lately, about a traveller and a satyr ; would you like 
 to hear it, Camilla ?" On receiving my affirmative answer, ho
 
 2bb THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. , 
 
 related to me in very oracular style the famous " blow hot" and 
 " blow cold" story that I had read myself a dozen times in my 
 childhood ; but I confess without an application always. 
 
 " Now you must be one thing or the other to me, Camilla," 
 he said, " from the word ' go,' both you can never be." 
 
 His cheek flushed slightly, he was evidently in thorough earnest, 
 and I own I was almost frightened at the weird wisdom of this 
 speech ; but I could find no better answer than putting back his 
 Boft, bushy hair and kissing his large, clear forehead. This 
 seemed to satisfy him perfectly of my intentions. 
 
 Another queer scene with little Paul, whose quaint ways 
 divert and mystify me all the tune. During Mr. Bouverie's 
 absence of a week, I have nothing else to amuse me nor to write 
 about. He has called me familiarly " Camilla" until now ; but 
 fearing that Mr. Bouverie might not like the appellation, or 
 rather that it might make me appear too childish in his sight, I 
 said to him recently : 
 
 " Paul, you are a little fellow, and I am your guardian's wife. 
 Don't you think it would sound better if you were to add a han- 
 dle to my name, as common folks say ? Call me ' Cousin 
 Camilla' or 'Aunt Camilla,' whichever you prefer ; which shall 
 it be, Quintil?'" 
 
 " Neither," he replied, manfully, " for you are neither of those 
 things to me, and I do not like to tell stories ; but I will CP 11 
 you ' madam,' if you choose, as you are a ' madam ;'" and son-e- 
 thing like a sneer wreathed his childish lips. 
 
 " A foolish little madam, you think, Paul I" I rejoined, hai to 
 pique, half in playfulness.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVBJBIE. 267 
 
 " Why that is the very name for you," he said, brightening 
 with the thought. " ' Little Madam !' I will call you so ; but I will 
 not put in the foolish," he added, gravely, " for, perhaps, you 
 will change after a while and grow wiser." 
 
 He spoke very seriously, sorrowfully almost, and I was quite 
 provoked for a moment to be set down in this fashion, by such a 
 mere babe and suckling. I was glad of the opportunity presented 
 to me of snubbing him by noticing a streak of molasses on his 
 cheek. 
 
 " Go wash your face, Paul," I said ; " it is dirty I" 
 
 He walked gravely to the glass and surveyed the stain. 
 " Looking-glasses are useful things, after all," he said ; " they tell 
 the truth see ' Little Madam,' how you are mistaken 1 my face 
 is not dirty, only soiled; food is not dirt if it were, we sb/ald all 
 starve." 
 
 He turned and smiled at me in his peculiar way, half mocking, 
 half affectionate. 
 
 " Yet, as you bid me," he added, " I will wash it off ; but 
 isn't it a pity to waste what would keep a bee alive a whole 
 day I" 
 
 Is this brat a humorist ? 
 
 He has brought out of his funny little trunk the oddest present 
 for me ! It is a Medusa's head admirably carved in alabaster, 
 and was broken from the side of a vase by accident, and given to 
 him by a lady, at whose house he made a visit with Mr. Bouverie. 
 
 He Considers it a priceless treasure. There is a vague horror 
 to me in the face that is almost insupportable. The snaky hair, 
 the sightless, glaring- eyes, are so mysteriously dreadful. He says
 
 268 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 it will answer for a paper weight. No, Paul, I will lay it away 
 out of sight forever. 
 
 August. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie is at home once more ; oh, what joy to feel his 
 fond arms around me again, to lay my head on his noble, tender 
 breast ! My husband; what name so dear ? He is going to begin 
 a regular course of reading with me now, and educate me, he 
 declares, up to my capacity 1 
 
 " A very poor education it will be after all, my Erastus," I 
 said, laughing ; "if my brain is to be the limit 1" 
 
 " Come, let me examine you in French," he said, gravely, 
 taking down ' Numa Pompilius ' from the shelf. Interpret for 
 me the words of Florian, my dear !" 
 
 I read aloud, with pure accent and perfect understanding of the 
 text, first in French, then in English, a chapter of this work. 
 
 " You are familiar with that, it is easy too," he said, putting 
 the book quietly back in its place. 
 
 " Read me a little now from Montesquieu." 
 
 Again, I read without an error, either in pronunciation or em- 
 phasis, a chapter from " L'Esprit des Lois." Even his fastidious 
 sense of right was satisfied. 
 
 " You understand French, Camilla, evidently," he said ; " but 
 that is about all that you do know. You are like a man who has 
 commenced his dinner on pound-cake. Substantials will be un- 
 savory to you now ; yet, you must take them for your health's 
 sake, child." 
 
 "I do not see the necessity," I said, obstinately ; "I write 
 fluently, I spell well, I read better- -they say who have heard me
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 269 
 
 than most people I have the use of my tongue, and talk gram- 
 matically ; what more do I need I, a woman ?" 
 
 " Do you know why you talk thus ?" he said ; " yours is the 
 grammar of routine, merely ; you can no more give a reason for 
 your words than the grey macaw yonder." 
 
 " Thank you," I said, courtesying demurely. 
 
 " It is astonishing, after all," he said, " where your gifts come 
 from for you certainly are gifted with such poor watery blood 
 in your veins !" He half murmured these words. 
 
 " Poor blood I Why, my blood is as red as rubies, and as rich 
 as cream, when I cut my finger last week " 
 
 " Nonsense, Camilla ; what a literalist you are, to be sure," he 
 interrupted, getting up and walking the room, with a stormy face, 
 and glaring at me terribly. 
 
 I dropped my head on my bosom. 
 
 " I am talking of your Byrne blood," he said, sharply ; " of 
 your pedigree." 
 
 " I am no race-horse," I said, " Mr. Bouverie, to be estimated 
 by pedigree ;" I spoke proudly. He smiled as if he could not 
 help it ; but in an irritating way. 
 
 " True, true and yet that dilating, delicate nostril that lofty 
 carriage of the head, that small, well set ear, do remind me irre- 
 sistibly all the tune of an Arab courser," he said, stopping and 
 looking at me admiringly. "And those well-turned hands, with 
 their slender curling tips and rosy nails what right have you to 
 such tokens of noble blood, Camilla ? None at all ; you are a 
 rank usurper, little one." He approached me, and threw his arm 
 
 around me. 
 
 " There was no blood better than my father's," I said, under- 
 standing him well, at last, and I knew my eye flashed as I spoke.
 
 270 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEBIE. 
 
 " It was pure Virginia blood, and my mother's was as good ; but 
 his was sanctified, when he poured it out freely for his country, 
 on the field of Yorktown." 
 
 " Talking politics ! eh, Camilla ! Do you know, child, there 
 is just one shade of difference between your knowledge on such 
 subjects and that of the tortoise-shell cat who sits yonder in 
 the corner washing her face with her paws ? Look at her, Camilla, 
 witness her humility." 
 
 " I can not see, Erastus," I said, disengaging myself from his 
 embrace, "how it elevates you to try and degrade the wife of 
 your bosom." And I drew myself up with a stately air. 
 
 " She has you there," cried Paul Quintilian, suddenly lifting 
 his head from the book of algebra, where he had held it closely 
 supported until now, by his hands, and slipping his feet from 
 the rungs of the chair, so as to undouble himself again. " Little 
 Madam plumped you that time, past your middle man clean 
 into taw, and you are nowheres !" He snapped his fingers. 
 "What a look the boy receiyed. Had he met it full, it must have 
 blighted him ; as it was, I stood trembling for the consequences 
 of this singular triumphant outbreak in my favor, I must confess. 
 
 " Paul Quintilian," said Mr. Bouverie, at last, in an accent of 
 suppressed rage, and indicating his command with his long-point- 
 ing finger, while his cheek grew white and his lip trembled. 
 " Leave this library, and return to it no more, until you are 
 summoned, sir." 
 
 The child scrambled down from his chair and walked quickly 
 out, clasping his book to his breast, yet at the door he turned 
 and darted a sympathizing look at me, a furious one at him, un- 
 noticed by Mr. Bouverie. As he passed out, I threw my arms 
 around Erastus. " He is a poor little orphan," I said, " do not
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 271 
 
 be severe," and I buried my face in his breast. " God gave him 
 to us, Erastus." 
 
 " I must teach him manners love, you know, as a part of my 
 duty " I felt his kisses on my hair. When I looked up every 
 trace of excitement had rolled from his features as a cloud from 
 clear sunshine. Again I met his beautiful radiant smile. 
 
 " You are so sweet," he said, " so angelic, who could resist 
 you? Do you know, Camilla, that I have never loved any 
 woman before ? I have tried but never could succeed, and now 
 comes a little wood nymph, and prostrates all my faculties to her 
 will; but you," he continued, "young as you are, have had 
 your own little experiences of the heart already ?" 
 
 I blushed, and hung down my head. " No," he said, " I am 
 not going to probe the old wound do not be afraid he was a 
 scoundrel, let him go. Love vanishes with respect, we all know ; 
 I am not afraid of the future." 
 
 Something called me away not long after this ; I went into 
 the pantry to see Bianca, she was not there ; but Paul, in his 
 accustomed attitude, with his feet wrapped round the rungs of 
 his chair, his elbows on the table, his bushy head supported in 
 his hands, was deep again in his algebra. 
 
 He looked up, however, as soon as I entered, with a quick flash 
 of the eye, that showed his ready recurrence to the little scene in 
 which he had so ingloriously enacted the part of a defeated 
 champion. The lamp had been lit and threw its ruddy glare over 
 his angry little face, and suddenly clenched hands. 
 
 " He is as cross as a crab," he said, " and I hate him, and so 
 does Bianca, that is one comfort, and so will you, Little Madam, 
 goine day, and that is another." 
 
 ' Oh ! Paul, Paul ! surely you are uot speaking of your vene-
 
 272 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 rated guardian, of my idolized husband in such words. Do you 
 know that if I could feel thus my sin would be too great for for- 
 giveness ?" 
 
 " How could you help it," he said, " if he riled you all the 
 time ?" 
 
 " But he never thought of such a thing, he was only jesting, and 
 you, dear Paul, were wrong to be so rude, so outrageous almost. 
 I am sorry to apply such terms to you ; but they are truthful 
 words, dear Paul, and you must try and be sorry that you have 
 offended Mr. Bouverie." 
 
 " I am sorry," he said, after a moment's hesitation, " if, if, it 
 makes you sorry, Little Madam ;" and he laid his head on the 
 table and began to cry heartily. 
 
 I went up to hun and kissed him softly, and put my arms 
 closely round the poor motherless one. 
 
 Oh ! Charlie, Charlie ! perhaps he has been given to me in place 
 of you, my lovely little brother. Safe in your own mother's arms, 
 amid the angels now, and in the holy company, I doubt not, of 
 the sweet Virgin. Let me never be unkind to this little noble, 
 true heart, so feeling yet so resentful too. Let me never forget 
 the weight of my responsibility toward this dear 'friendless boy. 
 He is the last of a family of six, with one exception. His brother, 
 twelve years older, is also a ward of Mr. Bouverie's ; but is 
 being educated in Leyden, where some of his connections live. 
 He is said to be a remarkably handsome and promising youth, 
 and his letters to Paul are marked with tenderness and dignity, 
 yet what can he do to comfort his little brother, so far away ? 
 that great sea lying between them, almost like death itself?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 2T3 
 
 September. 
 
 Three months have scarcely elapsed since my marriage, and yet 
 already a great sorrow has fallen upon me. What should I do 
 if I had not the comfort of these faithful pages? To whom 
 should I apply for counsel or for sympathy? I often receive 
 both as from foreign sources as I write, it seems to me I am 
 answered. During my husband's brief absence, I received a letter 
 from Eliza Jones, written on her death-bed. She inclosed all of 
 Frederick Staunton's letters, long intercepted. She tells me a tale 
 that I cannot, will not believe about that ring she wore, and 
 declared he gave her. 
 
 No, my noble husband never stooped to treachery like this I 
 And yet she says that it was because she must have been au 
 ever-present reproach to him, that he refused to let me 
 keep her as my maid the most efficient, certainly, I could have 
 procured. 
 
 My engagement with Frederick Staunton was a childish affair ; 
 yet I should have fulfilled it to the letter, but for his long silence, 
 and the baseness he was guilty of in presenting the ring I gave 
 him to Eliza Jones. She sends it back to me, declaring that she 
 stole it from him while he slept, at my husband's instigation, on 
 the last night of his stay at Bouverie, a year ago ! I had no idea 
 then that Erastus was thinking of me, mere child that I was ; I do 
 not believe it yet. Our love was sudden ; our engagement, almost 
 immediately, owing to circumstances, succeeded by our marriage. 
 
 Frederick's perfidy cost me few lasting pangs ; for noble and 
 handsome as he seemed, how could he compare for a moment 
 to the brilliant, fascinating man, who deigned to ask my hand ? 
 He had left the way open certainly by his carelessness ft his 
 rival's success.
 
 274 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTERIB. 
 
 Had he been true, I should . have been faithful to him : and 
 yet it seems it was no fault of his, after all. Here are his letters, 
 indisputable proofs of his constancy before me here my ring 
 here the acknowledgment of a dying woman ! 
 
 There is something very black about this matter ; but I discard 
 the thought that my husband ever stooped to such a step. No ! 
 Eliza Jones is revenging herself, terribly indeed, for the slight he 
 put upon her, by refusing to let her continue in my service. He 
 threatened her, she said, and she was afraid to speak ; "but the 
 dead are beyond the power of the living," she added, " and I dare 
 disclose all now." Then begging me for pardon, she concludes 
 this dying confession of sin, of shame, of treachery I 
 
 I forgive you, poor Eliza, from the bottom of my heart, as I 
 hope to be forgiven, but I will not suffer myself to refer this mat- 
 ter to my husband in any way. I will not annoy him now on the 
 subject at all. I will put the letters aside, and the ring, and at 
 some future time he shall see them, and receive my assurances of 
 continued confidence and respect. He will believe me then ; he 
 might doubt me now and be troubled. I am determined to dis- 
 card this matter from all further thought or consideration. 
 
 My husband returns to-morrow. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie has come, so bright, so noble, so affectionate ! 
 His love for me seems to increase. 
 
 I thought that men grew colder as time flew. I am strangely 
 constituted, I fear. 
 
 There is a fierceness in his passion that almost terrifies me 
 sometimes, and chills me even. I do not think my temperament 
 is sufficiently high strung and lofty to match with his. He aska
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 275 
 
 me sometimes if I would be willing to jump from a cliff with him 
 if he wished it, and when I falter for a reply, he says, " Camilla, 
 no woman that loves truly would hesitate for an answer to such a 
 question." And yet I think he loves his life as well as any one 
 else. 
 
 I believe some day I will say " yes," just to see what he would 
 do. But it would displease him perhaps were he to read my 
 object, which he would be very sure to do, he is so penetrating. 
 
 I have an instinctive feeling that he would never forgive me, if 
 I offended him even once. 
 
 Erastus does not like little Paul, that is plain. I am sorry for 
 this ; the child seems fond of him of late, and I am growing into 
 a real attachment for the good, earnest little fellow. He is 
 teaching me arithmetic ! Does this not seem queer, with all my 
 various reading, and some little accomplishment, I never under- 
 stood the rule of three until this child made it plain to me? 
 What a poor thing a woman's education is at best 1 No wonder 
 the men fancy themselves so superior ! In return I teach Paul the 
 piano ; and he thrums several hum-drum tunes, to his own great 
 delight, and Mr. Bouverie's infinite annoyance. 
 
 That is the one thing in which Erastus is deficient he has no 
 ear for music. He is not ashamed to acknowledge this, and 
 therefore I was ill-prepared for his angry scowl, when I quoted, 
 playfully I am sure, Shakspeare's celebrated lines : 
 
 " The man that has no music in his soul, 
 
 Nor is not mored with concord of sweet sounds, 
 
 Is fit for treason, stratagem and spoils, 
 
 And his affection dark as Erebus 
 
 Let no such man be trusted !" 
 28
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 Paul goes to school in our neighborhood. He sleeps in 
 Bianca's room in the wing, and is well cared for. Dame 
 McCormick, too, is tolerably kind to him. Poor thing, her son 
 has run off, and gone to sea, and she is in great distress. She 
 has no other child to protect her in her old age. I cheer her, 
 however, as well as I can, by holding out the hope that he will 
 yet return. I am giving up my music, because Erastus dislikes 
 it so much, and yet I used to be said to have a sweet voice. 
 Paul's practisings are also hushed, in accordance with what I con- 
 sider my duty to my husband. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie is of opinion that " music is only the most endur- 
 able of disagreeable noises." 
 
 It certainly is a small sacrifice to close a piano, and yet and 
 yet I have been spoiled, I fear I 
 
 October. 
 
 I was crimping a frill for Paul the other day, when Mr. Bou- 
 verie came in, and suddenly plucking it from my fingers, threw it 
 into the fire. He did not seem excited only cold and dis- 
 pleased. 
 
 "I disapprove of such frippery for a boy," he said, calmly, 
 " and, Camilla, what can you see in that lumpy child to interest 
 you up to the point of giving him almost half of your time ? 
 You are always at work for him 1" 
 
 " He is a good child," I replied, " and you requested me, when 
 you brought him here, to be kind to him. It is not hi my nature 
 to treat him otherwise than kindly." The tears, in spite of 
 myself, rolled down my cheeks. He surveyed me with a mocking 
 smile.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 277 
 
 " You are laying up treasures in heaven, eh ! Camilla ?" he 
 observed, " by attention to the orphan and widowed" (alluding 
 to Dame McCormick, whose recent affliction had taken me to 
 see her several times), "and all that sort of thing. We shall 
 have you a member of the missionary society next, making 
 flannels for the Feejee children, whose luxury it is to go naked." 
 
 " Mr. Bouverie, you are unjust to me," I said. " I do all I 
 can to please you;" adding playfully, "a woman's work-basket is 
 her castle, I believe, in most cases, and she does what she will 
 within its walls." 
 
 " A woman ! Why you are a mere child, Camilla. It is my 
 duty to train you in the way you shall go, and I mean to 
 fulfill it." 
 
 I shrank before the glance he bent on me (he has a terriblo 
 eye, certainly, though I never noticed it before we were mar 
 ried), and I conquered the reply that rose to my Ijps. 
 
 I shall crimp no more frills for little Paul 1 
 
 He is sorry for his conduct, I think, though he has never said 
 so. He has brought me a beautiful bracelet and a book for 
 Paul. The child is in raptures. It is Mr. Day's pleasant work, 
 " Sanford and Merton." I think Paul's character is so much 
 like Sanford's that I mentioned it to Mr. Bouverie, but he quite 
 scouted the idea, and seemed impatient that I should spend my 
 t ; me reading a child's story. 
 
 He has given me a terribly difficult book on mental philosophy 
 to study. I am sure I cannot make head or tail of it, and what 
 does it signify, after all ? There is a chapter on the " law of 
 motives," that has almost set me crazy. If I were a queen, I
 
 278 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 would hut up the man that wrote this book, in a lunatu: asjlum 
 tor life, and so benefit mankind. Mr. Bouverie examined me 
 when he returned from Croften (I knew he would), and I did 
 not know one word of my lesson. 
 
 " You have not the intellect I thought you had, Camilla," 
 he said, gravely; "but of course you are not accountable for 
 this." 
 
 I looked up into his face and laughed outright ; he, too, 
 smiled. " Little trifler !" he said fondly, taking my face in his 
 hands, and kissing me repeatedly ; " yet sweeter thus, I believe," 
 he added. 
 
 " See what I have brought my idle scholar as a reward for 
 disobedience," and he held up before me a dear, delightful book 
 a sort of novel, written in poetry, called " Marmion," by a 
 new English poet, Walter Scott. I have devoured it literally. 
 Mr. Bouverie amuses himself all the time at my expense, as if I 
 were a child, sure enough, as he so often calls me. He thinks it 
 the height of absurdity to cry over a novel, as if any one could 
 help it, when the words seem to dig into the very heart, or as if 
 any one would so indulge that could help it. I am so afraid of 
 that cold, splendid, sarcastic smile of his ! like sunlight on an 
 iceberg. I must correct this feeling. What is the use of being 
 afraid of a mere habitual expression that will go with my hus- 
 band through life ? This is sheer cowardice, and this feeling has 
 lately come to me. 
 
 January. 
 
 We have had a ball at Bouverie. What a princely mien Mr 
 Bouverie has ; how superior he is in bearing to all other men !
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 279 
 
 He received our guests with such elegance he noticed the need 
 of every one he seemed gifted with ubiquity, almost, and yet, I 
 think, our ball was a dull affair. I would not say this to another 
 soul than yourself, my precious diary. It was certainly a dull 
 affair. We had a fine band of music ; the house was a blaze of 
 light, and crowded with guests ; the supper was a paragon of 
 excellence and elegance ; the wines, they say, were exquisite ; the 
 ladies (many from the capital) beautifully dressed ; I myself 
 much flattered, much attended, and yet (there is no use disguising 
 it) a cold restraint seemed to rest over every one. There was no 
 laughter, the voices seemed subdued everything was conducted 
 in a new style of courtly elegance, and the question suggested 
 itself to me, "May not a host be oppressively polished ?" As 
 for me, I did nothing but try and enjoy myself. I 
 kuew Mr. Bouverie would see that no one was neglected, 
 and no one was ; I have heard this since from unquestionable 
 authority. 
 
 I found myself toward the close of the evening in a corner 
 with James Stauuton. His wife was not present. I tried, but 
 could not ask for Frederick, as I knew I ought to have done ; 
 he seemed to understand the sort of struggle that was going on 
 within. " My brother is coming home in spring," lie said, " with 
 his ship. You knew, I suppose, Mrs. Bouverie, that Eliza Jones 
 died at our house ?" 
 
 I started" I did not know this before," I said, quite pale 
 and trembling. 
 
 " You got your ring, I hope, and your letters ?" he added, 
 
 after a pause. 
 I bowed in speechless confusion. I thought him very cruel, 
 
 very insolent even.
 
 280 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 "You understand Frederick too late for his happiness," he pur- 
 sued ; " if not " 
 
 " I understand only that there has been a conspiracy," I inter- 
 rupted, sternly recovering myself ; " to injure one dearer to me 
 than life ; and the references you have made this night will divide 
 us for ever, James Staunton." 
 
 " Stay, Camilla," he said, calling my name with the familiarity 
 of old times. " I have been abrupt, I know it was not my in- 
 tention to be rude ; I might have retained proofs of all this 
 treachery to the great injury of others I have not done this 
 thing, and like you, I hope, that some deep laid motive of revenge 
 or hate, guided that dying woman ! Let us be friends again." 
 
 I turned, I gave him my hand ; "On one condition only can 
 this be," I said ; " that you confine this matter to your own 
 breast forever, you and yours, for my sake, for the sake of old 
 friendship you must do this." 
 
 He bent over my hand, much affected. He knows now that I 
 did not jilt Frederick, as at one tune he accused me of doing. I 
 am glad of this at all events, for I do care for his respect, and 
 that of his true-hearted wife. James Staunton is a noble man, 
 and yet he is common beside my husband 1 
 
 They are starting in the career of life together ; men, I think, 
 of nearly the same age. The same goal is before them, for they 
 are ambitious, both. If I live until that tune I shall glance with 
 something of pride on my own oracular wisdom back at this 
 page of yours, dear diary, in which I record the prediction that 
 James Staunton will never pass the mediocrity of position, and 
 that Erastus Bouverie stands on the topmost platform of his Stato 
 at middle age. We shall see.
 
 THE, HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 281 
 
 April. 
 
 The winter has passed, spring is here again ; how beautiful it 
 is ! The woods about Bouverie are putting forth their young 
 tender green. The frogs are croaking around the lake. The 
 birds are brooding. I met a bee to-day, " sent out to see about 
 the weather." Paul says : Bees are the only creatures that write 
 books according to him ; what a ridiculous idea 1 he believes that 
 their little waxen cells are all scribbled over with the results of 
 their experience. He reveres bees like Napoleon. He considers 
 honey the choicest food of man, and would not kill a bee for any 
 reward one could offer. 
 
 What a strange Egyptian idea of sanctity he attaches to thern- 
 He thinks that when caught and imprisoned in a hollyhock flower, 
 and held to the ear, a bee is compelled to prophesy. He regrets 
 that he cannot comprehend these buzzing oracles ; but hopes, 
 some day, to conquer the difficulties of their language ! All this 
 is serious, and yet generally, he is a sensible wight ! 
 
 With the sweet impulses of spring, has come one strange to 
 me, yet sweeter than all the rest together. I hold a happy 
 secret in my breast. I will not tell Erastus yet ! Let him dis- 
 cover it with those observing eyes of his. Dear Diary, to you 
 alone I confide my hope, my joy ; yet, I afn so young 1 so unpre- 
 pared ! Sweet Mary, from thy throne in heaven, look on thy 
 child thou, who, having known woman's shape, still lovest best 
 *,hy sisters of the earth. Mother, sister, saint, counsel and sus- 
 tain me. I ask thee in the name of thy holy Son, our divine 
 Saviour, Jesus Christ, our Lord !
 
 282 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIK. 
 
 Mr. Bouve:.ie goes away to-day, when he returns, everything 
 shall be revealed to him connected with my own situation, I mean, 
 oh ! what a blank his absence makes for me ! 
 
 May. 
 
 Dear Paul has quite signalized himself to-day, by his extra- 
 ordinary presence of mind and courage , in defending me from the 
 attack of a bull. We were walking in the clover meadow, when 
 we saw that great black creature of Mr. Bouverie's, always con- 
 sidered so gentle before, tearing toward us. His first impulse 
 was to take my hand and run ; but seeing that I could never 
 reach the fence in tune, he called to me to run as fast as I could, 
 snatching my parasol away as he did so. I flew, and rolled over 
 the fence before I reflected on my cowardice. 
 
 The brave little fellow had opened the parasol suddenly in the 
 bull's face, then dropping it, as the creature swerved with fear or 
 astonishment, he fled rapidly to the nearest tree before he could 
 charge again, and climbed into its branches. 
 
 The parasol was truly "a wreck" when it came to be ex- 
 amined. 
 
 In the meantime, gome men from a neighboring field came to 
 our assistance, and with strong lassoes caught and compelled the 
 creature to subjection. They are going to bore his nose, and 
 ornament it with a ring, for his caper. Paul is quite distressed 
 " that he should have brought so much unnecessary pain upou 
 himself." He is a dear, quaint child. 
 
 I have a project about a little watch for him, which was my 
 brother's once. It has lain a long time idle, and needs repairing'. 
 It is faced with blue enamel, and has an azure lion on the back
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 283 
 
 (how natural !), set round with pearls, in a gold framing that ia 
 rery striking. The beast has ruby eyes, and a bristling mane, 
 and one foot is placed on a mother of pearl ball, in a fierce and 
 commanding attitude. I shall have the inscription put inside 
 "The reward of valor" with his name next to my brother's, 
 and mine as the donor and obliged person. He is the sort of 
 child that will appreciate the motive, and take care of the watch. 
 This wiH comfort me a little for not being allowed to crimp his 
 frills. Paul and I have been making a flower-garden, a regular 
 parterre. 
 
 It is quite beautiful, we think, but I have burned my face 
 dreadfully, and Erastus will scold. Never mind, buttermilk does 
 wonders, and such gardens repay one for a little personal disad- 
 vantage. I shall remind Mr. Bouverie with mild dignity that 
 Semiramis made gardens. Let him answer that if he can 1 Paul 
 has the sweetest little bantam chickens just hatched that ever I 
 saw ; but I still retain my passion for young ducks. I have a 
 pen full, and I watch them half the day. 
 
 What a sore waste of time it is after all ; but who can resist 
 the little callow things, so hardy and independent as they are, 
 too? 
 
 I promise myself great fun in seeing them swim to-morrow. 
 
 Mr. James Staunton has been here. He says that Frederick 
 has returned, and that Eliza Jones wrote to him also from her 
 dying-bed. He is furious, and threatens to call Mr. Bouverie 
 out. Oh, how terrible this news is to me ! He believes that 
 horrible slander, and Eliza Jones has gone to her account with- 
 out recalling it.
 
 284 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVKEIE. 
 
 Oh ! what shall I do ? What shall be done ? I must go to 
 Bishop Clare but no I remember now he is absent again on 
 that troublesome southern trial. I cannot send for Frederick to 
 come here. Mr. Staunton suggests that I shall go to Mrs. 
 Duganne's ball next Tuesday. I had intended to refuse her, in my 
 husband's absence, although a neighbor. 
 
 He says Frederick will be there, and that I can do more with 
 him than any one else. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie will still be absent a fortnight. If I can only 
 silence this matter before his return, all will be well again. Mr. 
 James Staunton will be there also, and has promised to assist me. 
 I will go, and remonstrate with Frederick ; he loved me once, and 
 I love him still with sisterly affection. I have discovered that I 
 never knew any other for him, although I did not know this until 
 I truly loved. 
 
 There is all the difference imaginable. 
 
 I shall wear my wedding dress to Mrs. Duganne's ball, for the 
 last tune perhaps ; it will be out of fashion before I go out again. 
 I will lay it by for my daughter to see, should God bless me 
 with one. She will value it, even if antiquated and yellow with 
 time. 
 
 It is of rich white satin, and this soon changes color. I shall 
 go in my carriage, and need no escort ; but for company, and to 
 please him, both, I will take Paul Quintilian. 
 
 I do wish he was a prettier child. Dress ruins him ; he looks 
 best in his little every-day blue jacket and trowsers. He has 
 no style, no elegance ; his neck is short, his head is large, his hair 
 bushy, though fine ; his shoulders round, his features heavy, but
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 285 
 
 for his luminous grey eyes, there would be nothing remarkable 
 about him. I hear that his brother, greatly older, and about to 
 be married, though so young, to the daughter of a Leyden pro- 
 fessor, under whose tuition he has been five years, is a very hand- 
 some man. 
 
 What a pity that dear Paul could not have participated in 
 this partial gift of nature ! 
 
 They were both wards of Mr. Bouverie, as I believe I said 
 before, the eldest and youngest of a large family, else extinct. 
 Luther Qumtilian preferred to be educated abroad ; indeed he 
 was nearly of%ge when he fell into Mr. Bouverie's hands, and so 
 little Paul became our only charge. God bless him I 
 
 He is a real dear little ugly brother and true comforter to me ; 
 and I know whatever befalls either of us, he will protect my 
 child. 
 
 It is a great weakness of mine to love beauty so much. I 
 must guard against it. It would be such a base thing for a 
 mother to be partial to one child above another from such a 
 motive ! 
 
 I think I have probably over-appreciated my own good looks, 
 laid too much stress on them, I mean. I must try to be good, 
 and true, and religious. Oh, I wish my husband were a pious 
 man ; but it is dreadfully discouraging to a wife to be advised to 
 be devout, when she sees laughter in the eyes of the adviser, and 
 he her husband ! 
 
 I will set Bishop Clare at work to convert Mr. Bouverie, as 
 soon as he returns. I think he will make him a good Catholic 
 yet. And of course a man of his culture and pride could not 
 stoop to anything else coming, I mean, from the family he did, 
 in England, Catholic from the time of the Norman conquest.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD CF BOUVEBEE. 
 
 As the time draws near for the party, I feel very tremulous. 
 Perhaps I am taking too much on myself, and painful as it would 
 be, I had better let matters proceed to a settlement between 
 Frederick and Erastus. 
 
 Then again, I dread oh 1 I do dread the result of such a 
 meeting. Suppose there should be bloodshed, which words of 
 mine might have averted 1 How I should reproach myself for- 
 ever more ! I know the very insinuation of baseness would fire 
 Mr. Bouverie's chivalric blood, and disastrous consequences might 
 ensue . 
 
 It is best that he should never know (if possible* keep it from 
 him) of what Eliza Jones accused him. Poor girl ! May the 
 holy saints protect her through all the horrors of Purgatory, and 
 may she in the end gain the divine pardon, as freely as I grant 
 her mine ; yet it is very bitter to a proud man to be maligned, 
 and Mr. Bouverie would resent it fearfully, I know. The matter 
 must be silenced for the sake of all concerned. It is one involv- 
 ing a woman's delicacy. Frederick must see it in this light. 
 
 I feel very averse to meeting him, though, under my new cir- 
 cumstances. What a kind, devoted fellow he ever was to me 
 from childhood up. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, a simple nature like his would have suited 
 mine best. There would have been less effort about my life, less 
 constraint, and our tastes assimilated perfectly. Dancing and 
 music, and rides on horseback, and flower culture, and bird train- 
 ing, and novel-reading, and chatting about nothing at all. 'He 
 loved all these things, and so do I ; and I liked him just well 
 enough for happiness. There is such a thing as loving too well 
 for one's own peace loving to anxiety, loving to morbidness 
 even. It is thus I love my husband, I am afraid
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 287 
 
 I cannot sleep. The events of this evening have excited me, 
 and I sit down, attired as I am for bed, to confide them to yon, 
 dear diary. Paul, who was very weary before I left Moorfields, 
 is sleeping soundly on his couch ; for, since my husband's absence, 
 I have kept him in my room. 
 
 His great grey eyes were fixed on me all the evening, like a 
 guardian owl (not angel) ! and he followed me from room to room, 
 like my shadow ; I made him hold my bouquet while I danced, 
 to occupy him, which he did with the most ridiculous solemnity, 
 like a page of olden time. But, oh dear, I am only putting off 
 painful recordings by telling nonsense like this. 
 
 I have been so agitated this evening ! I have suffered so many 
 old feelings to assert their momentary sway over me, that I feel self- 
 accused and confounded ; yet I will strike off my impressions while 
 their vividness remains, as I am told some theorist is trying to do 
 pictures and portraits by the aid of sunshine and cameras in France. 
 
 I can judge better in this way, when cooler moments arrive, 
 whether I have been wrong to-night, or only naturally impulsive. 
 
 I was dancing with young Duganne, when the two Stauntons 
 entered, I saw them through the long vista of rooms, and grew 
 quite giddy and faint for a moment ; but soon recovering myself, 
 I was able to disguise my feelings, and after the dance, to receive 
 Frederick Staunton with self-possession and cordiality, both I 
 think. At least it was my wish to blend the two. 
 
 Frederick Staunton has improved very much in appearance 
 since I saw him. His naturally fair complexion is weatherbeaten 
 now, and he looks far more manly than before, with his hand- 
 some curling chesnut beard and whiskers, which he says he 
 suffers to grow to protect his throat and face from cold, while 
 holding his night watch at sea. Hie, figure was always fine, *nl
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIK. 
 
 there is no such dancer in the country. Certainly he is a hand 
 some man, and I believe him to be noble and true, that he may 
 find comfort yet in the love of a fair woman, is my earnest 
 prayer ; I shall ever cherish a sisterly affection for him, even after 
 what has passed ; but I thank heaven that my impulsive being 
 was not consigned to his hands for safe keeping. More than for 
 most women it is necessary for me to honor as well as to love my 
 husband ; but I am moralizing instead of describing. 
 
 I danced twice with Frederick Staunton before supper was 
 announced, and we went into the banquet-room together, closely 
 followed by Paul ; James Staunton stood near us at the table. 
 " If you have anything to say to Frederick," he whispered, " let 
 it be said to-night. He will seek a bearer for his challenge 
 to-morrow, I fear, for I have declined the office, and the matter 
 will thus be made, public." So saying, James Staunton disap- 
 peared, to walk to Grosvenor, his father's residence, about three 
 miles this side of Croften. 
 
 " He loves these moonlight walks," said Frederick, laughing, 
 " grave sentimentalist as he is 1" 
 
 " Why, I thought he was the most practical of men," I re- 
 turned, " married to the most practical of women." 
 
 " Well, so he is, if truth be told ; but he prides himself on his 
 manly habit of walking instead of riding whenever he can, and 
 imagines himself romantic in so doing. Let him remain under his 
 pleasing delusion ; for me, I prefer a fleet horse ; but, as I walked 
 with him to-night to please him, I think he should have waited for 
 me, out of humanity. Suppose this poor helpless ' salt ' were at- 
 tacked by banditti going home to-night, perfectly unarmed as he 
 Is, even with a cane, what resistance could he make I ask you, 
 Mrs. Bouverie?"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 289 
 
 " It is scarcely a supposable case," I rejoined, laughing ; " but 
 Frederick," I added, gravely, " you who meditate bloodshed are 
 naturally haunted by such images." He started. 
 
 " What do you mean, Camilla ?" he asked, coloring violently. 
 
 " Your good and thoughtful brother has warned me of your 
 inimical intentions toward my husband," I said, firmly, " founded 
 as these are on the death-bed fantasies of a much erring woman, 
 and I have come here to-night, in his absence, to represent mat- 
 ters to you calmly, and to appeal to your good sense, and our 
 long intimacy as safeguards against your fatal impetuosity." 
 
 "Camilla," he said, " I cannot see that you have any concern 
 with this business, it rests between man and man. I did not 
 dream you were acquainted with my intentions James was 
 wrong." 
 
 " James was right," I interrupted, drily ; " he knew that my 
 happiness hung on this matter, and its reasonable adjustment ; he 
 knew how baneful notoriety proves to the delicacy of every true 
 woman. He wished to save me pain and you remorse." 
 
 This conversation had occurred in the great hall, lying between 
 the supper and dancing-rooms, the doors of which gave out at 
 either end on long, moonlit porticoes. We were walking slowly 
 up and down, in the train of many other couples, and once or 
 twice heads were turned curiously, in passing, to catch the subject 
 of our evidently excited conversation ; no surmise could in any 
 degree have approached the truth, yet to attract attention was 
 in itself unpleasant to me. Glancing info the banquet-room, I saw 
 that Paul was standing with a group of children at the table, 
 eating his supper. We were safe for a few moments from his 
 watchful eyes ; I determined to conclude the discussion elsewhera 
 
 " We will walk on the gallery a few moments, Frederick." T
 
 290 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIK 
 
 said, " where we shall not be probably overheard ; I have a few 
 earnest words to speak to you." 
 
 The sound of the band recalled the stragglers from the porches 
 to take their places in the dance, we found ourselves alone, at one 
 end of the front portico, seventy feet long, standing by a great 
 stone column, wound with ivy, and quite remote from the open 
 door of the hall. 
 
 " I will speak to you here, Frederick," I said, " I will ask you 
 for my sake not to intrude this matter on public attention, nor 
 yet on my husband's notice. Mr. Bouverie has no suspicion yet 
 of Eliza Jones' revelations delirium I believe them to have 
 sprung from I would not wound him by showing him her mad 
 letter to me, owning her own treachery, and daring to fix its 
 chief odium on him ! He could not bear such a thing he, a 
 proud man." 
 
 "Proud," he burst forth, striking his forehead passionately 
 with his hand, " proud he proud, Camilla ? oh no," with a bitter 
 laugh ; " proud men do not stoop to robbery and assassination. 
 He is a Thug, and as such I denounce him. He plunged his 
 poisoned arrow into my life's blood, and turned it to gall. He stole, 
 like a thief in the night, my greatest earthly treasure, your love, 
 your confidence, Camilla, dearer to me a thousand fold than life, 
 and he shall not pass unpunished." 
 
 " Frederick, this from you ! I could not have believed it pos- 
 sible that you could so far forget the gentleman, the man of 
 honor, as to assail a woman's ears with such language about her 
 husband. I will not stoop to ask grace of a person capable of 
 such behavior. Proceed as you will, Mr. Bouverie will know 
 how to meet you," and I turned coldly away. 
 
 I was startled by his pnssionate despair.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVERIB,. 291 
 
 " Camilla, return," he said, securing both of my hands, and 
 drawing me back into my first position, against the ivy-covered 
 column, while he pressed his beating forehead and burning face 
 on my icy fingers, and tears scalding tears streamed through 
 them from his eyes, and convulsed his whole frame. 
 
 " Camilla ! sole idol of my life," he began. 
 
 " Frederick," I said gravely, yet much moved, " don't you 
 know that you are injuring me by such exhibitions of emotion ? 
 You do not wish to do this, I am certain. Let, me go, Frederick, 
 our interview is over." I spoke in low, calm accents, yet he still 
 clung to me. I drew my hands violently from him at last, and 
 in so doing left my right arm glove in his grasp. 
 
 "I will keep this glove," he said, " at all events, as a relic of 
 one lost to me forever a talisman against evil a sacred safe- 
 guard against temptation ;" and he pressed it to his lips, his brow, 
 then consigned it to his bosom. 
 
 There was a rustling among the branches of the thick lilac 
 bushes that grew around the porch, at this moment, that recalled 
 me to a stronger sense than ever of the indecorous nature of this 
 scene. 
 
 " Mr. Staunton," I said hastily, " I am displeased with you ; 
 we part here forever unless you restore my glove." 
 
 " When I saw you to-night," he proceeded, as if he had not 
 heard my request, " the centre of all eyes, more graceful, more 
 beautiful than ever, if this thing were possible you, my soul's 
 darling through long years mine, by every right of justice and 
 of feeling yes, Camilla, mine still in the eyes of God himself. 
 When I saw you as mortal eyes see spirits, divided from them by 
 impassable barriers, yet lovely and attractive as when they wore 
 earthly guise, how could I other than curse the hand of steel that
 
 292 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 
 
 interposed between us? For you would have been my wife 
 Camilla, you never would have broken faith with me had my let> 
 ters reached you, nor fallen under the evil influence of a bold, 
 bad man, fascinating, yet unscrupulous as Lucifer himself ! For- 
 give me," he said, impressed, I think, by my silence. " I have done 1" 
 
 " My glove, Mr. Staunton," I sternly repeated, as if I had not 
 heard his rhapsody. He took my extended hand, he pressed it 
 to his quivering and burning lips. His daring arm was suddenly 
 flung around mehe caught me to his bosom, and held me there 
 one moment in a wild, straining embrace. Then bounding over 
 the railing of the porch before I had time to speak, to cry out, 
 to repulse him, even, he was gone ! 
 
 I turned into the house pale, sick, agitated. I met Paul in 
 the hall ; he had been seeking me. I took him by the hand, and 
 we went silently to the dressing-room together. My carriage 
 waited, I knew. As I came down wrapped for departure, I was 
 met by Mr. Duganne with remonstrances about my early flight. 
 " I am sick," I said, " Mr. Duganne ; I cannot stop to apologize 
 now, nor to say good night to the ladies ; please explain for me." 
 
 " You really are suffering," he said, kindly ; " your hand is like 
 ice. I am afraid you have a chill ; had you not better remain 
 all night and have immediate attention ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, no !" I said, almost piteously pettishly, even, I fear. 
 " Let me go, I shall be better at home ;" and with his assistance 
 I got into the carriage and was driven away. 
 
 Paul had preceded me by a few moments to the coach, and lay 
 stretched out on the front seat. I thought he was asleep, until 
 at a turn of the road the moonlight revealed his great open eyes 
 He had heard me weeping. I felt really ashamed, yet there wag 
 delicacy in this silence.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 293 
 
 " A man laid this note on the seat of the carriage before you 
 came down, Little Madam," he said, as he caught my eye ; " and 
 seeing me he started, then asked me to be sure and give it to 
 jou," and he handed me a folded paper. 
 
 " What man, Paul ?" I asked. 
 
 "I did not see his face," he answered, "his back was to 
 the light ; but he had curly hair, and no hat on. I could see 
 that, and his voice was choked, as if he had been crying. I 
 don't see what people call it pleasure to go to balls for, when it 
 makes them cry so." 
 
 I crumpled the note in my hand. My first impulse was to toss 
 it out of the window, but second thought convinced me that it 
 would be wiser to keep than destroy or expose its contents. 
 
 "You will not speak of this note, Paul," I faltered at last, 
 " not at least until I give you permission. Promise me, Paul?" 
 
 " I will mind what you say, Little Madam," he said, in his 
 strange, old-fashioned way, as if a man's nature were speaking 
 through the lips of a child. 
 
 " After a while," I added, " I will have no secrets, and then I 
 will read it myself to Mr. Bouverie ; but for his good, Paul, he 
 must not know this now." 
 
 " Show it to Bishop Clare ; that will answer," he said, drily. 
 
 " Yes, he shall see it, Paul, as soon as he returns ; in the 
 meanwhile, I do not know myself what it contains." 
 
 " A secret paper, no doubt," he observed, in his quaint way. 
 " I have a pocketful of them myself to-night, for somebody, but 
 I think they are foolish things." 
 
 " You like the sugar plums they wrap much better, Paul," I 
 said, laughing ; " you eat the comfits and keep the papers for me, 
 i that the way you divide, Quintil ?"
 
 294 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVKEIE. 
 
 t: It is the way all men divide with women," he answered, with 
 that weird phlegm, that absolutely frightens me sometimes in this 
 boy. 
 
 " But if we Jive," he added ; " I will try and do better for you 
 after awhile. Mr. Bouverie will not live to be old ; he is very 
 ihin now, and then I suppose I shall have to marry you I" with 
 a deep sigh almost a groan. 
 
 " You ridiculous imp," I could not help saying, half provoked; 
 " what put that idea into your head ?" 
 
 " Luther is married now, himself, I suppose," he replied ; 
 " and I do not know where else you could get a husband, when 
 you are a widow, if your husband's wards did not offer them- 
 selves ! You are getting quite old now." 
 
 I declare I do not understand this child, never shall, I believe 
 He is either an inspired idiot, as Dr. Johnson called Goldsmith, 
 or the most wonderful humorist imaginable. I half believe he 
 enjoys mystifying me, young as he is, and laughing at my sim- 
 plicity 1 
 
 As soon as I reached my chamber, I read the hasty lines that 
 Frederick Staunton had written imploring my forgiveness, and 
 promising to comply with my request. Thank God for this at 
 least ! My husband's peace is saved. But my poor Frederick, 
 you have lost me now forever for the first time ; we can never 
 exchange another word on earth and yet I shall ever love you, 
 and pray for your happiness and safety. 
 
 June. 
 
 A month has elapsed since I opened my diary, and I have grown 
 old since then. I am thin weak, and trembling still, and my long
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 295 
 
 hair has all been cut away. Dr. Moore says, I have had brain- 
 fever. It began thus : 
 
 The night of Mrs. Duganne's party, I sat up late, writing, and 
 then went to bed and slept heavily. I was aroused about day- 
 light by a noise as of shutters opened, and raising my head I saw 
 that one of the Venetian leaves of the bow-window had been left 
 ajar ; when I awoke, the sunlight poured through the open win- 
 dow. Paul was dressed and gone, and Biauca was moving about 
 the room. Suddenly I screamed, and sprang up in my bed a 
 bloody glove was lying on the pillow beside me. I saw it dis- 
 tinctly the hand, wet with crimson gore, the upper part still 
 white, with the letters C. B. worked in white silk by my own 
 fingers. My wedding-glove, the same I had worn the night 
 before to the ball and oh, God, the right-hand glove ! I cannot 
 be mistaken. 
 
 I called Bianca and made her bring me its fellow from the 
 table where I had thrown it on my return. I compared them 
 there they were, left and right. A sudden frenzy swept through 
 me. " He is dead 1" I shrieked ; " he has killed himself, and 
 sent back my glove in his last despair. Oh, Bianca ! where is 
 the messenger that brought this terrible token ? Call him tome; 
 let me know all 1" 
 
 " No messenger has been here no one is dead that I have 
 heard of," she answered, ia. her gentle way. " Dear Miss 
 Camilla, have you been dreaming about my master ?" 
 
 " Look at the glove," I said ; " and tell me where it came 
 from, if you do not wish to madden me." 
 
 " I can't tell, I am sure ! I never saw it before," she said, 
 trembling violently ; then taking it in her hand, she murmured 
 " It is wet with blood 1"
 
 296 THE HOUSKHOJLD OF BOUVKK1E. 
 
 " Take it away," I said, with ghastly composure ; " aud never 
 let me see it again. Do you hear, Biauca ? Stay, let no one see 
 it, not even Paul and send no, never mind," I added, as the 
 conviction flashed over me, that such inquiry might awaken 
 unjust suspicion ; " we shall hear soon enough soon enough, if 
 indeed this be not a bitter and unprincipled conspiracy to make 
 me suffer !" 
 
 Bianca passed out of iny sight, still holding the glove ; yet 
 she has forgotten all this now and my husband thinks I was 
 delirious then ! They both declare nothing of this kind ever 
 could have occurred ; yet, I know I was perfectly composed for 
 hours after, until the tramping of those rapid hoofs was heard, 
 and the news was brought officially ; yes, written in James 
 Staunton's own bold hand, and directed to me, Camilla Bouverie. 
 
 The few large words seem staring at me yet in terrible distinct- 
 ness, wherever I turn. 
 
 " Camilla, my brother has been murdered ; but by whom we 
 can only conjecture." 
 
 Oh, my God ! what wonder that I fainted then and woke to 
 fall again into dream-like lethargy, and fever, and fierce delirium. 
 
 Days had passed before my senses returned. I revived to find 
 my husband and Dr. Moore beside me. Through their inde- 
 fatigable care my life had been saved. Mr. Bouverie came back 
 three days after the murder theauthor of which has not yet 
 been detected. 
 
 My husband, knowing nothing of the truth, considers the vision 
 of the glove to have been a sort of second sight, a warning of 
 the fate of Frederick Staunton, whom he sincerely deplores, not- 
 withstanding his opinion of his conduct to me, and whose inten- 
 tions toward himself he shall never know
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEUIE. 297 
 
 But I cannot think this, I must believe that some wretch who 
 witnessed the scene on the porch has found means of sending 
 the glove to me, after the murder, adding mockery to crime, 
 perhaps himself the slayer. 
 
 James Staunton is almost distracted they say, accusing every 
 one wildly, even his nearest friends, of the murder ; but I have not 
 heard whom by name a sort of general fury possesses him, Mr. 
 Bouverie says I want him to call at Grosvenor, but he thinks he 
 can not leave me yet. He will go later he promises. 
 
 James Staunton's conduct has been unaccountable indeed, but 
 it reflects on no one but himself. I should not have known a 
 word about it, had I not picked up a country newspaper, a fort- 
 night old-^all this occurred during my illness. The paper speaks 
 of the malignity of his attempt to ruin Mr. Bouverie, they are of 
 opposite parties, and it is thought this operated with him. " At 
 all events," the writer says, " the evil has recoiled on its author, 
 and there let it abide forever." 
 
 I hear that Mr. Bouverie's friends brought him home in tri- 
 umph, when the grand jury refused to find a true bill against him ! 
 Oh 1 to think, to think, that my noble husband has been attainted, 
 for murder ! Oh, merciful heaven, how bitter was this trial to a 
 proud, unconscious, unoffending man I I cannot conceive how 
 he bears it so firmly. I am lost in admiration of his magnanimity, 
 he will not even suffer me to abuse James Staunton before him ! 
 He desires that the subject may be dropped between us forever. 
 I obey. 
 
 Avfft. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie has desired me to sew up one hole in the bosom 
 of each of his shirts, as he has lost one of his three beautiful studs j
 
 298 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 doves made of emeralds, with open wings and diamond eyes, ex 
 quisite little bijoux they were. I should not have mentioned this 
 trifling matter here, perhaps, but I am so grieved ! I have found 
 the missing stud, carefully put away in Paul Quintil's paint-box, 
 and Mr. Bouverie is confident he dropped it during his absence 
 I know he wore them all away ; I have not told him of this, I 
 will question Paul privately ; could he have picked it up on his 
 way to school, and kept it, knowing, as he must have done, to 
 whom it belonged ? I cannot bear to think my good boy would 
 be guilty of such a meanness, next to a theft. This evening I 
 Bhall know all about it. Patience until then. 
 
 I have told Mr. Bouverie my heart secret, he seems appalled 
 at the idea that my illness may cause injury to our child. 1 am 
 disappointed that he rejoices with me so little. He does not 
 conceal from me, that his hope had been that we should have no 
 , family. " Husband and wife never love each other so entirely 
 afterward," he says ; but I cannot agree with him. I think it pos- 
 sible he would be more dear to me as the father of my child, than 
 he is even now, idolized almost as he knows himself to be. Poor 
 Frederick ! my heart grows sick whenever I think of him and his 
 terrible fate ! His murderer will be punished yet. God is just, 
 and crimes work to the surface. 
 
 Oh, heavenly Father, pity me sweet Mary holy Jesus have 
 mercy on my sufferings ! I am too miserable to live. Fight as I 
 will against it, the horrible conviction comes back, almost like 
 madness. The little child th#t never spokfe falsely in his life tells 
 me that he picked up the stud by the foot of his bed, the morning 
 after Mrs. Duganne's party, before I awoke. He saw it spark-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 299 
 
 ling by the red light that came through the open shutter when 
 he opened his eyes, and meant to restore it to me, but went to 
 school before he had an opportunity. When he returned I was 
 ill, he alleges. 
 
 " And why did you not bring it to me, Paul, long afterward ?" 
 I said, with ashen lips. 
 
 " Because, madam, I did not wish you to know, after we heard 
 of Frederick Staunton's murder, what I knew." 
 
 " What was that, Quintil?" I whispered, like one in a dreary 
 dream, gasping and oppressed, my hand to my brow. 
 
 " That Mr. Bouverie had been here that morning, before day- 
 break," he said, in a low, reluctant voice. 
 
 " Oh, Paul," I groaned, " never say that again, or you will 
 see me die before you ; say anything else, Paul ! That you 
 dreamed it, tell me you found the stud in the road, that you for- 
 got you had put it away, while I was sick, that you picked it up 
 in the garden, but not in this room, if you love me ; do not tell 
 me you found it here, Paul " He was silent, his little face quiver- 
 ing and blue with pain. 
 
 " Speak to me," I said, " Paul, tell me something else about it ; 
 something different, you know Mr. Bouverie wasn't here, you 
 were only dreaming, Paul." 
 
 " I will not tell a lie," he said, " I am afraid God would be so 
 angry ; neither will I tell you the truth again ; I will never tell 
 you any more, nor any one else, while I live, about the matter, 
 but, Little Madam, I knew it all the tune." 
 
 "What did you mean to do with the stud, Paul," I 
 asked, in calm accents of extremest anguish, after a long, long 
 silence. 
 
 '' To give it back to Mr. Bouverie, and tell him I found it, 
 29
 
 300 THK HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 after a while, wheu I would not have to make up a lie about it, 
 when ht had forgotten the matter." 
 
 "Do so still," I said, " Quiutil, but wait years rather than be- 
 tray your knowledge, or it will fare ill with you, ill indeed ; or 
 stay, give it to me," and I flung it through the open window into 
 the grass. " Let it lie there forever, wash your hands of it alto- 
 gether. I have no doubt Mr. . Bouverie lost it before he left 
 home, and had forgotten the circumstance," I added, hurriedly. 
 
 The large clear eye of the child dwelt on me one moment, as 
 if surprised, then drooped beneath its long lashes, confounded by 
 the calm agony of my gaze. The subject can never be resumed 
 between us. He will never breathe it 10 any one else, I know ; 
 but this is not enough ; oh I not enougli 1 Despair has entered 
 my heart. Where shall I turn ? From whom ask counsel ? 
 I cannot even to Bishop Clare reveal my dark misgivings. 
 
 I have destroyed Frederick Staunton's note, so innocent in 
 itself, which I meant to show to him. I must never relate that 
 interview, or anything connected with Eliza Jones, for fear of 
 arousing suspicion. Her letter and the package it contained shall 
 go into the fire, and I will lock this diary away where no human 
 eye can see it, until I am dead. Then read and pity me, oh 1 
 kindred heart. 
 
 It is autumn again ; the branches of the trees, covered with 
 parti-colored foliage, strain mournfully in the east wind to-day. 
 The grass, still green, is strewn with yellow leaves, the blighted 
 flower-stalks stand grimly in the flower-beds. A few late roses 
 still struggle into partial bloom, but our glorious summer and fall 
 garden is with the past. 
 
 What a resource a greenhouse would be to me 1 But Mr.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 301 
 
 Bouverie says it is not worth while to build one here, as we shall 
 henceforth pass eight months of the year in Washington. His 
 engagements with government require his presence there, and my 
 place is by his side. 
 
 I was thinking to-day of my singularly friendless condition. 1 
 have no relations, however distant, that I know of. I am cut off, 
 by the nature of things, from the nearest intimacy I ever had 
 out of my own family, and my husband long ago exacted a 
 promise from me that I would form no new ones. Paul Quin- 
 tilian is the only creature save Mr. Bouverie that I can rely on, 
 and he is to me indeed dear as a younger brother. My own 
 Charlie would have been just about his age now, had he lived. 
 His death broke my dear mother's heart, so I was left alone with 
 cross kind (which shall I call him ?) old uncle Bouverie ! 
 
 Yet no woman ever had a more devoted husband than I have, 
 and that is worth everything beside. When I look back over 
 the past summer, and remember how severely I have tried his 
 patience often, I can but think his conduct has been sublime. 
 
 I struggled so long under that horrible nightmare that beset 
 me, and which, right or wrong, I have determined to put under 
 foot forever for it has become a choice between such repudia- 
 tion and madness with me now, and I eagerly embrace the first 
 alternative. 
 
 How sorrowfully he looked at me sometimes, when, with shud- 
 dering hands I would put his embrace aside or fall suddenly 
 weeping and agonized at his knees, like one utterly hopeless and 
 despairing. 
 
 He never upbraided or questioned me once never sneered as 
 he had been in the habit of doing before, at my emotion ; but 
 tenderly consoled me and forbore ! Sometimes it was on my lips
 
 302 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 to tell him what oppressed me, and to beg him for the truth ; but 
 he gave me no opportunity to do this. The slightest remonstrance 
 the least interrogation on his part would have brought every- 
 thing to light. Alas, alas ! he never wanted me to speak, only 
 to bear, and be patient, only to forget, and to be reconciled 
 to the inevitable ! And this wise course, with God's help, I am 
 pursuing. 
 
 When I put aside the volume of crimson and gold, hi which so 
 much happiness, so much sorrow, such unparalleled horrors were 
 recorded, I thought I had done with diaries ! But I cannot live 
 without some outlet for my feelings. God is so distant, the 
 Virgin hears but replies not. Our Saviour is too majestic, has 
 seen too much sorrow to be assailed with a weak woman's daily 
 complaint and earthly aid I have none ! I must do like a 
 lonelj child, and talk to myself ; and " make-believe " sympathy 
 and companionship, and to fill this great void in my being, I 
 have taken to my bosom another diary, a sober book, bound hi 
 plain black morocco, and fastened with a clasp of steel instead of 
 gold, a stern and mournful volume, like its writer. 
 
 I have just recovered from long illness again. I know not 
 why I have delayed to speak of this before it certainly was 
 nearest my heart with its sorrowful occasion, and its woeful dis- 
 appointment all the time. My baby was born, a daughter, as I 
 wished it, and perfectly formed but, oh ! so fearfully marked ! 
 The thumb of a bloody hand seemed to have rested on its fore- 
 head, and the four fingers on its left cheek, distinct, and crimson 
 as flame. The curse of the bloody glove had descended to my 
 poor innocent one. I was so ill at the birth that they did not
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 303 
 
 show it to me for some hours afterward. I screamed and shud- 
 dered, and hid my face in the bed-clothes, when I saw it, 
 and afterward fever rose, and I was deirious for days. 
 When I returned to consciousness, they told me as gently as they 
 could, that my baby was dead. 
 
 Oh 1 better so, perhaps, better so, for her own sweet sake, 
 than to bear a brand of shame and sorrow all her days, for no 
 fault of hers. I see now, for the first time, the Bible meaning 
 of the sins of the father descending to the children. Paul never 
 saw my baby but he has planted lily of the valley bulbs all 
 around the little grave in the garden, where they laid her, the 
 sinless, the nameless, little one. 
 
 I find that since my convalescence, Mr. Bouverie, notwith- 
 standing his strong English prejudices against the race, has re- 
 called my mother's black cook, Aunt Furness, and that Dame 
 McCormick singularly and suddenly disappeared soon after my 
 confinement. It is supposed the poor old woman has had letters 
 from her truant son, and has gone off to join him ; what a wild- 
 goose expedition, for a deaf and rheumatic person, already 
 beyond middle life ! 
 
 For my own part, I prefer negroes as servants, having been 
 reared as a child among domestics of this color, who, with the 
 exception of Bianca, composed my mother's household. I never 
 thought the sending them to Liberia, as Mr. Bouverie insisted on 
 doing all of mine that would go, was any mercy or real benefit to 
 them and the matter is proving the sagacity of my instinct 
 already, above his polished judgment on this occasion, for ten of 
 the fifteen are dead in one year, and the remainder discontented,
 
 304 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEREE. 
 
 yet unwilling to return, as they have some prejudice about 
 " retracing their steps, and putting on the yoke again !" as if 
 negroes ever used such language ! Aunt Furness, whose children, 
 with one exception, belonged to other masters, stoutly entered her 
 protest against going, and has been hired out ever since until now. 
 She comes home willingly ; and I am so glad to have her again. 
 
 Dr. Luther Quintilian has been appointed to fill the chair of his 
 father-in-law, the Leyden professor, lately dead, and is spoken of 
 in the papers as a man of marked ability. I believe he is profes- 
 sor of physiology, or some such thing. 
 
 I am afraid I am very matter-of-fact. I never could see much 
 use in all these ologies, nor how the least possible interest could 
 be attached to them. Science would have been at a stand-still 
 to this time, I fear, had there not been better materials in the 
 world than can be found ; n my poor head ; but arts would have 
 flourished well enough ! 
 
 I think I might have made a good musician, I never shall now, 
 and I have unusual skill at the needle ; I am not very fond of 
 reading unless it be biography or fiction, and (tell no one, dear 
 Diary, not even your successor), to me, most poetry is a positive 
 dead bore. What a wife I am, for a man of cultivation, beyond 
 which " on ne peut plus 1" 
 
 At all events, I am his life, his heart's blood, I know that 
 well, and we might be so happy, if I had no memory. Oh, 
 little Paul ! what sorrow your revelation has made ! But I will, 
 I must discard the whole matter ; the room had been badly 
 ewept, the broom had dragged the jewel from its hiding-place of 
 weeks before, and left it exposed ! Bianca is near-sighted care 
 less sometimes. I often do her work over when she has gone out, 
 rather than scold her. He never brought that token of evil and
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 305 
 
 blood to me oh, no ! he knew nothing of the matter until he 
 returned, and I, the wife of his bosom, have hatched treason 
 against him. 
 
 Oh, guardian saints holy Virgin Jesus, my divine Lord, 
 remove this sorrow from my life, and pluck forth this madness ! 
 for such I sometimes believe it to be, from my heart, even to my 
 own humiliation. 
 
 January 1st 
 TWO YEARS LATER. 
 
 We go next week to Washington, and close Bouverie until 
 June. I have been extremely reluctant to leave my home, but as 
 the tune approaches I begin to think this arrangement is best for 
 me. I shall never rally here, where the fingers of that bloody 
 hand clutched my very heart-strings. I must go away, see new 
 scenes, new faces, and try and forget 
 
 I am not twenty years of age ; yet, as Paul said, I am old 
 already, so much have I suffered and endured. My very tone 
 of voice has changed, I think, and has a pathetic sound to my 
 own ear. Mr. Bouverie pities me, I know, yet he never says one 
 word that could lead me to suppose he had ever observed my 
 depression, and evident anxiety. 
 
 Bishop Clare has been here, to say farewell, and to hear my 
 confession. He seemed surprised at the magnitude and number 
 of the transgressions I laid before him, "neglect of duty, unrea- 
 sonable discontent, apathy, indolence, unnecessary severity of 
 speech, indulgence in tears, and wrong suspicions," and I cannot 
 tell how many other offences of the same order. 
 
 He looked very grave when I concluded, and begged me, for 
 my own sake, to contend against these growing evils, and to
 
 306 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 seek the consolation of prayer frequently, especially through the 
 blessed Virgin, the friond of all desolate women ! but he has 
 enjoined no penance, and is very kind and fatherly to me, who 
 never knew an earthly father. 
 
 I was on the point of telling him everything more than once ; 
 but I remembered that I had promised myself not to do this, at 
 present, at all events. If he outlives me, he will read my diary, 
 from first to last, and judge me more from the intentions than 
 from the acts of my impulsive life. 
 
 Paul is now eleven years old, and Mr. Bouverie means to send 
 him to a capital school at Chapel Hill, where he will begin his 
 classical studies. J am very loath to part with him ; but I know 
 it is for his good to go. He will come to us in Washington, 
 during whiter vacations, and at Easter, and spend part of his 
 summer at Bouverie, and I shall visit him when I can. He is a 
 dear boy, and we have borne sorrow together, of no ordinary 
 description. 
 
 Discretion could go no further than in this remarkable child, 
 and then he is such a self-sacrificing little fellow ! Yery intelli- 
 gent too, and beyond all other boys I have seen in comprehension 
 tmd reasoning powers ; I think he would make a great lawyer or 
 divine, but he has a strong proclivity for the medical profession. 
 He is to have a pony when he comes back to Bouverie, and I 
 promised to take his little dog Clarice with me to Washington, 
 and take care of her myself ; I am foolishly fond of this beautiful 
 little creature, the survivor of a pair of Italian greyhounds 
 Luther Quintiliau sent Paul, a year ago. He could not make 
 her comfortable at school, even if he were permitted to take her
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 307 
 
 with him, which the rules forbid. She requires nice attention, a 
 warm basket by the fire, and cake, and cream, and a little rabbit 
 skin coverlet to sleep under, and sometimes medicine, and good 
 nursing to keep her alive, she is so delicate. Ever since my poor 
 mocking-bird died so suddenly so unaccountably ! (well in the 
 evening as it was, and dead on its perch in the morning), I have 
 taken to petting Clarice, and, I am not ashamed to confess, that 
 I do love the creature dearly. 
 
 We shall take Bianca, and Jenkins, and Gabriel to Washing- 
 ton. Aunt Furness will stay at Bouverie, with Mr. Grant, the 
 gardener, to keep everything in order. " Let me see plenty of 
 little ducks when I come home in May to look round," I said. 
 " Aunt Furness, ducklings are my weakness my delight." 
 
 " I taught you, ferred de chicken meat, Miss Milla ; I always 
 hear Gabe say you wouldn't tetch no black meat whatsomever." 
 
 " La ! Aunt Furness ! I only want to see the ducks ; I love 
 them too much to eat them." 
 
 " Oh, go 'long, Miss Milla ! I reckon you like most of de 
 odder white folks, you loves de bes dars gwine ; and when de 
 time comes, dem lubly ducks will go to de spit, for comply, eben 
 if you don't fancy dere dark meat yourself ; whare's your love den, 
 Miss Milla, and what's it worth ?" 
 
 And the old humorist, in her line, turned away, shaking her 
 sides with laughter. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie would have been very much provoked had he 
 heard this conversation. He cannot understand negro peculiar! 
 ties, and that they can be familiar without being disrespectful. 
 The very impassable distance that color and bondage makes, ren- 
 ders endurable from them freedoms that no white domestic could 
 take without manifest impropriety.
 
 308 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 For my part, I enjoy a jest with Aunt Fatness occasionally, 
 and it does me good to see her stand with her arms akimbo, and 
 shifting her old pipe, indulge in a good, hearty contagious laugh. 
 She tells me stories, too, about my father and mother, forgotten 
 by every one else, and full of interest to me. Gabriel, her sou, 
 the only child of hers I own, is very trying, but his mammy keeps 
 him in order here. I am afraid he will be unbearable in Wash- 
 ington, where there will be no terror of the rod before his eyes. 
 I may do the imp injustice, but I shrewdly suspect him of poison- 
 ing my mocking-bird, and have had a sort of horror of him evtr 
 since. Yet he is generally a good-natured creature. 
 
 March. 
 
 We have been in Washington a few weeks, and are well fixed 
 in our pleasant city mansion, but a slight circumstance has thrown 
 a cloud over the commencement of our new career, which, weak 
 as it may seem, I have so far striven hi vain to shake aside. My 
 poor little Clarice is dead 1 This is not all. I am pretty sure 
 my husband killed her. I ought to have observed that he did 
 not like to see me so taken up with the affectionate little crea- 
 ture ; but it was not altogether on her own account I loved 
 her so. 
 
 She seemed a link between me and darling Paul, whose whole 
 value I never knew until separation taught it to me ; and I never 
 could bear to repel her innocent caresses, for his sake. Then I 
 felt so responsible for her safety, having promised to take care of 
 her, and she was getting along so well. Nor is it her death 
 alone, even under all these considerations, that pains me so vitally. 
 It is that Mr. Bouverie should have been cruel and perfidious
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 309 
 
 enough to destroy her (as I know he did), and so bring all the 
 past fresh before me, with the insidious train of reasoning, that 
 links one act to the other, and clutches the bloody hand again 
 about my heart. 
 
 I had gone downstairs, with my bonnet and cloak on, to drive 
 out, had opened the front door, when I remembered that I had 
 left my purse and card-case on the toilet in my dressing-room. I 
 returned the nearest way, and found the missing articles, and was 
 just about to run downstairs again, when I saw Mr. Bouveric 
 reflected in the mirror, from the bed-chamber, the door of which 
 stood open, pouring a white powder into a saucer. He had not 
 heard my steps on the thick carpet of the dressing-room floor, 
 and was unconscious of my presence. He stepped from his posi- 
 tion, and I lost sight of him ; yet still I stood transfixed. In 
 another moment I heard Clarice lapping. I flew into the 
 room. Mr. Bouverie was standing on the hearth, watching her 
 as she lapped her cream. I jerked the saucer away, and threw 
 the contents into the fire, the utensil itself falling on the hearth, 
 and shivering to pieces, from my nervous fingers. I seized my 
 little dog wildly, and clasped her in my arms. 
 
 " Evastus," I said, " what has Clarice done, that you should 
 try to injure her ?" 
 
 I felt that my eyes flashed fire. He turned ghastly pale. 
 
 "What do you mean !" he said. "Are you deranged? Do 
 you suppose I have the evil eye that I cannot watch your dog 
 teed without injuring her ?" 
 
 " She is in spasms now," I cried, feeling her struggle wildly. 
 " For pity's sake, Erastus, give her an antidote you can you 
 must ! Oh, spare the little creature that loved me so restore 
 her, Bouverie !"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 I might as well have pleaded to stone. He turned coldly away 
 
 " If you choose to over-feed your dog, and kill her with kind- 
 ness, it is no reason I should be insulted by base suspicions like 
 these." 
 
 And so saying, he left the room, the house. I heard the front 
 door slam heavily after him. I laid my poor little trembling 
 dog in her warm basket. I rang for Gabriel, and dismissed 
 the carriage ; then throwing off my wrappings, I sat down, 
 dressed as I was, and chafed her poor limbs, and nursed her until 
 she died. 
 
 " Is there a rat in your trap, Gabriel ?" I asked, as coldly as I 
 could, as he stood watching the stiffening form of the exquisite 
 little creature before us. 
 
 " I'll go and see, Miss Milla," he said hurrying away to survey 
 the result of his favorite enterprise, and returning triumphantly 
 with the trap itself. " Two on 'em, Miss Milla !" he said, proudly ; 
 " and mighty fine ones dey is." 
 
 " Put these pieces of broken saucer just as they are into the trap, 
 and leave it here until you come again." 
 
 He dropped them, one by one, through the wires, still coated 
 with cream, as he found them. 
 
 "Now, Gabriel, go and dig a grave for poor Clarice in the 
 yard fence corner, and when you are ready, come for her, basket 
 and all." 
 
 When he had disappeared, I gave way to a hearty burst of 
 grief, and throwing the rabbit-skin over her insensible form, thus 
 prepared poor Clarice for sepulture. I now turned my attention 
 to the rats. One was dead, the other in death agonies. In 
 about an hour, Gabriel returned. 
 
 " I done dug de graib, Miss Milla," he whispered, in sepulchral
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIK. 311 
 
 accents, rolling his eyes fearfully at me in his sable head, as if we 
 were a pair of conspirators. 
 
 " Take her away then, Gabriel," I said, in steady tones, " and 
 let the basket down carefully ; and here, take your trap, too, and, 
 Gabriel, this is for you," extending a Spanish dollar to him, " and 
 be sure and put a piece of green sod over poor Clarice." 
 
 " Good gracious. Miss Milla, my rats done dead ! I was gwine 
 to worry 'em so nice !" 
 
 " Be off, Gabriel, and don't open your mouth about rats tome, 
 or any one else again ! Or or Clarice, either ; do you hear me, 
 sir?" 
 
 " I hears you, Miss Milla," he said. As he went out, sulkily, I 
 heard him mumble : 
 
 " I 'spec you knows by dis time who 'stroyed your mocking- 
 bird 1" 
 
 When Mr. Bouverie came home to dinner at five o'clock, I re- 
 ceived him as if nothing had occurred to mar the serenity of our 
 intercourse. He found me dressed, and seated as usual at that 
 hour, in the library, waiting for him. I had spent that day in 
 wrestling with myself, and had conquered my worst enemy, per- 
 haps. At first, my heart was full of anger and bitterness, and 
 almost loathing. I have such a peculiar horror of cruelty. It is 
 the one unpardonable sin to me, and this act appeared so 
 wanton I 
 
 " But my duty is plain before me at last," I thought ; " I must 
 let nothing come between us, even were it a shadow. I have 
 found out his peculiarity it is morbid, insane jealousy." 
 
 As with a lightning glance, this was revealed to me for the first 
 time ; looking back this day over past events, and yet he has 
 never said a word to this effect ; but woe to all I love ! '1
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIK. 
 
 must give up all affection, however innocent. I must be cold to 
 Paul manifest no peculiar pleasure in any society abjure pets, 
 and even for his own sake, be guarded in my eulogies of Father 
 Clare." My husband's conduct, after I touched this chord of 
 motive, assumed a strange, terrible consistency in my eyes. " Had 
 our child lived," I thought ; " he might have hated her even, for 
 the devotion I should unquestionably have lavished on her." 
 
 Yet, after I had arrived at these conclusions, I found that I 
 could honestly respect Mr. Bouverie, more than when he seemed 
 a mere reckless destroyer. " It is a mania with him through me. 
 I see it now," I reflected, " and I shall be accountable here- 
 after, if I do aught to aggravate that mental malady. God 
 spare me further trials, though ! the string of endurance 
 is very tense now it may snap unexpectedly, if further pressure 
 be applied." 
 
 I made my resolutions to suit the present occasion, and adhered 
 to them. I would never name the affair of that morning to him 
 again, nor suffer him to refer to it. I would try and forgive him 
 for torturing me so cruelly in consideration of his self-torture, and 
 merge my own wrongs in pity for his mental obliquity. 
 
 All this I determined on before he came. We dined tete-a- 
 tete. I had thought he might be ill at ease, but nothing could 
 exceed his graceful self-possession. I had thought to be mag- 
 nanimous .in his eyes. I was only fulfilling his expectation, evi- 
 dently my conduct was, in his estimation, a mere matter of 
 course. He thought no more of my dead Clarice, than I of 
 Gabriel's dead rats 1 
 
 This is the worst of sophistry, it brings everything to a level, 
 and Mr. Bouverie does reason away scruples, until nothing but 
 lawless expediency remains.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 313 
 
 Well, I have won my own esteem at least by the course I hare 
 pursued, and this is much ! 
 
 Friends came in after dinner, conversation flowed freely, and I 
 took part in it to the best of my ability. 
 
 " I never saw you so brilliant as you were to-night, Camilla," 
 he said, when we were alone again ; " you might lead society if 
 you would try and do so, and give up engrossing follies crimping 
 Mils, raising ducks, doctoring old women, little dogs, and the like; 
 and hearing a pert schoolboy prate with evident delight," 
 
 This was too much ! He was trying to make me believe that 
 his cruelty was disinterested benevolence, exercised for my ad- 
 vantage only. 
 
 I could not trust myself to speak ; but I felt like the poor negro, 
 whose hypocritical master assured him with every bloody stroke 
 of the whip that he was scourging him for his own good alone. 
 
 " Massa," he cried, at last, in desperation ; " I can stand de 
 wnipping, if you will please, sir, lef out de lies !" 
 
 For the first time, Mr. Bouverie's approbation was a matter of 
 indifference to me, and his fine compliments fell on an insensible 
 ear I must write these things or die. 
 
 I have written to Paul about the death of poor Clarice, but I 
 gave him no details ; these he can never know. He will be much 
 distressed at first, but boys soon get over such things. He writes 
 to me long and very original letters ; they are the chief excite- 
 ment of my life, better than ball, theatre, Congressional debates, 
 or levee to me. This great tide of gaiety rolls over my heart, 
 as a river over the stones in its bed, that can never be lifted out 
 of their deep heaviness. 
 
 Did I love my God, my husband less, I might merge my exis- 
 tence in the world of fashion, and become a leader, as they call
 
 314 THE HOUbfcHOLD OK BOUVEHIE. 
 
 it here, of society. An artificial atmosphere of happiness might 
 thus be compelled around me, but I am not constituted for such 
 a life ; it would kill me, body and soul. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie is much absorbed with great chemical experi- 
 ments just now, and dreams of future fortune. He is in corres- 
 pondence with many distinguished men of science in foreign 
 countries, and I have proposed to undertake the part of amanuen- 
 sis for him. But, to my astonishment, he resolutely declines my 
 offer. He gives as his reason, the confinement to which it would 
 subject me, and I am indeed greatly relieved by his refusal, I am 
 not strong enough, nor patient enough, perhaps, for such seden- 
 tary employment ; yet I meant to do my duty in offering. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie is much attended to, and admired in society. I 
 ought to be, I hope I am proud of being his wife. His indiffer- 
 ence to female society is alleged, as his only deficiency by the 
 ladies of my acquaintance, and this is true of him. Women bore 
 him terribly unless they are very old, or very silent, and yet he 
 is always urging me to talk, and will sit by and listen while I 
 keep up the ball of badinage with the keenest internal amusement. 
 
 Napoleon's disastrous captivity is still the general theme. 1 do 
 not pity him, because I never admired his cold, rapid, unscrupu- 
 lous course, and as he had no generosity himself, I am glad he 
 was deceived in estimating that of the English the English, so 
 late our self-imposed guests at Washington, and who left behind 
 them their mark in fire and blood, nearly obliterated now, thank 
 God 1 But to return to Napoleon. His heartless rcpudia-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 315 
 
 tion of Josephine ; his murder of the Duke d'Enghien, so 
 cold, so treacherous ; his ruthless invasion of Russia ; his entire 
 and supreme selfishness throughout his whole career, repel and 
 disgust me oh what are genius, fascination, eloquence noble 
 presence and manner, and position, compared to simple unadul- 
 terated goodness ? 
 
 Mr. Bouverie defends him with eloquent sophistry. I cannot 
 bear to hear him talk on this subject. A man's notions of right 
 and wrong get so confused when murder and robbery are called 
 conquest, and selfish cruelty, national expediency I hate that 
 word expediency it jars on my ear, no such thing ought to be 
 admitted in any code of morals. 
 
 There is a novel out called Waverley, very brilliant and wonder- 
 ful by a new unknown author, which the critics say is to eclipse 
 all that has gone before. Truly this is an age of genius and pro- 
 gress too ! 
 
 The Diary continues year after year ; but as my object is only 
 to supply the missing links in the story of Lilian de Courcy, I 
 will pass over its very brightest portions, consisting of descriptions 
 of Washington life, and notable people, always coming back to 
 the ceaseless melancholy within fixed, and even cheerful now in its 
 way, and borne as a martyr bears his cross, firmly if not hopefully. 
 
 It is evident that Mrs. Bouverie was never able, either through 
 prayer, or affection, or gaiety, or reason, or study, to master the 
 corroding conviction that in some way her husband was connected 
 with the murder of Frederick Staunton, nor do I think she ever 
 loved him after this thought became habitual to her, with the 
 same unreserve and intensity of feeling. Perhaps this very con- 
 straint on her part kept alive his passion in fuller force, constituted
 
 316 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 as he was. He seems to have almost laid aside his sarcastic 
 levity of speech, startled as he must have been by the conse- 
 quences of his own reckless vengeance, and to have idolized her 
 even morbidly through life, though certainly evidencing in a 
 peculiar manner, his fondness and untiring vigilance. There must 
 have been more of " old uncle Bouverie" in his nature than she 
 imagined. High breeding alone would have prevented the same 
 exhibitions of malice and ill temper ; but that Erastus Bouverie 
 was one whose path no man might cross in safety, and whose 
 unscrupulous ideas of vengeance no limits could define, has been 
 shown elsewhere, and need not be now repeated. I pass over a 
 lapse of nine or ten years, before I make my next selection from 
 the Diary, as important events, now begin to close round the life 
 of Camilla Bouverie. 
 
 October. 
 
 We have returned to Bouverie to live. The house in Wash- 
 ington is given up. Erastus has resigned his appointment there, 
 and will devote himself for a time to his scientific pursuits alone. 
 He has fitted up one large room hi the wing for his laboratory, 
 and another adjoining it, as his library. We find Dame McCor- 
 mick, so long an exile, ensconced again at Bouverie, fulfilling all 
 her ancient duties, as if she had never left them off. As soon as 
 Aunt Furness died, she returned, yet, how she heard of this 
 event, or by whose permission she resumed her kitchen functions, 
 I have yet to learn. 
 
 I am rather disposed to think it was a piece of consideration 
 on Mr. Bouverie's part that has brought her back again ; a mis- 
 taken one, I confess, as far as I am concerned. I should so 
 much have preferred a vigorous young woman in the same posi-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 317 
 
 tio she occupied ! Besides, I never really fancied Dame McCor- 
 mick. She is horribly cross, and almost entirely deaf now, and 1 
 have learned to rule better since she lived with me before, which 
 will, I fear, ill suit her hot Irish temper. 
 
 She is, besides, encumbered with a hideous grandchild, about two 
 years old, brought and dropped, literally, on the threshold of her 
 cottage (as a cat might carry its starving kitten to be fed) by 
 its degraded, dying father, a few months before the son she had 
 vainly pursued through many years, and at last, despairing of 
 meeting again, beheld only in death ! How many quiet tragedies 
 are played in life ! 
 
 This creature lies before the kitchen-fire in a basket, like a 
 little animal, moaning fearfully, having received some injury to 
 the spine, Dr. Moore thinks, and probably an idiot in conse- 
 quence, but keenly alive to the instinctive voice of nature, devour- 
 ing as it does almost incredible amounts of food suitable for its 
 tender age. I have not said a word about this singular return of 
 Dame McCormick's to Mr. Bouverie, nor he to me so each may 
 be in error after all, as to the share the oilier has taken in the 
 transaction. Yet, what good would an explanation effect ? We 
 cannot turn the poor old creature out, now that she has thrown 
 herself (if thus it be), on our charity nor have I found any 
 reasonable cause of complaint against her yet. 
 
 Her eye is as quick, her hand as neat as ever, her food as well 
 prepared ; but that mystery repels me from her which she does 
 not offer to explain away, and which involves the last twelve 
 years of her life ! 
 
 There seems a tacit consent between Mr. Bouverie and myself, 
 that we shall never question each other again ; indeed, our lives, 
 although apparently passed together, are really divided by a cold,
 
 S18 % THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 invisible barrier. Oh ! shall the day soon come, when the truth 
 will be made plain between us, and repentance atone for sin, and 
 reestablish confidence the only true and stable platform of mar* 
 tied love I 
 
 Mr. Bouverie defers building my greenhouse. I shall not in- 
 sist upon it, although it would give me great pleasure to have 
 one; in the meantime I shall fit up Uncle Bouverie's old basement 
 kitchen (long disused) as a conservatory for hardy greenhouse 
 shrubs, and. revel in orange and lemon-trees, and oleanders and 
 fig-trees if I can have nothing more delicate ! 
 
 There is a new embroidery work fashionable for ladies now, 
 that I enjoy very much, and have learned to do skillfully, chairs 
 and sofas are covered thus with elegance and cheapness, by in- 
 dustry alone. The result of this pleasant labor is said by judges 
 greatly to resemble the celebrated " Gobelin" tapestry. I am 
 commencing a set of furniture covers for my drawing-room 
 heaven knows when they will be finished ! 
 
 Paul Quintih'an arrived last night, bringing with him his col- 
 lege chum, Ernest Clavering, truly an elegant young man, and a 
 poet of no common promise, his compeers say. He has a fine, 
 melancholy face, ominous of sorrow it seems to me, with a sort of 
 Charles the First expression. 
 
 Vandyke would have liked to have painted him, I think His 
 hair, dark chestnut in color, is the most beautiful and profuse j
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJTEEIE. 319 
 
 have ever seen, aiid he has fine eyes. He is three years younger 
 than Paul, but carries off the first honors. Paul stood second. 
 They are a splendid pair of youths. Such generous specimens of 
 truly cultivated men, above envy, admiring and appreciating each 
 other as they do so thoroughly ! 
 
 Paul is twenty years old past, and commences his medical 
 studies very soon. He will go to Philadelphia, where the best 
 school of medicine exists, and afterward, if he likes, to Paris, to 
 walk the hospitals ; but just now his home is here, and I am 
 trying to forget how soon I shall have to give him up again. 
 Oh, if my daughter had lived, and it had pleased heaven to give 
 her such a husband ! Truth, talent, manly bearing, infinite sweet- 
 ness of character, and firmness of purpose, all combined, make 
 him one of the rarest, most perfect specimens of human nature 
 I have ever met with. He is much better-looking, too, than I 
 ever thought he would be from the promise of his boyhood, 
 handsome certainly in my partial eyes, though not usually con- 
 sidered so. 
 
 But let me not repine over the inevitable past ! Bishop Clare 
 comes to-morrow, and I hope that I shall have fewer sins of im- 
 patience and discontent to answer for than when I last made my 
 confession. I have indeed prayed and wrestled of late, yet I 
 am still very far from being either good or religious. I am 
 naturally so vain and worldly, and so " earthy and of the earth," 
 that I cannot realize as I ought to do the great subjects of life 
 and death. 
 
 Holy Yirgin, chasten me with thy mild counsel, and lead me 
 with thy strengthening hand. Teach me to love myself, and my 
 poor transient beauty less, which I spend so much precious time 
 in adorning. I am conscious, sinfully conscious, that as I grow
 
 320 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 older, I attach more and more importance to my appearance, 
 once considered as a mere matter of course. 
 
 I was so flattered in Washington, that the snares closed around 
 me, struggle as I would, and I triumphed at last in the power 
 mere physical accident had given me. 
 
 I do hope that living at Bouverie will whip the offending Adam, 
 or rather Eve, out of me, and make me sensible of the truth, that 
 I am weak, offending, unworthy, save through the precious inter- 
 cession of saints, and my Lord Jesus Christ a child of dust, 
 nothing more. 
 
 There is no hope of making dear Quintil a Catholic. He is 
 essentially Calvinistic in his views, J find, much to my regret ; 
 and as for Clavering, he is a declared Unitarian, which means just 
 nothing at all. What Paul can see in that gloomy Lutheran 
 religion, to make him incline to its doctrines, I cannot conceive. 
 Predestination is such a paralyzing, fatal belief to hold, and what 
 can be more hideous than the doctrine of the elect ? No death- 
 bed repentance either, no hope for the dying shiner ! Oh ! if this 
 dark creed be true, vainly indeed did our Saviour say to the 
 repentant thief on the cross, " Verily, I say unto thee, this day 
 thou shalt be with me in Paradise." I am so grateful that I 
 was raised a Catholic. And, more and more, each day do I per- 
 ceive how suited to all frames of mind, to all conditions, to all 
 needs, are its tenets of hope and consolation. 
 
 Letters from Dr. Luther Quintilian inform us that he will 
 return before long, to reside in the United States again. His 
 wife, the daughter of the Leyden professor I have elsewhere
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 321 
 
 mentioned, died last year, we now hear for the first tune, in 
 child-bed. Poor thing, she had lived childless many years, and 
 just as the sweet promise of maternity opened before her, she per- 
 ished. A fair, beautiful woman she must have been, from the 
 accompanying miniature, but frail as a snowdrop. 
 
 I do believe there is much more tenacity of life in dark than 
 in fair people. Could anything kill me ? I really feel that I 
 shall live to be as old as the wandering Jew ; no one ever realized 
 the possibility^ death so little. This seems fatuity, but I can- 
 not help it. It is constitutional, life consciousness with me ; there 
 ought to be a phrenological bump for this quality. 
 
 Father Clare thinks my character improves, strengthens. I 
 hope he is right, but I do not think I am good as I used to be, 
 not half so innocent, so credulous, so sweet-tempered. I am a 
 little hard and sarcastic now, sometimes, even when I ought least 
 be so. I am a curious compound of cowardice and courage. I 
 who run from a dog or unmolesting cow, have stood unmoved with 
 a loaded pistol to my head. Oh, my God ! let me not think of 
 that, it was the bitter drop that made the cnp run over. " Done 
 to try me " was it ? What right has any human creature to 
 try another thus ? Suppose I had swerved ; suppose his hand 
 had trembled what then ? A little more bloodshed, that would 
 have been all. But I did not care enough to push the machine 
 aside, and yet I am beloved strange, strange inconsistency ! 
 
 February. 
 
 Luther Quintilian has arrived. He came straight to our house, 
 as he should have done, on hearing that we had left Washington 
 to return there no more, and found all that he cared to seo in
 
 322 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 America assembled under one roof. I did not witness the meet- 
 
 ^ 
 
 tag between the brothers. I had gone to Croften to the stores, 
 on the morning of Dr. Quintilian's unexpected advent, and 
 missed the great pleasure it would have given me to see their 
 fraternal embrace. 
 
 They seemed to have quite recovsred from the agitation of the 
 greeting when I returned ; and dressed just as I was with my 
 cloak and furs on, and my hat and feathers and quite unconscious 
 of a strange presence under my roof, entered the drawing-room. 
 Mr. Bouverie was seated before the fire, talking with unwonted 
 animation to some one, whose back was turned to me. Paul and 
 Earnest Clavering were on the sofa in the corner together, and 
 between them was seated a child. I can realize the expression 
 now " Non Angli sed Angeli." 
 
 I opened the door softly, and stood among them before they 
 knew it. The gentlemen rose to their feet. 
 
 " This is my wife, Luther," said Mr. Bouverie, with real pride, I 
 could tell from the tone of his most expressive voice. " Camilla," 
 he added, taking my hand and placing it in the extended palm of 
 the stranger, " this is my ward, Luther Quintilian." 
 
 The stranger clasped my hand, and bowed low, almost rever- 
 ently, over it ; then looking full into ray face, as he raised his 
 head, he said : 
 
 " I had thought to have seen you much older, Mrs. Bouverie 
 Paul never mentioned how youthful you were, or " 
 
 He hesitated and colored slightly, but his eye, his smiling lip, 
 supplied the rest of the sentence. 
 
 " How beautiful, Luther, you would like to say if you dared," 
 said my husband, " you are not peculiar in your opinion," he 
 added, drily.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 323 
 
 "I certainly expected to see a much more matronlj guar- 
 dianess, if such a coinage be permitted ; but I think I can bear 
 the disappointment patiently," he said, laughing. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie seemed well pleased that he should recognize my 
 claims to youth and beauty, matters that he is jealously anxious 
 should be considered a part of his wife, and to the decline of 
 which he looks with even more concern than I do myself. 
 
 " And, now, Mrs. Bouverie, let me show you the little appli- 
 cant for your favor that still remains unnoticed," and he brought 
 me from the sofa, where he was sitting contentedly, the beautiful 
 baby boy I had observed on my entrance. 
 
 " Not unnoticed," I said, " only biding his time until I had 
 made friends with his father ; I saw the little creature as I 
 came in," and I repeated the thought that had risen in my mind 
 as I beheld him. He seemed pleased, touched even, when a 
 moment later the baby, in answer to my invitation, held out his 
 hands to come to me, and put up his rosebud mouth to be kissed. 
 
 "He certainly is," I said, " the most seraphic child I have ever 
 looked upon ! Oh, Bouverie ! have you remarked his beauty, its 
 remarkable character, its perfection ?" and I bore him to my 
 husband and placed him in his arms. " How I wish," I mur- 
 mured, in his ear, " that he was mine !" I almost trembled for 
 the consequence of this impulsive speech, and was gratefully sur- 
 prised when either from courtesy, or the mood of the moment, he 
 said aloud : " Do you hear, Luther ? my wife is craving your 
 son. Won't you give him to her ?" I ought to have known him 
 better than to catch at such a straw as this mere lip-deep expres- 
 sion ; but I was completely carried away by the idea of possessing 
 such a treasure, and I turned earnestly to the father. " " Do let 
 me keep him for you, Dr. Quintilian," I said, " at least miti] y MJ 
 30
 
 324 THE HOUSEHOLD OB BOUVEETE. 
 
 have a home for him, and a better protection than I can be t 
 again." Paul had been whispering to ine in the meantime that 
 his nurse had died at sea, and seemed excited and delighted with 
 my sudden, but no less earnest scheme. " I have no children he 
 would be such a solace to me, Dr. Quintilian!" I urged. I saw Mr. 
 Bouverie frown it was too late now ; Luther's fine face quivered 
 with emotion ; " were I to choose from all God's creatures that I 
 have ever seen, from externals alone, one to confide my chief 
 treasure to, you should be that one," he answered, and it was 
 decided that, for the present at least, I should take the place of 
 mother to the little Jasper. All this was concluded before I had 
 laid off my wrappings, and when I went to my room, I bore my 
 baby with me, laughing, playing, crowing, wild with delight, the 
 sweetest thing, of fifteen months, that ever bore the human 
 shape ! 
 
 I rang for Bianca. " Will you help me take care of him ?" 
 I said, all elate and triumphant as I held him up, in his little 
 scarlet dress, so waxen white, so bright, so beautiful ! 
 
 " Where did he fall from, Miss Camilla ?" was her involuntary 
 expression. 
 
 " From heaven, I do believe, Bianca. The expression is just. 
 t e is mine, at least I know he will never leave me when I teach 
 him to love me, and his father has not the heart to break mine, 
 after such ties are knit. Oh ! Bianca, my prayers are answered, 
 God has given me an infant." 
 
 Our late dinner hour arrived before I remembered that there 
 were other claimants on my time and courtesy below stairs ; I 
 could not tear myself away from Jasper ; I had already ransacked 
 his h'ttle trunk, and arranged his clothes in drawers ; I had fed 
 him from a cup and spoon, provided once for my own baby. I
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 325 
 
 had enjoyed his infant sweetness, as one passionately inhales a 
 tea rose ; 1 had curled hi? lovely sunny hair, examined his waxen 
 hands and feet, admiring their aristocratic beauty, and small rose- 
 tinted nails ; I had shown him pictures, flowers, images ; had 
 given him the little marble greyhound to play with that I cher- 
 ish from its resemblance to poor Clarice, and even suffered him 
 to take the blessed candle from its ormolu stick and bite against 
 its waxen surface, leaving the print of his baby teeth on either 
 side. The long banished cradle of satin wood had been brought 
 from its place of exile, and restored with honor, blue velvet quilt 
 and all. I laid him down in the downy nest, where at last he 
 dropped to sleep, and leaving Bianca beside him, I hastily made 
 a fresh toilet, not forgetting the coral comb my husband likes, and 
 descended to the drawing-room. 
 
 Paul and Clavering were engaged at chess. Mr. Bouverie and 
 Dr. Quintilian, deep in a scientific discussion. I hoped they had 
 not missed me I 
 
 " I feared you were unwell, my love," Brastus said, " when you 
 failed to reappear ; I was about to seek you several times, but 
 reflected that you might possibly have engagements, busy house- 
 wife that you are ! What new cream or jelly have you been 
 concocting to suit the fastidious appetite of our European guest 1" 
 
 He spoke gaily, joyously, taking my hand and drawing it under 
 his arm as he did so, for such was his custom at the dinner hour, 
 and Gabriel now threw the doors open with his usual absurd bow, 
 and ceremonious announcement 
 
 " De dinnah waits" 
 
 " You forget, Mr. Bouverie, the claims of our guest," I said, 
 offering to disengage my arm, to cross the hall with him. 
 
 " Not so," be said, a little sternly, " let the young men com*
 
 326 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJ7ERIE. 
 
 in together," and we proceeded in this order. Dame McCormick 
 had done her best ; there was nothing to complain of, but the 
 dessert owed none of its abundance nor flavor to the hand of the 
 mistress of Bouverie on that occasion ; conversation flowed 
 brilliantly, wine sparkled, lights were brought with the fruits, and 
 Gabriel withdrew. Just then the door opened and Bianca 
 entered, bearing the beautiful baby boy in her arms. 
 
 " He would come down," she said, in a deprecating way ; " he 
 pointed to the door and begged so hard." 
 
 " Ah, little rogue," said his father, extending his arms for him, 
 into which he sprung eagerly, burying his head in the bosom of 
 the superb man to whom he owed his being. 
 
 "Jasper 1" I said, in persuasive tones, " Jasper," I held a bunch 
 of grapes before him, "come, baby, come to me !" He looked 
 at his father, then at me, as if to conciliate both, then pushing 
 aside the grapes with his baby hand, for he does not love fruit 
 yet, he clasped my neck, and glided into my lap, as naturally as 
 a child comes to his own mother. 
 
 " You have conquered him already," said Dr. Quintilian. 
 " How wonderful is the freemasonry between child and woman ; 
 but blood is stronger still, see, I will tempt him back !" and he 
 tried in vain. 
 
 I really felt quite triumphant, and my cheek flushed with 
 pleasure, I was so happy in the possession of my new toy ? no ! 
 my living, loving, earnest human soul, in its almost angel guise 
 and infant purity. Oh God, I thank thee ! Blessed Virgin, I ac- 
 knowledge thy merciful intercession in the divine gift of providence, 
 which I cannot doubt was intended to reward and encourage me 
 Let me never lose sight of my responsibility !
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 327 
 
 I have no reason to think, so far, that I have committed an 
 error in assuming the charge of Jasper, although once or twice I 
 fancied a little cloud on Mr. Bouverie's brow, as he saw me minis- 
 tering to him myself. Since then I have thrown menial (maternal 
 duties they seem to me), entirely into Bianca's hands, and even 
 suffered, greatly to my regret, his cradle to be removed to her 
 chamber. I must not be unreasonable about him, nor too much 
 absorbed in my care of him, or I may awaken the ill fiend again ! 
 
 I have even heard him cry occasionally, he that cries so sel- 
 dom, without going to him, because I felt my husband's eye was 
 upon me, my heart beating wildly all the tune, for I do lore him 
 so dearly, so passionately almost. Oh, this is such a fault of 
 mine ! I am excessive, and the very restraint I have placed on my 
 feelings for years has strengthened, instead of weakening them, 
 when once they are let loose. 
 
 Indeed, I think that from early youth up to middle age some 
 natures grow in power, in depth, morally as well as intellectually. 
 Burke says, %at his imagination improved until he was forty, and 
 I know I can conceive of, and bear emotions now, that would 
 have crushed me when younger. 
 
 But I am by no means as good and gentle as I was fornJerly. 
 I am far more bitter and rebellious and am sometimes a little 
 afraid of myself. There is much more in me than I knew of once. 
 I know that I could die in defence of this little child, and defy 
 any one that lives, in its behalf. 
 
 March. 
 
 I think I like Jasper best in his little blue gown trimmed with 
 white swansdown. His father thinks it exquisite ; I made it for him 
 with my own hands: and in his jaunty velvet cap and feather, also
 
 328 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE- 
 
 my handiwork, he looks like one of Sir Joshua Reynolds' 
 children. Dr. Qaintilian goes to-morrow to Washington, where 
 he takes up the office Mr. Bouverie laid down. He resigned his 
 chair in Leyden, in consequence of having received this offer. 
 
 Paul and Ernest will follow soon, each to pursue the profession 
 he has chosen medicine and law. What a pair of shining lights 
 they are going to be ! Dr. Quintilian has given me the last work 
 out by the author of Waverley, shrewdly suspected now to be 
 Walter Scott, the poet ! 
 
 That " Homeric Bard !" as Mr. Bouverie calls him. What a 
 wonderful genius he has and how appropriative ! I have heard 
 lately, from unquestionable authority, that the beautiful charac- 
 ter of Rebecca in this last work, Ivanhoe, was drawn from the 
 life-like description he received through an intimate friend of a 
 lovely and gifted young Jewish lady, who lives in Philadelphia. I 
 am all curiosity to see her ! My informant tells me, that she ia 
 as good as she is intelligent and beautiful and that her family 
 hold their lineage from the lion-like tribe of Judah ! this is to me 
 very interesting and romantic 1 
 
 Since I have been the happy possessor or my little Jasper, my 
 heart has opened to all helpless little ones even to that moan- 
 ing horror in the kitchen. Its lifeless limbs are arrayed in the 
 cast-off raiments of my bonny boy and I have made the old dame 
 na PPy, by this simple act of thoughtfulness. How mighty is the 
 electric chain of bloodoh, if it had pleased the Almighty to 
 have given me children ! Yain, sinful repining this ; ) uave a 
 substitute that must that does satisfy me !
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEJBIE. 329 
 
 I spend a few hours each day with Jasper in Bianca's room- 
 those of Mr. BouYerie's absence or seclusion in his laboratory. 
 When he is in the house I remain with him entirely, and, since I 
 see that he prefers it, without the presence of the child. I had 
 taken him into my chamber a few days ago, when I thought 
 Erastus was gone abroad for the day, and was sitting on the rug 
 with him before the fire, building card-houses for him, which he 
 swept down whenever I gave the signal, with merry screams of 
 delight, when Mr. Bouverie opened the door softly and stood be- 
 hind us. I saw that he disapproved of my folly, from the cloud 
 on his brow. Partly ashamed, partly determined, I arose and 
 threw myself on his breast. 
 
 " Oh, Bouverie," I said ; " do not be displeased ! Suffer me 
 to love him. I have no children, and my heart yearns so to this 
 little one." 
 
 " Love whom you please, Camilla," he said, laying his arm 
 coldly over my shoulder, and averting his face. " This is a mat- 
 ter in which there can be no dictation love cannot be compelled 
 or restrained by the commands of any man -, yet, for your own 
 sake, take the experience of the world, which tells us, that to 
 lavish love on the offspring of others is a thankless office a^ best. 
 Blood is your only sure binder, and the child you foster thus may 
 sting you yet I" 
 
 " Never 1" I spoke with clasped hands and flushing cheek,' for 
 I had withdrawn from his cold embrace and stood before him now, 
 while the child, as if conscious of his sentiments toward him, had 
 clung to my dress, and hidden his face among its folds. " The 
 seal of perfect love and perfect truth has been placed on his pure 
 brow, by the Almighty hand too visibly, Erastus, to permit of 
 change like this ; Jasper will be the consolation yet of our old age."
 
 330 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 He turned, still wearing his hat and great-coat, and left the 
 room with that haughty and dissatisfied air, that I so well under- 
 stand, and as the door closed he darted a look at me, one df his 
 old looks, that almost withered me ! Coward as I am, my knees 
 shook and smote together, as if some unknown evil menaced both 
 Jasper and myself; for minutes after he went out I clung to the 
 mantelpiece sick and dispirited. But soon collecting myself, I 
 called Bianca to remove Jasper, and after arranging my toilet a 
 matter about which Mr. Bouverie is scrupulously exacting I went 
 down to him. He was reading his papers when I entered ; but 
 throwing them by at once, he rose and received me with a bright 
 sniile and peculiar courtesy, than which there is nothing more 
 graceful, more princely, in my estimation. Placing my chair by 
 his, he took my hand and made me sit by him, while he talked on 
 in those silvery accents that fascinate and interest every listener. 
 He spoke of one of his favorite poets, Coleridge, and recited 
 portions of that weird poem, " Christabel," and that lovely thing, 
 " Gene vie ve," gazing in my face all the time, as if he meant every 
 word for me. What power he has over me, and yet how he has 
 aoused it. Oh, memory ! back, back, to your cell ! 
 
 A YEAR LATER 
 
 April. 
 
 Since spring opened, we have taken back our large octagon 
 bedroom, with its great window giving on the lawn. The baby 
 plays half his time on the velvet sward, within range of my eye 
 -he gathers his lap full of violets and crocus-flowers, and creeps 
 up the steps, through the window, aud brings them to me, 
 lovingly.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEJilE. 333 
 
 Yesterday, as he stood before me in his great size and princely 
 beauty, for a creature just two years and six months old, with hia 
 flashing, azure eyes, his crimson cheeks, and golden curls, I 
 said, gravely, laying my hand on his lovely arm, extended with 
 its gift of flowers : 
 
 "Jasper, which of the angels in heaven do you most re- 
 semble ? w 
 
 I heard a low, mocking laugh ; I looked up, Mr. Bouverie was 
 passing the window. I felt indignant to be so watched, so humili- 
 ated constantly. The child is angelic, body and soul, and when 
 his sweet dewy lips are pressed to mine, I feel a thrill of happi- 
 ness, such as I never knew before. 
 
 I claim this indulgence as the only reward I ask for long suffer- 
 ing ; for years of forbearance, solitary anguish, agonizing 
 doubts, unflinching obedience. I only ask permission to love this 
 child, and I will not be denied. He is mine, mine. 
 
 His father will marry again, and rear a new family; the kin- 
 dred of this infant are all dead on his mother's side, and Paul and 
 I will cherish him, between us, for something tells me that Paul 
 will never marry. He is so proud, so diffident, so unattractive to 
 the stranger, so slow to form attachments now Clavering is very 
 different. He is falling in love with every new and beautiful face, 
 and has been said, young as he is, to have addressed Annie Blair. 
 I do not know how the affair will turn out. She is a little too 
 old for him, I think, and certainly not his equal intellectually, 
 though very fair to look upon. I think he might wait and do 
 better. 
 
 Dr. Quintilian comes down occasionally to see Jasper. When he 
 as last here, I thought his manner to me cold and constrained.
 
 332 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEK1E. 
 
 Could I have done anything to oifend him ? Oh, 1 do hope not ! 
 But I ani so impetuous in speech some tunes, that I may without 
 intending it, have run across some of his favorite dogmas or 
 opinions. I can say nothing, and must trust to ameliorating time. 
 In the meanwhile, Jasper grows and thrives ; he does not speak 
 articulately yet ; but they say boys are never so fluent as girls ; 
 greatly to my regret, he has almost forgotten his father ! Oh, 1 
 do hope he is not going to take him from me, and that this reso- 
 lution (and the pain he feels in announcing it), may not occasion 
 his evident coolness to me embarrassment almost ! 
 
 A. young painter from Philadelphia has been down, taking por- 
 traits at Bouverie. He has painted me so beautiful that I do not 
 ujcoguize myself at all, a head in clouds ; Jasper, in the same 
 style, is truly seraphic. Mr. Bouverie's is a half length portrait. 
 His hand is on Sahib's mane, for thus he would have it, and he 
 wears a cloak trimmed with fur ; I am reminded of Byron's poem 
 of the Corsair, whenever I look at this picture. 
 
 The head and foreshoulder only of the horse are introduced. 
 I am sure that young S**** will be celebrated in his line. He 
 is, besides, the most delightful flute player I have ever heard, and a 
 man of elegance and attainment. His visit has afforded us un- 
 alloyed pleasure. These pictures are to be exhibited at the gal- 
 lery of fine arts in Philadelphia. He tells me that he painted 
 the head of the beautiful young Jewish lady I have before 
 alluded to, in the same style that he has done mine, and evei. 
 suggested a resemblance between us ; I never felt half so flattered 
 before by any personal compliment ; she has quite fired my fancy.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 333 
 
 I saw James Staunton yesterday, I was standing on the steps of 
 Mr. Howe's store in Croften, when he passed by. He turned quite 
 pale, lifted his hand to his hat, then dropped it again, and went 
 by without saluting me. I shivered as if I had been in an ague fit. 
 Olt how strange, how hard are the laws of life 1 Had I followed 
 my impulse I should have gone out, and fallen at his feet in 
 anguish, there in the dusty street, before the eyes of men, crying 
 out, " oh forgive, forgive us, me the unhappy cause, him the most 
 wretched offender !" But I was sustained by this false system 
 of ours, to stand like a cold, proud statue in that doorway, and 
 bend my eyes on vacancy, as he passed ! 
 
 My God ! everything comes back ! the bitter gorge of blood 
 rises in my throat again, as if I had drunk of it from a cup, to 
 satiety. It cannot be, that any good fortune shall attend 
 us ! Deeds like this are expiated here sometimes, and better on 
 arth than hereafter ; I ; ave chosen my portion in darkness, and 
 I must abide it. 
 
 Oh, that I were a laborer's wife, going forth with him in the 
 morning to the corn-field, and coming back weary at night, anu 
 pillowing my tired head on his broad, and honest, and God-fearing 
 bosom ! What right have I to be gay, or to expect happiness ? 
 
 How dare I forget, as I often do for days, even for one moment, 
 that atonement is yet to be made, and that I must assist to make 
 it ? Shall I tell Bishop Clare everything ; shall I ask his counsel ? 
 Oh, no, no, not yet ! I will bear my burden alone, even to the 
 bitter end ! as I have borne it even unto death ! 
 
 It is June. I have not written for a month one word to any 
 one, except that wild note to Dr. Quintiliau, nor left, night nor
 
 334 THR HOUSEHOLD OI BOUVERIE. 
 
 day, the bedside of our blighted, beautiful boy. What a great, 
 noble, feeling soul that man has ! What an apostolic nature ! 
 He does not dream of the truth, but he feels that gross careless- 
 ness, to say the least, was at the bottom of Jasper's injury ; and 
 yet not one word, or look of reproach not one hasty rebuke 
 has left his lips I 
 
 Yet how he has suffered his wasted frame, his pale cheeks 
 attest so lately sound and rosy, with the health of foreign 
 habits, and serene feelings. He forgives Erastus ! He pities me 
 even more than himself. He is willing, if it be God's will, to 
 give up his child. But at length we know, with joy unspeakable, 
 that the child will live, and that his mind is uninjured, although 
 one whole side of his frame and face are paralyzed. 
 
 He cannot speak ; he will probably never speak again, the 
 physicians think ; but his eyes are clear, his power of swallowing 
 returns, and he smiles occasionally when free from pain, and 
 stretches out one hand beseechingly whenever I leave him, even 
 for a moment. He seems to love his father again, after his long, 
 faithful ministering about him, and pats his face affectionately. I 
 am perfectly crushed by this blow, and its accompanying horrors. 
 I will record them here, impelled as I feel to do so by some 
 power stronger than myself, that commands me to testify to the 
 truth in imperishable words. But to no living ear shall I ever 
 confide the terrors that beset me, and make my earthly path so 
 dark, so hopeless. 
 
 Everything passed so quickly, I can scarcely realize it yet. 
 The child was playing on the lawn, at five o'clock, when I went 
 into my room to change my dress, before receiving Mrs. Blair 
 aud her daughter, leaving him wit! Bianca.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 335 
 
 It seems she left him while she cut the cake for Gabriel to 
 hand in the parlor. The ladies could not stay to tea, and needed 
 refreshment after so long a drive. 
 
 They left after partaking of cake, and wine, and fruit. It was 
 now nearly six o'clock. Mr. Bouverie, I knew, must hare 
 returned, for though I had not seen him, I had heard Sahib's 
 hoofs strike hard on the turf, as he galloped past the window of 
 the drawing-room. I met Bianca, pale and trembling, as I went 
 back into my chamber. 
 
 "I cannot find Jasper," she said. "I have missed him ever 
 since I went to the pantry for the cake and strawberries." 
 
 "Not find him?" I said, anxiously. "We must find him, 
 Bianca ; you have been careless to leave him out of your sight a 
 moment. Oh ! where, where can my baby be ?" 
 
 I went through the house, calling his name loudly. I flew 
 upstairs. I examined every bed. I looked under the dining- 
 room table, covered with its deep cloth ; in closets, bookcases 
 even, in the most improbable places, with no success. In the 
 meantime, Gabriel was flying wildly around the yard ; and Mr. 
 Bouverie had gone to the lake, to search for him, I supposed. 
 The very thought of seeking him there, brought such an agony 
 of hopelessness to my mind, that I sank down, and burst into 
 flood after flood of tears. But it would not do to indulge thus. 
 I rose up and renewed my search. The key of the laboratory 
 was in the door. I opened it, and went in. 
 
 The room was dim. I threw the shutters wide open these 
 also gave on the back lawn and peered anxiously through the 
 apartment, crowded as it was with chemical apparatus. Oh, 
 God ! in one corner lay a little bundle of white clothes I 
 thought, at first, a heap, such as one would throw on the floor
 
 336 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 of soiled lineu for the laundress. I approached it. I raised it 
 up. That flaccid mass was Jasper ! 
 
 My shrieks summoned speedy assistance, or rather brought the 
 whole household together, for no assistance could be rendered. 
 Among the foremost was Mr. Bouverie. 
 
 " He must have touched the wires of the charged battery," he 
 said, in a cold, dry voice ; " the shock has killed him." 
 
 I turned upon him one look, to haunt him, I hope, until he 
 dies. My quivering lips refused to utter their indignant accusa- 
 tion ; but I would not let him touch my baby no, he never shall 
 again while life is mine ! I carried him myself to his little bed. 
 I bathed his lifeless limbs with stimulants, bound ice to his fore- 
 head, poured reviving drops down his poor, unresisting lips, did 
 whatever my own weak judgment suggested, then sent Gabriel 
 off for Dr. Moore, and wrote to summon his father. 
 
 Two days may I never know such again while life is mine 
 two days elapsed before Dr. Quintilian came, riding hard, 
 day and night, as he did ; and in the interval the thread-like 
 pulse had returned, faint warmth had crept to the extremities, 
 and burning heat had taken possession of the brow and head of 
 our poor lovely one. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie accompanied Dr. Quintilian to the room when he 
 came, where I held my watch by Jasper, with kind Dr. Moore. 
 It seems that he had explained matters (my God !) as they came 
 along I know not how. Dr. Quintilian has never even remotely 
 alluded to the cause of his injury to me, doing his best all the 
 time moving around with fixed, locked features, and endeavor- 
 ing by the exercise of efficient patience, to soothe his sufferings, 
 a,nd to alleviate my distress. 
 
 During one of these paroxysms, not very long ago, he clasped
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 337 
 
 my hands, with earnest entreaties that I would be calm, and with 
 assurances that my sorrow, my rebellious spirit, for such he thinks 
 my grief, afflicted him more even than his child's disaster. He 
 went on, perhaps further than he intended ; but I am sure he 
 could not measure his words under the state of feeling that im- 
 pelled him to speak, and I shall try never to recall them again, 
 nor attach to them the slightest importance ; but I think I know 
 now why he was so cold to me when he came to Bouverie. 
 
 He has urged me to keep his child. How generous this is 1 
 Yes, I will keep thee, Jasper, and watch over thee with a vigi- 
 lance worthy of the sons of light themselves, from this hour. 
 Thy bed shall be my bed, my wronged and blighted baby, and 
 thy life shall be my life. And oh ! dark and cruel husband, by 
 this last act of yours, you have placed an impassable abyss be- 
 tween us forever, here and hereafter. I cannot, no I can never 
 again lie in your bosom, stained with such unmitigated crime. I 
 am alone, no kindred of mine survive to stretch to me their lov- 
 ing and consoling hands. I have no friends. I have no wish for 
 any. Erastus, I am in the hollow of your hand, yours to torture, 
 to destroy ; but your accomplice I have been long enough we 
 are twain now, and so shall remain to the awful day of judgment. 
 O holy Virgin, sanctify and preserve me in my determination ! 
 
 Dr. Qumtilian goes to Europe in a few days, Mr. Bouverie 
 accompanies him they have some scientific object in view. How 
 little does the one suspect, or the other repent ! There is some- 
 thing horrible and unnatural in this hardness, the result of 
 sophistry and skepticism. Paul will remain with me as much aa 
 possible during Mr. Bouverie's absence. I am icy cold to Erastus.
 
 338 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJYEKIE. 
 
 He sees that I understand everything, yet he is perfectly placid 
 and unmoved, and seems not to notice my manner. He will 
 never ask for an explanation. It is not in his nature to do this 
 oh, would to God it were ! Would that he could come 
 humble and repentant from the presence of his God, to her he 
 has so grievously crushed and offended, and make due acknowledg- 
 ments of error and of regret ; so that she might dare to follow 
 out her inclinations, and in imitation of the holy example of Jesus 
 himself, forgive him whom she holds dearer than her ow& life. 
 But otherwise this can never never be. 
 
 They have sailed at last, they will be gone a year. God speed 
 and shield them and may his holy Spirit enter into thy heart, 
 Erastus, before we meet again. Jasper slowly improves. 
 
 [After an absence of little more than a year, Mr. BouVerie 
 returns. There seems to have been an affectionate meeting 
 between the husband and wife, after this separation, yet their 
 reconciliation was evidently imperfect. 
 
 Dr. Luther Quintilian remained abroad for scientific purposes. 
 Dr. Paul had joined him in Paris, where he was pursuing his pro- 
 fession. The Diary is closely continued during this time, often hi 
 great anguish of spirit. About six months after Erastus Bouve- 
 rie's return, Camilla writes thus :] 
 
 December. 
 
 The house is empty again, and I begin to tremble ; Bishop 
 Clare was the lost, to go he lingered as if awaiting some con-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 339 
 
 fidence from me; it never came. Such a run of company for 
 months wearies one so, that I should rejoice at our quiet once 
 more, were it not for the dread I feel of an explanation ! The 
 sword of Damocles seems hanging over my head. This continual 
 levered anxiety makes me nervous and excitable. I never have 
 been so thin before. I fancy that I am fading as rapidly as a 
 flower in the fierce sunshine. It cannot last; this strange un- 
 natural calm forebodes a thunder-storm. Let it break ! 
 
 I am necessarily much occupied with Jasper. I never lose 
 'tight of him for one moment, except when Bianca has him in her 
 jealous keeping. No words have passed between us, and yet h'ow 
 perfectly she understands everything ! We two childless women 
 have made an idol of our blighted baby ! The child improves, 
 however, and hope begins to quicken again, despite medical 
 opinion. He is the most intelligent, spiritual creature I ever saw 
 of his years the most patient 1 His little hand already shapes 
 simple syllabic words and (to assist his meaning) objects such 
 as he has no power to convey otherwise a carriage, a piano, a 
 lantern, a flock of pigeons he has drawn all these things and 
 many more, so distinctly as to be unmistakable. Then his 
 expressive gestures, his beaming eyes, that almost speak to one, 
 denote such deep feeling, such sympathetic quickness I He is 
 beautiful, too, as an angel, though delicate now, and pale and 
 lame, as well as dumb ! 
 
 O God ! forgive, forgive his persecutor. Strengthen me, 
 too, oh, Father ! to struggle for him to the end, heart and hand. 
 Honor is at stake in this matter now, as well as feeling. I ought 
 to be willing to die to protect him, if need be.
 
 340 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVERIE. 
 
 Fortunately, Mister Bouverie JB much engaged still with his 
 Russian correspondence. It occupies him sometimes for days, to 
 the exclusion of everything else. During these periods the door 
 of his library is closed, and he takes his meals, slight as these are, 
 alone. When he emerges, after these times of seclusion, he is very 
 pale, and his eye wears a strange brilliancy. He passes much 
 time too, I think, in his laboratory, connected as this is now by 
 means of a door with his office, and its poisonous exhalations are 
 telling on his delicate frame, I fear. I saw him coming from 
 that accursed chamber, whose threshold my foot can never cross 
 again, while life is mine, with a glass mask in his hand, yester- 
 day ! It made me shiver to look at it that emblem of subtile 
 assassination. But I hurried by without a remark, though he 
 held it a moment before his face, intending to startle me, per- 
 haps ; his black eyes and brilliant teeth flashing through it, as he 
 laughed 1 
 
 His face rises before me in my dreams, just as I saw it then, 
 glittering through the transparent medium, and full of frigid fire, 
 I know not how else to describe its expression, like a wintry sun- 
 beam through an icicle. 
 
 God ! has it come to pass that I am afraid of my own 
 husband, and that even to dream of him in some phases, makes 
 my blood creep coldly through my veins ? 
 
 After such visions I sit up in my bed, covering my face with 
 my hands, and praying half aloud ; sometimes I rouse the little 
 child sleeping beside me, that I may not feel utterly alone ; then 
 rise and examine my door, my window, to make sure of their 
 fastenings ! 
 
 What is it that I dread ? Nothing for myself, surely. He 
 would never harm me, I know. No, it is all for Jasper; I fear
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 341 
 
 that he will not leave his work unfinished ; I fear that my vigi- 
 lance, even, may prove insufficient to protect him. When Dr. 
 Quintilian comes, I ought, perhaps, from a sense of duty and 
 justice to both father and child, to surrender this precious charge, 
 that is wearing my life out that is still almost a part of it now 
 yes, life itself to me 1 
 
 The painful and long dreaded explanation has taken place at 
 last ; I am greatly relieved. I am lost, too, in admiration of my 
 husband's forbearance, tenderness, generosity can I call it so ? 
 My soul has felt a strong rebound toward its old allegiance, yet 
 the late implacability is not altogether subdued. When one has 
 forborne and suffered in silence a long time, and at length with- 
 drawn from an offender, it is so difficult to return ! 
 
 Yet there is a far better understanding now than before. It 
 occurred in this way : Biauca came to me about twilight last 
 evening, to say that Mr. Bouverie wished to see me in his study. 
 After our late dinner, I had gone to my chamber, he to his 
 labors, as I supposed, to be separated during the whole evening. 
 I had remarked nothing unusual in his manner during the day. 
 He was still silent, and abstracted, vivacious by fits and starts 
 only his habit of late yet always courteous and attentive to 
 minor amenities even. 
 
 I did not hesitate to obey his summons instantly, though not 
 without trepidation, I confess. Bianca took my place by Jasper. 
 I nassed through the deserted house, the long dim hall, into the 
 wing, and groping along its narrow entry, found the knob of the 
 library door at last, and opened it suddenly, yet softly I suppose, 
 for Mr. Bouverie did not seem to notice my entrance for some time
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 He was standing on the rag with his back to me when I en- 
 tered, in an attitude denoting deep reverie or abstraction. A 
 brilliant lamp burned on the office table, the coal fire gave out 
 its ruddy, bituminous light. The room seemed radiant, after the 
 shadow without. I stood leaning with one hand on the back of 
 the great chair behind him, waiting for him to take the initiative. 
 At last, perceiving plainly that he was unconscious of my pre- 
 sence, I spoke to him. 
 
 " Erastus, I am here," I said. 
 
 " Good God, Camilla, why did you not speak before ? I 
 thought it was Gabriel who came in with coals." As he wheeled 
 suddenly into the light, I saw that his face was agitated ; he ex- 
 tended both hands to me, then dropped them again, as he saw that 
 I did not observe or accept his greeting. My demeanor was 
 frozen. I think I had trembled at first, now I was cold and reso- 
 lute ; I cannot understand why this was. His manner was surely 
 very affecting, I had rarely seen him so shaken with emotion ; 
 mine seemed crusted with ice, I know. 
 
 " Camilla," he said, after a moment's hesitation, speaking in 
 tones of persuasive gentleness, " there is a shadow between us, 
 who shall put it aside ?" 
 
 I did not reply, I scarcely knew how to answer his subtile, yet 
 dominant, question. 
 
 " I mean," he continued, after a brief pause, " whence does it 
 fall, Camilla ?" 
 
 " Is there any shadow without a substance," I murmured 
 low. 
 
 " Question for question ! Well done, little Quaker," he said, 
 with sarcastic quickness, smiling faintly as he spoke, with a flash 
 in his eye, that betokened anything but merriment, " I see, after
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 343 
 
 all," he continued, " that it falls on me to open this negotiation 
 of ours, and that you are guarded at all points." 
 
 Then dropping his playful manner as suddenly as he had 
 assumed it, he stretched forth his hands, again clasped both of 
 mine tightly, and asked ;n pathetic and tender accents the ques- 
 tion he should have put to me at first without preamble, had he 
 understood me better. 
 
 " My love ! my love ! what is it that divides us ?" He drew 
 me toward him as he spoke. 
 
 His words, his tones thrilled me now. " Oh Bouverie !" I mur- 
 mured, as I drooped my brow on his hands, still closely clasping 
 mine, " Do you not surmise the obstacle ? Why ask me this vain 
 question ?" 
 
 " It is, can it be that chimera still, about about Jasper ?" 
 He tried to speak carelessly, but he failed ; his voice was 
 husky, and he cleared his throat impatiently yet he overcame 
 this, and continued speaking low. 
 
 " Be frank be firm, Camilla ; let me hear the worst be not 
 afraid of me." 
 
 " Afraid of you, Erastus ! Oh, that such a thing should ever 
 be yet how can I shape my words to be my husband's accuser?" 
 I looked him full in the face now. His eye quailed, he dropped 
 my hands and retreated from me to the mantel, against which 
 he leaned, or rather clung, in silence for a time. I pitied him in- 
 expressibly, as I saw the cold dew break over his forehead and 
 upper lip, gemming his marble face, almost livid now, with some 
 great internal agony. In spite of all that he had done, all that I 
 had suffered, a feeling of respect, of tenderness even, still lingered 
 over the ruins of my peace. I tried to appear unobservant of 
 his condition ; and greatly agitated myself, I sat down in
 
 344 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 the deep chair, covered my face with one hand, and turned 
 away. 
 
 " This is unendurable, Camilla, unendurable," I heard him say, 
 at last, in hollow accents. "No man can bear it, and live 
 another day ! To condemn me on bare suspicion, to shape an 
 intention from an accident, to raise a suicidal hand against your 
 own happiness, to trample mine to dust " 
 
 " Oh, Bouverie, forbear ! you know you know I have done 
 none of these things 1" I interrupted. 
 
 " So changed, too !" he pursued " so hard, so cold now, once 
 so true, so tender, so confiding 1" 
 
 I made an impatient gesture. 
 
 " Who has wrought this change ?" I demanded. He did 
 uot seem to hear or heed me. 
 
 " Years ago," he continued ; " years ago, when appearances 
 were stronger against me even than they now are, a similar 
 phantom rose between us ! How did you meet it, then ? 
 
 " With courage, with faith, with fidelity 1 With a resolution 
 that I silently admired nay, marvelled at you grappled with, 
 and laid it in its grave at once, and forever. Can you not as well 
 exorcise this demon that haunts you now ? Is there none of the 
 old leaven left, Camilla ? Is love for your husband dead ? That 
 love t^iat wrestled so nobly with the enemy of your peace, and 
 finally, through its own constancy, triumphed over, and dis- 
 pelled it ?" 
 
 " Dispelled it ? no, Erastus ! Triumphed over it ? yes ! These 
 things are different. Yet why, if you saw all this, and felt your- 
 self aggrieved by my suspicion, did you not speak before ? Was 
 it just, was it merciful to treat me so ? Could any boon of life 
 have been half so dear to me, as the conviction of your innocence?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 345 
 
 Has heaven, itself, a higher reward to offer, for a life of penance, 
 than such a conviction would be to me now hereafter ?" 
 Hs smiled grimly, coldly. 
 
 " Such dreams must wear away of themselves," he said ; " or 
 be laid to rest by the spirit that gave them birth. Mine was the 
 wiser part ; you would not have believed me." 
 
 " Even now, I will believe you," I cried, starting up before him. 
 " If you will swear that you who are innocent you have never 
 deceived me in words ! The blood in your veins would recoil from 
 perjury. Swear to me on this crucifix the emblem of your 
 mother's faith and mine that you are guiltless of bloodshed in the 
 past, of cruelty in the present and I will believe you, Bouverie." 
 
 I loosed the crucifix from my neck, and extended it to him. 
 
 He raised his hand, then let it fall again nervelessly. 
 
 " This is child's play," he said ; " put up your toy let us talk 
 rationally." 
 
 " I ask you for iny peace, and you mock me ! It is well 1" I 
 spoke, passionately. 
 
 " Be calm be calm," he commanded, waving his hand. 
 
 ;< Are you quite sure, after all, that I have it in my power to 
 repair the past, by any oath of mine ?" he asked, mildly, after a 
 pause. " Do you think conviction can be forced from its long- 
 established channel? Remember that old Bluebeard legend, 
 that tells how the spots came back on the golden key, as fast 
 as they were rubbed away. I fear me, you are Fatima ! 
 
 " Then use your reason ! Would a man, capable of commit- 
 ting such dark deeds of bloodshed and oppression as as you 
 assign to me, shrink from falsehood, perjury, even, to conceal 
 them ? Do you suppose any mere lip-deep code of honor would 
 reach to such depth of dissimulation, as such a person would cov,-
 
 346 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 tain in his own spirit ? Yet, if you persist hear me, Camilla. 31 
 He raised his hand. 
 
 "No, no," I cried, springing wildly forward. "Not that, it is 
 too late now spare yourself this unnecessary sin. Leave one 
 white spot on your conscience, I entreat you. I will forego 
 the rest." 
 
 His hand had fallen while I said these words ; his eye blazed. 
 Those were the first reproaches I had ever addressed to him ; 
 oh, bitterly I rue them already 1 
 
 What right have I, his wife, to add one feather to the burden 
 that must rest on his remorseful head ? What right have I to 
 probe his wounds, to tamper with his conscience ? 
 
 There was a long silence, during part of which he continued 
 standing before me, I had resumed my seat ; then slowly leaving 
 his position, he commenced pacing the room with measured steps, 
 his hands behind him, his head cast down, almost on his breast, 
 his face half concealed from observation by his sweeping hah*. I 
 turned involuntarily, and followed him as if my eyes had been 
 fascinated. How stately, how elegant he seemed stepping so 
 lightly, so evenly, to and fro so firmly too, as though he could tread 
 down every obstacle in life, as he has trodden down every scruple ! 
 What a princely bearing he has ! What a distinguished mien 1 
 What intellectual power breathes all about him ! Yet, all this 
 splendor is sullied by " one little spot." 
 
 Suddenly he stopped by the study table, and extending his 
 hand, took up the gold snuff-box he always keeps beside him, and 
 smelt its contents through the half parted lid, then spoke with 
 gaiety. 
 
 " I shall come to the royal habit by and by," he said. " Camilla, 
 did you know that all kings take snuff ?"
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE, 347 
 
 I started at the strangely irrelevant question. " So do inquisi- 
 tors," he added, smiling, and advancing toward me with a glitter 
 in his eye, " Pray, have a pinch !" 
 
 I understood his sarcasm, but took no notice of it, his levity 
 gave me such exquisite pain, on his own account. He turned and 
 deposited the box on the mantel, against which he leaned again, 
 with folded arms 
 
 " So you would play the part of angel to my Mahomet eh I 
 Camilla, and wring the black drop from my heart, would 
 you ? Ah ! my child, wait until your wings are grown. Do 
 not unsphere yourself, you are but mortal yet, however beau- 
 tiful." 
 
 " Erastus," I said, " sneer as you will, my words have touched 
 your soul ; yet if they have been undue, forgive them. I shall 
 not repeat the offence." 
 
 He seemed softened, a tremor ran over his flexible features. 
 
 " You have been hard on me, Camilla, in more ways than one. 
 Hard in judgment, hard in act ; yet whatever may be the truth 
 as concerns your suspicions of me, how have I injured you person- 
 ally, that you should rise up against me an avenging Nemesis ? 
 Is it the part of a wife to sit in judgment on the husband ? Is she 
 even permitted in law to testify against him ? Yet yon take upon 
 yourself both offices." 
 
 He paused for a reply. I made none. 
 
 " After all, my love," he resumed, speaking again in that 
 quivering and emotional voice, peculiar to him, when excited, and 
 almost irresistible in its pathos. " After all, my love, despite 
 appearances, despite reality even, admitting both to be true, for 
 the sake of argument merely, is there no such thing as for 
 
 givoness possible with you ? Have you no mercy, Camilla ?" 
 31
 
 348 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 Again he approached me and clasped my hands, looking long 
 into my face, then mutely raising my fingers to his lips, he kissed 
 them many times, fervently. I felt his hot tears falling on my 
 hands. They stirred me strangely. They were the first I had 
 ever known him to shed. I started to my feet. I spoke pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 " Forgiveness 1 Oh, do not ask this of me ! The holy Saviour, 
 the mighty Father, the intermediating Saints and Virgin, it is of 
 them you should ask forgiveness. Pour out your heart to our 
 beloved Bishop Clare, he who joined our hands in sacred mar- 
 riage, who feels so deeply for us both, and take his counsel, what- 
 ever that may be. Do this and you will be happy again, Erastus ; 
 but my forgiveness, what could that avail ? 
 
 " Much, much," he murmured, " more than all beside." 
 
 He was kneeling before me now, he so haughty, so unbending 
 usually, his head buried in my lap, like that of a little child. He 
 was shaken with a storm of weeping. After awhile he said, lift- 
 ing his head again, speaking in supplicating accents 
 
 " I must have your forgiveness first, then I will be strong to 
 seek divine favor. Tell me, Camilla, that all shadows are put 
 aside, that you pardon me, love me again are mine ?" 
 
 I could not tell him this, I have grown so hard, so inflexible, 
 of late, I fear. I sat in tearful silence. He mistook its cause, pro- 
 bably, for, throwing his arms around me, he drew me closely, 
 suddenly to his breast. I shuddered irresistibly. It was but a 
 little tremor, quick to come and quick to go one of those chills 
 we feel, it is said, when a foot passes over the place where our 
 grave shall be yet he marked it. His arms relaxed, he rose, he 
 turned away, and took a distant chair. When he looked at me 
 again I saw that his face wore that air of haughty indifference, I
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 349 
 
 nad caught by glimpses of its expression when he paced the floor, 
 and again I shivered. >/ 
 
 I knew that I had acted unwisely, but I could not feign. I 
 sat in silence. 
 
 " You are implacable, Camilla," he said, at length ; " this even- 
 ing has been wasted in pursuit of a vain shadow ; I cannot 
 fathom a nature like yours, I have not known you thoroughly 
 though so long " 
 
 He waved his hand. 
 
 " Go, my love," he said, " I will not keep you longer from 
 Jasper." 
 
 He coughed impatiently, and slightly stamped his foot, then 
 rose and touched the bell. The attendant answered its summons 
 instantaneously, as if starting from the floor. 
 
 I moved slowly, somewhat indignantly toward the door, thus 
 loftily dismissed. 
 
 " Gabriel," he added, "light your mistress across the corridor. 
 Madam, good night." 
 
 He bowed with a deep mocking deference, that I knew of old 
 
 I was glad to find myself once more alone, and secure, in mj 
 own chamber. 
 
 Another partly painful scene with Mr. Bouverie ! This morn- 
 ing, when I went into the breakfast-room, I found Erastus writing. 
 When our meal was concluded, he handed me the letter to read, 
 on which lie had been engaged. It was addressed to Dr. Luther 
 Quintilian. I found, to my surprise, that it contained a courteous 
 request that he would make his arrangements as speedily as pos 
 Bible, to remove Jasper, alleging as a reason, that my health was
 
 350 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 giving way under the continuous care required of me, and that it 
 was his intention to travel with me, for its benefit. He recom- 
 mended Chapel Hill, as a suitable asylum for Jasper, should it 
 not be convenient to dispose of him otherwise. 
 
 " Jasper at Chapel Hill !" I said, indignantly; " Jasper, a mute, 
 an infant still, scarcely four years old ! What would become of 
 him there in that vortex of boys ? Paul himself found it hard 
 work to get along with them at eleven. What could this poor 
 baby do ?" 
 
 I could not help shedding tears at the very thought. 
 
 " No," I said, " I will not give him up until Luther comes in 
 person to demand him of me. Then he shall receive back the 
 wreck of what he brought so nobly beautiful ; until that time 
 comes I will maintain the duty that circumstances have rendered 
 doubly imperative, that the hand of misfortune has sealed so 
 sacredly now." 
 
 He eyed me with sarcastic bitterness. " Suppose it should not 
 suit me to wait the advent of Luther ? Suppose I use my 
 authority and send Jasper to Chapel Hill, what then, Camilla ?" 
 
 " I will go, too," I answered stolidly. + 
 
 "No, you will go with me, Camilla," he remarked, calmly, 
 " should I desire it ; you are too dutiful a wife, I know, to stand 
 in open rebellion against your husband." 
 
 " You have forgotten," I said, " or repudiated the opinions you 
 once uttered, when you said that Bernadotte owed everything tc 
 Sweden, when choice lay between his allegiance to the country of 
 his adoption and to his benefactor, who wished him to destroy, 
 after giving to his care, that people. This is a case in point ; 
 I admired the sentiments you expressed on that occasion so much 
 that I have adopted them as my code of action from that time.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEREE. 351 
 
 'Duty to our dependents is the highest of all duties,' you averred, 
 'and its fulfillment allies us nearer than any other to our 
 Maker. He who shrinks from a responsibility of this kind is 
 unworthy to live.' These were your words, Erastus." 
 
 " I recollect them well," he rejoined, with a grim smile. " I 
 went further," he added, " I attacked the legend of Abraham's 
 sacrifice of Isaac as too unnatural to be true, or, if true, too 
 craven to have met with, or deserved God's favor. Do you 
 remember this, also, Camilla ?" 
 
 " I do," I replied ; " but I deemed it unnecessary to reply to 
 such irreverence on your part, however nobly conceived the sen- 
 timent might have been. I try to remember only those things 
 that place you in the most favorable light, Erastus." 
 
 " Strange, dutiful forbearance ! you do not always succeed, 
 however, it seems ; I thank you, though, for the effort. In the 
 meantime, I agree with your sagacious and novel remark of the 
 other night, ' That no shadow falls without a suggestive sub- 
 stance.' In accordance with this conviction I propose, for your 
 own sake, and mine, if not for his own, to remove Jasper." 
 
 I gasped, I grew faint. 
 
 His eye sparkled, he fixed it on me, he sneered, laughed in- 
 wardly, extended his hand for the letter I still held, took it, 
 raised it a moment before his eyes, as if skimming its contents, 
 then, as if relenting, suddenly thrust it into the grate. 
 
 The act affected me, not more, however, than the rapid and 
 unaccountable change in his features and expression. These were 
 now profoundly sad, and subdued, as he stood, looking into the 
 fire, watching the last filmy elements of the paper dissolve hi 
 flame. 
 
 " No more of this, no more despotism," he murmured, as if
 
 852 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 speaking unconsciously aloud, " it is not in this way men get back 
 the love of women ; yet how regain the inestimable treasure 
 when once lost ? Who shall teach me this lesson ?" 
 
 " Let me be your instructor. Oh, my husband I" I said, 
 clinging to his hand, which I had taken, and which, for a moment, 
 he struggled to withdraw. " You taught me once, let me be your 
 teacher now." I felt his fingers close over mine like steel. 
 
 " And what will you teach me, little philosopher, special 
 pleader, persuasive preacher that you are, that you have not 
 taught me long ago ?" 
 
 He smiled with sudden sweetness, and stooping, kissed my 
 brow. " To be patient," I said, " with me, your patient, for I 
 am sick, Erastus soul-sick, perhaps, yet none the less entitled tc 
 your charity ; help me to repair the past, be kind to our mother- 
 less mute one, let me continue a little longer my ministry to him, 
 be tender, be forbearing to me, your suffering wife, and we shall 
 be happy again. Yes, happier than before." 
 
 " Be it as you desire," he said, " my wife, too well beloved for 
 my own peace of mind, perhaps ; yet tremble, Camilla," he added, 
 gravely, "lest God bring you to a fuller sense of your depen- 
 dence on your husband yet, in his own way, in his own time." 
 
 I did tremble, involuntarily, as he spoke these low, deep, pro- 
 phetic words, in his stern, impressive manner. Yet my determina- 
 tion was unshaken to carry out my task, and to wait for his 
 evidenced repentance, before taking up the old clue of life again, 
 followed in blind despair so long, so faithfully. 
 
 I have discerned in myself, at last, an inflexibility of character 
 that repels me almost from my own nature ! Is this hard, cold, 
 implacable being, the same Camilla Byrne, so tender, so impas- 
 sioned once, so gay, so universally confiding ? Alas, for change I
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 353 
 
 March. 
 
 After three months passed in shadow, what joy it is to be per- 
 mitted to write again, to resume occupation of any sort ! I have 
 been threatened with blindness, a lot I have ever dreaded more 
 than death itself, or even insanity. I hare not been able to dis- 
 tinguish the features of any face around me distinctly until now, 
 since my first attack, and there were times when even the outlines 
 of forms and objects were merged in the surrounding greyness. 
 
 I seemed to be groping in everlasting twilight. Colors were 
 extinguished, and the strongest rays of sunshine resembled the 
 struggling beams of moonlight as seen through a hazy cloud. 
 Forms came and went like phantoms, and a miserable bewilder- 
 ment possessed my brain. 
 
 Dr. Moore thinks this changing color of mine betokens too 
 strong an inclination of blood to the head, so he has bled me 
 copiously. But to this treatment Mr. Bouverie sternly objects, 
 and will not suffer it to be repeated. He consented only to the 
 use of a tonic draught alternated with one of a depleting 
 nature, and I have received my medicine from his attentive hand 
 alone, during my whole sickness. 
 
 His ministry has indeed been most kind and constant, by night 
 and day. Anticipating my wishes, my anxieties, he gave Jasper 
 to Bianca's care, and occupied himself solely with me. While I 
 lay in that dark bondage, all he could do to soothe, to cheer me 
 was earnestly attempted. He gave up his valuable correspon- 
 dence extinguished the fires of his laboratory laid by his books. 
 All this for the sake of the wife who shuddered, a little while ago, 
 at his touch his embrace ! 
 
 He has not forgotten this, evidently, with all his tenderness 
 and there is a delicacy in hi? ministry that renders it doubly deal
 
 354 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 And now, that I can see clearly again who rejoices with me as 
 he rejoices ? He lingers about me watchfully, tenderly, waiting 
 hopefully, now I perceive plainly, for old feelings to reassert them- 
 selves in my breast. 
 
 I thank him I bless him for all this ; yet, the tune is not yet, 
 despite my gratitude. Why did he permit the fire to burn down 
 to ashes ? Oh, why was I constituted as I am inexorable ? 
 
 Yet this trial was good for me, perhaps wisely bestowed by a 
 chastening hand, and those prophetic words that thrilled me so, 
 when spoken by Erastus, are proved at last. 
 
 I have been clearly shown my dependence on my husband. I 
 have been shown much more. The unacknowledged beauty and 
 blessing of my life, with all its surroundings of taste and comfort, 
 over which the curtain of darkness was flung for a time, as if to 
 make me recognize its loveliness at last, with a heart full of praise 
 and humility, is made plain to me now. 
 
 Am I not called upon, too, by the pressure, and by the lifting 
 of this rod, to avow my presumption in judging so harshly of my 
 husband's acts ? Have I been in error, or too precipitate ? Had 
 I a right to appoint myself his judge ? Yet, after all, was not 
 this involuntary, natural, even, under the circumstances 1 
 
 Self-justification again ! 
 
 To-day, when I said to Mr. Bouverie, ' ' Dr. Moore thinks I 
 have been threatened with amaarosis," I could not help the re- 
 currence of something of the old feeling of fear and mistrust, as I 
 caught the expression of his eye. 
 
 It was full of malignant laughter. " Dr. Moore is an oracle,* 
 he said, in scoffing accents, and turned away.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 355 
 
 I dropped the subject, but my heart sank inwardly. I had so 
 noped for a cluinge in him, radical, deep-searching ; something 
 that would repress in future all demonstrations of this kind 1 I 
 scarcely know why this slight incident (if such it may be called) 
 has made such an impression on me. 
 
 Let me record here some notice of my symptoms, which may 
 be useful to me though I hope not for reference at another 
 time, should this dark disease recur. 
 
 A night of deep lethargy preceded my first attack. I awoke, 
 as I thought, before daylight, with pain in my head and eyes, ac- 
 companied with giddiness. I did not see Biauca, who was stand- 
 ing at the foot of my bed, for some time and after all, only as a 
 grey shadow. Yet, it was then past eight o'clock, and the 
 window-blinds were open, and the room flooded with sunshine, as 
 she told me. When the truth became manifest to me, I was 
 greatly terrified greatly stricken. The physician was promptly 
 called remedies used to reduce my condition, which my blood- 
 shot eyes seemed to make necessary ; yet, it was nearly two weeks 
 before I began to see again, with anything like clearness. 
 
 Then supervened another deep slumber another blind awaken- 
 ing another fortnight of darkness and bewilderment, and so 
 through the whole three months, the disease continued to manifest 
 itself, until at last, as by a merciful hand, it was slowly lifted 
 away. 
 
 Bishop Clare arrived just after my last seizure, and shared Mr. 
 Bouverie's vigils by my side with prayer added to patience. 
 
 I cannot help thinking that his devout intercession hi my 
 behalf has had its effect. I know that he underwent extreme 
 penance during this period for my sake, and I saw its effects 
 plainly in his face, when my eyes were permitted to embrace 'is
 
 356 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVERIE. 
 
 benign features again. What a devoted, unfailing friend he has 
 been to me ! 
 
 But now, all is joy and happiness, and wild delight even, in my 
 heart. I am bound up, to the exclusion of all else hi this newly- 
 recovered sense of mine, and all that it gives back to me. 
 
 I can see Jasper's beautiful face again, and grasp his meaning 
 from its speaking expression, I can see the tender green of grass 
 and shrub, that seem to be making haste to greet me, in this for- 
 ward spring. Crocus, and snowdrop, and periwinkle, and flower- 
 ing almond, and budding peach, all wear a beauty not their own 
 not earthly. 
 
 Paradise seems opening before me in the smiling face of nature, 
 and my feelings overflow with kindness to all God's creatures, 
 from the little snow-white lambs in tue pasture, to the poor gob- 
 lin child of the kitchen hearth, that sits listlessly with its fingers 
 in its slavering mouth all day, and whines like a whipped puppy. 
 When I drive out, I find myself greeting common acquaintances 
 as if we had been parted for years, and I feast my eyes on the 
 dear faces of Erastus and Bishop Clare the last so soon to leave 
 us again with joy and gratitude. 
 
 Paul's letters had accumulated during my blindness ; I have 
 been reading them all over with such pleasure. It is not the same 
 thing, I think, to hear a friend's letter read, even by a silvery 
 voice, as to trace the dear handwriting with you own eyes, 
 and mark its very inequalities as expressive of changing feel- 
 ing. 
 
 To-day, in looking through a closet a perfect luxnry now to 
 me, so often written down a bore in these truthful pages I came
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 357 
 
 across that old Medusa-head Paul gave me when he first came to 
 Bouyerie. 
 
 It stirs me with the same feeling now as then, the beautifnl, 
 evil face. The impassible horror of the perfect features is some- 
 thing beyond description with all its twisted snakes wreathing 
 around the stately heroic head I But a new impression is now 
 added to the old. It seems to me that something of this fabled 
 nature has entered into my being, and I accept it almost as a 
 type of the past. I cannot conquer my aversion for this beautiful 
 horror ! 
 
 Sculpture has a much more powerful influence over me than 
 painting. I have wished for nothing so much as to see the grand 
 statues of antiquity. I am sorry dear Paul does not enter more 
 vividly into the inspiration of those old masters. One of his re- 
 marks appears to me very significant of his whole appreciation of 
 art ; yet it made me laugh, and may have been intended aa 
 enthusiastic. 
 
 He observed of the Apollo Belvidere, that grandest of all 
 shapes, undeniably, that it reminded him '' of a boy who had 
 slung a pebble at a bird, and hit him !" He considered it the 
 embodiment of the word " success." 
 
 But what a quaint illustration ! 
 
 Advices from Russia declare the crown securely fixed on the 
 head of Nicholas. He was crowned in December, and renews his 
 brother's offers to Mr. Bouverie. We have determined to cross 
 the ocean in May, taking Jasper with us, and Bianca; Mr. Graut, 
 our trusty Scotch gardener, who has lived with us since our ionr- 
 riage, will remain in charge of Bonverie.
 
 358 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 We are to go first to England and Scotland to visit Mr. 
 Bouverie's relatives in both places. The first, very distinguished 
 people of distant consanguinity, connected with him on his 
 mother's side ; the last, of the true blood of Bouveiie, honorable 
 but poor. These consist of Madame Ambrose, who still survives, 
 contrary to my impression, and her beautiful young adopted 
 daughter, a near relative of hers. They have a romantic resi- 
 dence called " Les Bocages," in the neighborhood of the lakes, 
 and are highly cultivated persons, as he represents them. 
 
 Madame Ambrose, old Uncle Bouverie's half sister, married a 
 French gentleman of family who lost all in the Revolution, and 
 left her in indigence, from which her own exertions rescued her 
 She is, of course, a very aged woman. She is said to have been 
 excessively beautiful. 
 
 When we reach Paris I shall place Jasper in his father's hands ; 
 I may then, perhaps, think more earnestly than now of resuming 
 my old allegiance. Let me first rest assured that the penitence 
 of Erastus is real and enduring. 
 
 The stains must be purged from my husband's hands before I 
 can clasp them again with the olden confiding affection. Alas ! 
 alas ! that perished long ago, and a mere phantom replaced it, 
 conjured from the depths of my fidelity. Will the merciful 
 Creator see fit to restore the past ? Shall the gift of perfect love, 
 hi which there is no fear, ever crown our home again ? All things 
 are possible to him, I will not despair, and, for my part, I would 
 be willing to be blind again, for life what greater sacrifice could 
 be demanded ? to have back my faith in Bouverie. 
 
 May (same year). 
 
 What were those last words I wrote in that record of a dupe ? 
 " Faith in Bouverie !" were those the words ? They stand out
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OP BOUVEEIE. 359 
 
 strange and distorted from the paper as I gaze, they stagger as 
 I staggered, when the hideous drugs were asserting their power 
 over me, the black drop, the morphine, the belladonna, the 
 digitalis ! 
 
 Let me read back a little way in my journal, unopened now for 
 weeks, and smile at the fond foolishness of her who wrote those 
 pages ! Camilla Bouverie, you were a good, a trusting creature 
 in those days, what are you now ? Hard, cold, cunning as the 
 arch-fiend Bouverie himself 1 
 
 The ship has sailed, I am alone, it is with a kind of rapture I 
 say these words, and yet, to the very last, he thought I would 
 accompany him gulled by the gull ! A just, an uncommon 
 retribution. 
 
 At the very last moment, just as the anchor was being weighed, 
 Dr. Moore handed him my letter, and that mysterious piece of 
 brass wire shock for shock ; how they must have startled him 
 I can imagine his writhing lip, his blazing eye, and the cold drops 
 of dew gemming his livid face. I wish that I had been there to 
 see ! 
 
 Dr. Moore must have been surprised at the effect of his mission 
 too, for he knew nothing either of the contents of the letter or 
 the significance of the wire. 
 
 One person only knows, that is Bianca ; I told her all on the 
 morning after the occurrence, and she helped me faithfully to 
 carry out my plan. 
 
 Well as she knew him before, she was overwhelmed with the 
 intelligence of his latest prank of cruelty, of perfidy. How he 
 has luxuriated of late in his favorite elements ! What a.n 
 adept he has grown to be sure ! What a right hand assistant 
 Satan has in him !
 
 360 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 And this man was my husband 1 " Faith in Bouverie." Yes, 
 my faith is perfect now, fixed, unalienable. No more doubts, no 
 more self-conflicts matters are unchangeable, and better so, 
 perhaps ! Oh, God ! how hard ; hovv wicked he has made me. 
 I could not have been persuaded ; no, nothing but the demonstra- 
 tion of my own senses could have convinced me, that he would 
 have harmed me ! 
 
 While he was pretending to love me so tenderly while he ap- 
 peared to be guarding me at every point, ministering to me so 
 unmeaningly he was all the time stabbing my dearest preroga- 
 tive, again and again, to death and destruction. Striking at my 
 sight blinding the creature he held in the hollow of his hand 
 and with such vain sophistry tortured himself to believe he loved? 
 Do we harm the creatures we love ? No, God knows we do 
 not and that such test is never applied in vain ! 
 
 Now that he is gone I can write the whole history. I can 
 seize my pen, now that the miserable lying bandages are dis- 
 carded and that the light of heaven is permitted to stream 
 again into my long-darkened room. Lie there, green shade, with 
 your deep frill of black lace ; lie there, blue glasses ; lie there, 
 fine linen handkerchief, steeped in rose-water so long apparently, 
 to cool the feverish lids, and assist the necessary stratagem. Ac- 
 cessories of fraud, and yet of safety, worn each in turn, to conceal 
 the truth and preserve me from further injury ; lie there, I have 
 done with you, I trust, for life. 
 
 He will return no more ! His property lies in England, mine 
 is all here ; I shall ask him for nothing. 
 
 My income, small as it is, with the produce of this domain, will 
 support me and mine, in a frugal way. The new gardener, 
 Smith, has been paid in advance for one year. Hereafter, if he
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 361 
 
 pleases me, the contract will rest upon different grounds, and be 
 proportioned to suit the productions of his hand. 
 
 I do not like his face it is almost fearful to me ; yet, if he 
 does his work well, why should I mind this ? Besides, may I not 
 be wholly morbid now bitter and high-strung as I feel ? Will 
 anything ever appear fair and pleasant to me again, except that 
 little face that knows no guile ; sealed into dumbness through his 
 act forever ? 
 
 He thought to the last I would go with him, did he ? He did 
 not know that he had created his match at last, not met it merely. 
 He did not know, that from his own failure to deceive, had risen a 
 spirit of deceit, even stronger than his own. A power to conceal, 
 to endure, of which he even has no capacity. I had no idea I had 
 such nerve, such capabilities of treason and treachery ? Did I 
 not say somewhere in this Diary, " I could not feign ?" 
 
 What a weak creature I was in those days how contemptible 
 in my goody goodiness ! Stay how many years ago was it that 
 I wrote these words. Only six weeks only ! 
 
 Why have not these been years ! years ! Oh, God ! have 
 pity on me I 
 
 Appearances were kept up to the last. We out-charlataned the 
 charlatan. I am afraid Bianca enjoyed her little histrionic ar- 
 rangements, packing trunks, never destined to leave Bouverie 
 sending off silver, so soon to be brought back wrapping choice 
 books in paper and linen, uncovered already I am afraid 
 Bianca enjoyed all this. Her life has been so monotonous of Jate, 
 it was quite an excitement ! As for me, I confess with shame, 
 that I was conscious of a species of exultation all the time, bordering
 
 362 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODTEEIE. 
 
 on fierceness ; but I patted it down as one would do a half-tamed 
 tiger. He saw nothing of it, I am convinced, and so to the end 
 he believed I would go with him. It was essential to the pre- 
 servation of my life itself, perhaps, to cheat him thus. 
 
 When at last he could linger no longer, having, as I well 
 knew, business of importance in Philadelphia to transact, before 
 we could take the packet of the twentieth when he found that 
 my preparations were not completed, he yielded readily to my 
 suggestion, that we could go down later, with Dr. Moore, so as to 
 reach the packet in time. 
 
 I never said that I would go with Dr. Moore nor that I 
 would join him in Philadelphia. I only urged the feasibility of 
 the plan. From the time I discovered his treachery I measured 
 my words, so as to tell no falsehood, yet to leave the impression 
 I desired. Strange sophistry, worthy of my teacher 1 
 
 So he went away, believing fully that I would follow him and 
 Dr. Moore believed it, too, to the last. 
 
 Had a bolt fallen at his feet he could not have appeared more 
 astonished than when I gave him my letter, and looking upon 
 him with clear, unblinded eyes, told him I had renounced the 
 voyage ! 
 
 He tried to elicit an explanation. I would give him none, and 
 as he was obliged to make the journey on his own account, he 
 consented, unwillingly enough, I saw, to convey the letter, and 
 the small scroll containing the brass wire, to Mr. Bouverie. He 
 doubted his reception, I imagine. He has not yet returned, 
 but when he does, his satisfaction on the subject will not be 
 greater, perhaps, than it now is. I may lose his friendship in con- 
 sequence of this. I hope not. It has been a solace to me through 
 many years. His kindness, in a medical point of view, I never
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVJKKIE. 363 
 
 can forget, nor his disinterested zeal for my health and welfare 
 in the past and present. Yet, I can make no explanations. 
 All this while I linger from my record. 
 
 It was on the night of the 10th or 12th of April I forget 
 which that the scales fell from my eyes, never to veil them again, 
 and the soul of Erastus Bouverie was disclosed to me in all its 
 hideousness, and I saw into the depths of hell. 
 
 I had an attack of pain, I remember ; one of those spasms of 
 the heart to which I am rather subject, but which always pass 
 away without any remedy. 
 
 On that occasion, Mr. Bouverie insisted upon it that I should 
 try a draught he knew how to prepare, especially suited to these 
 attacks. I had eaten my supper and felt disinclined for medicine ; 
 but when we parted at bedtime, I consented to take it with me 
 to my chamber. He could not prevail upon me to drink it then, 
 in his presence, which I know npw he desired that I should do 
 for reasons of his own. So I carried it off in a slender Venetian 
 glass he kept for his own especial use. 
 
 When I had undressed myself, and was ready for bed, I stood 
 on the hearth a moment, poising the draught between my eyes 
 and the night-lamp ; I saw that there was sediment in the bottom 
 of the glass. The odor of the draught was pleasant ; but when 
 I tasted it, which I barely did, without disturbing the sediment, 
 I found it permeated with the same peculiar flavor that I so dis- 
 tinctly remembered as having lingered on my palate on the night 
 of my first seizure, after drinking my coffee. 
 
 I had been seized soon after supper that night with slight giddi-
 
 364 THE HOC BEHOLD OF BOUVBRIE. 
 
 ness and nausea ; had gone to bed at my husband's solicitation ; slept 
 heavily, and awakened Mind. Some instinctive misgivings seemed 
 to possess me, associated with this recurring flavor, no doubt. I 
 shaped no suspicions, entertained none ; acted from intuitive impul- 
 ses alone, when I emptied the draught in the hearth, and setting the 
 glass back on the mantelpiece, turned quietly toward the bed. 
 
 Jasper was sleeping. I knelt before the " Prie Dieu " and gave 
 up my soul to prayer. When I went to bed, half an hour later, 
 all thought of the pain I had suffered (but of a few moments' 
 duration) or of the draught my husband had prepared, was put 
 aside, as completely as if these things had never existed. 
 
 I had fastened the door and window-blinds according to custom ; 
 the taper was left burning on the hearth. In a few minutes I was 
 fast asleep. 
 
 I was awakened by the presence of some moist, soft substance 
 on my eyelids. Before I could speak, a sharp shock seemed to 
 pass through the balls, while a flash, as if from lightning, blazed 
 before them ; revealing nothing, however. The thought that I 
 was lightning-struck, passed through my brain with instantaneous 
 swiftness. I shrieked, and throwing out my arms, they came in 
 contact with a hard substance, which in the next moment fell 
 crashing to the floor. 
 
 For an instant I saw the scene before me. Mr. Bouverie, with 
 his face averted, stood near the bed, clinging to the post. In 
 another moment all was darkness ; I lay quite still, almost para- 
 lyzed by terror, as well as physical causes. I knew from the 
 cautious noise I heard, however, that he was gathering up the 
 instrument he had dropped (or its fragments), whatever that 
 might be. I drew thf bedclothes softly over Jasper's head, and 
 awaited the issue.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVKBIE. 366 
 
 A few moments later I heard the door close ; his steps had been 
 inaudible as lie gained it. I was afraid to believe that he was 
 really gone ; and, after all, might he not return ? Oh, God ! 
 those weary hours I 
 
 Day broke at last, and showed me that I was not blind, only 
 left in darkness by the extinguishing of the taper. Jasper awoke ; 
 Bianca came ; I told her everything. The carpet spotted in many 
 places by the acid employed ; the discovery of some small pieces 
 of a broken glass column ; a bit of brass wire, and a moistened 
 sponge, evidenced the late presence of a galvanic battery in the 
 chamber. I knew too well the fatal accompaniments I had 
 often watched, of old Mr. Bouverie's experiments with the Yoltaic 
 pile. 
 
 It is probable that these legacies of his visit were not sus- 
 pected by the author of evil, since he had gathered together in 
 darkness all fragments within his reach, and borne them away 
 when he left the room ; yet small as these remaining remnants 
 were, they brought to my mind conclusive proof of what I should 
 have suspected, even had they not been found, for I had some ex- 
 perience from one electric experiment to which I had been sub- 
 mitted, for the sake of nervous headache, of the glare that accom- 
 panies a galvanic shock, when applied near the region of the 
 optical nerve. 
 
 Later, I found on a piece of crumpled paper, thrown down on 
 the laboratory floor, and burnt at the edges, as if the fire had 
 been its original destination, which Bianca brought to me, some 
 memoranda connected with my malady and its causes. 
 
 The administration of various drugs, in combination with the 
 galvanic shocks, had done the work. My dilated pupils, which 
 aroused Dr. Moore's suspicions of amaurosis, were the work of
 
 366 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBffi. 
 
 " belladonna ;" my nervous prostration, of " digitalis ;" mj 
 profound slumbers, of " black drop," and " morphine." 
 
 These were administered by turns hi the draught Dr. Moore 
 had ordered. The nauseous taste of the poppy was that which I 
 had perceived predominating last, and remembered as clinging to 
 my palate after drinking the coffee that contained it, a flavor of 
 which I had no experience, and this Mr. Bouverie knew, never 
 having met with it before in illness even. 
 
 My resolution was taken at once, and communicated to Bianca ; 
 I would feign blindness ; the wires had been applied too high, 
 fortunately, this tune, to insure such a result, and a mere dimness 
 of vision, in one eye, was the only inconvenience I experienced ; I 
 would remain in bed for the present, but she should sleep in my 
 chamber henceforth, with Jasper, and watch over us both unfail- 
 ingly, until the time came for the European voyage. 
 
 I had already consented to go ; I would not withdraw that con- 
 sent until the last moment ; I would refuse all medicine as having 
 been unavailing before, and partake only of such food as she 
 should bring me. At one time we thought of adding bolts to the 
 door and window ; but this we felt could not pass unobserved, 
 and would only arouse suspicion. 
 
 The means by which Mr. Bouverie unlocked my door were 
 certainly very mysterious ; the key remained in the key-hole, and 
 was made to do its own office, both as he came in and went out, for 
 Bianca found the door locked in the morning from within. I 
 noticed that the Venetian glass, which had -contained the draught, 
 and which I had replaced in the usual manner, on the mantel- 
 piece, after emptying it, had been turned mouth downward, after 
 the habit of Mr. Bouverie thoughtlessly, no doubt, in his excite- 
 ment ; and this proved to me how closely he had examined its
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 367 
 
 contents ere he proceeded to experiment on me. He had satisfied 
 himself evidently that I had drank the draught, before venturing 
 to approach my bed. Nothing now remained for us but vigilance, 
 caution, cunning, and duplicity. All very difficult to me, very 
 foreign from my character, as they were, and very repulsive to 
 every principle of my life. For Bianca these were probably easier. 
 She was a diplomatist by nature not frank, though communica- 
 tive, and fond of stratagem, yet faithful and devoted beyond any 
 one I have ever known. Watchful, too, and suspicious to an 
 excess, she was well calculated for the post I had assigned her. 
 
 Let me pass over that fearful interval of conflicting horror and 
 indignation, when I was obliged to submit to the subdued caresses 
 of a monster. 
 
 He came to me as before, with his slow, soft step, and silvery 
 accents, sat by my bed, chafing my nerveless fingers in his own, 
 read to me books whose words I never listened to, hour after 
 hour, patiently, unmeaningly. It was easy to palliate this new 
 whim of mine, to have Bianca and Jasper in my room, at night, 
 on the plea of his own health, somewhat broken, as I insisted on 
 believing it to have been, by his long nocturnal vigils by my side 
 during my last attack. It was easy, too, to deceive him, as to 
 any suspicions I might have entertained, or been supposed to en- 
 tertain when I shrieked and threw out my hands, so as to upset 
 the battery by a show of frankness, calculated to dispel his doubts 
 on this subject, if any such existed. 
 
 " I thought I saw a glare in my room, as of lightning, before 
 I sank into lethargy," I said, " yet Bianca says there was no 
 thunder-storm ; I must have imagined this." 
 
 " Your brain is evidently affected at such times, Camilla," he 
 said, " you should mistrust all such evidences, as entirely unreal.
 
 368 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 
 
 This is one of the symptoms that alarms me most, in your case." 
 I saw him smile. 
 
 I groaned, he mistook the origin of the sound, and sought to 
 comfort me. 
 
 " Yet do not despair," he said, " I still hope to see you fully 
 restored to health, in Europe, where such cases are better under- 
 stood than here." 
 
 "Then do not call in Dr. Moore again," I urged. "lam 
 resolved to take no more medicine until we go abroad." 
 
 "The form is necessary, however," he replied, " to to avert 
 suspicion." 
 
 " What suspicion ?" I asked, keenly excited by his strange 
 remark ; " to what do you allude ? What suspicion could be 
 aroused in this case, that you seek to allay ?" 
 
 " Only that of neglect," he answered, indifferently ; " no other, 
 of course." 
 
 I came very near betraying myself at that moment. I felt 
 disposed, in the agony of my concealed anger, to spring upon 
 him and seize him, and accuse him of his crime. He, my hus- 
 band 1 
 
 This is what they call, I believe such treatment as I had re- 
 received pressing a wretch to the wall. In old times they had 
 a torture " une peine forte et dure " that they called the 'tone 
 torture. 
 
 Each day a greater weight was added to the stone (endurable 
 at first), which was placed on the breast of a prostrate criminal, 
 until at last it crushed him. 
 
 Such was the mental punishment endured during these weeks 
 of suppressed feeling of burdensome hypocrisy. The task I had 
 undertaken was much more oppressive thau I supposed it would
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 369 
 
 4^. 
 
 be, and the part I was performing seemed to strike at last to the 
 very root of my nature, and destroy my sensibility. 
 
 I am not what I was. I am cold, hard, defiant, mocking, skep- 
 tical almost. When Bishop Clare comes again, what shall I say 
 to him ? How explain this change ? How acknowledge that I 
 cannot pray ? 
 
 I must not I will not reveal its cause ; and he will accuse me 
 mentally, if not openly, of inconsistency, caprice, faint-heartedness. 
 Yet, unless Erastus so accuses me to him, I shall not defend 
 myself. 
 
 Dr. Moore has returned from Philadelphia ; he brings me a 
 courteous messagge from Mr. Bouverie, who regretted that he had 
 not time to reply to my letter ! 
 
 What mockery ! He knew that no reply was necessary that 
 none would be acceptable nor possible perhaps. 
 
 " Colonel Bouverie desired me to say that he would write to 
 you on reaching Scotland," he proceeded, " and that he hopes 
 you may still change your mind and join him there." 
 
 " Never 1" I murmured low ; I could not help it. The blood 
 rushed to my brow. 
 
 "You are too excitable, Camilla," Dr. Moore observed, 
 gravely ; " lend me your pulse. It is nervous and irregular ; you 
 must be calm, or you will have another attack of blindness, I 
 fear." 
 
 " I think not," I rejoined, drily. " I shall probably have better 
 health hereafter." 
 
 He looked at me very intently for awhile, then remarked in 
 gentle tones :
 
 370 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 " I am fcorry you did not go with Colonel Bouverie, Camilla ; 
 he seemed much disappointed at your failing to comply with his 
 wishes, and besides that, he will be absent so long that your con- 
 dition will be exceedingly lonely, if not helpless, in this solitude. 
 My dear, dear child ! you should not have suffered any little 
 obstacle to make you desert your post of duty." 
 
 The tears sprung to my eyes at the implied rejproach. They 
 were the first that had moistened them for weeks. 
 
 " Have you ever seen me flinch from my duty, Doctor Moore," 
 I said, " you that have known me long ? There are things that 
 cannot be explained in every woman's life. Character should have 
 some weight." 
 
 I burst into a flood of tears. He seemed much shocked, but 
 he did not know what good they did me. With a delicacy that 
 did him credit, he did not seek to stem their torrent with useless 
 consolation or apology. He acted like a man of purity, and truth, 
 and feeling. 
 
 " Camilla," he said at last, " I do believe by the force of that 
 moral conviction that no mind can resist, that you have acted for 
 the best, and from some concealed necessity. If what I partially 
 suspect be true, you have forborne as no other woman would for- 
 bear. My God I how hideous !" he added, dropping his face in 
 his hands. 
 
 " Suspect nothing," I said, approaching him and laying my 
 hand on his shoulder, " lest so suspecting you do a grievous jvroug 
 to one of us ; but as you are our friend, inquire, surmise no fur 
 ther. The world is at liberty to select its own side of the picture. 
 Lips of mine shall never make the matter plainer." 
 
 He rose, wrung my hand, and departed without a word. 
 
 Here the subject closed between us forever.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 371 
 
 MY LETTER TO MR. BOUVERIE. 
 ERASTUS : 
 
 I have been resolved since the night of which this brass wire 
 is a memorial, not to go to Europe with you never to live with 
 you again. I have no reproaches to offer you ; I believe you 
 have only acted out your nature, like any other serpent. 
 
 When you attacked the citadel of sight, you struck at some- 
 thing dearer than life, or reason itself. Was it in this way you 
 sought to regain the affection you had lost ; or, did you mean 
 only to enslave me ? 
 
 In either case, I can forgive you on one condition, that we never 
 meet again. My small estate will suffice to support me in 
 comfort no act of mine shall ever make you blush. So put 
 aside all care for me from this moment, and believe in the 
 inflexibility of my resolution. 
 
 That you may still know repentance, and through that means 
 true happiness, is the prayer of the no longer blind, 
 
 CAMILLA BOUVERIE. 
 
 July. 
 
 Sahib is dead, and Gabriel has run off ! Two events that have 
 more connection with each other than might appear on the 
 surface. 
 
 The devotion of this negro to the fierce black horse was some- 
 thing unparalleled. He preferred sleeping in his stable to 
 occupying the comfortable quarters assigned to him, and after 
 Sahib grew blind, he spent all of his leisure hours in summer-time, 
 in keeping the flies from annoying him, with a discarded peacock 
 brush, once in use about the table.
 
 872 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 He prepared also, with unfailing regularity, the mess of mashed 
 oats and bran for the toothless charger, whose old age was thus 
 made endurable to him by his care. A year ago, when on his 
 return from Russia, finding him useless, Mr. Bouverie prepared to 
 shoot Sahib, Gabriel threw himself before the horse, like Poca- 
 hontas between Captain Smith and his executioner, and entreated 
 for his life. 
 
 It was granted, on conditions that have been religiously fulfilled. 
 
 There was no attachment existing between Gabriel and his 
 master, I knew, and yet Mr. Bouverie controlled him, as no one 
 else could do, without a blow or a loud word. Some great fear 
 seemed at the bottom of this spaniel-like obedience ; but what it 
 arose from I could never learn. It may have been a sort of 
 magnetism. It surprised me the more, therefore, that Gabriel 
 had the hardihood and generosity to intercede so earnestly for the 
 life of Sahib. I did think, I confess, that Gabriel had a linger- 
 ing, perhaps an inherited attachment for me, and never imagined 
 buch a thing probable as his flight. But after all, the poor 
 creature was sorely tempted possibly, and the mirage of the negro, 
 called freedom, which only means in most cases, the permis- 
 sion to steal and starve, lured him on. I shall make no effort to 
 secure him. He was unmanageable at times, though good- 
 natured, and always disagreeable to Bianca. As I am situated, 
 I can dispense hereafter with the services of a footman. 
 
 Poor Mr. Grant, how I miss him I He was staunch as steel to 
 our interests, and had a leal Scottish heart hi his bosom, better 
 than any other, I believe, when truly attached. I am glad that 
 he left no family to lament him. I went to his grave yesterday, 
 and planted a double Scotch rose at the foot, that I turned with 
 my own hands from the crock in which it had been sent to me.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 373 
 
 Smith's wife has arrived. She certainly excels as a laundress; 
 but her appearance is unprepossessing. He, too, has a face that 
 makes me recoil, yet he does his work well and understands 
 the culture of the vegetable garden, from which, hereafter, I 
 must try to derive some money. The farm-hands are to board as 
 before, during harvest and seed-time, in his family. I hope I shall 
 be able to get along with these strangers, by keeping them at a 
 distance from my household. But nobody can replace Mr. Grant. 
 
 The long long summer-days wear away so dolefully. I 
 occupy myself as much as I can with Jasper, who improves daily, 
 and is my sole consolation now, and with the details of my house- 
 keeping, which have become a second nature, used as I have been 
 to the ordering of a family, since my poor mother died and 
 Uncle Bouverie put his keys in my childish hand too small to 
 grasp them. 
 
 I read too, and sew, and work among my flowers and I have 
 opened the long-silent piano, and tried its chords again. But the 
 spirit of music that abode with me once has gone, and the jang- 
 ling keys seemed to mock me, with their piercing discord. The 
 instrument is one they called a harpsichord, I believe, and was the 
 property of Aunt Bouverie, who played well. 
 
 For her sake, I will have it repaired, and keep it henceforth in 
 order. I am sorry that Jasper evidences little fondness for music, 
 as this might be in his case a wonderful resource. Nature 
 designed him, I think, for a painter. His childish efforts to draw 
 are astonishing. He begins to read fluently now, and occupies 
 himself, principally, with illustrated books, of which he possesses 
 & quantity.
 
 374 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 He is enchanted with the plates in Wilson's new work on 
 " Ornithology." 
 
 I am alone. Strive as I may to put them aside, 'those mourn- 
 ful words are ever ringing in the depths of my nature. The 
 momentary fierceness of my anger that sustained me for a time 
 is over, and I awake to the full sense of my desolation. 
 
 Letters from Paul announce his speedy return. He is the only 
 person in the world that I would be glad to see just now, always 
 excepting Bishop Clare, who cannot come until the approaching 
 month. Yet even with him there may occur a cold restraint, 
 founded on the uncomprehended past. 
 
 With Paul there can be nothing of this kind. He will ask me 
 no questions. He will suspect nothing. My domestic habits and 
 my care for Jasper, will appear reason enough for changing my 
 plan of European travel. 
 
 Yet he will not content himself here, of course. He must go 
 to a city and begin his career of physician. It is quite time he 
 was taking some step in life. What a husband and father he 
 may make some day ! What a staunch and honorable citizen ! 
 
 Mr. Clavering has sent me his last poem ; he is to be married 
 in the autumn to Annie Blair. He will be one of our literary 
 leaders, I think, if not a political one. Her fortune and his talent 
 will almost insure success when combined. 
 
 August. 
 
 I have had a very long and artistic letter from Mr. Bouvcrie. 
 It is dated " July, Les Bocages." He is the guest of his aunt, 
 Madame Ambrose, with whom he is to remain until her ward ie 
 married.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIB. 375 
 
 I see that the marriage will occur now in a few days. He 
 does not mention the young lady's name, but says she is to marry 
 young Edward de Courcy, a distant relative of hers, and the heir 
 to the fine estate called " Taunton Tower," in the vicinity of 
 Madame Ambrose. 
 
 He speaks of her as a very beautiful person, with one slight 
 personal drawback, which he does not mention, and says that her 
 age is just that of our daughter, had she survived sixteen in 
 September last. 
 
 Ah, that is too young to be married. Judgment is dormant at 
 that age. Fancy rules. Early marriages are seldom the hap- 
 piest. Yet circumstances may render such a step advisable in 
 her case the age of her protector, her own friendless and 
 secluded position. Her fate reminds me of my own. But why 
 should I feel the slightest interest in this foreign girl, whose face 
 I shall never see ? I cannot tell. My loneliness perhaps gives 
 my mind room to act, on every fresh subject presented to it, with 
 unreasonable power. The thought of this young bride is haunt- 
 ing me with a sort of fascination. 
 
 Had we parted in the fullness of conjugal confidence, Mr. 
 Bouverie's letter could not have been more tender, more affec- 
 tionate. He simply refers to mine, and its allusions, as having 
 been hastily conceived and written. 
 
 " Would it not have been more charitable in you, my love, to 
 have attributed my midnight visit to your apartment, even had it 
 occurred, to my anxiety for your welfare, rather .than to any 
 wish to work you harm ? Out of the abundant charity with 
 which you clothe the whole world, could you not have afforded 
 to your husband one little mantle? The galvanic battery, of 
 which the bit of brass wire you sent me seemed suggestive, 'i
 
 376 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTKRIE, 
 
 oftener used, I assure you, as a remedial thaa a destructive agent 
 In what way have you, my idolized wife, arrived at the con- 
 clusion that hand of mine could be raised against you in any 
 manner ? 
 
 " Dismiss, I entreat you, my beloved Camilla, such chimeras 
 from your brain, so often heated by the rushing blood, that cir- 
 culates, I fear imperfectly, in your veins, and resign yourself to 
 the conviction that he who swore to love and cherish you at the 
 altar, is faithful to his vow. Has yours been kept as well? 
 Did you not promise to ' love, honor, and obey me ?' Of these 
 noble words, what remains to you but the empty semblance ? 
 
 4 ' Yet what I have done to forfeit either your affection, your 
 reverence, or your loyalty, what man can tell ? Not I, surely. 
 Nor you, Camilla, if before any tribunal of law, you were called 
 upon to hold up your right hand and testify. 
 
 " I shall continue to respect your scruples and misgivings, as I 
 have hitherto respected them ; yet I trust the time may come, 
 when you will extend to me, voluntarily, the hand of peace and 
 perfect reconciliation. You are the only woman I have ever 
 loved shall ever love. 
 
 " Constituted by nature to fulfill the severest requisitions ever 
 demanded of priest or dervish, I was insensible to all the fascina- 
 tion of the accomplished ladies of my own land, or that of my 
 adoption, until I saw you in your childish grace and incompara- 
 ble beauty. The sentiment I felt for you was as pure as ever 
 filled a brother's heart, yet deep, and tender, and impassioned 
 as the love of Abelard. You were too young to share it when 
 we were united ; this I knew, but I hoped to teach you, ere long, 
 all the depth, fervor, and disinterestedness of my own feelings. 
 
 " I failed, signally failed You were absorbed with trifles, and
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEJRIE. 377 
 
 perhaps with dreams of a youthful and unworthy attachment from 
 which I had early rescued you. Little more than ten years dif- 
 ference existed in our ages, yet you treated me, as if I had been 
 too old for you from the first, and looked up to me, or chose to 
 appear to do so, as a father. Nay, more, you trembled before me, 
 you, whose affection was all I desired, and so there grew up 
 between us a vague unhappiness that ripened and bore bitter 
 fruit. The climax came at last, I need not remind yon how or 
 when, yet no words of mine could convey to your mind a tithe 
 of my suffering under this condition of affairs. 
 
 " I am not apt to complain ; you never suspected, perhaps, what 
 anguish you were making me endure ; yet I will not despair. If 
 I have failed in one way to regain your affections, others are still 
 open to me. I will abide my tune, and your generosity." 
 
 I have gone on, copying this letter unconsciously ; I merely 
 meant to note down its peculiarities. My tears have fallen, too, 
 in transcribing it, and blistered the pages. 
 
 Oh, heavens ! what folly to be moved by sophistry like this 1 
 I thought my heart was closed at every avenue against his perfi- 
 dious persuasions ! 
 
 No, Erastns, truly as I have loved you, do love you still, mat- 
 ters are fixed and irrevocable now ; no hand of mine shall be 
 extended to recall yon, and the moment of your return to Bou- 
 verie will be the signal of my departure from beneath its roof, 
 morally, if not legally, yours perhaps. No day shall pass without 
 witnessing my prayers for you, mayhap my tears ; but a great sea 
 separates us forever and ever, deeper, wider than those Atlantic 
 billows that roll between us. Let them roll !
 
 378 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 August has ever been an oppressive month to me, never more 
 so than at present. I was not born under the influence of the dog- 
 star, that is certain. I am thin, and weak, and pale, and have 
 lost power to eat or sleep with any regularity. 
 
 Bishop Clare is greatly concerned at my condition, I can sue, 
 yet he asks no questions. I have volunteered no confession on 
 this occasion. He waits evidently for me to suggest such a neces- 
 sity. Another tune, I hope to please him better. I am extremely 
 nervous, highstrung in all my sensations. I hear so acutely that 
 my ear opens even to a cat's footsteps. I cannot bear the light, 
 but linger all day in the shadow. Jasper even makes more noise 
 than I can well endure, and the monotonous insect-sounds of mid- 
 summer fall on my senses crushingly. 
 
 The buzzing of the blue fly in the window panes, the booming- 
 of the beetle as he strikes at irregular intervals against the 
 ceiling, the chirping of the locust, or the katydid, in the near 
 shrubbery, and worse than all, the croaking of the frogs from the 
 lake at evening, annoy and depress me, indescribably, unreason- 
 ably. 
 
 I said to Bishop Clare the other day, " I believe I am just in a 
 condition now to be magnetized ; I never was before ; every do- 
 minant sound seems to me a law of my being ; every ray of light 
 a struggle for mastery. I could be governed very readily now by 
 any energetic cause." 
 
 " Ah, Camilla," he observed, shaking his head, " you are mis- 
 taken, I have never known a more indomitable nature." 
 
 Even he blames me for not accompanying Mr. Bouverie ! I 
 Bee it plainly. Where is his boasted charity ? Perhaps Paul, too 
 but no 1 he knows, he only, that my life has been a struggle 
 and a sacrifice from first to last.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 379 
 
 Dame McCormiek grows worse ; she will probable die ; she 
 has taken extreme unction, and made her last confession. 
 
 Bishop Clare does not hesitate to say that some of her revelations 
 have shocked and astonished him greatly. I have never known him 
 before to refer ever so slightly to the confession of a penitent. I am 
 convinced there is a struggle in his breast, on this subject, in which 
 conscientious scruples and religious fidelity wage war man and 
 priest, in other words. I cannot help thinking that her mysterious 
 absence has been accounted for at last, and that it was connected 
 with the perpetration of some hitherto unacknowledged crime. 
 
 My prejudice against her may, however, lie at the root of this 
 suspicion. I have no wish to know the truth, no curiosity on the 
 subject, little interest in her, in any way, yet when she is gone 
 what a burden the poor idiot will become to me ! For the sake 
 of charity, though, I must keep him, and care for him. I grow 
 strangely cold and indifferent, I fear, to every duty. These seem 
 merely mechanical to me now- I was so zealous once in their 
 discharge ! The burning drought lies heavily over the land. The 
 evening sun has a lurid light. The earth looks to me, as I have 
 imagined it might do, when the end of all approached. I sit up 
 half the night gazing, gazing out upon the stars, without a dis- 
 tinct idea, wrapped in a miserable dream. I wish I could feel 
 more acutely, even if I suffered more, and that physical sensibility 
 had not absorbed mental activity. 
 
 Pray heaven this mood may pass. 
 
 August WtU. 
 
 I know that something strange and fearful has occurred. I 
 know that the scene I witnessed in my sleep never took place on 
 earth ; but is an indication to me, of the progress through which
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVEKIK. 
 
 an infant's spirit passes after death and of the growth, physical 
 and mental both, that goes on even among the angels. 
 
 What else, if not this, could that strange vision mean so fear- 
 fully distinct, that daylight could show me no object more per- 
 ceptible or certain than it revealed ? 
 
 And why, if some accident has not befallen him, was my hus- 
 band mingled in this dream of another world ? He is dead, and 
 in spite of all I have suffered at his hands, my heart is broken 
 by this conviction. I never before connected the idea of death 
 with him so powerful, so efficient, as he seemed so imperish- 
 able almost such a being of steel and fire ! To see him no 
 more ! Oh, no 1 that was not the same thing. 
 
 But, perhaps, my impetuous fancy goes beyond the mark. 
 Perhaps, my own mind suggested a portion of that dream, and so 
 supplied fuel for its own flame. Perhaps he lives repents, may still 
 be purified, and that peace and joy may still be ours in heaven 1 
 
 But there is much of this vision grounded on truth, that never 
 came from within, and the wonderful gates of Paradise the 
 Jasper gates have been opened to me, a mortal, perhaps, in my 
 slumber, through the mercy of the holy and benevolent Virgin 
 the friend of all desolate women. 
 
 Or has my soul gone forth a lonely voyager on the waves of 
 space and sought these scenes, led by a guardian angel ? 
 
 It is all mystery, yet nothing could surpass the reality the 
 novelty, the impressiveness of this vision. I am convinced that 1 
 have seen my daughter, as she is now in Paradise, with the strange 
 companion, who seems her guardian there and that if my hus- 
 band be not dead, he too, has been graciously permitted to be- 
 hold our child, through the medium of a vision. 
 
 May it prove the commencement of his redemption.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD 0.? BODVERIE. 381 
 
 MY VISION. 
 
 I thought I saw a slender, beautiful maiden dressed in white 
 robes, and covered from head to foot in a long fleecy veil, so thin 
 that it revealed her fair neck and arms, and the glistening pearls 
 that bound them, through its filmy folds. Her face was regular 
 and calm as that of an antique statue, enlivened only by the dark, 
 brilliant eyes, and clustering chestnut curls. On her fair brow 
 and cheek burned crimson spots, as if the tips of five bloody 
 fingers had lightly, yet indelibly, rested on them. And by this 
 baptismal sign I knew my child ! 
 
 A young and stately man stood beside her, supporting her it 
 seemed, fair-haired, blue-eyed, frank of face, rather than handsome. 
 His figure was only partly visible, for it seemed in my vision that 
 a cloud had parted to reveal a few figures among a crowd, that it 
 otherwise wholly enveloped, seen as these were, as through filmy 
 smoke. 
 
 But distinct among all these more distant shapes as if in 
 another reft of the cloud I saw my husband. He stood with his 
 arms folded, collected, pale, serene, strikingly handsome as he 
 always is, and dressed with extreme care in his usual attire of 
 speckless black. Presently, a heavy vapor gathered over the 
 whole scene and swallowed it from my sight, and I awoke. :,,.^ 
 
 The figure of my daughter for I cling to the idea that this was 
 ehe was so distinct, that had I been an artist, I could have 
 painted her portrait from the vivid impression it left behind. Oh, 
 what a wondrous revelation to an earthly and heart-stricken 
 mother, is an angel child I 
 
 What is thy name in heaven oh, my child ? Whom callest 
 thou mother, there ? Or, dost thou wait happy, and yet ex-
 
 382 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 pectant for that time to come, when death, the solemn messen- 
 ger, that alone can unite us now, shall bear to thee both parents 
 from this dim, sorrowful earth ? Speak to me let me hear thee 
 as well as behold thee 1 
 
 I am possessed by this strange vision it clings around me with 
 wonderful tenacity and the common incidents of life pass un- 
 noticed since I have dreamed it. I must have slept very lightly 
 while it was passing through my brain, for I heard the thunder 
 rolling without all the time, and the rain pouring against the 
 panes. The first great storm we have had this month was raging 
 then. I have told my dream to Father Clare. He is very grave. 
 I have never seen him so impressed from such a cause. I have 
 related it in simple words to Jasper, and his infant imagination 
 seems greatly excited by the relation. When he wants me to 
 repeat it he touches his cheek and brow with my fingers. The 
 crimson spots appear to have principally impressed him and the 
 story I have told him of my dead little one, whose face was 
 marked thus on earth, that I might know it again in heaven, seems 
 to strike some chord of feeling. Tears roll down his face as I 
 relate the solemn vision. 
 
 October, 
 
 Since Paul's return I have sorely neglected my journal. I find 
 that the last entry was made nearly three weeks ago ; a little 
 after the period of Annie Blair's death. Poor Clavering is still 
 perfectly crushed, and yet no blame can possibly attach to him. 
 He was rescued while insensible, by the boatman, who could not 
 save both ; and from his personal attachment to Ernest, preferred
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUTEEIE. 383 
 
 losing his hold on Annie Blair. Paul has gone to him to-day for 
 the first time. He has not been willing to receive even him until 
 now, and has lain in darkness like one despairing. Mrs. Blair's 
 condition is little less pitiable, and far more hopless. Annie was 
 her only daughter. She can never recover from her loss ; but 
 Clavering is young, and at twenty-one a man readily throws off 
 trouble. 
 
 Quintil brought me a letter, or rather a package of letters, from 
 Mr. Bouverie, with whom he met in Paris. Nothing could be 
 more brilliant or amusing than his account of his stay in the 
 French capital ; but what interested me most of all, was the 
 mystery contained in these few lines : 
 
 " I have a revelation to make to you which will, I think, atone 
 for all past offences (if such indeed exist) on my part against you. 
 I will defer this, however, until you recall me, by your own 
 gracious act. Let not my sentence of exile extend beyond the 
 spring." 
 
 I understand very plainly what this means. Mr. Bouverie 
 intends to return in the spring, whether I wish it or not ; but has 
 tact enough to make it appear that his return is dependent on my 
 will. He little knows how deeply he has struck at the root of 
 our happiness if he supposes that any act of mine can ever sum- 
 mon him to my side again. As to his revelation, the more I con- 
 sider it the more I am convinced that it involves some pecuniary 
 advancement ; and fortune is a matter about which he is deeply 
 solicitous. He ought to know me better by this tune than to 
 suppose that an addition of this kind could make the slightest 
 difference in my estimation of, or inclination toward him. 
 
 Nor am I one of those birds who sing better for being blinded ! 
 Oh, God ! how terrible that mer.ory is !
 
 384: THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 There came a blind man, and sat on our steps yesterday, guided 
 by a little dog. He asked for bread and milk. I insisted on 
 feeding him myself, and while I did so, tears rolled over my cheeks. 
 A year ago there would have been no such vivid sympathy between 
 us ; but now that I know from experience what everlasting night 
 must be, my pity amounts almost to agony ! 
 
 He was an old man, with a snow-white head, and had been 
 blind for twenty years. Philosophers talk of the equality of the 
 human lot. What flummery ! 
 
 Quintil is the quaintest fellow in the world. He was so 
 charmed with the Savoyards in the streets of Paris, that he bought 
 Jasper a hurdy-gurdy and a marmot ; and for fear the latter 
 would lose his accomplishment, learned to grind the little instru- 
 ment himself, and gravely gave a daily performance of street min- 
 strelsy, and marmot activity on the cabin table of the ship, as he 
 came over in the " Formosa." 
 
 " How people must have laughed at you, Quintil," I said. 
 
 " To be sure they did. That was what I wished them to do. 
 Would you have had them frown or weep on such occasions ?" 
 
 " No ; but it was too absurd ! You, a man of gravity, beyond 
 your years even ; a 'scientific man, too ! What a caprice 1" 
 
 " I conceive the highest condition of human felicity to exist in 
 the shape of a Savoyard, and I wanted to see if I could not receive 
 and communicate a little happiness by acquiring and practising his 
 profession. I think I succeeded, and " Little Madam " (it has 
 been long since I heard that familiar title) I want you to make 
 Jasper a costume such as I shall direct, and let me make a Savoy- 
 ard of him sometimes, just to gladden my eyes, and his own 
 heart." 
 
 " Certainly, Paul," I said, laughing ; " anything to amuse you,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKTE. 385 
 
 3' course ; but I confess that I never enjoyed travesty of any 
 sort." 
 
 " Travesty ! There never was anything half so earnest as this 
 profession, I do assure you. No, nor half so joyous either 1" 
 
 So I have dressed Jasper occasionally in a little slouched hat 
 . and doublet ; and with his hurdy-gurdy and marmot, he plays 
 Savoyard to his own and his uncle's great delight. How true 
 blood asserts itself ! There is a positive devotion between these 
 tsvo children, I was about to say already. 
 
 Paul has brought me a box of superb laces, selected by a lady 
 to whom Dr. Luther is attentive in Paris, and very expensive, I 
 have no doubt. I will lay them aside for his wife, if such a being 
 exists, or for Jasper's, if, indeed, his muteness shut him not out 
 from such sweet companionship forever. I can never wear them, 
 certainly ; when a woman feels as I do, a simple black dress, with 
 the plainest accessories of the toilet, suits her best. What is 
 better, he has brought me some fine French works to read, and 
 the " Tales of the Crusaders," the last novel by the author of 
 Waverley, now well understood to be Walter Scott the poet. 
 
 A fine edition of Byron's poems, published since his death, 
 crowns the climax of his thoughtful generosity. Much as I detest 
 the character of the man, I cannot help admiring his works. His 
 are the only poems I ever read with interest or enthusiasm, or 
 even patience. 
 
 How much preferable virtue is, after all, to any genius, however 
 transcendent. Compare, who can, who dare, the brilliant Napo- 
 leon to our majestic Washington !
 
 386 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 December. 
 
 The last mail brought me a letter from Mr. Bouverie, dated 
 St. Petersburg. He is domesticated at the palace. It is evi- 
 dent he stands high in favor with the Czar, who has conferred on 
 him the appointment of chief engineer of his great diamond mine 
 hi the Ural Mountains. Nor is this only because of Mr. Bouve- 
 rie's proficiency hi the science of engineering it seems, for which 
 his quick eye, and indomitable boldness, as well as the accuracy 
 of his perceptions, seem to have fitted him by nature. There is 
 another bond of interest between them in connection with these 
 mines. The emperor's avarice is dazzled by the wonderful 
 knowledge of gems that Mr. Bouverie displays, and by some 
 chemical experiments he has performed before him, in which he 
 has succeeded, or appeared to succeed, in merging many smaller 
 diamonds into one immense stone. 
 
 It was in consequence of his satisfaction with these experiments 
 that the emperor presented Mr. Bouverie with the finest mag- 
 netic diamond in the world, which he calls, from the peculiarity of 
 its cutting, the " gnome eye," and even placed it on his finger with 
 his own royal hand. 
 
 " Figurt'Z vous, as the French say," writes Mr. Bouverie, " a 
 ring large enough for General Washington himself, hanging like 
 a manacle from one of my slender fingers ! I shall never have it 
 altered, however, or trust it long enough from my presence for 
 such a purpose. I manage, by fixing it over a wad of cotton, to 
 wear it on state occasions, and as gloves are not ' cle rigueur ' 
 in St. Petersburg, make quite a display whenever I raise my 
 hand. 
 
 " I find myself at home, at this half savage court barbaric 
 in spite of its splendor and seeming refinement. The presence of
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 3S7 
 
 that great power, that breathing fate, Nicholas the First, im 
 presses me as the sight of no other sovereign has ever done, or 
 could have done except Napoleon (our dead Prometheus), or 
 Jenghis Khan, perhaps, had I lived in his day. 
 
 " I have a turn for oriental magnificence and Tartar sway. 
 Nicholas and his wife are well bred people for savages. Fabius, 
 my aunt's old Polish steward, accompanied me from England as 
 body servant. I think I forgot to mention the death of madam 
 Ambrose. This faithful retainer has always been fond of me from 
 boyhood, and having a taste for diplomacy, is greatly impressed 
 by the distinguished attentions so lavishly pressed upon my ac- 
 ceptancy. He was a soldier in his youth, and retains all his 
 fondness for military pomp, and all the stiffness of military train- 
 ing. He reveres my gnome-eye ring, as a signet of state, and 
 watches over all of my personal effects with the vigilance of a 
 dragon. This is very necessary here, I assure you, for the Spar- 
 tan virtue abounds in St. Petersburg, and concealment sancti- 
 fies theft, even among gentlemen, as the half civilized Boyars 
 have the presumption to call themselves. I wish you could go 
 with me to see the review to-day in the great square of St. 
 Isaacs 1" 
 
 So flows the letter through many pages. It is signed " Erasing 
 Bouverioscovitch, a Prince of the Diamond Mines ;" a sorry jest, I 
 think, at such a time ! 
 
 What does he think I care for all these Russian triumphs, or 
 how, indeed, can he expect to sustain them, founded as they are 
 chiefly, I fear, on mere charlatanism ?
 
 388 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTTVEEIF. 
 
 Our Christmas was a peaceful, if not a merry one. Paul and 
 Jasper and I sat down alone to our turkey and pudding. Later, 
 the drawing-room door was opened, to show the beautiful Christ- 
 mas-tree that Quintil had arrayed for Jasper, with toys, and 
 tiny wax candles. This is something quite new to us, imitated 
 from that he saw in Germany. The servants came in to gaze, 
 and with them the little idiot, so frightful still with his bowed 
 shoulders, red shaggy hair, and wild, watery blue eyes. But, true 
 to the fellowship all little children feel for each other, Jasper 
 led him around to admire the tree, which did indeed seem to 
 awake a sort of delight in his imperfect nature, that Dame 
 McCormick says she never observed in him before, from any cause. 
 My beautiful boy, with his angelic face, and clustering curls, and 
 little belted tunic of black velvet, dressed like an earl's son, made 
 a strange contrast to the poor misshapen creature, whose claw- 
 like hand he held in his, and afterward filled with bons-bons from 
 the tree, quite unbidden. 
 
 Paul goes to-morrow to Baltimore, where he has decided to fix 
 himself as physician I cannot help thinking, with some regard 
 to its adjacent position to Bouverie. He has not said this, 
 however. 
 
 The winter is closing in with unusual rigor. I decline all com- 
 pany, and yet feel anything but self-sufficient. The remainder of 
 the season lies before me like a barren waste even as the snow- 
 covered landscape now lies before my eyes outspread to the 
 horizon on one side, and bounded on the other by the spectral, 
 moaning forest. 
 
 How shall I pass this dreary time away ? I shall weary of 
 everything ; books, work, baby-boy himself. Bishop Clare will 
 comeback in spring, and I shall again have an unsatisfactory account
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 389 
 
 to offer of time wasted feeling grown morbid, duties half ful- 
 filled ! Alas, alas ! 
 And this is what they call life ! 
 
 March. 
 
 Jasper brought me the first blue periwinkle flower to-day ! 
 It cheers me, almost as the returning dove did the eyes of Noah, 
 with its olive branch ! Never was spring so slow, so reluctant 
 to come to us before never have I felt so crushed by the reign 
 of winter. 
 
 I was made for social intercourse, for family affection ; I was 
 net intended for solitude and reflection. These things, which 
 some great minds enjoy, resolve themselves into desolation in my 
 case. The wild March winds are sobbing around the house while 
 I write ; but I have hope now, for spring is awake again ! 
 
 Yet, what can spring bring to me, beyond her tender green 
 her flowers her balmy airs ? Will she bring my happiness will 
 she bring my husband ? 
 
 Yes, the cold effigies of these, perhaps but the reality is with 
 the past ; I cannot deny to myself, strive as I will, that I am 
 very miserable. Perhaps it would be better for me to meekly 
 bow down to the necessities of my case, and contend no longer. 
 To receive Erastus with outstretched arms, and throw myself' 
 wholly on his generosity. To suffer him to blind me to crush 
 aie if he will rather than live any longer this cold, hollow, love- 
 ess life. 
 
 I have overrated my own strength, my own inflexibility. T 
 nust see him once again, before I die. 
 
 My anxiety about him ie becoming insupportable.
 
 390 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 April. 
 
 Letters from Mr Bouverie arrived to-day, after an interval of 
 three months. It is true, I have replied to neither of those he baa 
 already written me. I shall not reply to these ; yet he will 
 come. 
 
 He wrote in the beginning of March he was then on the eve 
 of setting out for the mines ; after visiting these, he will journey 
 to Odessa, where he has business with Mr. Sprague, the consul, 
 an old friend and then take ship for the United States, to 
 return again in autumn to St. Petersburg with his family, and 
 t stablish himself there for some years. 
 
 Dr. Quintilian will accompany him, probably, on his homeward 
 voyage, or join him at Bouverie, in August, when Jasper will be 
 relinquished to his hands. He hopes these arrangements will 
 prove satisfactory. 
 
 Thus does my husband lay down the law to me. 
 
 The hand of steel is there in the velvet glove, yet its power is 
 irresistible. 
 
 One of these letters, for there are several in the same package, 
 overflows with the most exquisite tenderness for me. 
 
 Am I so weak that these expressions have power to thrill me 
 still ; or, is memory a cheat and a counterfeit ? Why did he not 
 permit me to love him in my own way ? "Why did he exact the 
 high poetic sentiment that har 1 no place in my nature, as the 
 proof of my deep affection ? Was any one ever more true, 
 more tender than I have been to him more submissive ? What 
 was the use of all that jealous cruelty and suspicion of shadows, 
 that warped him from the right, and broke my heart ? 
 
 Yet he complaius. that I have always feared him have shrunk 
 from him unconsciously for years ! How could it be otherwise ?
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKEE. 391 
 
 This much I know, I shall never fear him again. I am callous 
 now, not courageous, yet crushed, humiliated by my sorrow and 
 desolation, to absolute serfdom. 
 
 Hereafter, I shall be as dumb as Jasper, blind too, if he wills it 
 so docile as a dog ! 
 
 What is the use of shrinking away from any post God has as- 
 signed to us ? The holy martyrs sang their hymns of praise, 
 amid curling flames, and died rejoicing mid their agony. 
 
 Let me keep before my eyes such sacred examples. When I 
 glance over all I have written since last spring, I can but smile at 
 much of it. How surely how entirely the snares of our fate 
 close around us in spite of our fiercest endeavors ! 
 
 I have been tamed by this solitude, and the reticence of my 
 own nature, that forbids me to impart to any one my suffering. 
 Bishop Clare will come to-morrow, and he will find me in a better 
 mood, I hope, than he has done before for a twelvemonth past. 
 He will be glad to hear, too, I know, that Mr. Bouverie is ex- 
 pected soon. 
 
 A letter from Dr. Quintilian accompanies a package he has sent 
 me from Brussels, containing a superb lace dress the "pendant" 
 a note from the manufacturer (likewise inclosed) assures him of 
 one made for the Queen of Belgium herself. Curiously enough, 
 over the elaborate black tracery of the pattern, small golden 
 eheaves of wheat are exquisitely embroidered, as if strewn lightly 
 over the surface of the lace by some careless, prodigal hand. The 
 effect is magical. 
 
 I do not know whether to accept or refuse this present. Were 
 I to follow the dictates of my feelings I should certainly do the
 
 392 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODTEKIK. 
 
 last. Yet, perhaps this would be indelicate under the circum- 
 stances of Jasper's long abode with me. I cannot bear the idea, 
 however, of receiving any acknowledgment save the gracious one 
 of friendship, for any cares I may have rendered to him. 
 
 It was for my own gratification, more even than his own benefit, 
 I craved the infant ; and how fatal this adoption has been to his 
 welfare, is evident to all the world. Dr. Quintilian can never 
 know the truth with regard to his misfortune, and under false 
 impressions how can I bear to accept his gift of gratitude ? 
 
 I will lay the dress aside and determine later about it Luther 
 makes no mention of having heard from, or of Mr. Bouverie. I 
 am disappointed at this (probable) oversight on his part. 
 
 The summer wears away in vain expectation, conjecture and 
 despondency. We have no advices from Mr. Bouverie later than 
 March. He may, however, have concluded, owing to my silence, 
 not to write again, and may come suddenly upon us at any time. 
 This is a pleasant and prosperous season for the voyager. I offer 
 daily prayers for his safety, wherever he may be. I thought 
 Bishop Clare looked grave when he was here last week. His 
 duties press upon him heavily, I know. 
 
 Dame McCormick seems to have grown younger since her 
 sickness. She is twice as efficient as she was before. Smith has 
 made a great deal of money from his strawberry and asparagus 
 beds, now just beginning to yield abundantly. 
 
 He brought me quite a pile of Spanish dollars last quarter-day, 
 as the result of his spring sales, besides paying himself hand- 
 somely. Paul caught a glimpse of Gabriel not long ago, very 
 much dressed in the streets of Philadelphia. He gave Quintil the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 
 
 A 
 
 cut direct when accosted by him, with a cool " I don't know yon, 
 Bah ! 
 
 I can imagine the scene ; it was exquisite ! Paul was so con- 
 founded, he let him pass, but in another moment was dashing after 
 him full speed. He is confident he saw him disappear down a 
 cellar door, vanishing like a rat into his hole ; his sharp coat-tail 
 flitting last out of sight. I am very glad the pursuit ended just so 1 
 
 Auyust. 
 
 Ships come and go, still no news from Mr. Bouverie. The 
 conviction lies cold at my heart that I shall never see him again. 
 That vision was not given for nothing ; I feared so then, I feel it 
 now. Paul lingers at Bouverie, though his destination hi this 
 month was the northern lakes. He is restless though. He sees 
 and shares my anxiety. I cannot trust myself to agitate the sub- 
 ject at all of my husband's safety. 
 
 The other day, on entering the breakfast-room, I saw Paul 
 reading a letter marked with a foreign post stamp. He has his 
 own correspondents abroad, of course. I did cot question him ; 
 but there was something suspicious in the way he crumpled up 
 the letter and thrust it into his pocket, out of my sight, and in 
 his gloomy silence afterward, and strange pallor. 
 
 Still, had there been any news of my husband, I am sure he 
 would have communicated it to me his wife to her who has the 
 best right of all the world to know ! I think, too, had the lettei 
 been from Luther he would have spoken of it. Am I curious ? I 
 have always despised this vice ; it possesses me now ! But why 
 confound curiosity with interest that amounts to agony almost ? 
 
 Oh, Bouverie 1 return and I will forgive you all 1 I can write 
 no more.
 
 394 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 [A letter from Mr. Sprague is laid loosely in the volume, at thit 
 place, the narrative of which is not resumed for the space of one 
 year. It is dated Odessa, September, and refers to a former one 
 written in July, to Dr. Quintilian, when rumor was afloat. It is 
 addressed to " Madam Bouverie, Washington." 
 
 It conveyed the fearful intelligence that Mr. Bouverie had been 
 waylaid and assassinated on his way to Odessa, where he had 
 intended taking ship for the United States, having written to Mr. 
 Sprague to that effect, and forwarded part of his effects, for 
 transportation. 
 
 Some difficulty had occurred, it was known to this gentleman, 
 between Mr. Bouverie and the Czar, in connection with the open- 
 ing of a new mine in the Ural Mountains, which had determined 
 the former to relinquish his contract with the emperor, and 
 return permanently to America. 
 
 An imperial ukase had gone out, offering a reward for his mur- 
 derer ; but those who knew Nicholas best, understood this politic 
 movement, and considered Mr. Bouverie a victim. 
 
 His body was never found. 
 
 It need not be said that, in spite of all that had occurred to 
 alienate her feelings, Camilla Bouverie was overwhelmed by this 
 intelligence. Other revelations, scarcely less crushing and astound- 
 ing to her feelings, followed fast on this announcement of her hus- 
 band's fate. 
 
 Mr. Bouverie's will had not been found. It was produced 
 later. He had the right to leave his estate as he pleased ; the 
 entail ended with him ; but as he died intestate, it was thrown 
 into chancery for the benefit of his heirs. The property did not 
 long remain unclaimed. Edward de Courcy demanded it for his 
 child, whose mother, the daughter of Mr. Bouverie, had died soou
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBIE. 395 
 
 after its birth, and the estate was decreed to him in trust for 
 Lilian. 
 
 Then first did Camilla Bouverie know that her child had lived 
 to woman's estate, and known the holy names of wife and mother, 
 that the ward of Madame Ambrose, and her daughter, had been 
 the same ! After this intelligence reached her, Bishop Clare 
 compelled Dame McCormick to testify to her part in the transac- 
 tion, before a magistrate, so as to convince Mr. de Courcy of the 
 justice of the claims advanced by Mrs. Bouverie, as well as to 
 satisfy the mind of the mistress on this point. 
 
 She stated that at the time of her disappearance from Bouverie 
 she had conveyed the infant daughter of her employer to the 
 care of Madame Ambrose. This fact was known to the woman, 
 still living in Scotland, who had nursed the infant, maternally, 
 from the time they left Baltimore, until it grew past the age of 
 early childhood, under the impression, as was Madame Ambrose, 
 that it was motherless, or abandoned by its mother, they knew 
 not which. Mr. Bouverie's manner in later years seems, however, 
 to have given rise to the latter impression, and to have estab- 
 lished a deep and abiding prejudice in the minds of his relatives 
 against the mother of Morna Bouverie, when it was known at last 
 that such a person still existed. Something of this has already 
 been alluded to, and accounts for Col. de Courcy's conduct. 
 
 Whether in inviting his wife to accompany him to witness the 
 nuptials of his child, he intended to avow everything and exone- 
 rate her from all blame, or whether he trusted to melodramatic 
 effect, to satisfy scruples and close bleeding wounds, cannot be 
 known with any certainty now. The revelation he alluded to in 
 his letter, as the charity that was to cover Ids multitude of sins, 
 
 was certainly that of Morna's existence. 
 83
 
 396 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 Dame McCormick declared that it was because the young 
 mother shrieked and swooned at the sight of the bloody spots, 
 that he decided on removing the child. " They will rise up against 
 me like an ever-present judgment," she heard him say. Bianca 
 knew that he walked his study floor the whole night before he 
 sent the baby away, and always suspected that they buried an 
 empty coffin. But they had the sagacity to send her to Croften, 
 on an errand, that pair of accomplices on this black occasion, and 
 when she came back Mr. Bouverie told her the child was dead, 
 and ready for sepulture. The coffin was already closed up. Mrs. 
 Bouverie was lying in deep lethargy, and Dame McCormick had 
 disappeared. 
 
 Bianca had always feared that the baby had been murdered by 
 Dame McCormick, yet not one word of this, nor of the reality 
 of the bloody glove, had ever transpired until now. Such was the 
 awe with which Mr. Bouverie inspired his dependents, even those 
 who hated him. In proportion as these horrors pressed upon 
 ner attention, the poignant sorrow of Mrs. Bouverie, for her 
 husband's fate, naturally abated. 
 
 Fresh fuel came to feed the old fire of wrong and injury, and 
 when she found herself repelled by Edward de Courcy haughtily, 
 contemptuously, almost from all claim upon his child, something 
 like indignation asserted itself again, against her husband's me- 
 mory. She had besought her son-in-law to bring the infant to see 
 her ; he refused to do so in terms that left her no longer in doubt 
 as to the opinion he had received of her acts and character. 
 
 She did not remonstrate, nor attempt the slightest vindication 
 of her life. She did not claim, as her friends told her she could 
 do, a portion of her husband's estate from her grandchild. Later, 
 when the will came to light, she exacted all in accordance with
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIK. 
 
 its provisions, and again suffered her motives to be misconstrued 
 rather than explain a truth that must have been fatal to the con- 
 cealed master of Bouverie. 
 
 Had it not been for his secret presence in her house, she would 
 not have turned on her heel for the income of his English funded 
 property. We have seen how this was applied, and to what uses. 
 As it was, the cry deepened against her in Scotland, and Lilian's 
 relatives determined that the child should never know even of 
 her existence. It has been shown how this resolution was car- 
 ried out, and how wonderfully, at the last, Providence shaped the 
 rough hewn ends of man's intention. 
 
 In the meantime, how had it really fared with Bouverie ? Seized 
 and shut up with his attendant and crucibles, and materials for work, 
 in a Russian prison, he was commanded to exert his art for the bene- 
 fit of the Czar, and offered his freedom as the price of his success. 
 
 Three times the despot visited him in that lonely fortress on the 
 Caspian Sea, and three times left him disappointed and exaspe- 
 rated, yet believing more and more firmly each tune, in the power 
 of his prisoner to execute his will. 
 
 Toward the end of the fourth year of his imprisonment, 
 Erastus Bouverie was unexpectedly released. The officer who 
 came to announce to him his freedom, required simply that he 
 should sign the paper he laid before him, as the price of his 
 liberty. It contained an acknowledgment merely on the part of 
 the prisoner, that the immurement had been voluntary, to which 
 he had been subjected, and submitted to for scientific purposes 
 alone. A purse of gold was laid beside the document. This was 
 no time for hesitation, Erastus Bouverie signed the paper and 
 took the gold, though cursing the necessity that made him do 
 either, in his heart. In three hours more he was journeying in a
 
 398 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 close vehicle with Fabins, followed by a wagon containing his 
 effects, on the road to Odessa. 
 
 The long, rude journey was accomplished at last, and what was 
 Mr. Sprague's astonishment to see standing before him the wreck 
 of the man he had believed to have been murdered four years 
 before ! Few explanations were given ; Mr. Bouverie's great 
 anxiety to reach his home, was met by exertions on the part of 
 his friend, to obtain for him as speedy and direct a passage as 
 possible to an American port. 
 
 He sailed in September, and reached New York in little more 
 than a month afterward. He there heard the news of his wife's 
 approaching marriage to Dr. Quintilian. This was proved on 
 the trial by the gentleman who had communicated the fact to 
 him, in answer to his apparently careless inquiry, unconscious of 
 his identity and he remained " perdu " a month longer, waiting 
 for the very day to arrive, fixed for the wedding. 
 
 The knowledge of this circumstance destroyed all hope of 
 mercy from the jury all sympathy for his condition in the public 
 mind, and he was condemned to die by Judge Wardlaw, in the 
 December of the same year. 
 
 The circumstances of the case as related by the papers of the 
 day were simply these : 
 
 " Camilla Bouverie and Luther Quintilian were united, at 
 the residence of the former, by the Right Reverend Bishop Clare, 
 on the twentieth of November, 18 , in the presence of a few 
 friends. 
 
 "After partaking of a collation, the guests separated at the hour 
 of seven in the evening, taking advantage of an early moonlight 
 to reach their respective homes before it became dark. Bishop 
 Clare alone remained at Bouverie.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 399 
 
 "They had scarcely reached the gate of entrance, when piercing 
 shrieks recalled them to the scene of late festivity. They returned 
 to find Dr. Luther Quintilian a corpse, weltering in blood, in the 
 arms of his bride, and to behold Erastus Bouverie standing grimly 
 over him. He had entered the drawing-room as the sound of the 
 departing carriages reached his ear, from his place of conceal- 
 ment, and discharged his pistol with unerring fidelity through the 
 heart of Dr. Quintilian. 
 
 "Bishop Clare was standing on the portico when this occurred, 
 and came, like the rest, too late to interpose. Dr. Paul Quin- 
 tilian had left Bouverie with the cavalcade of horsemen that 
 escorted the carriages, intending to return before midnight. His 
 absence at the moment was most unfortunate. Mr. Bouverie has, 
 of course, been placed under strict arrest. 
 
 "Able counsel has been retained for him. 
 
 We have seen how he died, or seemed to die, by flis own hand 
 a few days before that fixed for his execution, and how, for the 
 sake of the love they bore him hi the past men of hitherto 
 unspotted honor, Dr. Moore and Bishop Clare, lent themselves 
 zealously to the stratagem. 
 
 The report that had gone out, to the effect that the mind of 
 Camilla Bouverie had been seriously affected by her troubles, had 
 favored the scheme of concealment that seemed so hopeless at first 
 and accounted satisfactorily for the residence of Dr. Paul Quin- 
 tilian at Bouverie. 
 
 It was hi vain that his friends conjured Erastus Bouverie to 
 return to Europe and that his injured wife refused for a long 
 time to lend him her countenance.
 
 400 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 He persisted in remaining where he was, and yielding to hia 
 determination, yet unwilling to trust to his discretion, so often 
 baffled by his temerity, conditions were sternly affixed to his stay 
 under his own roof, by Dr. Paul Quintilian and his wife of 
 which we have witnessed both the success and the failure. 
 
 The great stairway was removed the upper floor sealed away 
 from the lower and limits assigned to his freedom, almost as 
 stringent as those of a prison. Then, too, commenced that quiet 
 work of ministry and self-sacrifice, and practical Christianity that 
 shadowed while it ennobled the whole " household of Bouverie." 
 
 A few more extracts from the diary of Camilla Bouverie aiid 
 the story closes. The end of the third year of her widowhood 
 has now arrived. Dr. Quintilian had returned to reside in the 
 United States a twelvemonth before.] 
 
 September. 
 
 I can no longer disguise from myself what Dr. Quintilian's 
 attentions mean, nor the interest he has awakened in my heart. 
 I thought for a long tune he was engaged to that Parisian lady, 
 and was so absorbed with my own wretchedness that I accepted 
 his ministry as a mere matter of course, due to my affliction. 
 
 The words he spoke to-day, of which, however, I took no seem- 
 ing notice, were unmistakable. He means to address me, and I 
 shall marry him. In the silent communion of the night, and my 
 own heart, I utter these words firmly and fearlessly. On your 
 bosom, my faithful friend, my only confidant, dear insensible diary, 
 I inscribe my intention. Keep it sacredly, as you have done all the 
 rest that I have given to your keeping, until the time comes when 
 the fire shall consume your pages, for under this new order of 
 things I shall not transmit you beyond Mie grave.
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 401 
 
 Yes, Luther ; noble, true and well-beloved, I will take thy 
 guiding hand and walk with thee through life, and with Paul and 
 Jasper, both of thy honored blood, and dear to me as blood of 
 my own could make them, we will form a happy and united house- 
 hold at last. No more dark jealousy and mystery, no haunting 
 dread of nameless horror and secret crime shall begird my ex- 
 istence, and lie like a brooding shadow over my hearth. 
 
 Luther Quintilian is a man for daylight and practical affection, 
 and truth and virtue are sealed on his superb and manly brow. 
 I will put the past hehind me like an ill dream, and though the 
 freshness of my life is gone away forever, with youth and its 
 accompaniments, I shall not despair of making much of the rem- 
 nant yet. 
 
 Yet, oh Erastus 1 this was not the measured love I gave to 
 thee, husband of my youth ! Thou that I worshipped once as the 
 Persian worships the sun, blindly, unreasonably ! Thou, whose 
 unexpected footstep made my soul thrill with joy, and whose 
 encircling arms contained the universe to me, happy and secure aa 
 I felt in their tenderness, their protection 1 
 
 Such feelings come no more, and it is better so, perhaps. Bet- 
 ter the calm, confiding love of later days ; better permanence 
 than impulse ; better Oh, sophistry, let me delude myself no 
 longer ! 
 
 Such love is but imperfect substitution, at best, for all that 
 went before. 
 
 Yet I am serenely happy. 
 
 October. 
 
 Last evening, about sunset, Jasper came running to me all 
 eagerness, and grasping my hand, drew me from my seat, out on
 
 402 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEEIE. 
 
 the lawn, and then onward toward the stables. The child was so 
 agitated that I was convinced something unusual had occurred. 
 When we neared the stile, I saw that a colored man was sitting 
 on the lowest step, very ragged, apparently old, with a torn hat, 
 whose limp and battered brim drooped around his face, so as to 
 conceal the upper portion entirely from view. The beggar 
 for such I supposed him to be did not change his position until I 
 stood quite close beside him, when suddenly raising his thin hand 
 he drew off his hat literally as one would remove a glove and 
 disclosed the changed, but still recognizable face of Gabriel. 
 
 I uttered an exclamation of surprise, he was so woefully altered ; 
 his hair, in which he took such unaccountable pride, and which 
 he had trimmed always in a sort of jay-bird crest, clung thin and 
 knotty now, quite flat to his head ; and his once sable skin, so 
 sleek and shining, was changed to a dingy copper-color. His 
 clothing, too, was wretchedly worn and old ; he that had been 
 idolatrously fond of his attire ! It was the most lamentable meta- 
 morphosis I ever beheld. 
 
 " Don't you know me, Miss Camilla ?" he said, at last, in tremu- 
 lous tones. 
 
 II Certainly," I said, " Gabriel," clasping the poor hand, which 
 he half extended, then drew back in a deprecating way. " Poor 
 fellow! you must have been ill ?" 
 
 " Sick all summer, Miss Camilla, down in a dark cellar in dat 
 dreadful big city, whar ebery black man has to fight for his-self. 
 Sick and neglected ; no vittals, no physic, no light, no air, no one 
 to care for me, no doctor to come and go. Oh, my mistress, my 
 heart done broke long ago; I has just crawled home to die." 
 
 The tears were rolling down Jasper's face, and he was patting 
 Gabriel whom he evidently remembered affectionately on the
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOTJVEKIE. 403 
 
 she alder ; I felt a little choking sensation myself, and for a 
 moment I could not speak. 
 
 " Do not sit there any longer, Gabriel," I said, " go to the 
 kitchen fire, have your supper, and go to bed hi your own room. 
 To-morrow I hope you will be better." 
 
 The poor wretch burst into a convulsive flood of tears. I 
 thought it best to leave him ; but turning, saw Jasper leading him 
 tenderly to the kitchen. He walked with a cane, and seemed 
 very feeble. 
 
 I sent for Dr. Moore this morning, who pronounces him far 
 gone in what is called, "Negro consumption," a very rapid and 
 painful decline, I believe. It supervened, it seems, on an attack 
 of neglected intermittent fever. 
 
 January. 
 
 Poor Gabriel continues so ill, and the white servants dislike 
 so to attend to him, that he occupies much of my time. I have 
 appointed Pat McCormick his page. The creature mends his 
 fire, gives him to drink, and pats him to sleep, accompanying the 
 motion of his hands with a dull, unmeaning, buzzing sound, that 
 Gabriel finds infinitely soothing. 
 
 " It minds me, Miss Camilla," he said, " of dem 'greeable sum- 
 mer flies I neber shall hear no more ; dem big blue bottles I used 
 to keep away from Sahib's legs." 
 
 What a pleasing association of ideas ! He has a wish to 
 hear the Bible read, in which I think it my duty to indulge him. 
 I cannot believe, however, he comprehends much of the deeper 
 meaning of my words. He seems particularly struck by the 
 miracle of the loaves and fishes. 
 
 " What a great 'ting dat would be," he said, " for de niggers
 
 4:04 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BODVEREE. 
 
 ; n Philadelphia, if the Lord would only repeat de 'speriment in 
 deir favor 1" 
 
 " Gabriel," I observed, gravely, " if you interrupt me again 
 with such remarks, I shall have to give up reading to you. It is 
 sinful to make such comments." 
 
 " Go on den, Miss 'Milla," for to this abbreviation, so long 
 familiar to him, he has returned at last. " I won't say nothing 
 more ; but tell me first is there any place in Scripture, where it 
 speaks of de punishment hereafter, for de nigger what runs away ?" 
 
 " No Gabriel, none that I know of ; but I believe the punish- 
 ment of such offenders is generally found in this life." 
 
 " Dat's de trufe, Miss 'Milla," he said, turning away. " Well 
 I'm mighty glad anyhow, dat the debbil does not meddle he'self 
 wid dis business. I has more hope now Satan too meddlesome 
 anyhow, wid colored folks 'fairs !" so saying he composed himself 
 to sleep. 
 
 March. 
 
 To-day I promised Dr. Quintilian, if he would wait until 
 autumn, to marry him then. He thinks the delay unreasonable, I 
 can see ; but is too gentlemanly to say so. I can assign no rea- 
 son for delaying our marriage until that season, that would satisfy 
 him ; but the truth is, I want to pass through a severer ordeal of 
 self-examination, and devotion to my religious duties, than my 
 depressed and anxious condition has permitted me to undertake 
 in the last three years. 
 
 !No one but a Catholic could understand this feeling, exactly, 
 and as I have determined that our religious opinions shall never 
 clash, I will not propose this necessity as a theme for argument 
 between us now. 
 
 Oh, how I wish our dear Jasper could grow up a Catholic !
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 405 
 
 His muteness consecrates him doubly in my eyes to the service of 
 his maker ; yet he can never, by words, show forth his praise. 
 I do not think, however, this defect would disqualify him for the 
 Catholic priesthood. 
 
 Bishop Clare conies to-morrow to remain some weeks. Poor 
 Gabriel is half crazy to see him, and receive his blessing before 
 he dies. 
 
 Gabriel has received a strange conviction in some way that his 
 master is not dead. Although I know this is a mere delusion of 
 a failing mind, I cannot help being deeply impressed by it. Alas, 
 there can be no longer a doubt of Mr. Bouverie's death. His 
 fiery spirit found its master in the cruel, icy-hearted Czar, and his 
 bones whiten, perhaps, on one of those great steppes the deserts 
 of the north. 
 
 Oh God, how terrible to me is this reflection ! Why do wo 
 treasure so the poor frail remnant of humanity ? why hold the 
 unbreathing dust so dear of those we loved ? 
 
 Alas ! alas I this mysterious end was but a consistent close of 
 that dark and turbulent, and inscrutable life of his. He rests 
 now, wherever his bones may be, in the hands of his merciful 
 Maker, he wLo never knew rest before. The lights have never 
 been suffered to go out, on the shrine of St. Stephen's, since he 
 died, that burn for his repose, and a daily mass is chanted there 
 for the sake of his erring soul. My own prayers have been added, 
 nightly, to those of our holy minister, and I trust these supplica- 
 tions to God and Christ, through the intermediation of saints and 
 the blessed Virgin, have not been made in vain. 
 
 Oh, blessed privilege of our holy religion, prayer for the dead ! 
 How wretched should I be but for this expiating power of grace'
 
 4:06 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 Gabriel dreamed that his master stood before him, and said 
 in stern accents : 
 
 " Gabriel why did you let Sahib die in my absence ? Did you 
 forget to wash out his mouth with blood as I bade you ?" 
 
 He then awoke this was the whole vision but he was 
 covered with cold sweat from its effects it was so real, 
 he says, that he believes his master is not dead, and that he will 
 return. 
 
 I am annoyed at the creature's willful perversity on this occa- 
 sion and at the ghastly glimpse he gives of the means by which 
 it is barely possible Sahib was made so fierce and unmanageable. 
 But this may be merely imaginary. 
 
 May. 
 
 Paul seems gloomy and discontented I know not why this 
 should be. I begin to suspect some secret attachment, and have 
 communicated my suspicions to Luther. He laughs at the idea, 
 and declares that Paul, like his prototype, is indifferent to the 
 sex ; but he cannot enter fully into the confidence of his reserved 
 and greatly younger brother. 
 
 I wish Paul would confide in me. He is sure of my sympathy, 
 at least; or, if he will not do this, I wish he would try and throw 
 off his gloom, just now, if only for my sake. I need all the 
 encouragement and strength that friends can give me. I am 
 quite faint-hearted at times, yet never irresolute. I am more and 
 more confident each day, that I shall be perfectly happy, if such 
 a state of mind is permitted on earth, with that noble gentleman, 
 Luther Quintilian. 
 
 Bishop Clare approves entirely of my new connection, f nd 
 admires Dr. Quintilian, not only for his attainments, but for his
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 407 
 
 1 
 
 eweet and unaffected disposition, the most open and sunny, that it 
 has ever been my lot to know. 
 
 Yet Jasper, strangely enough, evinces a decided preference for 
 Paul, over his own father. There seems to be indeed a love 
 "passing the love of woman," between these two deep, and 
 almost impassioned. This is the more singular, as Jasper has an 
 instinctive love for the beautiful, which would naturally attract 
 him to his extremely handsome father. 
 
 I am unwise, perhaps, to suffer my feelings to carry me away, 
 as they are doing, more and more powerfully each day. But I 
 see so much to admire and appreciate, that my affections are 
 becoming deeply engaged. A flood of sunshine seems to have 
 been let in over my darkened life, and the energies that have lain 
 dormant so long, wake op, and expand then* wings. I am 
 aroused from desolation, and I bless the hand that has achieved 
 tins triumph. I bless thee, Luther ! 
 
 But let me not forget, in this feeling of elation, the humility of 
 my past condition. Let me not forget how heavily the chasten- 
 ing band has been laid on me, and that, less than four years ago, 
 the terrible fate of Mr. Bouverie began a catalogue of troubles 
 not yet entirely closed, for I cannot repress the yearning wish I 
 feel, never to be gratified, perhaps, to clasp my daughter's child. 
 
 Oh, Erastus ! of all your acts but no, I will not reproach the 
 dead. Let me forbear, as I have forborne, so far, since the cold 
 arms of death received thee and the demon of the north 
 ensnared thee in his toils. Still it was hard to bear contempt 
 from those who knew nothing of my life who must have judged 
 me merely from one act of crying injustice in another
 
 4:08 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEKIE. 
 
 "If not fit to rear my own child, certainly not fit to take charge 
 of his." 
 
 Those were Mr. de Courcy's sentiments, expressed in haughty, 
 disdainful words, that have never ceased to rankle in my 
 heart. 
 
 My daughter's existence and death are but dreams to me far 
 less distinct than the vision that brought her so clearly before 
 me on her marriage night, an instance of clairvoyance, I doubt 
 not now. Yet, the disappointment of her fate, and the repulse I 
 received with regard to her infant, came very near destroying me 
 connected as these were, with the consciousness of cruel treat- 
 ment from the hands of him I had so sincerely lamented. 
 
 The whole thing was crushing, and but for the ministry of Paul 
 
 and Luther, I think I must have died. 
 
 tf 
 
 What patience what forbearance what devotion they mani- 
 fested toward me and how grateful I ought to be to both ! 
 Surely, whatever care I had bestowed on Paul and Jasper, was 
 returned fourfold, by such tender, unremitting attentions. 
 
 All this time I never suspected Luther's sentiments for me, yet 
 he says they existed from the first moment of his return, perhaps 
 long before, unconsciously. 
 
 It was months before I could respond to them sufficiently to 
 give him room to speak them to my ear, and even after we were 
 partially engaged, I felt that I was scarcely doing him justice, by 
 matching such a broken spirit as mine with his fresh and buoy- 
 ant nature. 
 
 This objection is fully removed now. I feel that I have risen 
 to his level again he has rescued me as a strong swimmer 
 reaches out his hand to sustain a feeble one and I can stand 
 before the altar with him when the time arrives, with every con-
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 40& 
 
 fidence in my power to carry out those holy words, " Lcve, honor, 
 and obey ?" 
 
 Yet, this is a strange promise we are called upon to make, 
 after all, for which of these things can we be sure of doing, 
 except the last ? 
 
 Our sentiments are involuntary. We cannot love and honor 
 whom we will. Some desert in the object is implied in such ful- 
 fillment of one vow and as to obedience, which alone remains to 
 us possible sometimes is it not a matter of doubt as to whether 
 this ought not to be indissolubly connected with the two first ? 
 
 Are we doing right to obey those whom we neither love, nor 
 honor ? 
 
 A question for Bishop Clare I 
 
 Poor Gabriel is dead. On this lovely June morning he 
 breathed his last, supported by Paul, who had been sitting up 
 with him all night, and bending his last grateful looks upon my 
 face. 
 
 It is evening now, and all the negroes in the neighborhood have 
 poured in to witness his burial. I hear the high-pitched, mono- 
 tonous voice of the negro-preacher from where I sit, pouring forth 
 his exhortations over the dead. The prayers and groanings have 
 not yet begun. 
 
 He was arrayed in death as it would have rejoiced his heart to 
 have been once more in life. Paul gave a half-worn suit of black 
 broadcloth for his burial garb. I knotted, myself, around his poor 
 meagre neck, the black silk-tie he knew how to wear so jauntily. 
 Bianca added a white pocket-handkerchief for his nerveless 
 hand !
 
 4:10 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVER1E. 
 
 The amber rosary that Aunt Furness valued so highly was laid 
 beside him in his coffin, by his particular request, yet he had 
 strayed from the true faith long ago and connected himself witn 
 the Methodists. The negro confidence in the "Fetish-power" 
 communicated, however, a sort of superstitious charm to these 
 beads, perhaps; or it may be, that affection for his mother sur- 
 vived every other sentiment. 
 
 In the strange fantastic delirium of the few last nights, he 
 imagined himself waiting on one of our grand Washington din- 
 ner-parties again. 
 
 It was affecting to see the poor skeleton hands lifted during 
 the momentary strength of fever, as if to offer Barmecidal dishes 
 to phantom guests. 
 
 He thought at one time he had brought the wrong wine, and 
 that his master was angry with him. He seemed to quail as I 
 have often seen him do before his terrible glance. 
 
 Paul declared it was almost equal to the celebrated " Tote- 
 d'arme'e," of Napoleon's last night on earth. 
 
 Alas ! this bed of death all men have to lie upon is the great 
 leveller after all and possesses its own mysterious impressiveness, 
 whether of king or slave. 
 
 I am glad dear Luther was not here Gabriel's frequent men- 
 tion of Mr. Bouverie has unnerved me so and must have been 
 peculiarly embarrassing to him. 
 
 Besides, death throws such an awful shadow over every house 
 in which it occurs ! 
 
 Jasper is greatly impressed by the funeral rites, Bianca says, 
 and sits up by Pat McCormick, as grave as a judge. 
 
 The mind of this creature seems to be becoming a little human- 
 ized, and his attentions to Gabriel were really wonderfully faithful
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYEJBIE. 411 
 
 The odious old dame is, of course, a fixture for life. Bishop 
 Clare begs me to bear with her presence if possible ; but I cannot 
 help very unchristian feelings toward her at times. 
 
 I shall try, however, to control these, and to be kind to her 
 declining age for the sake of him that is gone. 
 
 Paul thinks that Gabriel's frame and constitution would have 
 sustained him to extreme old age, had he not committed his 
 ridiculous escapade. He had some money in the beginning, 
 which he squandered in dissipation ; ran riot in every way, feS Dut 
 of employment, became ill, and missing the attention thai had 
 always been bestowed on him, hopelessly despondent. 
 
 So the poor misguided fellow had himself to blame for aS ifcat 
 occurred to him. Does it not seem evident that God intendsd the 
 white man to protect and govern the negro ? And as to the 
 equality of races, how absurd is the theory ! Look at the woolly 
 hair, the greasy skin, the facial angle, the crooked shins, and talk 
 of equality if one can ! God sets no mark in vain. 
 
 Ifontmler 
 
 As the time for my marriage approaches I am conscious of 
 unreasonable, I hope not ominous depression. I have been review- 
 ing my whole past life, and it seems to me that I am presumptuous 
 in daring to expect happiness after having been made, so peculiarly 
 a mark for suifering. 
 
 Paul, too, appears gloomy and dispirited again. Could I have 
 wounded him ? I am not conscious of neglecting him in anyway. 
 Yet he said something the other day of being " de trop," a&d 
 spoke of going back to Baltimore.
 
 412 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVEBEE. 
 
 I hare been comparing my two wooings, almost with a sad 
 smile. The first simple as that of Samson when he saw among 
 the Philistines a woman that " pleased him," and so "took her 
 for his wife," seemed patriarchal in its very character and causes. 
 
 Could any man thus woo me now ? How innocent, how con- 
 fiding is youth ! How soon the bloom is brushed from the plum, 
 to return no more to its polished surface ! How perfectly I 
 trusted thee, Bouverie. How little I suspected thy depths of 
 guile ! 
 
 Yet, to what other man was ever granted the same nameless 
 power to attract, to govern, to persuade, to fascinate ? I am 
 glad Luther is not like you, Erastus, and that I may be permitted 
 to see him as he is. My husband will be no charlatan this tune, 
 but open, true, and fearless as the day. This character suits me 
 best ! 
 
 Jasper, who understands everything at last, is wild with delight. 
 He knows he is to be mine irrevocably now. The wife of his 
 father will be his true mother for life ; nothing can divide us. 
 
 later. 
 
 I am tremulously happy, yet depressed. To-morrow I change 
 my name and the channel of my fate. Luther perceives my emo- 
 tion ; I can only lean my head on his arm and weep, when he 
 inquires what causes my dejection. He comforts me with such 
 true, manly tenderness, and inquires no further. He is all I could 
 desire ; I love him devotedly. I know he is truly, tenderly 
 attached to me, and yet out of the depths of the unexpiated past 
 such memories arise ! 
 
 Last night I started suddenly from sleep, trembling, faint,
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUYERIE. 413 
 
 bathed in cold perspiration. For a time I was almost sure Eras- 
 tus had been there, so vivid was my vision, so distinctly did I see 
 his pale, locked features, his glittering eye, his terrible frown ; 
 but his sweeping black hair was mixed with grey, and ids form 
 strangely wasted. He seemed, too, to wear a beard that fell to 
 his breast, whiter even than his hair. 
 
 Was it indeed a dream, or did he stand before me in ghostly 
 presence, seeking, perhaps, for the grave that has never been 
 accorded to him, and claiming it at my hands ? 
 
 Oh, merciful Father, give repose, I entreat thee, to this restless 
 and angry spirit, and permit not my happiness to be again dis- 
 turbed by such spectral visions. 
 
 All things are possible to thee ! 
 
 THB RWD.
 
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 price $1.76 each; or $21.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 
 
 Ernest Linvvood, $1 75 
 
 The Planter's Northern Bride,.. 1 75 
 
 Courtship and Marriage, 1 75 
 
 Rena; or, the Snow Bird, 1 75 
 
 Marcus Warland, I 75 
 
 Love after Marriage, $1 75 
 
 Eoline; or Magnolia Vale, 1 75 
 
 The Lost Daughter 1 75 
 
 The Banished Son, 1 75 
 
 Helen and Arthur, 1 75 
 
 Linda; or, the Young Pilot of the Belle Creole, 1 75 
 
 Robert Graham; the Sequel to " Linda; or Pilot of Belle Creole,"... 1 75 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 
 
 Every houseJceeper should possess at least one of the following Cook Books, as they 
 
 would save the price of it in a week's cooking. 
 The Queen of the Kitchen. Containing 1007 Old Maryland 
 
 Family Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, $1 75 
 
 Miss Leslie's New Cookery Book Cloth, 1 75 
 
 Mrs. Kale's New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 
 
 Petersons' New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 
 
 Widdifield's New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 
 
 Mrs. Goodfellow's Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 1 75 
 
 The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewil'e, Cloth, 1 75 
 
 The Young Wife's Cook Book Cloth, 1 75 
 
 Miss Leslie's New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, 1 75 
 
 Mrs. Male's Receipts for the Million, Cloth, 1 75 
 
 The Family Save- All. By author of " National Cook Book," Cloth, .1 75 
 Francatelli's Modern Cook. With the most approved methods of 
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 JAMES A. MAITLAND'S WORKS. 
 
 Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
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 The Watchman, $1 75 Diary of an Old Doctor, $1 75 
 
 The Wanderer, I 75 Sartnroe, 1 75 
 
 The Lawyer's Story, 1 75 I The Three Cousins 1 75 
 
 The Old Patroon ; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 75 
 
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 The Sealed Packet, $1 75 
 
 Garstang Grange, 1 75 
 
 Dream Numbers, $1 To 
 
 Beppo, the Conscript, 1 75 
 
 Leonora Casaloni,... 1 75 | Gemma, 1 75 | Marietta, 1 75 
 
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 Father and Daughter, $1 75 The Neighbors, $1 75 
 
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 Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 50 
 
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 MISS ELIZA A. DUPUY'S WORKS. 
 
 Complete in thirteen large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, price 
 $1.75 each ; or $22.75 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 
 
 The Discarded Wife, $1 75 
 
 The Clandestine Marriage, 1 75 
 
 The Hidden Sin, 1 75 
 
 The Dethroned Heiress, 1 75 
 
 The Gipsy's Warning, 1 75 
 
 AH For Love, 1 75 
 
 Why Did He Marry Her? SI 75 
 
 Who Shall be Victor? 1 75 
 
 The Mysterious Guest, 1 76 
 
 Was He Guilty? 1 75 
 
 The Cancelled Will, 1 75 
 
 The Planter's Daughter, 1 75 
 
 Michael Rudolph; or, the Bravest of the Bravo, 1 75 
 
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 EMERSON BENNETT'S WORKS. 
 
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 Clara Moreland, 1 75 
 
 The Orphan's Trials, I 75 
 
 Bride of the Wilderness, $1 75 
 
 Ellen Norbury, I 75 
 
 Kate Clarendon, 1 75 
 
 Viola: or Adventures in the Far South-West, 1 75 
 
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 Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
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 Dow's Patent Sermons, 2d 
 
 Series, cloth 1 50 
 
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 Dow's Patent Sermons, 4th 
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 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 
 
 WILKIE COLLINS' BEST WORKS. 
 
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 Above are each in one large duodecimo volume, bound in cloth. 
 
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 Basil; or, the Crossed Path, 75 
 
 Hide and Seek, 75 
 
 After Dark, 75 
 
 The Queen's Revenge, 75 
 
 Miss or Mrs? , .. 50 
 
 Mad Monkton, 50 
 
 Sights a-Foot, , .. 50 
 
 The Stolen Mask, 25 | The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,... 25 
 
 The above books are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 
 
 FRANK FORRESTER'S SPORTING BOOK. 
 
 Frank Forrester's Sporting Scenes and Characters. By Henry Wil- 
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 The Lawrence Speaker. A Selection of Literary Gems in Poetry and 
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 The French, German, Spanish, Latin and Italian Languages Without 
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 Cmnstock's Colored Chart. Being a perftct Alphabet of the Eng- 
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 On a large Roller. Every School should have a copy of it, 5 00 
 
 Liebig's Complete Works on Chemistry. By Baron Justus Liebig... 2 CO 
 
 WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 The following books are each issued in one large, duodecimo volume, 
 bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is inpnper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tnutpl.'oeus, $1 75 
 
 The Autobiography of Edward Wortley Montagu, 1 75 
 
 Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of "Ziiidee," 1 75 
 
 Family Pride. By author of '' Pique," " Family Secrets," etc 1 75 
 
 Self-Sacrifice. By a.uthor of " Margaret Maitland," etc 1 75 
 
 The Woman in BUck. A Companion to the "Womnn in White,"... 1 75 
 
 A Woman's Thoughts about Women. By Mis.* Muloch, 1 75 
 
 Flirtations in Fashionable Life. By Catharine Sinclair, 1 75 
 
 False Pride; or, Two Ways to Matrimony. A Charming Book, 1 75 
 
 The Heiress in the Family. "By Mrs. Mackenzie Daniel, 1 75 
 
 Popery Exposed. An Exposition of Popery as it was and is, 1 75 
 
 The Heiress of Sweetwater. A Charming Novel. 1 75 
 
 AVoman's Wrong. By Mrs. Eiloart, nuthor of "St. Bede's," 1 75 
 
 A Lonely Life. By the author of " Wise as a Serpent," ete 1 75 
 
 The Macdermots of Ballydoran. By Anthony Trollope, 1 75 
 
 Lost Sir Massingberd. By the author of " Carlyon's Year," 1 75 
 
 The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to "Linda," 1 75 
 
 Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Stor}'. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 
 Rose Douglas. A Companion tu " Family Pride," and " Self Siu-rifici'," 1 75 
 Family .Secrets. A Companion to "Family Pride," and ''Pique/'... 1 75 
 
 The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Hosmer, 1 75 
 
 My Son's Wife. By author of "Caste," "Mr. Arle," etc 1 75 
 
 The Rich Husband. By author of " George Gcith," 1 75 
 
 Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople. By Emmeline Loti 1 75 
 
 The Rector's Wifo; or, the Valley of a Hundred Fires. 1 75 
 
 Woodhurn Grange. A Novel. By William Howitt, 3 75 
 
 Country Quarters. By the Countess of Bles.*5n<rton 1 75 
 
 Out of the Depths. The Story of a "Woman's Life," 1 75 
 
 The Coquette: or, the Life and Letters of Eliza AVharton. 1 75 
 
 The Pride of Life. A Story of the Heart. By Lady June Scott 1 75 
 
 The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court 1 "io 
 
 Rome and the Papacy. A History of the Men, Manners and Tempo- 
 ral Government of Rome in the Nineteenth Century 1 75 
 
 Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 Ij^f Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Price, 
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 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 5 
 
 WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 The following books arc each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
 bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover at SI. 50 each. 
 The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Burn as. Illustrated, ...SI 75 
 Tho Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or cloth,.. 1 75 
 
 Cnmillo; or, the Fato of a Coquette. By Alexander iHunas, 1 75 
 
 My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 73 
 
 T'.io Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jone-',.... 1 75 
 Tho Man of the World. An Autobiography. By William Nnri.li,... 1 75 
 The Queen's Favorite ; or, The Price of a Crovrn. A Love Story,... 1 75 
 
 Sulf Love; or, The Afternoon of Single arid Married Life, 1 75 
 
 Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Deleetivc. His Liiu and Ad venture.-, 1 75 
 
 Tue Clyffiirds of Clyde, by author of "Lost Sir Massingbcrd," 1 75 
 
 Catnors. "The Man of the Second Empire." By Octave Fcuilut,.. 1 75 
 Lifo', Speeches and Martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. Illustrated,... 1 75 
 The B^ilii of Washington. Witli her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. La.iseile, 1 7.) 
 Cora Belinont; or, Tue Sincere Lover. A True Story of the H.-nrt,. 1 75 
 The Lover's Trials; or Days before 1776. By Mrs. Mary A. Denison, 1 75 
 High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselk-, 1 75 
 
 The Beauiii'ul Widow; or, Lodore. By Mrs. Percy B. Shelley, ] 75 
 
 Love and Money. By J. B. Jones, author of tho ' Rival Belles,"... 1 75 
 Tho Matchmaker. A Story of High Lii'e. By Beatrice Reynold.-,.. 1 75 
 The Brother's Secret; or, the Count Do Mara. By William Godwin. 1 75 
 The Lost Love. By Mrs. i|ihant, aiuhor of " Margaret Maitland, 1 ' 1 75 
 The Roman Traitor. By Il^ni-y Willi.un Herbert. A Roman Story, 1 75 
 
 The Bohemians of London. By Edward AI. Whitty 1 75 
 
 The Rival Belles; or, Life in Washington. By J. B. Jones, 1 73 
 
 The Devoted Bride. A Story of the Heart. By St. George Tucker, 1 1 5 
 Love and Duty. By Mrs. Hubback, author of " May and December," 1 75 
 Wild Sports and Adrentures in Africa. By Major W. C. Harris, 1 75 
 Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,... 1 75 
 
 The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Maillard, 1 75 
 
 The Refugee. By Herman Melville, author of " Omoo," ' Typec," 1 75 
 
 The Lite, Writings, and Lectures of the late " Fanny Fern," 1 75 
 
 Tho Life and Lectures of Lola Monte/,, with her portrait, 1 75 
 
 Wild Southern Scenes. By author of " Wild Western Scenes," 1 75 
 
 Currer Lyle ; or, the Autobiography of an Actress. By Louise Reeder. I 75 
 Coal, Coal Oil, and all other Minerals in the Earth. By Kli Bowcn, 1 75 
 
 The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 1 75 
 
 The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Groy 1 75 
 
 Secession, Coercion, and Civil War. By J. B. Join-?, 1 73 
 
 Lizzie Glenn; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur 1 75 
 
 Lt.'l.v Maud; or, the Wonder of Kingswood Chnse. By Pierce Egan, 1 75 
 
 Wilfred Moniri^or; or, High Life in New York. Illustrated 1 75 
 
 The Old Stone Mmsion. By C. J. Peterson, author "Kate Avlesford." 1 75 
 Kate 4ylosford. By Chas. J. Peterson, author " Old Stone Mansion,". 1 75 
 
 L:>rrimer Littlegood, by author " Harry Coverdale's Courtship," I 75 
 
 Ttie E .rl's Secret. A Lovo Story. By Miss Pardoe, 1 75 
 
 The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoo. author of "The Earl's Secret," 1 75 
 
 Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at SI .60 each. 
 The Dead Sopret. By Wilkie Collins, nuthor " The Crossed Path,"... 1 60 
 
 The Croiscd Path; or Basil. By Wilkie Collins, 1 50 
 
 Indiana. A Love Story. By George Sand, author of " Con-iu-lo," 1 5') 
 Jealon>y ; or, Teverino. Bv George Sand, author of" Consuelo," <-rc. 1 50 
 Six Nights with the Washin^rtonians, Illustrated By T. S. Arthur, 3 6>) 
 
 2^ Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Trico, 
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 6 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 The following bonks are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
 bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 The Conscript; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Alex. Dumns,....$l 75 
 Cuusin Hurry. By Mrs. Grey, author of " The Gambler's Wife," etc. 1 75 
 Saratoga. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. A true Story of 1787,.. 1 75 
 
 Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thomas, 175 
 
 Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of " Days of Shoddy," 1 75 
 Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of "Shoulder Straps," 1 75 
 
 The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of " Shoulder Strap?," 1 75 
 
 The Cavalier. By G. P. R.James, author of "Lord Montagu's Page," 1 75 
 
 Rose Foster. By George W. M. Reynolds, Esq., 1 75 
 
 Lord Montagu's Page. By G. P. R. James, authorof " Cavalier,"... 1 75 
 Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth's Popular Novels. 38 vols. in all, 66 50 
 
 Mrs. Ann S. Stephens' Celebrated Novels. 22 volumes in all, 33 50 
 
 Miss Eliza A. Dupuy's Works. Thirteen volumes in all, 22 25 
 
 Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz's Novels. Twelve volumes in all, 21 00 
 
 Frederika Bremer's Novels. Six volumes in all, 10 50 
 
 T. A. Trollope's Works. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 
 
 James A. Maitland's Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 
 
 Q. K. Philander Doestick's Novels. Four volumes in all, 7 00 
 
 Cook Books. The best in the world. Eleven volumes in all, 19 25 
 
 Henry Morford's Novels. Three volumes in all, 5 25 
 
 Mrs. Henry Wood's Novels. Seventeen volumes in all, 29 75 
 
 Emerson Bennett's Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 
 
 Green's Works on Gambling. Four volumes in all. 7 00 
 
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 The following books are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound in 
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 The Wandering Jew. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, $2 00 
 
 Mysteries of Paris ; and its Sequel, Gerolstein. By Eugene Sue 2 00 
 
 Martin, the Foundling. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, 2 00 
 
 Ten Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. With Illustrations,.... 2 00 
 
 Washington and His Generals. By George Lippard.... 2 00 
 
 The Quaker City; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 
 
 Blanche of Brandywine. By George Lippard, 2 00 
 
 Paul Ardenheira; the Monk of Wissahickon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 
 
 The Pictorial Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth, 2 50 
 
 Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at 1.50 each. 
 
 Tlie following are each issued in one lartje octavo volume, bound in cloth, price $2.00 
 each, or a cheap edition is issued in paper cover, at 76 cents each. 
 
 Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever, Cloth. $2 00 
 
 Harry Lorrequer. With his Confessions. By Charles Lever,. ..Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Jack Hinton, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever, Cioth, 2 00 
 
 Davenport Dunn. A Man of Our Day. By Charles Lever,. ..Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 The Knight of Gwynne. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Arthur O'Leary. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Kate O'Donoghue. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Cockton, Cloth, 2 00 
 
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 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 7 
 NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 Beautiful Snow, and Other Poetns. New Illustrated Edition. By J. 
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 The Outcast, and Other Poems. By J. W. Watson. One volume, 
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 The Young Magdalen; and Other Poems. By Francis S. Smith, 
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 Complete in one large volume of 300 pages, bound in green mo- 
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 Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Being the above 
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 Meister Karl's Sketch Book. By Charles G. Leland, (Hans Breit- 
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 Historical Sketches of Plymouth, Luzerne Co., Penna. By Hendrick 
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 John Jasper's Secret. A Sequel to Charles Dickens' " Mystery of 
 
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 The Last Athenian. From the Swedish of Victor Rydberg. Highly 
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 Across the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland, Germany, 
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 The Ladies' Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners. By 
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 The Ladies' Complete Guide to Needlework and Embroidery. With 
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 The Ladies' Work Table Book. With 27 illustrations. Cloth, gilt,. 1 50 
 
 The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, paper $1.00, or cloth,... 1 50 
 
 Dow's Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, Jr. In 4 vols.. cloth, each.... 1 50 
 
 Wild Oats Sown Abroad. A Spicy Book. By T. B. Witmer, cloth,... 1 50 
 
 Aunt Patty's Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of 
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 Hollick's Anatomy and Physiology of the Human Figure. Illustrated 
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 Life and Adventures of Don Quixote and his Squire Sancho Panza, 
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 The Laws and Practice of the Game of Euchre, as adopted by the 
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 trations, and 44 plates of ground plans, with plans, specifications, 
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 Treason tit Home. A Novel. By Mrs. Greenough, cloth $1 75 
 
 Letters, from Europe. By Colonel John W. Forney. Bound ill cloth, 1 75 
 
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 Lewis Aruntlel. By author of '' Frank Fairleigh," cloth, 1 75 
 
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 W hitefri;irs ; or, Tho Days of Charles the Second, Illustrated, 1 00 
 
 Tan-go-ru-a. An Historical Drama, in Prse. By Mr. Moorhead,.... ] 00 
 
 The Impeachment Trial of President Andrew Johnson. Cioth, 1 51) 
 
 Trial of the Assassin* Tor the Murder of Ahraham Lincoln. Cloth,... I 50 
 Lives ofJ.ick Sheppard and Guy Fawkes. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 75 
 
 Coiisuelo, and Countess of Kudulstadt. One volume, cloth 2 00 
 
 Monsieur Antoine. By George Sand. Illustrated. One vol.. cloih, 1 00 
 Aurora Floyd. By Miss Braddari. One vol., paper 76 cints, cloth.... 1 1)0 
 Christy and White's Complete Ethiopian Melodies, bound in cloth,... 1 00 
 
 The Life of Cnarles Dickens. By H. Shelton Mackenzie, cloth 2 00 
 
 The Life of Edwin Forrest; with Reminiscences and Personal Kecol- 
 
 lections. By Colley Gibber. With a Portrait iind Autograph, 200 
 
 Poetionl Works of Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. volume, fine binding, 5 00 
 
 Life of Sir Waller Scott. By John G. Lockhart. With Portrait, 250 
 
 The Shakspeare Novels. Complete in one large octavo volume, cloth, 4 00 
 Miss Piirdoe's Choice Novels. In one large octavo volume, cloth,... 4 00 
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 Charles Dickens' Works. People* 12 -//-i. Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 34 00 
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 M.ijor Jones' Courtship and Travels. With 21 Illustrations, 1 75 
 
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 Swamp Doctor's Adventures in the South-West. 14 Illustrations,... 1 75 
 
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 The Big Bear's Adventures and Travels. With 18 Illustrations, 1 75 
 
 High Life in New York, by Jonathan Slick. With Illustrations,.... 1 75 
 
 Judge llaliburton's Yankee Stories. Illustrated, 1 75 
 
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 S.-IIH Slick, the Clockmakcr. By Judge Halibnrton. Illustrated,... 1 75 
 
 Humors of F.ilconbridge. By J. F. Kulle.y. With Illustrations, ... 1 75 
 
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 Neal's Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Nenl. 21 Illustrations,... 2 50 
 
 MADAME GEORGE SAND'S WORKS. 
 
 Consuelo, I2mo., cloth, SI 50 Jealousy, 12mo. cloth, $1 50 
 
 Countess of Rudolstadt, 1 5<) Indiana, 12m"., cloth 1 50 
 
 Above are only published in 12mo., cloth, gilt side and buck. 
 
 Fanchon, the Cricket, price $1.00 in paper, or in cloth, 1 50 
 
 First and True Love, 7. r >|The Corsair, 50 
 
 Simon. A Lovo Story, 50 [Tin; Last Aldini 511 
 
 Monsieur Antoine. With 11 Illustrations. Pafier, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00 
 
 Cousuelo and Countess of Kudolstadt, octavo, cloth, 2 00 
 
 Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
 by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa.
 
 GET UP CLUBS FOR 1875! WE PRE-PAY POSTAGE!! 
 
 PETERSON'S MAGAZINE 
 
 H^ THE CHEAPEST AND BEST OF ALL. 
 
 "PETERSON'S MAGAZINE" it the best and cheapest lady's bonk in the world, 
 and has the largest circulation. It contains, yearly, 10i>0 pages, 12 colored patterns, 
 1-4 steel plates, 12 mammoth colored fashions, and 9;!0 wood engravings and all this 
 for only TWO DOLLAItS A YEAR, or about half the price of periodicals of its clasi. 
 Still further to deserve its popularity 
 
 IT WILL BE GREATLY IMPROVED IN 1875! 
 
 The stories in " Peterson " are conceded to be the best published anywhere. Mrs. 
 Ann S. Stephens, Frank Lee Benedict, Mrs. R. Hardinjc Davis, F. Hodgson Burnett, 
 Jeanie T. Gould, Marietta Holley, besides all the best female wril'rs of America, nro 
 regular contributors. lu addition to 100 shorter stories, there will be giveu, in 1875, 
 
 FIVE ORIGINAL COPYRIGHTED NOVELETTES! 
 
 In the number and beauty of its Illustrations, also, "PETERSON"' is unrivalled. 
 The Publisher challenges a comparison betwei-n its 
 
 Jg@~STEEL AND MEZZOTINT ENGRAVINGS -^s 
 
 And the inferior engravings, generally merely wood-cuts, given elsewhere. 
 
 These are printed from steel plates, and colored by hand, and cost ten thousand 
 dollars more, every year, than the cheap colored lithographed Jashiuns in other Magazines. 
 
 COLORED PATTERNS IN EMBROIDERY, CROCHET, Etc. 
 
 The Work-Table Department of the Magazine is WHOLLY UNRIVALLED. Every 
 number contains dozens of patterns. SUPERB COLORED DESIGN'S FOR SLIPPERS, SOFA 
 CUSHIONS, <fcc., given each of which at a retail store would cost Filty Cents. 
 
 RECEIPTS FOR COOKiNG, THE TOILETTE, SICK ROOM, Etc. 
 
 Nxw AND FASHIONABLE Music in every number. Hints on Horticulture, &c., 4c. 
 
 TERMS : ALWAYS IN ADVANCE. 
 O3TE COPT One Tear, (Postage Pre-Paid.) TWO DOLLARS ! 
 
 LIBERAL OFFERS FOR CLUBS. 
 
 POSTAGE PBE-PAID. C PliEMIUM FOB THE CLUB. 
 
 With a copy of our large-size mezzotint (21 Inches 
 
 3 Copies for S3. GO ) by 20) postage prepaid." WASHINGTON'S FIEST IXT::R- 
 3 4.8O i VIEW WITH His WIFE." (ihe most costly and beautiful 
 
 ' <>i\ I engraving ever offered as a premium,) to the person 
 * 6. 2O ^ getting up the club. 
 
 POSTAGE PBE.PAID. C PREMIUMS FOB THE CLUB. 
 
 'With both an extra copy of the Magazine, for one 
 
 6 Copies for S10.00 J year, postage pre-paid. and a copy of our beautiful 
 9 it 14.00 ) large-sized mezzotint, "WASHINGTON'S FIRST INTER- 
 
 __ u u icon I VIEW WITH His WIFE," (the most costly and elogant 
 
 1S.OO V^ ever offered,) to the per.soii getting up the club. 
 
 In Remitting, get a Post-Office Order on Philadelphia, or a draft on Philadel- 
 phia or New York. If neither of these ran be Imd, send Greenbacks or Notes of Na- 
 tional Banks. In the latter case, register your letter. Address, potlyaid, 
 
 CHARLES J. PETERSON, 
 
 306 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 
 Jfy Specimens sent to those wishing to get up clubs.
 
 AUTHORS .NEW EDITION OF "THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOIVER1K. 
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ELIXIR OF GOLD. 
 BY MRS. C. A. WARFIELD. 
 
 Author of " A Double Wedding ; or, How She Was Won." 
 AUTHOR'S NEW, COMPLETE AND UNIFORM EDITION. 
 
 Complete in One Ziarge Duodecimo Volume of 8OO pages. 
 Sound in Morocco Cloth, Full Gilt Sack. Price $1.75. 
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OP BOUVEHIE. 
 
 "THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE; OK, THE ELIXIR OF GOLD," by Mrs. 
 C. A. Warfield, being the first volume of the Author's New Edition of Mrs. Warfield's 
 celebrated Works, is published this day. It is complete in one large duodecimo volume 
 of Eight Hundred pages, containing the whole of the two volumes as originally 
 published, both volumes being now complete in one, and sold at the low price of $1.75 
 for the complete work, in place of $2.00 as formerly. 
 
 From Marion Harland, author of "Alone," "Hidden Path" etc. 
 "As to Mrs. Warfield's wonderful book, the ' Household of Bouverie,' I have read it 
 twice the second time more carefully than the first and I use the term ' wonderful,' 
 because it best expresses the feeling uppermost in my mind, both while reading and 
 thinking it over. As a piece of imaginative writing, I have seen nothing to equal it 
 since the days of Edgar A. Poe, and I doubt whether he could have sustained liimself 
 and the reader through a book of half the size of the ' Household of Bouverie.' I was 
 literally hurried through it by my intense sympathy, my devouring curiosity it was 
 more than interest. I read everywhere between the courses of the hotel-table, on 
 the boat, in the cars until I had swallowed the last line. This is no common occur- 
 rence with a veteran romance reader like myself." 
 
 From George Ripley's Review of "The Household of Bouverie" in Harper's Magazine. 
 "'The Household of Bouverie' betrays everywhere a daring boldness of conception, 
 singular fertility of illustration, and a combined beauty and vigor of expression, which 
 it would be difficult to match in any recent works of fiction. In these days, when the 
 most milk-and-watery platitudes are so often welcomed as sibylline inspirations, it is 
 somewhat refreshing to meet with a female novel-writer who displays the unmistakable 
 fire of genius, however terrific its brightness." 
 
 J8SF The Author's New Edition of "The Household of Bouverie" is for sale by all 
 Booksellers ; or copies of it will be sent at once to any one, to any place, postage pre- 
 paid, on remitting the price of the work, $1.75, in a letter, to the Publishers, 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
 
 AN ENTIRE NEW BOOK, BY MRS. C, A. WARFELD. 
 
 IK PRESS AND Will; BE ISSUED SHORTLY. 
 
 HESTER HOWARD'S TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 BY MRS. C. A. WARFIELD. 
 
 Author of " A Double Wedding ; or, How She Was Won," " The Household of 
 Bouverie ; or, The Elixir of Gold," etc. 
 
 Complete in one large duodecimo volume, cloth, price $1.75. 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, have concluded an arrangement 
 with MRS. WAKFIELD, the author of "THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIK," by 
 which they have become the future publishers of all her works, and they have now in 
 press and will shortly issue an Entire New Work from her pen, under the title of 
 " HKSTER HOWARD'S TEMPTATIONS," which she has been engaged in writing and 
 preparing for the press for the last eighteen months. -This work has been pronounced 
 by critics who have read it in manuscript, to be fully equal, if not superior, to her 
 celebrated work, " The Household of Bouverie.". It will be issued in one large 
 duodecimo volume, in uniform style and size with " A Double Wedding ; or, How 
 She Was Won," and with " The Household of Bouverie," etc., and be bound in 
 morocco cloth, gilt side and back, price $1.75. 
 
 AUTHOR'S EDITION OF MRS. W"ARFIELD'S BOOKS. 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS have in press, and will issue at once, tin Author's 
 JVeip and Revised Edition of all of Mrs. Warfield's celebrated Works. Each book will 
 be complete in one large duodecimo volume, and be printed on the finest white 
 paper, and bound in morocco cloth, gilt back and side, and published at the low price 
 of $1.75 a volume, in place of $2.00 a volume, as formerly. 
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 The first volume of the Author's New Edition of Mrs. Warfield's Works is published 
 this day, being "THE HOUSEHOLD OP BOUVERIE; OR, THE ELIXIR OF GOLD." It is 
 complete in one large duodecimo volume of Eight Hundred pages, containing the 
 whole of the two volumes as originally published, both volumes being now complete 
 in one, and sold at the low price of $1.75 for the complete work. 
 
 A DOUBLE -WEDDING; OR, HOW SHE WAS WON. 
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING ; OR, HOW SHE WAS WON. An Entire New Work, by 
 Mrs. C. A. Warfield, author of " The Household of Bouverie," is just published, complete 
 in one large duodecimo volume, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back and side, price $1.75. 
 
 J8$~ Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of either one, or all of 
 the above books, will be sent at once to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, on 
 remitting their price to the Publishers, 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BKOTHEKS, 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
 
 A NEW BOOK, BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOlTEKiE. 
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING 
 
 OR, 
 
 HQW SKI WAS 
 
 BY MRS. C. A. WARFIELD. 
 
 Author of " The Household of Bouverie." 
 
 Complete in One Large Duodecimo Volume. Jlmmd in JUY/rbero 
 Cloth, full Gilt JiacJf. Price $1.75. 
 
 A DOUBLE "WEDDING; OR, HOW SHE WAS WON. 
 
 "The Household of Bouverie"haa been pronounced by all the best writers bii 
 critics in the country to be one of the best and most remarkable works ever written 
 and we predict for Mrs. Wai-field's new book, "A DOUBLE WEDDING; OK, H 
 SHE WAS WON," as great a popularity as its predecessor, and a sale equal to a:.;. 
 Work of the kind that has been published in the last twenty years. 
 
 HESTER HOWARD'S TEMPTATIONS. 
 T. B. PETERSON 4 BROTHERS, Philadelphia, have concluded an arrangement 
 with MRS. C. A. WAKF1EI.D, the well-known Southern writer, and author of 
 "THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE," by which they have become the fut.n, 
 publishers of all her works, and they have now in press and will shortly is-'.< 
 an Entire. Kew Work from her pen, under the title of "HESTER HCWAHL .- 
 TEMPTATIONS," which she has been engaged in writing and preparing for th 
 press for the last eighteen months. This work has been pronounced by critic 
 who have read it in manuscript, to be fully equal, if not superior, to li<> 
 celebrated work, " The Household of Bonverie." It will be issued in one liirp- 
 duodecimo yolume, in uniform style and size with "A Double Wedding; or, llc 
 She Was Won," and with "The Household of Bouverie," etc., and be bound ir. 
 morocco cloth, gilt side and back, price 81.75. 
 
 AUTHOR'S EDITION OF MRS. WARFIELD'S BOOKS. 
 T. B. PETEIiS ON t BROTHERS have in press, and will issue at once, tit'. Author* 
 Jfew and Recised Edili'.n of all nf llrt. WarfuHCi celebrated Wr/rJcs. Ea< h book * H 
 be complete in one large duodecimo volume, and be printed on tlie finest whit' 
 paper, and bound in morocco cloth, gilt back and side, and published at the low pric< 
 of $1.75 a volume, in place of $2.00 a volume, as formerly. 
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 
 
 The first volume of the Author'* A>ro Edition of Mr>. Wo.rfidrJCt WorJct is publish" 
 this day, being "THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE; on, THE ELIXIR 01 
 GOLD." It is complete in one large duodecimo relume of Eight Hundred pap<;." 
 containing the whole of the two volumes as originally published, both volumes beini 
 now complete in one, and sold at the low price of $1.75 for the complete work. 
 
 O" Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of either one, or all 01 
 the above books, will be sent at once to any one, to any place, postage pre-puid, 01 
 remitting their price to the Publishers, 
 
 fi T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 
 W 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
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 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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